We had just moved to SE Asia then and lived not too far from a giant trade exhibition hall.
One lonely weekend, I took my reluctant husband to the little country's first sex exhibition. I saw large hordes of wrinkled single men and a few young couples there. There were no housewives or children who typically swarmed to the expo for the usual warehouse sales.
On a raised stage, a very enthusiastic DJ was trying to rouse the crowd, who stood unmoved. He wanted couples up there, and wouldn't say why. I looked at the impassive faces around and knew this country wasn't for me, so there was nothing to lose in making a spectacle of myself if I had to. So I went up the stage, pulling along my bored husband. Two young local couples joined us, encouraged by our presence.
The DJ produced oddly shaped velvet stools and couches from the wings. Our challenge was to use the props and demonstrate as many sexual positions in a minute as we could.
From up there, I had a better view of the sad old faces in the audience and nearly jumped off the stage at the thought of performing anything before them. My formerly bored husband suddenly found the humour in it and wouldn't let me go. He grabbed the mic and even made a little speech before he arranged the props and a very embarrassed wife into various positions on the props, counting off each one into the mic.
We won. Condoms, a video on the Kamasutra, lubricating gels ... And a vibrator ring.
I kept it by my bedside until we moved home. I gave my friends the other prizes, and it became their favourite party game with clothes on. That vibrator never measured up to my sportive husband's mastery on the stage that day, but it was the one prize I never gave away.
Saturday, July 06, 2013
Woman on Top
Your skin tasted of salt, your hair of cinnamon
Your lips of pepper
The Saturday morning after she bought her first cable subscription, Maya grilled sausages and tomato sandwiches at 6 am.
She microwaved oats with whole milk, and fried two eggs sunny-side up for an early breakfast with her son before his athletics heats. She wrapped for him the sausages with sandwiches and a chocolate milkshake, and kissed him goodbye.
She had begun drinking mineral water when she woke up and sipped more while she worked out. She did crunches and planks and watched the new "sexercise" videos she had saved on her tablet, trying to learn them.
Maya had never bought cable before that year. There had always been a basic terrestrial service so her family would have access to a few news channels, if there ever was a curfew and they needed the news, perhaps.
But now, eight months after they had returned to their country, her friend wanted to transfer his cable subscription midway through his contract. He was going to buy a comprehensive package with regional worship channels for his parents.
Maya agreed to the transfer and now the four of them were faced with a bewildering number of choices. It was a whole other screen life they had missed - of food, travel and all-day dancing, singing, playing - and now she knew, worshiping.
That morning, she performed her Kegels to Channel V, and when it switched to a Salman Khan starrer with a simpering heroine, she switched to Star World.
Woman on Top, old loved movie, was on.
And at last she was in love with cable.
Love and food combusted when coupled with Penelope D'Cruz in Woman on Top. Maya remembered it from 13 years ago, during a phase when she cooked and fed large numbers of people with affection and hard work and excitement. It starred Mark Feuerstein, whose first longing look at Penelope was like Naren's first glance at the conference.
And like Naren, he was tenderly sweet, but very like a puppy whom you only wanted to pet, not bare yourself to.
Naren, for whom she did not update her changing phone numbers. Of the "Do you like hairy chests?" question that threw her off. Who only wanted "to hold" her, and dropped on his knee at her feet, the first time another man had touched her outside her marriage. Who did not deserve a betrayal which was all she would have for him if she had let him hold her.
After her floor exercises, she lightly massaged ayurvedic oil on her arms, face and neck and the grooves where her thighs met her groin, and the tops of her feet. With the oil in and Woman on Top on screen, she jogged, did jumping jacks and high kicks and anything else she felt like.
Meanwhile a friend texted from abroad. Maya would miss her that summer; she had already left India after a visit. But then there was the next phone call, from the newest woman in her life, Parul, her alter ego born twelve years after her.
Together they had spent treasured hours in a foreign country, discovering desires in common, sharing and loving each other, not ever having enough time because of work and family.
Now Parul talked of meeting at a boyfriend's farmhouse by a lagoon, where they could swim naked and explore each other and their lives apart.
