"Some touches incite emotions that bring warmth to the heart, but there can be touches that imprint on your mind, the memories of which become your worst enemy in the dark."

-Elegiac_Damsel.

______

4th November

Third person's point of view:

Kolkata, The City of Joy.

Nature has always been sensitive to external stimuli. Touch, warmth, light, and sound are a few common stimulants.

The lotus is sensitive to the rays of the sun, while the touch-me-not is sensitive to touch. The sunflower is said to grow in the direction of the sunlight, thus showcasing its sensitivity to light. Humans, like every other living organism, are sensitive to various kinds of stimuli, especially touch. One reacts to a brush of fingers, to a gentle caress, and a rough grope. Unwanted touches warrant unpleasant reactions, while touches that do not offend command a smile, a nod, a shake of the head, or some kind of reciprocation.

Haphephobia, the fear of being touched, is a condition characterised by excessive reactions and anxiety at the prospect of being touched.

Erotophobia is the fear of being touched sexually, irrespective of intention, be it love or abuse. It is a condition that is a specialised version of haphephobia, usually associated with traumatic experiences and past cases of sexual abuse or assault. Characterised by fits, violent or silent, at being touched intimately, hyperventilation, and panic attacks, it isn't uncommon for humans to react with great aversion and protest when their instincts are triggered at the prospect of any potential sexual encounter. The degree of any dread, sickness, or phobia varies from person to person.

For Mrinalini, it was something new, something that brought her anxiety and caused her restlessness.

Debarghya hadn't brought up the subject of sexual intimacy or their imminent marital consummation in over two weeks since the last time he tried speaking to Mrinalini. Given their difference in age and virtual unfamiliarity, broaching the topic of intimacy or affection vocally had been awkward. In an attempt to bridge the gaps, they had avoided voicing their respective concerns or opinions, taking things at their own pace.

Mrinalini, like every other newly married young woman, had qualms about being intimate with a man she hardly knew, but she wasn't afraid of pushing their relationship to the next level. To overcome her inhibitions and to prepare herself for married life, she had initially resorted to reading blogs and experiences of other women online who had been in an arranged matrimonial match. There had been mixed responses and replies that had given her some hope that things wouldn't be too awkward or difficult if they connected as individuals, but her mother's painful revelation had left her stunned and traumatised.

Despite the gentleness in his touch, irrespective of the intention, she would often react severely if his actions started getting even remotely intimate. They shared physical closeness, but she never allowed him to touch her below the waist. They had attempted to take things further, but the moment his hand had let go of her hand or belly, inching towards her nether parts, she would inevitably become still, her limbs would become lax, silent tears of protest glistening in her eyes, her breath quickening, the sudden change in her demeanour causing the moment to break, silently begging him to step aside.

Debarghya never failed to comply with her wishes. He never pushed her beyond what she was comfortable with. Mrinalini felt grateful to that part of him that respected her comfort zone and refused to make her feel obligated, but even she knew that humans had their limitations. He was no exception.

Although he was patient with her most of the time, considering her age and the existing unfamiliarity between them, despite their squabbles and disagreements, he had started feeling frustrated. He hated it when she flinched at his touch or when her eyes reflected her fear and distrust.

"I am not forcing you into anything, Mrinal," he had once told her, the last of his resolve breaking. "Stop crying in a way that implies some catastrophe is about to take place! Am I touching you without your permission? Am I assaulting you? Why are you making me feel like someone who is inflicting pain and torture on you? These tears maybe for a reason I have no control over, but this is going too far. Mrinal, I can take a lot of things, but I don't think I am patient or strong enough to have my wife looking at me like I am a rapist, someone she cowers in fear of, someone whose touch disgusts her."

She had tried in vain to explain that his touch did not repulse her and that she trusted him enough not to do anything against her will. Each time her phobia was triggered, her body emitted an immediate, non-voluntary reaction. She wasn't scared of his touch. She would only be reminded of her mother each time Debarghya tried to touch her. She would be reminded of the ordeals of the women about whom she had read on blogs online, her mind recounting the pain they had described having been subjected to. His arms, though gentle on her body, reminded her of another set of arms that had gently carried and cradled her, and yet been ruthlessly capable of committing the misdeed.

She could identify that the problem, her fear, lay in her inexperience and mistrusting conscience that refrained her from nurturing the trust that her relationship with Debarghya demanded.

Going on the internet and surfing through various social networking platforms, TED talks, posts, and blogs, she virtually came into contact with several women who had faced the same problem as her. Most of the victims who either had haphephobia or erotophobia had suffered a traumatic incident like sexual abuse or rape that unfortunately led to their situation, but there were people like Mrinalini, who upheld qualms and the fear of sexual intimacy, citing trust concerns or implicit trauma due to something they had seen or heard. Some people have never been able to come out of the trauma, rendering them unable to conquer their fears and phobias, costing them relationships and ties. Others took their time to heal and recover, taking things slowly, building trust and forging an apt bond with partners they were comfortable with. Either way, what she could decipher was that conquering this was a matter of the mind and the heart. If she had to overcome her fear, her needs and urges, her urge to want, and her level of comfort with her husband, it would have to outweigh the deep dread and perturbation that lived in her psyche.

