0 comments/ 6436 views/ 1 favorites Testing Times for Nikita and Roger By: Neesraj Author's Note: This is the story of the lovely relationship between Nikita and Roger (names changed). They came into each other's life some six years back, while working as part of a team with a most challenging assignment in their profession. Their bonding acquired strength first at professional level, after which, without even their realizing it, they became emotionally close to each other. Nikita and Roger married wrong spouses many many years back. Their new found bonding gave them a fresh reason to begin living again. Like all such relationships, theirs has gone through many testing times, and yet, they have marched on, regardless. This story that follows captures their mental and physical turmoil during one such Big Test. The story appears in the words of Roger. *********************************** I had never thought I would find myself at this crossroads one day. There is not so much regret at being at the crossroads as at the fact that I could never have wished a script anywhere near this one to take form. Things have gone so wrong on so many fronts. I have no complaints so far as the events pertain to myself. In fact, to be taken by surprise at the boomerang hurled by destiny at me would only be construed as my fault, for, I should perhaps have been in preparedness for the happy dream to be disrupted. Perhaps, the chain of events in the last few years had been too good to last for ever, least of all for someone like me, who has had an existence of deprivation, pain and struggle during the earlier part of life. But I feel so much upset that my ill-luck has rubbed on my Nikita, the woman who I owe my existence to. There had been unmistakable divine signals for sometime past which forebode not so happy tidings for the coming days. We had barely been able to spend any time together for some months and our communication channels had been drying up. The occasional burst of my emotions translating to sporadic emails was increasingly piling up in her Inbox, unopened and unread. For some reasons, what I wrote had ceased to enjoy the indulgence that it once did. Was it too repetitive or too wishful? But I appreciated her limitations, her constraints. Yet, the signs did not auger well at all. I even noticed traces of helplessness in her musings about us in recent months. The helplessness was not one-sided. Even I had been feeling the heat, what with the environment in my own prison of a home getting more and more hostile, not that it was hospitable ever. Somewhere along the line, I seemed to have lost the urge to live. Something told me that there were seemingly insurmountable hurdles in the way to the much dreamed of union that I lived for. If such were to be the case, where was the incentive to live? Having seen light, having seen colours, I dreaded a vegetative existence, black days. The only worthwhile reason to live for some more years that I could conjure up was to play whatever little role I could to see my children do well, and get settled in life. If Nikita was not coming into my life to protect me on a full-time basis, where was the rationale and justification to live? I stopped all medication, in the hope that my natural strength will help me last the two odd years till I accomplished my goal, after which it would be time to bid adieu to the world and put an end to a meaningless and irrelevant existence. But as the subsequent signals indicated that such an approach might cut the cord even before I accomplished my goal, I had to go back to medicines. How can I forget the support and care I received from Nikita during those days, when I seemed destined for a departure much before even the task set forth by me was completed? And as is the case with people proven as ill omens, I had, in the meantime, multiplied the confusion and had written her an indiscrete sms from the US, which fell in the hands our most precious little one, Mona. How could I be the instruments of making Nikita small in the eyes of a daughter who had looked upon her as a Goddess? Each new dawn was pushing me deeper and deeper into my abyss. And yet I had not realised that all this was nothing in comparison to the bigger test that awaited us. Least did I know that I would be required soon to demonstrate strength and determination of the kind never associated with weaklings like me. And then the sledgehammer struck. I was in Manchester on official business and unlike each day of our association in the past, she had not spoken to me since the morning. I attributed this to some preoccupation in office. I did ring her up once as soon as I could steal some time from my own office routine alongside a colleague in the hotel room where we had been working, and she said she was busy and would get back later. All this while, I waited with considerable trepidation for her call. The call finally came, when I was half asleep in the hotel bed, after the morning's hard work. Even though her voice betrayed no emotions, there was something unusual about it. She said she was in Swansea. In my half asleep state, I did not realise the import of what she said. I could only think of some emergency travel on her office account, and felt a bit agitated at the inconsiderate behaviour of her bosses. I had at the back of my mind that I had been a lot more protective of her when I was her "boss" some years back. But she soon clarified that she came to Swansea because "he had some problem yesterday". I still thought it was a problem created by him, may be because of me. Peter had known about me and Nikita and I always knew he must have felt uncomfortable at the knowledge. I was conscious at all times of the fact that regardless of how he had treated his legally wedded wife all these years, his male ego would be most uncomfortable with her finding emotional moorings with another man. Even his own emotional bonding elsewhere, which I knew existed, would not be dampener in such a situation. But my reverie was soon broken, when she told me that he had a medical problem, a heart related problem. I was shocked like I had never been before. My heart immediately felt for Peter. Despite my closeness to his wife which he definitely resented, I had always had a great affection for him. We had the highest professional regard for each other. He consulted me on several matters, mostly professional, but some not quite so. In the earlier days of my closeness with her, I had often been caught in the debate of morality and propriety. However, in due course, I had formed a view about the context, my perception of the extent to which he ignored her and caused her agony in diverse ways, including his own dalliance with another woman. I had felt it was right for me to take my relationship with his wife to the high emotional levels that it was destined for, where I could