I would not receive any salary during the notice period and the additional rent had increased my expenses. It was February. Schools would close in a few days for study leave before final examinations and then there would be summer holidays. I saw no scope of getting another job before June or July. I did not have the habit of saving till then, so I was in a soup. At the most, I could manage for one or two months. But what after that?
Every time I was in crisis, I missed my only relative, my mother. We Italians have one thing in common. Rich or poor, saint or dacoit, everyone has extreme respect for their moms.
I do have a brother, who lives in Milan, which is just about one hundred and fifty kilometres away from my place. It is easily accessible by road. But I did not have any relationship with him anymore. And I was the only one responsible for that too.
Having nobody else to go to, I booked a train ticket for Verona for the next day, although a bit hesitant. There was an awkwardness in meeting mom also. After all, it had been a long time, and I had been rather busy with my emptiness.
I informed Ella that I'd be gone a few days, and didn't miss the look on Lexi's face. Preoccupied with my own thoughts, I chose to stay quiet and left for station.
The pleasure and pain of a train journey is the endless time you have on hand. But then, nothing threatens a corrupt body more than a free mind. Once settled comfortably, I started reliving my early days.
When I was in the sixth standard, I got my first school complaint. I was caught red-handed, drawing a nude picture on the desk. My then class teacher summoned my parents with a note – "Thomas is involved in a serious disciplinary offense. Request the parents to come and meet Ms Leena."
Since my father was busy at the bank, only mom accompanied me. It was outrageous when the teacher displayed my piece of art on the wood. I am not sure if they had examined my art closely, but I had attempted to carve Leena ma'am's face. She was my class teacher. The delicate curves that I
had shown so artfully, were an outcome of my vivid imagination. If the same picture had been made by Mr M F Hussain, someone might have paid a million dollars. But when I did it, my mom had been summoned with a complaint.
It was embarrassing, watching mom seeing those extra curves and perfect body outlines. She looked embarrassed and amazed at the same time.
Mom asked, 'This was made by Thomas?' 'Yes,' Leena ma'am confirmed.
'The art is so good. Thomas couldn't possibly draw so well,' my mother commented, her eyes still on the art, quite sure her son wasn't the type who could sketch, leave aside such curves.
Good drawing! I was dying to claim it as my masterpiece. All the curves, the rise of breasts, the nipples were so perfect. It was sheer irony that the great artist was not getting his due. My blind-in-her-son's-love mom did not allow me the credit.
But Leena ma'am confirmed I was caught red-handed and my mother had to apologise profoundly, with a request of no strict action to be taken against me, as I was just a child.
But had she really not recognised the work? I soon got my answer when on reaching home, finding an alone moment, she blasted on me. 'Thomas, what is wrong with you? Why are you wasting your energy in these petty things? Get away from these distractions. One day this is going to ruin you.'
I nodded, distressed. A few minutes ago, I had believed I was M F Hussain, and now suddenly, I had become useless.
This was a mom's anger, irrelevant as usual, I felt. But everything said and done, she was the first woman who symbolized unconditional love for me. The rest have either ignored me or misjudged me.
I don't remember if I gave my family the happy moments my brother did. They were jubilant when my brother got placement in Milan. After the celebration was over, my father asked me, 'What do you wish to do in life?'
It was not a question; it was a taunt. I gave the question the most important few seconds of my life. 'I want to be a teacher in a convent school.'
It was strange for them. When all the aspiring teachers were dreaming of grabbing a government school job, I was the only human being who wanted to be a teacher in a convent school. There were no perks, no extra benefits, lesser holidays, more work pressure and what not. My father did not say anything, and my mother made a face.
Since I was always under pressure to perform better, I had fallen in line with similar peers quite early on in life. I began smoking joints when I was twenty. Don't ask me how or when or why, but the entire list of my evil's risks having more haters, so I stopped.
I'd often ask for money at home, making one excuse or another. My habits did not go unnoticed, and my father stopped my pocket money. Can you believe it? How was I to manage my expenses? He never once sat with me to tell me where I was wrong. He never thought it worth his time to explain to me that it was okay to not be so intelligent, and I could do better with my life. I felt so distraught because he had only one line to chant – '...look at your brother...'
I fell into further bad company and abused myself no end. My mother did not have much money to spare, and I was fighting my loneliness with these habits. So, I started stealing things from home, which I sold.
Mom wanted to stand by me and support me, but my anger with my father was so much that I did not give her many chances to salvage me. She had rarely compared me with anyone, encouraged me to make the most of my capabilities, but I did not pay any heed to her.