Yet, despite her best efforts to not let her fear cloud her senses, she had failed, driving an unfortunate wedge into her relationship with Debarghya. Her apprehensions about penetration and intercourse had unfortunately resulted in a communication gap that was still yet to be bridged.

It had been more than a week since Deepawali and Bhaidooj. With these last two days of festivities, the festive season for the calendar year had officially drawn to a close. The weather was gradually changing, the slight chill in the air paving the way to winter. The early mornings were cold. The slight chill in the atmosphere, the slightly delayed, foggy sunrise, and the dryness in the air conveyed the winter's inevitable arrival in the City of Joy.

On the day of Bhratri Dwitiya or Bhaidooj, the second day of the waxing moon in the Hindu month of Kartik, while Anumegha had been with her two brothers, Mrinalini had felt a strange sense of loneliness. She resented the fact that her cousin, Abhrajeet, had deserted her. With a scant number of phone calls since he shifted abroad, they seemed to have remained in touch only through text messages. She spoke to him over the phone that day, almost 3 months into her marriage, grateful that he wasn't home when they conversed, thus avoiding the prospect of having to speak with her uncle and aunt out of obligation and courtesy. She missed him, missed the simplicity that life had spelt out for her before marriage and the revelation that jeopardised the childhood she had once cherished.

With the festive season officially over and everyone in the household becoming busy with their work and commitments, it was mostly quiet during the day. Debjani lived in her reclusive world, usually restricted to the four walls of her room and the living room of their home, while Mrinalini kept herself busy with mundane chores. Anumegha had her examinations going on and had started spending a lot of time studying, leaving her room only for meals and commuting to the university. Debrishi had gone back to college and wasn't due to visit home anytime before Christmas given his academic commitments.

It was 4 in the late afternoon. Mrinalini was seated at her usual spot at the dining table that doubled up as her tuition classroom. She struggled to teach Debankita, a tenth grader from the neighbourhood, a girl who had started coming for classes since the beginning of the month, to make her understand the difference between ionic and covalent bonds.

"Didi, I don't like this subject at all," Debankita grimaced. Like Mrinalini's first student, Sagnik, she addressed her as an elder sister, given the few years of difference in their ages.

"What's with this neighbourhood and hating Chemistry?" Mrinalini muttered in response, shaking her head. "First Sagnik, your sister yesterday, and she hasn't even started studying real chemistry involving complex reactions and equations, and now you."

"Sagnik da said the same thing?" Debankita asked rhetorically, absorbing the woman's words, a slight flush creeping up her cheeks. Mrinalini shook her head, biting back a smile as she looked at the girl's face, her fascination and adoration for the boy next door, whom she had known for years growing up, shining in her eyes. She could tell that this was the typical neighbourhood crush story that almost every teenager felt attracted to the idea of at some point, their fantasies starting with shared ice creams and steaming tea served in miniature clay pots in local tea stalls, long evening strolls in Maidan, or watching sunsets by the Ganges, eventually getting married to raise the best family born of precious, unparalleled love.

"Could we get back to earth and discuss the Chemistry that would help your grades?" Mrinalini asked sarcastically, emphasising on 'Chemistry' to convey the intended innuendo, clearing her throat to interrupt the teenager's reverie.

Debankita flushed redder, further flustered by Mrinalini's indirect teasing. She nodded shyly, lowering her head towards the open textbook on the table in front of her, pretending to bring back her focus on the introductory chapter of Organic Chemistry, a field Mrinalini loved while she despised.

"Your preliminary examinations begin on the 27th of November. We do not have much time. You need to understand that we need to cover all the chapters of Science, which includes Physics, Chemistry, and Biology. I would also like to help you go through a few previous year questions before you attempt the examination at school, so it helps. After your pre-boards, we'll strictly focus on chapter-wise revision and spend the last month leading up to your boards solving mock tests and papers to evaluate your preparation," Mrinalini told the girl an hour later, a bit put off by the girl's lack of interest in Science. "I understand that science isn't a subject you like, and I don't expect that of you, but you must study and pass. Once you are done with your secondary school certificate examination, after 10th grade, you can pursue your preferred academic field. Just put in some effort for these few months. I promise you won't regret it. It will help you with your grade and percentage. You'll never have to look back."

The teenager in front of her reminded Mrinalini of herself back in 10th grade, deeply troubled by one subject that strangely threatened her future. It had been mathematics in her case, a subject she had either failed or just managed to scrape through throughout the year. It had become a matter of great concern for everyone in her family and all her teachers. Her class teacher had called upon Barun, her uncle and guardian to the school, advising him to make her drop a year and revisit mathematics, lest she would jeopardise her results, thus inevitably bringing down the school's overall performance. The confrontation and exchange that had occurred then between the teachers and her uncle had made a deep impact on her, urging her to put in all the efforts that she could manage in the last month leading to the final examinations.