give to her what was her rightful due. She was such a noble and superb human being, so caring, so giving, so compassionate. She did deserve at least something in return from the World. And yet, I immediately remonstrated: How could this happen to him? I knew he had overindulged himself by having an excess of cigarettes and alcohol. But then, one had got used to him leading an existence like that. That was his way of life, but it did not mean that he should have a heart attack. I was rattled like never before. Nikita could sense my worry on the phone and reassured me that he was now stable and improving. I returned to London in the evening. From the airport itself, I spoke to Sonalika our elder daughter, taking care not to make her too worried, yet telling her that papa was not well and that we needed to pray. I was in touch with Nikita during the subsequent hours, speaking to her even from the confines of the prison of my home. Peter was stable and improving and it was so reassuring. All that mattered to me was that he should get well. She told me at about 5 pm the next day that the doctor wanted to talk her at 7 pm. I was alarmed. I asked her to get in touch with me as soon as she was through with the doctor. 7 pm, 7:05 pm, 7:15 pm, 7:30 pm, and yet no phone call. My heartbeat increased. The phone finally rang at 7:40 pm. I could never have bargained for this call. She was in panic, and just ordered me to speak to doctors in our departmental hospital in London, for Peter had to be shifted to the Cardiac Unit of the London Infirmary the next day. I asked her questions, but she could not answer. She was sobbing, her voice choked as she told me that doctors had said he was in bad shape, that his heart was functioning only 30%. I would have gladly given my life for her being spared this agony, and for me being spared the need for this telephone call. I prayed to God most fervently to take her in His fold and protect her from any harm. Peter had to live, for, he was her legally wedded husband, father to her two most lovely kids. He had to get well and he had to, later one day, agree to give his own wife to me, for the overall good of all of us. I could never think of grabbing her surreptitiously. The night was terrible. I thought for her, I could empathise with her. She was so noble, then why would God want to hurt her? The morning came. I checked that they had left Swansea at about 5:30 am. I kept in touch on their way to London. Hospital end had been tied up. I was at our departmental the hospital much before they arrived. The preliminary check up at the hospital revealed that he was in bad shape indeed. He had to be taken to the Infirmary. Documentation done, I accompanied them to the Infirmary. The journey was a nightmare. I prayed and prayed that he may reach the hospital in decent shape, so as to be able to benefit from treatment there. We reached the hospital in about half hour. I did the documentation. I was made to sign the hospital undertakings related to operation and other interventions. These are so crudely worded. I mustered all courage in my bosom and completed the documentation, placing all the faith I had in my God. Peter had to live; he had to get well, I kept praying to God. The procedure was done successfully, but the doctor apprised us of the dangers involved. It was prayer time still, for many weeks and months to follow. I was determined. I worried for him but I also had to steady her. Nikita and me had been close for several years now, but I had never bargained for this proximity. There she was, sitting next to me in front of the ICU, lost in thoughts. I understood. They had been married for over 22 years. There inevitably had been so many moments they had proudly shared, so many achievements jointly enjoyed. I could imagine thoughts of those years racing through her mind - the time they fell in love, the moment they proposed to each other, the marriage, their first union, the planning of the children, the birth of children..... And yet, I could not afford to let her go into a state of shock. I kept talking to her, of hope and prayers, of how good the doctor was, of how my intuition told me that all would be well. I prayed also that she understood my position, that I meant well, that I wished as much as she did that he gets well. She did. In this hour of grave personal stress, she cared for me, she appreciated my presence. The night fell and we had to leave the ICU area of the hospital. At the doctor's suggestion and with her permission, I had hired a room in the hospital guest house, mainly with a view to ensuring that she had a decent rest before the hard morning. We slowly trudged to the room. We had been in closed rooms with each other on numerous occasions in the past, but the act of bolting the door behind us that night was very painful indeed. I had a sense of guilt, for the first time since she came into my life. But I argued with myself that I meant to be helpful, to be protective in her hour of turmoil. I asked her to try and sleep. Thinking that her fatigue might be relieved if I pressed her body with my palms tenderly, I tried to comfort her. But she was as caring of me as ever and refused this little assistance. While she lay in bed, I kept praying all the time. I had never wanted something from God so much. I had never prayed so fervently even for our coming together for good. I wanted Peter well, and soon. Nikita noticed that I was awake and asked me to lie down. How could I? She was in such mental agony. And yet, I did lie down. I kept my hand on her arm. She valued the care I bestowed upon her. She kept on telling me to sleep. I curled up to her and held her in my embrace. That was to be my most embarrassing moment ever, my biggest shameful act ever. As my body touched her, I had the most ill-timed arousal of my life. I abused myself silently and in no time it subsided. I thought she would hate me for it the rest of her life. But she was too large hearted. She understood, yet again. An hour after midnight, we went to the ICU, just to catch a glimpse of Peter, but entry was rudely denied. We came back, hoping and praying for everything to fall in place. The morning came and we went to the ICU area. She went up and I followed a little later. It was so gratifying to note that he had spent a peaceful and comfortable night. We resumed our position in front of the doctor's room in the ICU area and prayed. I kept showering her with whatever words of comfort and hope I could manage in that state. The doctor came and after examination told us that his systems were functioning alright, that he passed urine at high pressure. It was so good to hear that both the cardiovascular system and the excretory system had accepted the stents. Finally, I left her there and returned to my prison, to get ready for my office. I had persuaded her to go home for a