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Déjà vu

I had a fascination for married women. If anything I wanted, it was to romance a married woman. There’s a thrill in the whole affair. It gets boring to go have a wife, and love her. There is nothing adventurous in that, for all men do that. There’s something about married women that attracts me to them a lot. Probably, it is the forbidden fruit, and the desire to secretly eat it makes them all the more desirable. Chasing a dream that can’t be easily fulfilled gives the body the necessary dose of adrenaline. And the satisfaction that one gets when the armed fort is conquered boosts the dopamine level. I loved watching football. The matches were exciting when both the teams were equally strong, and it was difficult to score a goal. And then, when the goal was scored, the happiness reflected was priceless. There is no happiness, scoring a goal without a goal-keeper. And you all are clever folks, and must have understood what I intend to say.
I however, had been bred to be faithful. There was a code of conduct in our family. We couldn’t ever cheat our spouses. My parents had been faithful to each other, and so had been my uncles and all the relatives I knew. I haven’t known/seen a divorce case, and being married for forty/fifty years is as natural as the leaves growing on a tree. Divorces are seen as the Devil’s game and considered to be the culture of the West and film stars, who doesn’t understand the sanctity of marriage. The only way a marriage is dissolved is when one of the spouse dies. Polygamy is rare, and limited to men (taking a second wife), when his first wife is barren.
Maybe I would be the black sheep of my family. A social out-caste, if my family knew my preference. Making love to some other woman not in the imagination, but reality would be a dream fulfilled. If we consider imagination, then I believe none of us would ever be faithful, unless we are mentally impotent. For as men, it is the most natural thing to be attracted to women who are not our wives. And we don’t know how many times we have committed adultery in our minds.
 I considered making my adulterous dream a reality when I met a beautiful women with a year old boy. She was the woman I had in my imagination. I felt scared, making my first move. Everything should happen at a natural pace, and I didn’t want her to get suspicious or create a problem with her husband.
I worked as a resident doctor in the department of paediatrics. The woman had come with the complaint that her child was suffering from frequent loose stools. I held the baby close to me, to check the dehydration. The boy, was more than happy to be with me, and smiled at me. I inspected the child and unlike other kids I handled, was quite playful with me. I gave a sly glance to the mother, and she was impressed and smiled at me.
“You have a fine boy,” I said. “He will get well, soon. Nothing much to worry about.”
Now, I was more interested in the woman. But, I could feel the oddity in the woman and child. There was something familiar in them. Had I seen them earlier? Maybe, because I saw lot of patients every day, and it was possible I had seen her earlier. I dismissed the thought and wrote my prescription. However, the beautiful features of the woman, made me want her. And so, I did a professional misconduct (though it was not, but I had the full intention) of writing my phone number behind the prescription.
“This is my number,” I told her, “and if you have any problem, anytime, you can call me.”
She said a gentle thanks and left the out-patient-department (OPD). Normally, I avoid giving my phone number to anybody. However, there are exceptions as always; especially when the woman is beautiful.
It was night and I was alone in my room after a hectic day of patient handling, when my phone rang. I hesitated to pick up the call, waiting for the Truecaller App to reveal the name. It was from someone named Afrin from my city only. I picked up the call, and waited for the caller to speak.
“Hello sir,” said a female voice. “I am Afrin. Today you saw my child and gave me your phone number.”
I smiled to myself. Maybe, I had hit the nail on the head, and that too with full force!
“Yes, say.” I said. “Is your child well? Any problem?”
“He is good sir. Sleeping peacefully. I called to say thank you.”
Well, that was how our conversation started. Initially, our talk was formal, and more about her child’s health. I would call her to the hospital once in a while on the pretext of seeing her baby, to meet her. I felt I was doing something wrong, and that gave me the thrill to continue doing all the more. Maybe she was an unsatisfied lady, and needed another man in her life.
I was more into satisfying my unfulfilled desires. It made me want her intensely. The values that had been thrust upon me by my family would however revolt and tell me that I couldn’t hit upon a married woman. There was a conflict in my subconscious mind. What if God existed for real, and He would send me to hell for committing adultery? Thoughts of me being fried in Hellfire filled my mind.
“There’s no harm in just talking to her,” I told to subdue my rebellious mind. “I won’t do anything with her.”
This was a way to soothe my revolting brain.
“Just talking, and nothing else.” I told myself. “Okay? Okay.”
Afrin would call me at night, and her sweet voice mesmerized me. Gradually my mind gave up feeling bad, and I was comfortable talking with her. I asked her about her husband.
“He is a psychiatrist,” she said. “And he is busy with one of his stupid experiments.”
I was taken aback. Her husband was a doctor too. She could have consulted him, instead of coming to my hospital. Maybe, women these days were adventurous too, and needed someone outside their marriage. Someone with whom they could fulfil their unfulfilled fantasies. Or maybe, she seriously needed the consultation of a paediatrician for her son. I decided to play along, without showing the slightest disappointment or fear in my voice. The best thing that I had learnt in my trade from those who had been in adulterous relationship was to talk to a woman about everything but her husband. Or she would get uncomfortable, and maybe that fidelity germ or guilt feeling would show up in her mind, and she would refuse to get into physical relationship.
I changed the subject, and asked about the weather. She laughed.
“We are in the same city, you should know.” I felt stupid.
“I just wanted to hear you laugh.” I said. “Feels good to hear your soft laughter.”
“My husband used to also say that.”
‘Damn, the husband’, I thought. ‘Don’t know, why the topic shifts back to her husband.’
“You should come to my place. We can talk and laugh together.” I said instead.
“Well, you can come to my place. My husband is not here these days. And my husband’s parents have gone to their native place,” she offered.
I was getting a very good offer from a beautiful woman and decided to take my chance. Making love to a married woman at her own home, at her own expense was quite a wonderful fantasy. It wouldn’t be a fantasy anymore. It would be real. And that filled me with mixed emotions. Should I do it or not? There was the passion and thrill, as well as a bit of hidden guilt in my conscience that I was doing something wrong. I had my choices, of being good or being bad. We all have choices in the major points of our life, and our decision making changes the course of our lives.
I asked her address, and the date and time I should come to meet her.
“You can come on Saturday night. I will be alone, and I think you will be free.” She said, and messaged me her address on WhatsApp.
I was very happy with the turn of the events. But what I overlooked was that, how did she know I was free on Saturday. I realised it when it was Saturday evening, and was getting dressed to go to her place.