"I relate to the situation you are in," Mrinalini admitted in a quiet, empathic tone. "I failed Mathematics back in 10th grade."

Debankita looked up at Mrinalini with wide eyes, blurting out what came to her mind immediately, "How on earth did you manage to get admission into the science stream in the 11th grade?"

Mrinalini laughed, shaking her head at the girl's direct question. "You are seriously straightforward," she commented, grinning. "And to answer your question, I managed to get admission to the science stream the same way I managed to get 95/100 in Mathematics in the final paper. In all honesty, I still don't know how I managed that! It was no less than a miracle."

"Wow," was all that the teenager could say, visibly taken aback. "So your point is that if I put in ample effort, I can manage a similar miracle?"

"What's the harm in giving this possible miracle a shot?" Mrinalini retorted, shrugging. Their conversation was friendly, unlike the conventional manner in which a mentor or teacher was expected to address someone younger seeking guidance. "You don't like the subject and there will be several more moments in your life when you will have to do something you aren't in favour of. Sometimes you have the option to put forward your opinion, but there are situations where you would just need to comply because that is the only option. Life isn't always straight, kiddo. Twists and turns are inevitable."

"Didi, did you ever feel forced to do something that you did?" Debankita asked the older woman, looking up at her with a mix of curiosity and concern. Their conversation had gone off track, moving more towards life than plain academics, an aspect that now lay neglected. "Something that you regret not having the choice to do?"

Mrinalini's gaze flickered momentarily once towards the gold-plated iron bangle on her left wrist, an indicator that signified the sanctity of her marriage, a bond she had forged with a man and his family. She was quick to straighten her features, concealing the uncertainty that had been briefly perceptible through her facial expression.

"A question that is out of syllabus, Debankita," she replied in a gentle tone, the gentleness hiding the severity of her reprimanding words, directed at the girl who had unwittingly hit a nerve with a personal question. "I know you aren't asking me this based on my experience as a student or someone associated with academia."

"Sorry di," she replied, blushing furiously. "I didn't mean to pry by asking you what I did. I was just a bit curious. You are so young, and you are barely a few years older than me. There are so many questions on my mind, and at most times I don't know who has the answers that I so desperately seek."

Mrinalini smiled kindly, softening. "You are free to interact with me, direct those questions to me, but there is a level of comfort, a certain boundary that we would both need to adhere to or else we will diminish the professional walls between us. We need to do some studying too, and there isn't a lot of time that we have. You are going to be here for four classes a week. That's all the time we'll get to cover everything."

Thus, exchanging some kind and encouraging words, she concluded her lesson with the talkative, curious, naive, strangely impulsive, and straightforward teenager, someone she shared quite a few traits with.

Later, in the quiet privacy of the kitchen, as the pan she had been reheating food in sizzled away, she pondered Debankita's question. She had been forced into marriage, a commitment she had not been ready for, but did she feel forced or obligated in her new relationship and household? She didn't have an answer.

Debarghya wasn't in town, having had to leave for work in North Bengal and Assam on Monday. He was due to return on Saturday, another couple of days before he would be home. Over the last 3 days that she had been alone at night, she had felt strange. Although the fear of ghosts that had initially caused her to worry irrationally had dissipated gradually, she still wasn't used to the loneliness that lying in bed alone in the dark brought. The other side of the bed felt empty, quiet, and cold, in contrast to Debarghya's easy breathing and mild snoring, and the warmth from his body was missing.

The tranquil solitude of the night left her alone, allowing feelings of loneliness that she had tried to suppress throughout the day due to work and other distractions to surface. When she couldn't sleep, she'd turn on Debarghya's bedroom lamp and curl up with a book, losing herself in the pages and the plot, engaging in dialogue with the characters, imagining each scenario from their lives in an endeavour to kill ennui and make peace with her restless, lonely thoughts.

Smiling to herself as she commenced peeling a long and lonely ridge gourd, she recalled fondly how Rai, who had a habit of going to sleep early as she always woke up before dawn, would wake up in the middle of the night, disoriented, probably disturbed because of the brightness of the reading lamp her daughter would use to read, swatting at her in annoyance, mumbling something incoherent. Back home, reading till late had been a norm, especially during the weekends, but here, it was seldom that she got the time and privacy to read peacefully at night, owing to her fatigue and the hesitation that would creep in, realising that it could potentially disturb Debarghya's sleep.

Perhaps she had been too selfish and self-centred to realise the selflessness that automatically became a part of marital life with responsibilities that she had not been ready to take up. Did she feel forced to take up those responsibilities? Did she feel forced to consider everyone's opinion before doing anything? She didn't have an answer to any of these questions. She couldn't differentiate between the things that came in the line of duty and the ones that had been forcefully made a part of her regime.