little while to be able to spend some time with the children, more particularly the little one, who had been the victim of my indiscretion these last few months. She did that but the unseemly scene that Peter created was disturbing in the extreme. In full view of the hospital staff and other patients, he insisted that he would eat only from her hands. He made protests as to how she could be away for so long. I felt so helpless, so belittled at the humiliation meted out to her when this was reported to me by those in the Infirmary in her absence. And yet, I argued with myself that perhaps, he was not wrong and that he really loved her so much and wanted her to be by his side at this hour of his suffering. The day in the office was most uncomfortable. I kept talking to her to find the position and it was comforting news that he was stable. She felt that after a day's work in office, I could not be back in hospital. There were others willing to stay in the hospital with her. But I knew that she would be comfortable only with me beside her. I knew what I meant to her and I felt proud of it. I told her I would be with her during the night. So, I packed her dinner and mine and came to the hospital again. She talked to me for a long time. She shared some of her deepest and innermost thoughts. She shared with me the anguish at the self-inflicted curse that Peter had caused upon himself. She shared with me her apprehensions about her parents coming over from Ireland, frail and old as they were. And she was generally hopeful about the recovery process. After the ICU area became out of bounds for us, we had our dinner and trudged back to the guest house. I was determined not to repeat the previous day's faux pas. I asked her to try and sleep. But she could not. She was in an unusually pensive frame of mind. She mentioned that the fact that Peter had to be on oxygen off and on meant that he was not improving sufficiently well. I was also rattled. I could not sleep after that. As for her, sheer weight of her physical and mental fatigue sent her into an uneasy sleep. When she woke up for a moment at about 3 am, I spoke about what I had been thinking about the oxygen supply. I argued that the purpose of oxygen was to increase its content in the blood which was being pumped at sub-optimal level by an ailing heart. In the absence of such a supply, the heart would be constrained to work harder for the same quantity of oxygen in blood. So, artificial supply of oxygen was intended to make the work of heart a little easier and was for the good of the heart. She appreciated and even I was convinced with my own argument. We slept for about two hours and were ready for the next day. He had had a comfortable night. The worry, however, was that the lead doctor would be going out for a conference for a couple of days. We prayed that all would be well during his absence. In the meantime, she had worked out modalities for the next day. She had called the lady with whom Peter has had a close relationship, to be in Infirmary for sometime while she herself could go home, have a wash and look up the little kids. I realised this was intended as much to permit her some time with the kids as to let Peter with someone with whom he enjoyed emotional comfort. I wondered what material this woman whom I have admired and loved so much was made of. I knew I was not wrong when I began to regard her as an angel. Needless to say, Peter did not throw the tantrums of the previous day. An office colleague had visited the hospital during the evening and arranged a small room for her, on top of the ICU. She told me about the room and we quietly debated whether we should spend the night there. She was decisive and told me that we would go to the new room. It was more conveniently located. So, the affairs of the day taken care of and he having retired to sleep, we went up to the new room. The room was really small. It had a small sofa-cum-bed, whose length was not enough for her, and a sofa, whose foam had been compressed and dilapidated by extensive usage. Purely with a view reassuring her of my physical presence for all the support I was capable of, I agreed when she asked me to sleep alongside her. I did all that I could to fondle her caringly, to comfort her in this hour of grave concern and worry. I felt proud that the indiscretion of the earlier night did not return. She cared for me so much even in this moment of crisis. She kept telling me to sleep, to feel comfortable. I had never known that I was so blessed. I had never known that she was so noble, so good. Half way down the night, I moved to the sofa, to let her more flexibility in her movements in sleep. The morning again was comforting. He had had a good and comfortable night. Being a Saturday, she felt more relaxed as the little one had the day off from school. The day went off quite well. She had told me that the two of us need not spend the night in the hospital and instead, a friend of Peter would do the duty. It would be easy enough for this gentleman, with the room on the second floor available. I visited her in the hospital in the evening. She talked as usual and I felt good. After a while, she went inside the ICU for a routine look at Peter. I could not resist accosting a doctor about what I had so much wanted to know all these days. I asked the doctor how Peter was doing and whether he would be able to lead a normal life once adequate time had elapsed and he had recovered sufficiently. The answer was comforting in the extreme as he told me that within the parameters of the usual dangers and need for utmost precaution and care, it should be possible for him to lead a normal and active life a few months from that point of time. I had tears of joy in my eyes. As she came back, I held her close and told her. She was so relieved too. I took the first opportunity to go inside and tell him what the doctor had told me. He did not react. He was perhaps not very pleased to see me there at that time of the evening. But then, my day had been made. He was going to be okay and the two of us were going to succeed in our struggle to help him normalise. We parted soon after, with me additionally relieved that today she could have a decent sleep at home, cuddling up to the little one. I knew she needed proximity with someone close and dear and I also knew I could not provide that, for, the connotations in such an initiative from me would be all wrong. Testing Times for Nikita and Roger Sunday also dawned on a note of hope. Peter had had a good night again. But my mental pain had begun. I had been noticing (I hoped I was wrong in my observation) that he had been uncomfortable at the sight of me in the Infirmary. I imagined that he felt uneasy with me spending the night in the Infirmary alongside his wife. I could relate to his agony. After all, he was Nikita's legally