As the path was narrow, Sharmaji allowed Manini to precede him. He observed her as he followed her. Straight and uncompromising back, jet black hair neatly combed into a chignon that stayed firmly on the nape of her slender neck, proud and purposeful stride, sensible black canvas shoes, printed brown, silk sari, cream pashmina shawl around her shoulders, tiny clutch purse in her hand with soft and delicate fingers, tipped with neatly filed, clipped nails. No nail polish.
He thought, “What a lady! Dashing and charming at the same time!”
Then inevitably his thoughts wandered to his wife. Slouchy, grouchy, shabby….squat, flabby, ill-tempered…
Idly he wondered what it would be to have a wife like Madam. He couldn’t bring himself to refer to her as Manini even in his thoughts! So disciplined was he!
Instantly, he recovered and straightened up. Oh no! His train of thoughts was way off course! She was someone beyond reach. In fact, out of bounds.
Then he shuddered inwardly. Thank God she was walking ahead of him and had not seen him or else she would have astutely guessed his wayward thoughts. He reddened. He inhaled a deep breath, firmly pushed all his straying thoughts away and hastened to where she had reached.
It was a bench of a log of wood under a shady tree. She was brushing the surface lightly with her hands. She appeared to be getting ready to sit for a breather. He stood there uncertainly wondering whether he should carry on with his rounds or wait there. Soon he got his answer.
“Sharmaji, could we please sit here awhile? I am tired. Rather, my legs are troubling me. The beginnings of arthritis, you see!” She smiled suddenly, her face lighting up as the smile creased the sides of her lips and eyes. The mellow sunlight bounced off the tiny brown flecks in her eyes and she glowed radiantly. For her age, she looked beautiful…
“No problem, Madam.”
End of Excerpt
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