Did she miss Debarghya because she connected with him, or was it because it was normal to miss the presence of the one you were bound to in a matrimonial bond? Did she feel his touches from within or was it just a reaction that her body released knowing that it was what was deemed to be right? Did she miss him because she had grown dependent on him, or was it the emptiness around her that made her crave his company? The questions sounded the same to her even as she pondered over them, heeding her thoughts.

"Boudi," she could hear Anumegha calling her from the living room. "Could you come out for a bit?"

Sighing to herself, her bubble burst, Mrinalini turned the flame to low, placing the lid on the pan, before she washed her hands, wiping the wetness using the cloth she tucked into her waist while working in the kitchen.

Anumegha smiled in greeting as she regarded her sister-in-law, quiet as usual as she entered the living room, her appearance mildly dishevelled from working in the heat. Debjani was seated across from her daughter, on the armchair, calculating something bleakly on the back of a Bengali magazine that she had kept on the centre table in the living room earlier in the evening.

"We just received a wedding invitation in the mail for this Sunday," Anumegha said enthusiastically. "Someone who is a distant relative of ours. They must have been at your wedding reception when you met them. Their daughter intended to elope with a neighbour, but they were able to persuade them otherwise, and they chose to sanction their marriage, thus the impromptu wedding and invitation."

Mrinalini's lips twitched in amusement. A girl eloping was something utterly scandalous that had been sensationalized over the years in novels, movies, and shows. She had always found it unrealistic but amusing, and the way her sister-in-law presented the story made her view the scenario in a more jocular manner, prompting her to laugh.

"Don't laugh, Brishti," Debjani reprimanded her daughter, although it was quite perceptible that she found the situation just as hilarious.

"Oh, come on, Ma," Anumegha retorted. "You do remember how pompously your aunt reacted when you informed them about my impending nuptials and Dada's wedding, citing how little effort you put in to search for a better match?"

Mrinalini winced slightly, realising that it had been a jibe directed at her and her family, something she wasn't supposed to know. Her mother-in-law looked at her briefly, shaking her head at her daughter as she continued, oblivious that she had indirectly conveyed something unpleasant to her sister-in-law. "She had been so supercilious and arrogant about her darling granddaughter, who always adhered to what they said."

"And now it's the same compliant and dutiful granddaughter who chose to defy everyone at home," Debjani finished. "Honestly, I do believe that everyone must choose who they want to be with, and both my children did exactly that. She had criticised their decision and choice mockingly. Probably the girl had started feeling overwhelmed at home in that environment, thus leading to such an impulsive step."

"At least they agreed and decided to save their reputation," Anumegha said, gesticulating with invisible quotations. "Anyway, coming to what we wanted to say in the first place, is that we need to go and get them a gift. Secondly, the wedding will be at Ultadanga, so Ma and I will be going there on Saturday, and we will be back on Monday. Quite obviously, the invitation extends to you and Dada, but since he isn't in town, the two of you would have to work out your schedules. I spoke to him a while ago about this wedding, explaining everything, and he has asked me to take his credit card from you so that we can get the gift on time."

"We can go out tomorrow to purchase the gift, provided you are free," Mrinalini replied casually.

Her sister-in-law shook her head in response. "I have my last examination on Friday, Boudi. Why don't we go out once I am done? You can meet me at College Square at 5 pm, and the two of us can get something."

"I have a tuition class to conduct at 4 pm, Brishti di," Mrinalini replied, unsure. "Maybe we can get something from nearby when you get home?"

"I had plans to go out with my friends for dinner," Anumegha replied, pouting. "The examinations are coming to an end and we had made these plans earlier. Please, Boudi, can you adjust your timings this one time?"

She hesitated momentarily but gave in, nodding in agreement.

...

6th November

It was 8 in the evening. Mrinalini had just got back home a quarter of an hour ago, having purchased a bedcover set along with a silver coin from a local jewellery store to present the new couple with. Anumegha had gone off to Park Street, assuring her sister-in-law that she would be home by 10.30 at night.

She hummed to herself as she measured out the gift-wrapping paper from the new roll she had purchased from the stationery shop in the neighbourhood, pausing to assess the folds of the tentative packaging before she could snip the requisite length of the paper. She let herself carefully measure before taking the pair of craft scissors that usually lay idly on her husband's work desk beside an equally forlorn-looking punching device.

The vibration of her cell phone made her pause, diverting her attention from the half-wrapped package in her arms. Keeping aside the pair of scissors and the roll of sellotape, she let herself accept Debarghya's call, pressing her phone against her left ear with her left shoulder as she resumed her handiwork.

"Hello?" she waited for him to speak. "Did you go out and purchase something to give them as a wedding present?"

She proceeded to fill him in on the details of their shopping escapade, mentioning that Debjani had insisted on buying a silver coin to bless the couple with and that the expenses had surpassed their mutually decided budget by a fair margin.