wedded husband. Was it that he saw me as an impediment to his rebuilding bridges with her? I saw this as a real possibility. I also could relate to her dilemma if such were the case. When a long strayed husband wants to come back to her fold, she would not feel comfortable with an encumbrance in my form. But I also knew that she had loved me without limits. She had been more caring of me than a wife. She had given to me in a short time span more than my own married life had given me over 25 years. And yet, their relationship had a bigger and stronger foundation. How could I delude myself and not recognise this? I felt that she was getting torn between two opposing forces. What was I to do? On the one hand, I argued as to how I could abdicate my responsibility towards both of them merely on a premise. And on the other, I did not wish to tear her apart. Time had come for me to think and act. Whether I could think cogently and act was the moot point. My inner voice told me that I must stand beside her at this time of adversity that had caught up with us. I also knew that I must not do anything that stood in the way of her fulfilling her duty towards her husband. It was fine, in theory. How was I going to implement such thoughts? I knew nothing about it. I concluded that I must talk it over with the person who has taught me the meaning of life, love and sacrifice. But was this the right time? Would I not be ill-timing my naïve and crass queries? But my belief that she had immense faith and trust in me encouraged me. I also knew that the coming night would be the only time to talk for many days, for, he was to shift to the private room the next day. And if I did not talk to her that night, I would be pushing her into avoidable pain and anguish over the next few weeks. With trepidation, I rang her up. After the preliminary enquiries about Peter's well being, I asked her if I could spend the night in the hospital. I quickly added that I wanted to discuss something with her. I do not know why I felt the need to qualify my request. Perhaps, I wanted to spare her thoughts of any ill-intention on my part. She wanted to know what it was and I asked her to just relax, as it was related to him and our future course of action for his speedy recovery. I prayed that she might not misunderstand me, taking my desire to be there with her as a manifestation of the animal within me. But she agreed. She has been always so trustful of me. Is she really human or she stands at a much higher pedestal? As we sat on the chairs in the ante room of the ICU and talked about the day and the coming period, she wanted to know what it was that I desired to discuss with her. I told her to wait. We were still to have our dinner and I did not want her to lose her appetite because of my misconduct. We decided that I would not see him in the ICU, for he was likely to link up later my presence in the hospital this night with the fact that we had a separate room on the second floor. At the usual time, we left the ICU and went to the room. It was a most difficult walk for me in several years. How was I going to say it all? Will words elude my tongue? Will she understand me or she will just get annoyed at me? Was it right for me to bring up this subject at all? But then, I had blind faith in this woman. She has been my beacon of wisdom these last few years and she had to continue to be that. Once in the room, she wanted to know what it was. I insisted we had dinner first. We had dinner. I was happy that she ate well. And then I asked her to relax. I put her head on my lap and told her to take what I was going to say in the right perspective. I pre-qualified my statement with the declaration that for me, she was of prime importance, that nothing mattered to me more than her welfare and well being. I told her to keep in mind that I cared and felt for her, that I could never mean ill-will towards her. And then, my blabbering began, one of the most disjointed statements ever in my life. I told her that I understood her position and that I wished very much to be with her in this hour of grave crisis. I also said that no matter what the future held in store for us, I would always belong to her. And then, I gradually tried to unfold the future. I said that the coming months would be difficult. I also explained how important it was for me to see that Peter gets well and fast. I told her that even though the ultimate goal of my life was known to her, I wanted him to be well and healthy. I said that I wanted very much that when our little daughters get married in due course, he should be around. I tried to tell her that I wanted him to agree to give her to me one day, some day. And then I told her that she should not get torn between two opposing forces, and that I understood her responsibilities towards him. It appeared to me that she absorbed all that I said. All this while, I kept on fondling her cheeks with my fingers and lightly kissing her on her lips. I wanted her to know that I cared and felt for her. And I knew she understood. I told her that from now on, till such time as she determines, if ever she did, our relationship could be of a type that she would determine, or may be treating me just as an elder, so that it did not come in the way of her duties. She immediately remonstrated and stated that our relationship was on a different plane and it stood on its own. I kept pleading with her never to misunderstand my poorly worded statements that night and always appreciate the context. She assured me that she understood. After I was done with my statements, I offered to go down and sleep in the reception area. I wanted to avert any embarrassment to her, should anyone come in the night to the room and find me there. I argued that Peter's friend, who was in the hospital the previous night, might just decide to walk in to find how he was doing. But she vetoed the suggestion and insisted that I sleep there in the room itself. We slept, again me lying down alongside her, comforting her with my proximity and touch. Again, after a few hours, I moved to the sofa. I got up at about five in the morning and she stirred in her sleep too. She asked me the time and asked me if it would be ok if she got up at about 6 am. She asked me to come and lie down next to her. I did. She was as caring as ever. I put my arm below her head, as I have often done in the past whenever we have slept together. I kept kissing her on the side of her head, on her forehead, on her lips, just to reassure that I was there with her. I wanted her to know that I was with her, that I loved her and cared for her just as much. She held my right hand softly and after a while, placed it on top of her breast. I felt proud that I did not spring into arousal today. I kept fondling her cheeks and her left arm with my left hand. Then, unnoticed, I moved my right hand away. It