Mohini…The Enchantress

I want you I want you so bad

I want youI want you so bad

It’s driving me mad (she’s so heavy)

The Beatles, 1969.

He didn’t know when he’d dozed off. RD Burman was playing on his headphone and he could also hear strains of Laxmi Pravachan wafting through the air. “The Puja must have started as I knocked off to sleep”, he thought. Surely she’d be angry at him not sitting for the Puja. “Or maybe she decided to be easy on me after all”, he reasoned. The past few days had indeed been very hectic work-wise.

He got up from his bed and saw that she had kept a kurta pajama set neatly ironed, for him to wear. He smiled as he saw the rust coloured silk kurta and white pajamas She had even got the maid to keep his favourite mojdees out. There was no way she was going to let him sit for the Puja on his shorts and tee (like he would have preferred). He softly smiled to himself as he got up.

And then he felt it. That fragrance. That was so very hers. He could sense she was somewhere in the room. He couldn’t believe his luck. As the rest of the family was busy with the Puja outside in the living room, here he was alone in the bedroom feeling her presence. It was almost too good to be true. But he knew she was here. Somewhere in the room.

Their love affair had started in his youth. He must have been in his teens then. And even thirty odd years later he felt the same about her. The same freshness feeling and emotions. Nothing had changed about her in all these years. As she silently weaved her magic right into his heart, he knew she was special. Too bad he had to keep her hidden from his family. That was the only thing that bothered him about their relationship.

He kept looking for her everywhere in the room. He could sense her but could not see her. “Stop playing games with me”, he implored as he searched in vain for her. The mantras were coming loud and clear from outside and a few crackers also made their presence felt with the noise and sparkles filling up the sky. He knew he had to find her before anyone came inside the room to pull him out for the Puja.

He was panicking now as more and more time went in the hunt. He had to get dressed, wash his face and be out. But before that he knew he had to have her. The desire was eating him up from inside. He had to find her. He had to have her.

And just as he was losing hope from within, he saw her. Golden, pristine, oh so pretty and delicate. There she lay right before his eyes, almost too obviously, for him to be blind-sighted. There you are he smiled victoriously, as he picked her up. “Mohini you’re mine. Finally mine”.

He was about to open…when the door opened in a flash and his wife was standing in front of him. Dressed in a white silk saree with red border she was dazzling. A simple chain around her neck and two golden bangles around her wrist and she was looking ethereal. He could not take his eyes off her, as he stood there with Mohini in his arms, transfixed.

She stared at him. First in disbelief and then she smiled. “I knew you’d find her, but you didn’t know that I knew, did you”, she asked him, her smile getting wider at his expression on being found out.

“Believe me, I would’ve eventually told you”, he fumbled, the guilt too much for him to handle. I knew I couldn’t keep it a secret for too long, he surrendered to his wife. She came closer to him and gave him a warm hug. He loved the smell of fresh flowers which were adorned around her hair.

“You’re the best”, he said, once they broke their embrace.

“And you’re the cutest”, she responded, “to hide something like this from me. Now get dressed fast and join me for the Puja”.

He stared at her as she left the room, turning just once more to look at him and smile. That smile made his Diwali even brighter.

He quickly got into his kurta pajama and combed his hair. He looked in the mirror and felt nice. He felt lighter as the weight of a hidden guilty pleasure had been removed from his chest.

Just as he was leaving his bedroom to join in the Puja, he looked at Mohini. The golden packet of Mohini Dry Fruit Chikkis stared back at him, knowing that she’d be devoured once he came back in the room.

Copyright (c) Pratik Majumdar

Published by Patmaj

Hi this is me, Pratik. I love to read, write, listen to music, watch movies, travel and enjoy great food. Like a whole lot of us I guess. Will keep posting my short stories and other writings out here on a regular basis (hopefully) and (hopefully again) all of you will enjoy them writings...

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