"When will you be home tomorrow?" she asked him quietly, changing the topic of discussion, knowing that he had already begun calculating the excess expenses and how he could cover them, poring over them stressfully since it was just the beginning of the month and his next payday was weeks away. "And will you be home for lunch?"

"My flight from Guwahati is at 11.55 am tomorrow," he replied. "I will make it home in time for lunch."

"They won't be there though," she said, referring to her mother-in-law and Anumegha. "Brishti di said they will be leaving at noon so they can attend the Aashirbad and the ceremonial lunch. Ultadanga is close to the airport. Are you sure you don't want to drop by there once before you get home?"

"I am sure I want to be home," he answered her question, chuckling slightly at her persuasive query.

Mrinalini smiled involuntarily. "Did you get time to eat lunch today?" she asked him softly, knowing already what the answer was. "I need to gift-wrap the gifts now and roll out the bread for dinner. You'd better eat an early dinner," she added.

...

7th November

Mrinalini fanned herself with the free end of her cotton saree as she went about locking the windows in the afternoon, hoping that the heat from the air outside would subside. There was no one at home, as her in-laws had left for the pre-wedding functions at noon. Even though Debjani's usual presence at home made little difference, the household seemed emptier than what she had become used to. It was almost 3 p.m., and she was starting to get famished. The maidservant who had been in to sweep and mop the floor had suddenly become ill, leaving her with two additional jobs. Debarghya's flight had been delayed by a half-hour, and she was still waiting for him to arrive home, although he had left the airport an hour prior. She had hoped to have lunch with him and had prepared an extra dish for him, a preparation of lentils that he greatly liked.

The doorbell rang once, prompting her to rush to the door, fervently hoping that it was Debarghya. Unlatching the front door, she opened it, smiling in greeting as she moved aside to let him inside.

"Could you please freshen up quickly?" she blurted out as soon as the door shut. "I am really hungry."

He chuckled, nodding in agreement, waving a hand towards his luggage by the door. "Let me get this inside. I'll unpack later. I feel quite famished myself."

Approximately 30 minutes later, once Mrinalini had loaded the washing machine with Debarghya's used clothes from the 5 days of his trip as he freshened up, the two of them sat down to their lunch at the small rectangular dining table, serving themselves as they ate in silence.

"It isn't too salty or spicy, is it?" she asked him once, breaking the silence, hoping fervently that what she had made was at least palatable. He nodded, smiling slightly, conveying that the taste was to his liking. "It is refreshing to taste something homemade after a few days of being away," he confessed.

The sun was almost down at 5 pm, the days becoming shorter, an indication that winter was just around the corner. The air was almost chilly during twilight when Mrinalini went up to the terrace to get the clothes she had hung on the line to dry, Debarghya accompanying her for some fresh air and a smoke.

"I was upset that day," Mrinalini spoke, breaking the silence as she unclipped the dry clothes from the line one by one, starting with her sister-in-law's top and her sari from the day before. "Why would you tell your sister to ask me to hand over your credit card to her? You do know that she is a spendthrift, don't you?"

Debarghya lit his cigarette, sighing in annoyance as he looked over at his wife. "She is still my sister. You don't expect me to renounce her because she is a spendthrift, do you?"

"I didn't mean that," she clarified, brushing away the strand of hair that had come loose from her braid due to the breeze. "What I mean is that you could have asked me directly instead of conveying instructions through your sister." Looking as he was about to interrupt, she shook her head, asking him to stop. "Please listen to me once. I am not judging your sister or her nature here or complaining about her. I felt like I was your bookkeeper or secretary, someone whose job is to keep tabs on your accounts and expenses, someone who can be instructed to manage your transactions at any point. You expect me to answer you about each penny spent, but you make an exception for your sister. In your attempt to treat me as your partner, to treat me as an equal, you often forget that I am your wife, someone who has never done any of this before." She held up the dry clothes bundled up in her hands as she continued, "I have never had to do any of this before and the only expenditure that I had to keep tabs on included the books and stationery that I needed for college and the transportation. I never did the housework back home. I never had to deal with all this, and I am dealing with it here. It is overwhelming how you expect me to be understanding and mature despite my age, just because I am your partner."

He was quiet as he absorbed her words, the lit cigarette between his fingers as he alternated the focus of his gaze from her to the horizon, towards the setting sun. "I understand that you and I are supposed to rely on one another in various aspects, and I am probably more dependant on you than anyone else is, financially and otherwise."

"Don't talk about financial dependence, Mrinal," he replied, interrupting her. "Neither you nor anyone else in the family is a burden on me, so please do not use the phrase 'financial dependence' to define your situation. I am responsible for you, my mother, and my siblings. You have a right to spend on anything you wish to, provided you consider the few constraints that we have."