felt so good that I could feel for my woman. Despite the very delicate situation we were in, I could relate to her mental state. After a while, she again took my right hand and placed it atop her right breast once more. I was not too sure whether she wanted me to massage her womanhood and I did not want to take a chance. I again slipped my hand away after a while. But yet again, she placed it back on her perch. I decided to break the ice. I had a hunch she wanted me to touch her, like I always do, just to make me feel secure and wanted. If she wanted me to touch her in a physical way, I must. After all, I have been living like a husband to her for the last few years. I asked her if she wanted me to hold her and she nodded. I could appreciate that besides her desire for me to feel secure, she wanted to feel like a woman herself for a while. I obeyed. I massaged both her breasts. They were tender as ever. But the massage today was more delicate than ever before. I was so happy that there was no sexual or carnal connotation to the act. It was pure, simple and unadulterated love and affection for her. I knew it was now appropriate for me to have an arousal. And I did. I asked her to hold me and she immediately did – not from above my pant and brief, but she unzipped my pant and took my manhood out of its cage in her soft hand. She asked me if she could release me and I nodded my assent. And right there, lying on that little bed-cum-sofa, she exercised my erect penis and made it release semen in spurts. She asked me to rub her. I knew instantly that she asked me to do so just to spare me any pangs of guilt. This was a very unique process of mutual gratification. There was no sexual connotation to it, whatsoever, just a reassurance of how much we cared for each other. She cleared up the mess dexterously, as she has done for several years now, each time we are together and we got ready for the day. It was the day Peter was to be shifted out of the ICU into the private room. We were both so excited about the chain of events involving his constant progress. God had been so kind. Our prayers were being answered. His progress had been gradual but steady. Hope was building up. She was doing her duty as a wife admirably well. We knew there would be about 6 to 7 nights in the hospital before he was released. I told her that I would share the work. There was no question, nor need, for both of us to be in the Infirmary at night together. We decided to take turns. She did some nights, and a friend of his did a few more. On the remaining three nights, I was there. The first couple of nights and days were difficult, as he had severe pain in the intestine because the dried up faecal matter at the farthest end had blocked the exit for the stool. I felt for him and it was such a relief when the doctors cleared the passage, mechanically. Nights in the Infirmary were a challenge. Yet, it was so satisfying. I was feeling tremendous responsibility each night of my stay in hospital with him. I was a trustee, custodian of Nikita's trust in me, and I must be more careful than I had ever been before in looking after Peter. I would just sit up for a few hours after he went to sleep. I would just watch him breathe serenely and pray to God that he remain in good health for the rest of his life. When I would finally lie down, I would choose a particularly uncomfortable position, lest I should fall fast asleep. Each time he shifted in bed, I would get up and place my hand on his forehead and fondle him lovingly. I knew, even through the subconscious mind, he would feel comforted. It was so satisfying. I was living the trust she had reposed in me. A staggered sleep of three hours in the night would be good enough for me. I was touched by her dedication and dutifulness. The thought of her getting torn between me and him would often come back to me, and I would quietly refer her to our discussion of that night. She would reassure me that all was well. And yet, a sense of guilt was building up within me. Was my decision of 12-15 November 1999, when I debated and responded to her declaration of a special feeling for me, correct? Did my decision lead in any way to distancing them from each other further? Was I the vehicle of their discord? Had their marriage begun to rock because of me? Was I right in getting into a relationship which was created "on the rebound"? I got no answers, and I slipped deeper and deeper into my gorge of uncertainty. Things back in the prison that is my home were pretty much bad. I have been blessed with such a partner who would not appreciate my anxiety, my fears, my doubts and my prayers. For her, this was a time when I was indulging in dalliance with Nikita. What crass stupidity! She would lose no opportunity to taunt me about my priorities. For her, it was my bigger duty to take her out for a long drive or to the market for aimless wandering than to look after someone so close and dear, in dire need of attention. And yet, I tried to play my role to the best of my ability. I argued with myself that no matter what the future held in store for me, I could never let Nikita, the most noble woman on earth, down. She had given me so much, without ever asking for anything in return. That the little love and affection that I was able to shower upon her in my own humble way was so much valued and appreciated made me feel ever more indebted to her. I told myself that peripherals could wait, and must wait, and that I must do my duty with dedication. I had been readying myself for Peter's discharge from the Infirmary. I did not want hostile reaction from our little one when I visited Peter at home. I told Nikita to tell a lie to our little doll about the sms. I wanted her to do that before Peter reached home, because she could possibly not bring this up when he back at home. I wasn't too sure about Mona's reaction. What if she refused to believe and started crying? Peter had to be spared such a scene at this stage, at all costs. Nikita promised to talk the matter over with Mona soon. And she did. The day of release from Infirmary came. It was a big day for all three of us, besides our little kids. We completed the documentation and it was such a grand moment when I helped Peter into his own bedroom. And yet, human brain is such a funny organ. I was relieved very much and yet, to see him lying on the bed in that bedroom caused me some unknown discomfort. It soon occurred to me that I had, subconsciously begun to look upon this as my bedroom. Beginning last Christmas-eve, me and Nikita had merged with each other six times on this bed in the most intimate manner in recent months while Peter was positioned in Swansea. Here I was, stupidly looking upon Peter as an intruder in his own bedroom! I had often dreamed of sleeping on this bed, with Nikita lying next to me, and here she was, all ready to