Dangerously, but not disliking the thought, Maya asked Parul to take out her husband, Vinod, who was then visiting Parul's city on work.
Maya remembered Parul's whimsical observation that she would really not mind if her own husband had an affair with, for instance, Maya. And Maya smiled to herself, thinking that if she threw Parul and Vinod together and they made love, there was no one more worthy than Parul of Vinod whom she loved obsessively.
For now, Maya wanted Parul to ask Vinod if he could send Maya for a holiday alone to the farmhouse by the lagoon.
Later, showered and blissful, Maya peeled and sliced ripe mangoes that her aunt had sent from her orchard. And Woman on Top kept pace, while she ate mangoes in the nude, abs worked out and limbs epilated.
Your lips of pepper
The Saturday morning after she bought her first cable subscription, Maya grilled sausages and tomato sandwiches at 6 am.
She microwaved oats with whole milk, and fried two eggs sunny-side up for an early breakfast with her son before his athletics heats. She wrapped for him the sausages with sandwiches and a chocolate milkshake, and kissed him goodbye.
She had begun drinking mineral water when she woke up and sipped more while she worked out. She did crunches and planks and watched the new "sexercise" videos she had saved on her tablet, trying to learn them.
Maya had never bought cable before that year. There had always been a basic terrestrial service so her family would have access to a few news channels, if there ever was a curfew and they needed the news, perhaps.
But now, eight months after they had returned to their country, her friend wanted to transfer his cable subscription midway through his contract. He was going to buy a comprehensive package with regional worship channels for his parents.
Maya agreed to the transfer and now the four of them were faced with a bewildering number of choices. It was a whole other screen life they had missed - of food, travel and all-day dancing, singing, playing - and now she knew, worshiping.
That morning, she performed her Kegels to Channel V, and when it switched to a Salman Khan starrer with a simpering heroine, she switched to Star World.
Woman on Top, old loved movie, was on.
And at last she was in love with cable.
Love and food combusted when coupled with Penelope D'Cruz in Woman on Top. Maya remembered it from 13 years ago, during a phase when she cooked and fed large numbers of people with affection and hard work and excitement. It starred Mark Feuerstein, whose first longing look at Penelope was like Naren's first glance at the conference.
And like Naren, he was tenderly sweet, but very like a puppy whom you only wanted to pet, not bare yourself to.
Naren, for whom she did not update her changing phone numbers. Of the "Do you like hairy chests?" question that threw her off. Who only wanted "to hold" her, and dropped on his knee at her feet, the first time another man had touched her outside her marriage. Who did not deserve a betrayal which was all she would have for him if she had let him hold her.
After her floor exercises, she lightly massaged ayurvedic oil on her arms, face and neck and the grooves where her thighs met her groin, and the tops of her feet. With the oil in and Woman on Top on screen, she jogged, did jumping jacks and high kicks and anything else she felt like.
Meanwhile a friend texted from abroad. Maya would miss her that summer; she had already left India after a visit. But then there was the next phone call, from the newest woman in her life, Parul, her alter ego born twelve years after her.
Together they had spent treasured hours in a foreign country, discovering desires in common, sharing and loving each other, not ever having enough time because of work and family.
Now Parul talked of meeting at a boyfriend's farmhouse by a lagoon, where they could swim naked and explore each other and their lives apart.
Dangerously, but not disliking the thought, Maya asked Parul to take out her husband, Vinod, who was then visiting Parul's city on work.
Maya remembered Parul's whimsical observation that she would really not mind if her own husband had an affair with, for instance, Maya. And Maya smiled to herself, thinking that if she threw Parul and Vinod together and they made love, there was no one more worthy than Parul of Vinod whom she loved obsessively.
For now, Maya wanted Parul to ask Vinod if he could send Maya for a holiday alone to the farmhouse by the lagoon.
Later, showered and blissful, Maya peeled and sliced ripe mangoes that her aunt had sent from her orchard. And Woman on Top kept pace, while she ate mangoes in the nude, abs worked out and limbs epilated.