"I didn't mean it that way, Debarghya," she corrected herself gently. "I just wanted to convey this once and for all. I cannot be the villain if I go shopping with your sister and then choose something cheaper because I know there's a budget we need to adhere to, and she doesn't. She casually told me that day that I was trying too hard to save money for the future, uncaring for the present, although she presented her thoughts in a jocular manner. I know the constraints, but she doesn't. Some conversations need to be between you and her, just as there are conversations that solely involve you and me."

"What do you want me to do?" he inquired in a resigned tone, unwilling to get into an argument. "I want you to treat me as your companion and not just someone who keeps your accounts for you or someone you can always dump your baggage on for controlling mishaps," she admitted, her gaze unwavering. "In the journey towards being partners for life, we have somehow ended up adopting a relationship that seldom talks about anything more than transactions and responsibilities. Despite our understanding of our vulnerabilities and weaknesses, we have yet to forge a bond that goes beyond conversations. We are legally and socially bound to one another, and we are mutually dependent, but do we have anything beyond mere obligation?"

Debarghya was silent throughout, even as Mrinalini finished speaking. She had tried her best to convey what she had meant to, but her words had sounded hollow, the root of the problem still undiscovered, let alone expressed. She looked on at him, expecting to incite a reply, but to no avail. His gaze was focused on the sky, the lit cigarette between his fingers as he exhaled smoke, almost like he had been oblivious to her presence.

"You can smoke in peace, and once you are done making love to that damned cigarette, please do return home after shutting the door to the terrace," she blurted out, annoyed at his indifference. "I have work to do. I will get going."

"Would you like to go out for dinner tonight?" She finally heard him speak as she stood at the threshold of the door, her hands full of the washed clothes. She turned to face him and looked at him with inquisitive eyes, unable to place his reply with the words that she had spoken.

"Why?" she blurted out. "We already spent a lot yesterday and this is just the beginning of the month..."

"Let's not speak about expenses," he said, stubbing the cigarette beneath his foot."Didn't my sister remark that we save for the future while living frugally in the present?" She is partly correct. Perhaps we should devote some time and resources to our current."Mrinalini listened calmly as he continued, still perplexed by everything he was saying. "I've just realised that you spend most of your time at home and only go out for groceries or books. We don't get to spend much time together, and I know it might be frustrating for someone your age to be at home by yourself with no friends. Maybe we should make an effort to spend some time by ourselves. We are surrounded by others at home almost every time that the two of us are home. How can we expect to forge a bond if the only place that we are alone in is the bedroom?"

"Debarghya," Mrinalini objected, embarrassed. Her face was tinged pink, her hold on the bundle of garments tightening. He shook his head, smiling at her. "What I am trying to insinuate is that perhaps we could try what you proposed. We can take a break from being live-in business partners and attempt spending some time as companions."

Mrinalini bit her lip, trying to contain her smile. Perhaps this was one missing aspect in their relationship that the two of them hadn't analysed before. They had been successful as live-in business partners like he put in, managing transactions that concerned them and the household, but they had never tried taking a break from household duties to spend time in any other setting. She nodded in affirmation, parting her lips to let out a giggle, the seriousness of her words earlier dissipating as peals of her laughter resounded in the silence of the twilight.

...

It was a typical Saturday evening on Park Street at 8 pm. The numerous restaurants that the citizens of the City of Joy liked to frequent were filled to their maximum capacity with swarms of customers standing in queues outside.

Mrinalini leaned on one of the white pillars next to Debarghya outside Peter Cat, one of Park Street's oldest and most popular eateries. They'd been waiting for more than an hour, listening to the doorman as he called out the names of clients who had tables available. The two of them had taken the metro from Shyambazar to Rabindra Sadan, opting to walk the short distance between the subway station and the restaurant, mingling with the throngs of people out for the weekend.

She looked around, bored, and hungry, hoping fervently for their turn to come up, so they could dine. She looked like any other college student of her age, clad in dark navy blue jeans and a floral printed top with mid-length sleeves. The only differentiators were the nuptial gold-plated iron bangle on her wrist and the thin streak of vermilion that marked her parting. Post marriage, she seldom stepped out of her room without vermilion. The only time that she had forgotten had been sometime during the first fortnight of her marriage. Debjani, who was otherwise a fairly tolerant and progressive mother-in-law, had chastised her oversight, remarking disdainfully that she didn't appreciate her forgetting something obligatory for a married woman. Although taken aback by the unexpected outburst from her mother-in-law for what seemed to be such a minor blunder, she had been quiet. She had cajoled herself into rationalising her mother-in-law's behaviour after absorbing Debjani's passively expressed wrath, knowing that it had little to do with intended malice and more to do with the paranoia that had settled since she had been widowed at a young age.

It was almost a quarter past eight by the time the two of them finally settled down at a table on the first floor of the restaurant. The ambience was rather dark with scattered dimmed lights and a constant warmth even with the air conditioning, due to the smoke from the sizzlers that were being served around. A busy chatter accompanied by sporadic squeals from the toddler seated at the adjacent table was a constant throughout the 2 hours that the two of them dined, relishing the privacy amidst the chaos.