‘Is it some sort of trap?’ my inquisitive brain thought.

 ‘Let’s see,’ my hippocampal part thought. I had more of hormonal surge in me to think anything clearly. I didn’t want to miss my golden chance, and regret afterwards.
 I reached the address, Afrin had messaged me. I noticed an immense familiarity in the surroundings. I wondered if there were dogs. They would bark at a stranger, and wake up the entire neighbourhood. And that would be the end of my adulterous adventure.
 Surprisingly, everything was quiet and peaceful. Maybe it was a turmoil within my brain that was projecting menacing stories. Afrin was beautifully dressed in a black saree, when she met me. I just kept on looking at her, bewitched by her beauty.
As, I went into the house, I felt as if I knew the way and what I should do. I sat on the sofa and was lost in my little world of pleasure. I could feel, Afrin come close to me and gently kiss me on my lips. Was it a dream or was everything happening in real? A beautiful woman, making love to me!
I grabbed her and started kissing her furiously. I felt enraged and mad. She was the woman I had always craved for. And hadn’t I all the rights to make love to her, when it was she who wanted it?
“Where is your husband?” I asked her as we broke the kiss.
“Well, he is working on his experiment. He had some unconscious conflict in his mind and wouldn’t make love to me after the birth of my child. So to resolve his conflict, he hypnotized himself and joined his friend’s hospital to work in the paediatrics department.”
She undressed me and took me to the bedroom. There, on the table I saw a picture of myself with her and the baby boy in my arms!

Déjà vu Reviewed by Polymath on 5:37 pm Rating: 5


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