Everything was fine till I was twenty-five. Our family lived together, and no matter what happened, we were there for each other. Despite my differences with my father and my ignorance of my mother's advice, my brother Noah always encouraged me. He wasn't the proud one and made sure to include me in every little event of his life. Then, he got a job in Rome, and he relocated. I too got a teacher's job in Verona and shifted for the same. But the truth is, his job was not the only reason behind his relocating to the new place, and as for everything else that had happened in my life till then, this was also partly my doing.
Noah got married to Zara, who had been with him in office. Noah was the kind of guy who would evoke love – sincere, down to earth, very easy to talk to and quite loyal in relationships. The new addition in our family,
my sister-in-law Zara, was gorgeous. She fit in as if we knew her for ages. Not just her physical beauty, but intelligence and charm were all over the place. I could not control my mind from wandering in strange thoughts on seeing such a beauty. I won't lie; I tried hard to avoid looking at her that way. After all, she was my brother's wife. But living under the same roof, it was beyond my powers to stop thinking about her.
It was New Year's Eve. Mom and dad had gone to Amalfi to meet an old relative. Noah and Zara were getting ready for a party. Noah called out to me that they were leaving, and I came to lock the door behind them. When I saw her, I was ashamed that I was her brother-in-law. She was smoking hot in her body-hugging black dress which ended at her thighs. The dress shone but was marred by the glow on her smooth legs. I did not notice any other body part. Only the long and beautiful legs, which were extra exposed with the short dress. Those legs in high heels were all over my mind. I imagined them walking in the house. There was something magical in them. That night, looking at her like that, I officially lost it! I could think of nothing but Zara. Her thoughts were tempting food for a hungry mind and jackpot for the pervert soul.
In thinking of her like that, I killed a relationship that day. I visualized her like a soft doll for my satisfaction. From then on, my actions changed. Her clothes, accessories, undergarments, shoes, almost everything she used held attraction for me. When she wore a saree, I could only see the uncovered portion. And then flashes of those exposed parts would accompany me all the time.
Quite naturally, Zara realized she was getting extra attention from me. After then, she caught me staring at her a couple of times.
One day, we were sitting across each other on the dining table. The evening tea was nothing when I could feast my eyes on her cleavage. She understood what I was up to, and our eyes met. I looked back at my teacup, but she did not move an inch. That was my signal. Maybe she was finding it adventurous to indulge me.
I cannot confess more than this. She is still my brother's wife. But yes, we did explore this adventure a bit further. Double meaning talks and naughty smiles were shared, she dressed up at home, as if for me, and I did my bit by showering undivided attention on her. Our WhatsApp chat
messages began with casual talk and went on to something much bolder in a matter of minutes.
One day, I was out for some work when I received Zara's message that she was alone at home. I rushed back, only to find her in the same short black dress that had changed the way I looked at her. I was not sure what she wanted, but I knew what I was here for. Her seductive body and my uncontrollable desire gave new heights to our passion that day.
People give reasons, make excuses, and blame it on circumstances. I will not. I had tried to seduce her, and had managed to break the wall, though only a bit. We had kissed passionately, and I was left high, wanting much more than that. But there was a strange reluctance at both sides. The rules of morality are not the conclusion of our excuse. Somewhere we were not ready to break everything.
After we drew apart, we were still alone. I sat on the bed while Zara went towards the washroom to change maybe. My mom would be home soon.
I was imagining how her bare body and perfect curves would feel when my eyes fell on her fat gold chain, lying unattended on the bed. I calculated the amount of money it could get me and slowly slipped it into my pocket.
I was not stealing for the first time. After my father stopped my pocket money, I was driven to stealing from home quite often. But this was the most expensive sin, I would say. It cost me my family.
Zara and I were living in a wonderland, believing no one knew about us. She had to be extra careful and take extra efforts in hiding the love bites, because the moment we would be alone, I would give her a few more. The stolen touches, short hard kisses kept fuelling our fire.
Then, Noah took some days off from work. He and Zara went on a small holiday to Venice. I don't know what happened there, but when they returned, she started avoiding me. Noah the guy who had stood by me in the worst of phases in life started behaving rudely. I thought he knew something, but I was not sure. Zara was never alone at home after that day. Whenever Noah was out of town, she made some excuse and spent the night in her friends'or parents'place. And within a month from then, Noah got a job in Milan.
When they were leaving, among others'parting notes, I said, 'I will come to visit you in Milan.'
Zara did not say anything, but I got a firm reply from Noah. 'Please, don't ever come to my house.'
And I did not have the courage to ask why.
I felt bad because he had always been a soft-spoken man. His harsh reply implied that I had driven him to a point of no return. I had changed him for the worse, taking away his faith from relationships.