It was close to half-past ten by the time the two of them returned home. Mrinalini opened the door to their flat, glancing a bit uneasily at the eerie darkness and silence that greeted them. She fumbled for the switch on the right side of the wall, squinting to see in the dark. Sighing behind her, Debarghya reached out for the switch himself, turning the light on.

"You were practically feeling the wall," he explained himself. "And for your information, there aren't any ghosts waiting to greet you."

His tone was teasing and playful, his words causing Mrinalini to glare at him.

"Very original!" she exclaimed as a reply to his sarcastic statement with equal derision, walking away towards their bedroom, eager to change into comfortable clothes.

...

By the time Mrinalini freshened up and stepped out of the restroom, Debarghya had done her share of chores having checked each door and window, the cooktop knobs for any potential leaks, and had drawn the curtain attached to the small marble temple in his mother's room. He was shrugging out of his shirt, looking out of the small window in their room that overlooked the lane. There was nothing particularly spectacular about the view that would greet one, but the surprisingly clear sky that graced the night was a rare sight to behold in Kolkata.

"I wanted to ask you something." Without moving his gaze, he nodded slightly, asking her to go ahead, assuring that he was paying attention to her words.

"How close are these people whose wedding we are supposed to be attending tomorrow?" Mrinalini asked. "And how is it that we are related to them. Your mother did say that we met them during our wedding, but I have no recollection whatsoever."

"They are from my mother's side of the family, my maternal grandfather's younger sister and my mother's aunt. We aren't close, but we do keep in touch. However, since she is the eldest living relative from my mother's side, she does command respect."

"That means I will have to wear a sari tomorrow," Mrinalini stated demurely. "Obviously," Debarghya replied incredulously, turning to face her. "And I am not sure if my mother mentioned this, but you will have to don each nuptial bangle you have since this is the first family function we'll be attending since our wedding."

"Of course," she sighed, extending her hand for the shirt he had just discarded. "We would just be going for the wedding ceremony in the evening, right?"

He affirmed, turning towards the restroom, reaching out for the towel that had been left hanging to dry on the backrest of the chair. "Will you be making the bed tonight or should I?" he paused to ask.

"I'll do it."

Mrinalini was a nervous wreck, her mind, and instincts jittery. Based on the testimonials that she had read of several victims of erotophobia, she had discovered that for many of them, the cure to their problem had simply been initiating touch and giving in to their desires. So far in her relationship with Debarghya, she had seldom actuated anything overly intimate, letting her fear dominate her mind and will. She smoothed the bedsheets on their bed, tucking the edges in neatly, her pulse echoing in her eardrums.

Lately, she had been replaying how her marriage had evolved. She wasn't able to deny that there was a part of her that was willing to explore the sexual aspect of her relationship with Debarghya, someone she looked up to and felt an attraction towards. She enjoyed the small squabbles that they had and the conversations. She appreciated his ability to adjust and accommodate her wishes while adhering to his family's at the same time. He was patient with her while she acted on impulse, and yet she was more empathetic than he was, each of them bringing their respective flaws into the relationship. She had got used to the sound of him snoring at night and of his familiar vexation whenever he found any unnecessary electrical device running, grumbling under his breath about the ever-rising electricity bills. She liked how he protected her from someone else's accidental touch when in a public place or while travelling by public transport, knowing her fear, his arms generally acting as a blockade around her visibly smaller frame. Thus, after a lot of contemplation, she had concluded that she could try to conquer her fear instead of depriving herself and her husband by extension of what was otherwise normal in wedlock.

She heard the door to the washroom open and the sound of his flip-flops against the cement flooring of their room as he stepped out. Her pulse rate escalated in anticipation as she busied herself picking up the pillows and positioning them neatly. She proceeded to tuck in the duvet, attempting to distract herself from his unavoidable presence in the room, the subtle scent of his soap wafting into her nostrils. She was vaguely aware of him asking her something about borrowing the phone charger since his phone's battery was drained.

With baby steps, she approached him on the other side of the bed as he fidgeted with the USB cable that connected the charger to the adapter. Snaking her arms around his torso from behind, she let her cheeks brush against his nude back, feeling him tense momentarily, caught unaware. Bidding adieu to her inhibitions, she pressed her palms against his pectoralis on either side, taking her time to brush her lips against his back, tracing a gentle path along his spine, feeling him inhale deeply.

To compensate for the difference in their height, she lifted herself on her toes, inching closer to the back of his neck, towards his ears, pressing her lips indistinctly, reaching to entwine her fingers with his using her right hand. She paused, looking over his shoulder in an attempt to assess his expression. Tugging at their entwined hands, she silently gestured for him to turn, fighting the urge to let go of his hand and back off, reminding herself over and over again that she wasn't probably the only one nervous and that he had his reservations as well.

