Page 167 of 12 Years
I sat on the bed. Normally, in the movies, there’s a glass of milk kept on the side table. The man drinks it to gather energy before the action. Doesn’t the woman need energy too? Shouldn’t there be two glasses of milk? I thought of random things to keep myself distracted from the reality: that I was expected to have sex with Parimal within the next twenty minutes.
I waited for Parimal to arrive. Was it okay if a bride scrolled through Instagram while waiting for her husband to arrive for the suhaag raat?
I checked my phone. It had run out of battery. They really should give power banks to brides. How was she supposed to charge her phone otherwise, that too in a new place?
Okay, there you go, girl, your mind’s all over the place. Again. Focus on Parimal. This is your special night, I said to myself.
I needed rest. I hadn’t slept more than four hours in the last two nights. The barrage of relatives and friends who’d come for the wedding didn’t stop, not even at Parimal’s house. I must’ve touched a thousand feet. I was probably the highest collector of ashirwaads and blessings in Mumbai in the last forty-eight hours. Like my phone, I needed to be recharged.
The door creaked open. My heart began to beat fast. What did Parimal expect? A long, passionate night? I was his wife now. He had the right to expect that. However, the idea of him touching me was repulsive.
‘Hey,’ Parimal said as he came in and shut the door. ‘Nice decorations no?’
‘Hi,’ I said.
He came and sat next to me. Then, without another word, he leaned forward and kissed me. I froze. It felt like something cold and metallic had touched my lips. He kept his hand on my breast.
‘Can you remove this?’ he said, tugging at my blouse.
It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t even pleasant. But it wasn’t threatening either. It felt like a child asking his mother to be breastfed. And what was I to do anyway? I was his wife now. Maybe this would help me get closer to Parimal.
I complied.
‘And this,’ he said, pointing to my bra.
I didn’t want to. But I had to. I removed my clothes one by one, as instructed by Parimal. He quickly did the same.
Where Saket was a beast, Parimal was a toothpick.
Do not compare bodies, I reminded myself.
Parimal pushed me down on the bed, got on top and entered me. All this, without exchanging a single word or touching me anywhere else. It hurt. I wasn’t turned on at all. I winced in pain. He started to move back and forth. Half a minute later, he grunted and then stopped. His body slumped on me, and the weight of it felt heavy.
‘I’m done. I came,’ he said, rolling over to his side of the bed. ‘That was good.’
‘Oh, okay,’ I said.
‘Did you come?’
‘No.’
‘Relax, everyone is tired on the first night,’ Akanksha said.
I had set up an emergency meeting with her at Prithvi Café, attached to Prithvi Theatre in Juhu. The outdoor café was filled with a bohemian crowd, consisting of theatre lovers, aspiring actors, artists and young people. Akanksha paid attention to me only after recording three videos of the famous Sulaimani chai, a lemon black tea, which we had ordered.
‘It wasn’t just that night. We tried again. Twice,’ I said.
‘And? How was it?’
‘Hopeless. Akanksha, it feels like a punishment. I never imagined that sex could bethisbad. Actually, it isn’t just bad. It’s awful. Like worse than getting your teeth pulled out at the dentist’s.’
‘What are you even talking about? Intimacy between husband and wife is the purest form of love.’
‘There’s nothing like that,’ I said. ‘Gosh, is this going to be my sex life?’
‘Don’t say sex. Say intimacy,’ Akanksha said, taking a sip of the chai.
‘What? Why?’