sleep, but next to him. I argued with myself about the futility and stupidity of such thoughts. After all, for me to sleep close to her was a dream, whereas for him, it was a right. I told myself I had to wait, may be endlessly. I was back to normal. The rest of the day was emotionally wrenching. I went to office and had a chat with my boss who came over to my room. For the first time since the ordeal began, I confessed to somebody an aspect of my mental state that I had kept to myself. I told her of my proximity to Nikita, my affection for her. I then told her how the sight of my younger sister, who had lost her husband some years back, kept haunting me the last few days. My own little sister, who had been more like a child to me, had been dressed up as a widow. The picture flashed again and again before my eyes. I could say no more. My eyes were moist. He understood. He consoled me, a very fine human being that he is. A little while later, my elder sister rang me up. She had been wanting to talk to me for some days on some important matters, but had held back her discussion because of my preoccupation in the Infirmary. We discussed what she had in mind and then, the discussion shifted to Peter. I broke down again. She consoled me that I had done my bit. Without a thought, I told her that I was getting penalised for the one mistake that I committed years back, that of getting married. Somebody like me had no right to get married, and I would have been much better off single. I wished to tell her how much I would miss her after she migrates to New Zealand, when the time for me to begin a new chapter in my life might come, when better days might beckon me and when I might have as a partner someone who would give her due respect. But I did not want to hurt her and left the matter at a lot of uncontrolled sobbing. The next morning, I woke up like a convict, as usual. I decided that I had to confront my jailor. I did not know where and how to begin. She sensed that something was amiss. I ultimately told her that I was pained in the extreme to see the kind of bitterness and hatred in her these last few days. And then the dam burst. I told her that she had even forgotten to be human. She decided to put me on the mat saying that she knew that Nikita loved me. She was perhaps expecting me to deny this. My answer surprised her when I said that she indeed did and that I loved her as much, or perhaps even more. I knew the "even more" was impossibility in terms. How could I ever love Nikita more than she loved me? But I still said this to particularly spite my jailor. I added for good measure that she would never be able to understand this relationship, as for her, the basis of a man-woman relationship could only be sexual. I cried at my misfortune of having been caught in such a futile and irrelevant marriage all these years. I narrated to her my thoughts about what happened to my little sister, but I should have known that such things do not affect her. I also shared with her (why I did so I cannot figure out at all) my thoughts about how irrelevant I had become and why I had stopped all medication sometime back, but the only reaction was "Don't blame me for anything". I felt sad at having been caught in a futile marriage all these years. This was no relationship. She did not feel for me at all. Even a dog, pet for so many years, evokes deeper emotions from its owner. I knew I was worse than a dog. This had never been in any doubt. I felt even sadder that I ever began this today. But I had the relief of having declared openly before her our love, my love for my Nikita and my Nikita's love for me. The visit to the Departmental Hospital later in the day was an ordeal. The doctor was brutally blunt in saying that the condition of the patient had been critical and that the level of risk and danger was high still. And yet, it was good to see that Peter had walked a few scores of steps to the doctor's room and back. He was inching towards normalcy. We promised to the doctor all the care and resolved to observe all the precautions suggested. I tried my best to keep support from my side at the high level that I so much wished to, even though I always felt that I was not doing enough for her. She was so alone. Was it because of me that she had distanced herself from the rest of the world? If such was the case, the responsibility devolving on me became even greater. I would try and talk to her several times a day. I would try to encourage and buck her up as best as I could. But each time I did so, the pangs of guilt caught up with me. One reason I fathomed was that I had little meaningful communication with her. Apart from the routine enquiries about his health, there was very little else I could talk to her about. And I felt even guiltier talking about me and her, our relationship. I even felt guilty in reaffirming my love for her. Instead, I began to underline the fact that I cared and that I felt for her. I never wanted her torn between two forces. I tried my best to be of some help. I had promised myself that I would visit them each day, at least once, till I got a signal of being unwelcome. I knew I owed it to her. I knew I owed it to myself. Even while we had begun to bask in the comfort of constant improvement, there was a nerve racking hiccup. I had retired to bed a bit early. My cell phone rang at about 1040 pm. It was Nikita calling. She told me in as composed a manner as she could manage that he was feeling discomfort. I immediately jumped out of the bed. As I walked into the toilet, I almost fell unconscious with a giddiness resulting from the news. And yet I quickly composed myself and drove off. I took me about 18 minutes to reach. My rush was compensated by a visible relief on her face. I felt so much wanted and loved to see her feel more secure with my arrival. She has always been so magnanimous in her treatment of me. She had given me importance and a place that no one before had. We quickly decided to go to the hospital for a check up. BP measurement was done and an ECG was taken out. It was heartening to note that there was no heart-related problem. At Peter's option, we decided to take him back home. As we began our journey back, I was touched when Peter asked me to stay back for the night. My little role the last few days had been fruitful. I knew, she wanted me to stay, and in any case, I would have stayed, spending the night on the sofa in the drawing room, but for him to say so was so much more reassuring. Testing Times for Nikita and Roger I had to spend the night in the same room that I had dreamed of making our own with Nikita as my legally wedded wife. But it was to be next to him tonight. Fortunately, I was able to get over this weird feeling quickly. As in the hospital, I sat awake for a few hours, just watching him and praying for him. I also noticed the photograph