Thursday, June 20, 2013
Awareness, 2010
2010
Maya has moved her teenage girl to a residential school so there are no more confrontations with her father and she can feel secure. She has spoken up gently without nagging(she hopes) about how a teen feels when she's hit in public (way too late after the incident!) She is relieved that she has opened up to her mother-in-law(last week) as only she would understand that her son had grown up with aggression.
Maya also told her husband, in a humorous way, to not watch her like a hawk when people visited, so he could tell her later about her shortcomings. She confessed to him about talking to his mother, who will not mention a word to him, of course...Maya just needed to talk to someone who had gone through much worse. Though he blew up the day Maya told him, she is relieved that she said it calmly, and she has had a relatively non-confrontational life since her girl left for school two months ago.
Maya needs help to forget past aggression as her son is still at home, and she needs to bring him up in a gentle family. She can forget most of the time, except flashes like last night when she went to bed, and her husband came in much later, after harsh words, and fell asleep without a word or touch. She knows it is normal for a man from their culture to be undemonstrative, but she spent the rest of the night reliving the more vivid instances of abuse, though she tried hard to understand that he had changed since she spoke to his mother and is trying to be gentle. What she cannot wipe out most is the night outside the mall some years ago where she could not stop her girl from being hit once, and then again.
Not saying a loving goodnight is not that bad; it was just a silly trigger for memories that should not have been. Maya resents not being able to disagree and not having her daughter around. She regrets not having recognised what was happening to her daughter and her. It includes much emotional and some physical bullying (She tries to ignore the financial monitoring. Money is not important to her as he takes care of their needs, and perhaps it is good for their children to learn fiscal prudence) Deepest regret? She did not stand up for her girl often enough. She stood up for Maya, but that was the last straw which made Maya send her away, as that was not a daughter's duty. Her daughter is truly happy as the new school suits her temperament.
She can forget most of the time, but privately it makes it difficult to handle herself. She is still a person who's "always happy" to others. And she will do what she can to keep her children secure. The aggression is not everyday now, and she sees glimpses of caring, but she is afraid it will slide back again if she cannot sustain her cosy wallflower image..for at least 40 more years! That figure is intimidating. Help! She has started talking to others, and that helps. She wishes it were alright to just meet up with other families as a family. Again, that's guilt time, for taking up his time. That disturbs her a lot, she thinks, the sudden isolation from old friends, but it's a small price to pay for peace. She is also less demonstrative, toning it down so he would not flare up in irritation. She certainly missed being loving.
Maya has moved her teenage girl to a residential school so there are no more confrontations with her father and she can feel secure. She has spoken up gently without nagging(she hopes) about how a teen feels when she's hit in public (way too late after the incident!) She is relieved that she has opened up to her mother-in-law(last week) as only she would understand that her son had grown up with aggression.
Maya also told her husband, in a humorous way, to not watch her like a hawk when people visited, so he could tell her later about her shortcomings. She confessed to him about talking to his mother, who will not mention a word to him, of course...Maya just needed to talk to someone who had gone through much worse. Though he blew up the day Maya told him, she is relieved that she said it calmly, and she has had a relatively non-confrontational life since her girl left for school two months ago.
Maya needs help to forget past aggression as her son is still at home, and she needs to bring him up in a gentle family. She can forget most of the time, except flashes like last night when she went to bed, and her husband came in much later, after harsh words, and fell asleep without a word or touch. She knows it is normal for a man from their culture to be undemonstrative, but she spent the rest of the night reliving the more vivid instances of abuse, though she tried hard to understand that he had changed since she spoke to his mother and is trying to be gentle. What she cannot wipe out most is the night outside the mall some years ago where she could not stop her girl from being hit once, and then again.
Not saying a loving goodnight is not that bad; it was just a silly trigger for memories that should not have been. Maya resents not being able to disagree and not having her daughter around. She regrets not having recognised what was happening to her daughter and her. It includes much emotional and some physical bullying (She tries to ignore the financial monitoring. Money is not important to her as he takes care of their needs, and perhaps it is good for their children to learn fiscal prudence) Deepest regret? She did not stand up for her girl often enough. She stood up for Maya, but that was the last straw which made Maya send her away, as that was not a daughter's duty. Her daughter is truly happy as the new school suits her temperament.
