It had been a little over two weeks since she had arrived at our doorstep but I sensed a change that had washed across our household. I’m not quite sure what it was. Our father had always been a man of little words, but whenever he did address her, which was more often than he ever spoke to my mother, the words were pejorative and laced with a mocking hostility. I recall one time we were all sitting in the living room in the evening, our father as usual reading the newspaper, my mother reading her magazine, and I was watching cartoons on the television, having opted out from playing cricket that evening. Sheila entered bearing a tray with tea and biscuits, presenting them to my parents. I watched her navigate around them in a delicate dance, poised so elegantly that she felt quite out of place in our modest household. The azaan had just begun and hearing it my mother wrapped her head with her duputta. Sheila, while pouring out the tea paused to fling her dupatta around her head but it slid off almost immediately. Our father, who was eyeing her from the side of the newspaper started: “No point in the humility. The world has seen everything anyway.” I watched as Sheila promptly left, leaving the tray sitting on the table, and locked herself up in her room. Even after half an hour, when I happened to be passing by her room, I could hear sobbing coming from inside.
My mother did not enjoy the attention that our father was giving Sheila, albeit it was negative. I would hear them fighting in hushed voices in their bedroom late at night as I walked over to the kitchen for a glass of water. And she soon started taking help from Sheila in the kitchen and upkeep of the house, making her bring out tea, dust the floors and furniture and occasionally cook food. The days she would cook were quite apparent since the rotis would come out burnt, and the food would be quite bland and the meat undercooked. I silently ate the food, but my brother and father would fuss about the food. This was one of the rare times my mother would defend Sheila, snapping back at our father and my brother challenging them to make the food themselves. I’ll admit hearing her being on Sheila’s side made me happy but I was wise enough to keep my mouth shut during this exchange.
My brother, who is two years older than me, started acting quite strangely however. Around our parents he would show no interest for Sheila, but during times when my mother was off to the market, and my dad was at work, he would enter her room to talk to her. It was quite embarrassing to hear him actually, saying those foolish things people in love say. At times he would be all cheesy romantic, while at others trying to seem aloof. But even a blind person would have sensed his intentions, such was the subtlety of his tact.
Since Sheila did not leave the house, unless under the guardianship of my mother, she would quite often ask Tahir to go to the corner store and buy her prepaid recharge cards for her cellphone, which she utilized heavily during the nights since she would ask him to bring more every other day. She seemed not to be bothered with blowing through her money even though she was not married and had no apparent source of income. I am not sure whom she spoke to late at night, but I would hear her speaking in whispers to somebody on the other end of the line whenever I went to fetch myself some water. I was curious at times to learn who it might be, and why so late at night, but felt it would be wrong to eavesdrop on her conversation.
I don’t think Tahir was aware of this for he was blinded by the thought of having won her confidence and sentiments due to his willingness to help her. For being my older brother, he was quite dumb. Well, he still is actually. And so he continued on day after day running errands for her, even though it was quite evident that she was using him.
My relationship with her was much more ambivalent. I felt rather uncomfortable in her presence since she would stare at me and say suggestive things to me when no one else was around. I pretended not to be interested in her, even though the truth was that I was but felt quite intimidated by her. I suppose she found that all the more intriguing, compelling her to tease me even more.
One day, while we were playing cricket, Altaf lost a bit of his cool after 4 consecutive dot balls and hit the ball into my house – it was a bad slog. Obviously he was declared out. I ran past the gated walls in search of it in our marrow patio. The ball was hiding behind a bush by the far wall and I strolled over to retrieve it. The window looked into Sheila’s room but it had been shuttered. As I groped for the ball through the branches my eye caught sight of a crack in the shutter. I could see the blank walls inside calmly looking back at me. As my fingers finally grabbed hold of the ball I noticed a movement inside. There she was… in just her undergarments!
I wanted to look away. My mind was telling me it was wrong. My heart was yearning to see more. I indulged on her slender curves, tracing those contours with my eyes, as she combed her silky black hair with utmost care. Her hazelnut brown skin shone. I felt something stir inside of me as my heart began to beat wildly.
Right at that moment Altaf, who had walked over to the gate, yelled at me to get a move on. Startled, I gasped out loud, losing my balance in the process and falling back into the bush. As I regained my footing I saw Sheila, through the crack, facing the window, her hand clasping her long elegant hair as a rope, her slender waist utterly mesmerizing. Our eyes met and a fear coursed through me. I jumped back and looked over at Altaf, who was still looking at me all confused. My heart was still racing as I ran out, wondering if Sheila had recognized me, and a guilt began to pervade over me for relishing on her naked beauty.
Our match ended soon after and I set off on my own to the market, or anywhere else for that matter, avoiding going back home to face her and any consequences if she complained about what I had been doing.
My mind wandered just as my feet. I could only see her in everything I looked upon. That slender waist. The beautiful long hair. Those supple breasts. Desire coursed through me. I wandered through the night in a daze – anxious and confused. I met eyes with her just once during dinner. She smiled at me, not unlike her usual self, and I felt that perhaps I had not been caught.
That night I tossed and turned, thinking of nothing but her. I had never felt like that before though. With Zara it had been different. I had been enamored by her, and although I had used to yearn to see her too, there was a nuance to my feelings that I was yet unable to grasp. Was it because I had seen Sheila naked? Reddened by guilt I walked over to the kitchen to drink some water, and I found myself leaning my ear against her bedroom door. As I had expected her sultry whispers, muffled as they were, reached my ear. Simply hearing her speak drove me up the wall.
Before I even knew how it happened I was already outside her window, peering in through that blessed crack. She lay on her bed staring up at the ceiling, one hand holding up the cellphone to her ear. With the other she was gently fondling her stomach and breasts. I looked on at the spectacle, my arousal growing quite a bit. She moved her body in such a sensual manner, touching it with such passion that I could bear myself no longer. Instinctively I put my hands through my shalwar to discover my pleasure for the very first time. I watched her do the same and I wanted to believe she was thinking of me just as I was of her. Her face turned towards me, her eyes closed. With her back arched, she bite her lip and gasped and writhed in such a manner that, for a moment, I thought she was in pain. I stopped myself, ready to barge into her room and make sure she was alright, when she smiled. I was riddled with confusion.
“What are you doing!!?” I heard my dad speak up from behind me. I turned around to face him, quickly pulling my hand out, horrified. Although the night was dark and only his visage was outlined by the streetlamp outside, his ominous, castigating voice froze my heart.
To be continued…