of Nikita's mother on the wall. I got up, bowed to the woman who I regarded as my mother, and thanked her for bringing into the world a girl as gifted and noble as this wonderful daughter of hers. Despite my obvious embarrassment, I also sought mummy's blessings for the hand of her daughter, at an appropriate time she chose. I promised to mummy that I would give to her daughter what had always been her due. The jailor of the prison was not understanding, as usual, and this came as no surprise. She rang me up at 5 am asking me when I would return, as if she had missed our customary fuck of each night! Or that I had been in sexual union with Nikita the whole night. When I lie on the same bed as my jailor, separated by a huge cylindrical pillow atop two normal pillows between us, no light passing through and the two of us totally hidden from each other, she has never spared a thought for me. And today, she was showing some unknown, misplaced concern for God knows what. I waited for Nikita to get up. I did not want to wake her up too soon. Finally I knocked at the door of her bedroom. Perhaps, I should not have, for, she came out almost in panic. I told her all was well. And there, right in front of me, she put her hands inside her t-shirt to do up her bra, which she customarily unhooks each night before bedtime. For the first time ever on such an occasion, I turned my eyes away and walked into the drawing room. I knew she understood. She always does. She is so indulgent with me. She insisted on me having a cup of tea before I left. How could I refuse the offer, even though I told her not to bother? I have always loved eating out of her hands. It was at that moment that it struck me how much frailer she had become these last few days. She has always been thin but I found her too weak for my comfort. Some years back, I would not have noticed. For any other woman, I would not have noticed even today. But in her case, just a casual glance today was enough for me to size up her state of health. I told her about this and she remonstrated as usual, saying all was well. As I left, I kissed her on the side of her head and asked her to take care. Each time I visited them, I found her so dedicated and devoted in her duty. And each time I felt guilty that it was me who made them drift apart. I was sure that I had not done so knowingly, but yet, even if I had unwittingly caused their distancing, I must take the blame. I had accompanied her to the hospital and then to the market for some sundry purchases for him. Howsoever much as I would have hated to do so, I somehow irritated her with an overdose of concern. May be, I even conveyed an impression of shamming. My God knows that my concern and desire to care for her were genuine. She told me that what was happening to her was her destiny. I was hurt. I knew that things had changed. I knew that no matter how much I insisted that our destinies were intertwined, there had apparently been irreversible changes in the ECG of our relationship. And yet, I told her not to say that again. I argued that no matter what the future had in store for us, there never could be a change in how we felt for each other. And yet, I knew that this was secondary. Our primary duty was towards Peter at that point of time. She dropped me at the office and went home. I learnt later that on the way, she stopped by at the Church. For a moment, I felt a bit hurt again that she did not tell me about her desire to go to the church. I had also wanted to accompany her. In fact, I had wanted us to go to a Church even before we went home from the Infirmary a few days back. But I tried to understand. Perhaps, she wanted to pray in solitude, perhaps she wanted privacy. Perhaps she did not want a less than pious relationship to stand between herself, her husband and her God. I could relate to her innermost feelings. And I told myself that I had to learn, I had to get used. I remonstrated with myself that I must learn to respect her individuality. I thought of her frail health and spoke to her later that day and pleaded with her to take care of herself. I requested her, beseeched her, prayed to her, folded my hands and told her to take care of herself, as that was important for all of us. She is such a sweetheart. She understood. Her greatness lies in her admitting unhesitatingly if she feels she was not right – such occasions when she is not right are so rare, though! She promised to me that she would take care. It was my turn to be "funny" again. My sense of guilt had been weighing down upon me all these days. In my short conversations with her, I had been mentioning about this. That day, I told her that I felt responsible for the mess that she was in. She gave me a good and well deserved dressing down. She argued in so many ways to prove that such thinking was ill-founded. She told me that such negative thoughts on my part could take away my supportive role. She talked to me a few minutes while I was on my way back to the prison. I saw reason. I knew I was wrong. I realised that I still had some position in her world, albeit with adjustments that her recent ordeals had necessitated. My behaviour next day was much better. I knew I had to be of support to her. I had been telling her that I wanted to be her strength not her embarrassment, but perhaps I had been acting in a manner quite to the contrary. She had yet again instilled wisdom in me, even in her grave hour of crisis. Was she really human? I was convinced that she was my angel. We had a chat on the telephone in the afternoon, when she reiterated what I meant to her. She repeatedly told me that her relationship with me would ever remain the same, regardless of everything else. I was back to what I had been. I felt so much stronger again and ready for the challenges lying ahead. She had made my perspective clear. How can I admire this woman enough! The first follow up meeting with the doctor from the Infirmary took place a few days later. It was such a relief. He was so encouraging with his words. All three of us were so pleased and relieved. Peter was better now. I promised to myself once again that I would continue to contribute my mite in this struggle, in whatever humble manner possible. Happy days must come back into their life. Whether or not I have a place in the whole scheme of things was not material. She had given me so much. I owed so much to her. How could I want anything more from her? It was time to give, to reduce the debit balance in my balance sheet before the business got closed down. She went out with the little one in the evening. I liked this. Both of them needed some time together. I waited in office for her to return and tell me how it all went. Something within told me this outing will be good for our little one. It was late in the evening when she returned. It had been a good outing. She told me about