She can forget most of the time, but privately it makes it difficult to handle herself. She is still a person who's "always happy" to others. And she will do what she can to keep her children secure. The aggression is not everyday now, and she sees glimpses of caring, but she is afraid it will slide back again if she cannot sustain her cosy wallflower image..for at least 40 more years! That figure is intimidating. Help! She has started talking to others, and that helps. She wishes it were alright to just meet up with other families as a family. Again, that's guilt time, for taking up his time. That disturbs her a lot, she thinks, the sudden isolation from old friends, but it's a small price to pay for peace. She is also less demonstrative, toning it down so he would not flare up in irritation. She certainly missed being loving.
Male Pattern Avoidance
Clearing my inbox, I find an e-mail I had sent myself.
The day I mailed me, the man for whom the mail was intended told me, on my insistence, why he had cold-shouldered me for a week. This was accompanied by the clatter of a casserole of lentils he threw at the ceiling.
A kiss on my virtual wall triggered his anger that week. It was posted by a mutual friend, whom I would not fuck if you gave me a fortune. I was then at a point in time when I had no intention of having an affair ever, because I was inexplicably devoted to my partner.
So I wrote him this letter, and mailed it to me, knowing he had MPA and did not deign to share views with wives.
My apologies to The Sunday Times, but it puts me to sleep so I don't read it. I do skim, though. I love to know what this country and its girls and men are up to, but in capsule form.
So I read only the large print. I saw those pointers that tell if you or or your spouse are having an affair. They pointed to me, and I sounded blatantly promiscuous.
I apologise again. I don't have the patience to dig out the newspaper from our recycling basket and tell you the name of the article or the page or the date. So if you have not read it yet, you won't find out if you are promiscuous too.
I think I can remember the pointers, because they were about what I do: If you are saying more about yourself to someone other than your partner, you are having an affair. If you are looking forward to telling it everyday, you are too.
But here I was, thinking I had unlocked the secret to building a wonderful married relationship. The article said I was, in fact, breaking it.
Though it took me a long number of years, I thought I had finally figured that the secret to appeasing male partners was to shut up and stop piling on. Concentrate on the sex, the stability and the mystery. Get rid of routine everydayness and get a life.
Angst I dumped on people outside the partnership. They loved it, as they got to do it too. So the real me went out first, then reappeared as an improved avatar. This avatar then had a beautiful relationship with the best marital partner on my side of earth.
If that's called "having affairs," amen.
The day I mailed me, the man for whom the mail was intended told me, on my insistence, why he had cold-shouldered me for a week. This was accompanied by the clatter of a casserole of lentils he threw at the ceiling.
A kiss on my virtual wall triggered his anger that week. It was posted by a mutual friend, whom I would not fuck if you gave me a fortune. I was then at a point in time when I had no intention of having an affair ever, because I was inexplicably devoted to my partner.
So I wrote him this letter, and mailed it to me, knowing he had MPA and did not deign to share views with wives.
My apologies to The Sunday Times, but it puts me to sleep so I don't read it. I do skim, though. I love to know what this country and its girls and men are up to, but in capsule form.
So I read only the large print. I saw those pointers that tell if you or or your spouse are having an affair. They pointed to me, and I sounded blatantly promiscuous.
I apologise again. I don't have the patience to dig out the newspaper from our recycling basket and tell you the name of the article or the page or the date. So if you have not read it yet, you won't find out if you are promiscuous too.
I think I can remember the pointers, because they were about what I do: If you are saying more about yourself to someone other than your partner, you are having an affair. If you are looking forward to telling it everyday, you are too.
But here I was, thinking I had unlocked the secret to building a wonderful married relationship. The article said I was, in fact, breaking it.
Though it took me a long number of years, I thought I had finally figured that the secret to appeasing male partners was to shut up and stop piling on. Concentrate on the sex, the stability and the mystery. Get rid of routine everydayness and get a life.
Angst I dumped on people outside the partnership. They loved it, as they got to do it too. So the real me went out first, then reappeared as an improved avatar. This avatar then had a beautiful relationship with the best marital partner on my side of earth.
If that's called "having affairs," amen.
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