From what she could perceive when he gradually turned towards her, his expression was tender and lucid, despite the initial bewilderment. Bringing her left hand to his nape, she raised herself on her toes, forcing herself to maintain eye contact with him as she caressed his lips with hers, parting them slightly, permitting herself to feel the coarse stubble surrounding his philtrum. The gentle scraping of her teeth on his upper lip prompted him to part his lips in return, his arms winding around her waist as he pulled her closer to him, letting the sensuality of their kiss overwhelm their senses, their lips, and hands caressing one another in light, passionate movements in a bid to explore what remained undiscovered.

Taking his time, Debarghya sought to manoeuvre Mrinalini towards the bed, laying her slowly, their eyes meeting briefly as they inhaled intensely, their pulses racing in anticipation. Bravely, she lifted the hem of her cotton top, raising it over her head and discarding it, leaving her torso bare except for the brassiere that she still donned. His pupils dilated slightly, the bobbing of his Adam's apple catching her attention briefly, putting her at ease knowing that he had the same qualms as she did. She beckoned him closer, leaning against the headboard of their bed, gasping as his lips found her clavicle, the pad of his thumb making caressing circles on the soft flesh of her exposed belly.

Having read a few facts about sexual foreplay, Mrinalini let her nails trace a path from his collarbone and pectoral towards his waist, inching closer towards the single button of his loungewear. She unbuttoned it hesitantly, looking up at him, her bosom heaving with her erratic breathing and heartbeat.

"Mrinal," he whispered, unsure. "Are we?"

"We can try," she replied in a hoarse voice, her words almost incoherent as she lifted herself slightly, letting the softness of her bosom brush the coarse and dark hair on his firm chest. She let him undo her brassiere, letting him bare her torso and free her breasts. Their lips met yet again, their tongues interlacing themselves, exploring the newly-discovered mystical aspects of their body. She could feel his palm on her areola, stroking the tender region of her body, making a heaviness settle in her lower abdomen, inciting muffled moans of pleasure. Their synchronised movements, the hard and soft ridges of each other's bodies, their closeness, and the warmth from their bodies and breath surrounded them, saturating their minds.

The contrasting feels of their bodies, her warm and soft torso, the slight pudge of her abdomen wobbled slightly as he caressed it with his hands, his fingers inching towards the waistline of her loose leggings. His hardness, while intimidating, was strangely electric as the anticipatory sweetness of an eliciting pleasure overpowered her fear and previous inhibitions. The low moans of sensual gratification that their actions emitted were muffled by the sound of the gyrating blades of the overhead fan that, in so many ways, imitated their actions, letting them run in concentric circles with their intimacy.

In the dark solitude room and the quiet tranquillity of the night, they shed their inhibitions and flaws, letting their touches incite pleasure. Their actions were awkward and unpractised with the unfamiliarity of things, the repressed expressions of any pain numbed by the eagerness to explore and discover, to touch the ridges and valleys of mutual enticement, giving in to their passionate avidity to paint a portrait in the dark, untouched and unseen by other hands, but felt in the warmth of their closeness and amidst their echoing heartbeats and languorous breathing, complete in the silence.

...

To be continued...

PUBLISHED ON: 10th February 2022

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Hello everyone! It's been long. I know you all might have already given up on me, and truly, so have I.

I have been struggling with so many things, academic and otherwise. Challenges and hardships in life are unexpected, and I am pretty sure most of you relate to this. I have been finally able to update this story and let me tell you, it makes me feel emotional. I feel like this is the first chapter that is being published all over again because of the great sense of fulfilment that settled in after I finished writing the last sentence.

I cannot express in words how much all of you here mean to me. Thank you for your words of encouragement and for everything that you give me here, solace, peace, and a whole new world that is unacquainted with pain and suffering.

I have given up making promises because of my frequent inabilities to live up to them, but I do promise that I'll try my best to try harder and to write this story for your sake, for my sake, and Mrinalini's sake.

I hope you all are doing alright. Life isn't greeting any of us without challenges, so I just hope you always have the strength to overcome those barriers that are inevitable. I hope you all find reasons to smile each day. And if you are suffering, just know that light does await at the end of the tunnel.

With love and a warm hug,

Elegiac_Damsel.

P.S. Here are a people I need to thank for this chapter that I managed to write. thegirlnextdoor7781 Priyadarshini2001 Hanz7781 for always being there by my side. From a distance yet always close.

NehalLaddha thank you for messaging that day. It is incredible how sometimes kind words can help gather broken pieces of resolve. You gave me a lot through that one text, something I can probably never repay.

Anushka didi and Sagnik, I know you guys would probably not be able to see this note, but I write this here with a heart filled with gratitude and joy. You entertained my stupidity and you let me talk when I had to. Thank you for being patient.

And lastly, thank you everyone who did not remove the book from their reading lists or libraries and stayed tuned hoping for more.

P.P.S. Do stay safe and healthy everyone. Don't let everything around harm your health; mental and physical.

P.P.P.S. Please do VOTE, COMMENT, and SHARE if you feel Mrinalini has been able to make a place in your hearts.