the little one asking to be taken for a lunch in Le Meridien by me, something I had often been doing earleir. I was thrilled. I had tears of joy again in my eyes. As I had a marriage to attend in the evening on Friday, I decided to visit Peter in the afternoon. It was nice to see him well and smiling. Nikita had complained to me that he had been pestering her for some VCDs and that she would have to come along with me on my return. On the way, she showed some bitterness at the attitude of Peter. Undoubtedly, the attitude left much to be desired. He should not be so demanding. But then, he has got used to a way of life and it would be futile to expect him to change overnight. I pacified her on the way. She was regretful, and rightly so. Despite her doing so much, if he wants her to visit markets for such weird errands, it certainly is unfair. I kept telling her to cool down and assured her that things would improve. I kept reminding her about our goal of seeing him okay shortly. She appreciated. I dropped her back home. While on my way back, she spoke to me on phone. It was nice to hear her voice. She wanted to say so much to me, and I am always a good listener when it comes to her. We continued the conversation even after I returned to my office. Only now, we could be more free, with the intruding ears of my chauffeur absent. It was a lovely little talk that we had. For some reason, we felt encouraged to talk as of the yore. We both were unequivocal in declaring our love for each other. And yet, I had lingering doubts, still. The love was there, would always be there, but were we destined to live this love? Was it right? Was I not sinning? I told her how much I cared for her. I even told her of my confidence that she will come home one day, that Peter will give her to me one day. I could not tell her though, of my own growing lack of conviction in this belief. I told her how much I wanted her. I even expressed my desire to cuddle her, kiss her and make her sleep on my arm. We discussed also the need for the two of us to spend time together. She kept articulating her appreciation of me, various facets of me. I knew she needed all the love I was capable of giving her, and a lot more. I thanked God for these most precious moments today and wished that Peter recover even faster. I knew the challenge was even bigger now. I was happy that the very presence of my Nikita makes me urge so much for giving her all the love in the world, all the care in the world.... Peter had been pestering Nikita still. He wanted her to buy a chair from the market. My poor sweetheart, she had no option but to go on the errand, first to the bank and then to the market. The evening was fruitful in a way that I valued immensely. I had a little session with my daughters. My little one also joined in discussion about a lunch that we planned after Sonalika's exam. She even smiled at me.... Nikita wanted me to spend sometime with her the next day, a Sunday and my birthday. My birthdays have long ceased to mean anything to me, but Nikita always values this day. I promised that I would come in the afternoon and have lunch cooked by her. That would be the best way ever that I spent this day. But then, my jailor had other plans. She resented the idea of my having a lunch cooked by my LOVE..... I did not want my jailor to curse the noblest woman on earth, not today..... I decided I would not go for lunch. But I also decided not to have lunch.... My jailor must know what Nikita means to me. I went to see Peter late in the evening. Nikita whispered her wishes at the door. My day was made. She was later to touch my arm softly in the lift. I felt so good, so wanted, so loved. This visit was memorable for a few moments that I spent with my elder daughter. I knocked at the door and entered her room. She was lying on her back and studying, but sprang to a sitting position as soon as she saw me. I remonstrated with her again against studying in prostate position. The sweet kid just confided that she was too tired in the head and slid back on the bed again. I kneeled down and massaged her forehead a bit. She closed her eyes for a moment. She obviously enjoyed my affection. For some reason, I have been feeling that my Sonalika loves being demonstrative with me. It was such a proud moment for me... And I was so happy. I could not have asked for a better and more valuable gift for my birthday. I have been so assiduously collecting happy memories these last few days. I know they will be of great value when the chips get down and I am back to my solitary confinement. Yes, Sonalika, I want all the happiness and success for you, my sweetest little daughter! Nikita was to join office the next day. I offered to take Peter for his weekly blood check up in the morning. She was getting ready for office. She looked so pretty with her hair freshly shampooed. I saw again how wonderful a wife she is. She picked up Peter's footwear and brought it to the drawing room. My jailor would never have done that.... But then, that was what God allocated to me when he was doing allotments. The demanding 'man' came to the fore again a little later, when he wanted flowers on the next Sunday. Nikita and Mona dismissed the idea simultaneously, almost in a duet. I told her to pray before she left for office. Soon she left for office, taking Mona along, to drop her at the school. How caring she is, to all. The last few weeks have done much to wring the very essence of life out of me. But I believe that I have come out a better human being. Quite unknown to me, my approach to life these last few years had become rather self-centric. It was my own happiness, fulfilment of my own dreams and wishes that had come to occupy the frontal position in my life. Even though I always deluded myself that it was her happiness that I wanted, the implicit linkage of her happiness with mine meant that I was dreaming of my own happiness. I know now how wrong I was, in my relationship with the noblest soul on earth. All this has changed now. I feel happy that it is the deep desire for happiness and welfare of Nikita that has begun to drive my existence these last few weeks. I want her happy, at any cost, with, without or despite me. And I feel so very comfortable with this. When I worried about my own dreams, I was so insecure. Not so much now. For, after I ceased to worry about myself, those fears of the unknown have left. I am now ready for anything that destiny decides to give me. But I would accept no compromise on her happiness. It is my sacred duty. I will perform it, to the best of my ability, till my last breath. She is too good to enjoy less than total happiness. I am secondary. She is the focus of my existence now. I know that whatever happens, I will always have a privileged corner in her heart. I will be perfectly happy in that little corner. I will wait.....