Mature Love Can Stretch Long

"Come in Madhu," he said, "You look as if your bank has burnt down," he said and guffawed.

"Not the bank uncle, something else is burning."

"What's that?" I came straight to the point. Retired colonels do not have the patience to wait for the slow unravelling of story plots.

"Sarala is having an affair."

"The doctor?"

"Yes."

"How do you know?"

I explained.

"Do you think I am assuming a lot on this slender evidence?" I said.

"No," said my uncle emphatically. "It is not slender evidence, and these elder daughters have a keen instinct for such things. I have heard reports about the doctor though I have never met him. He is a decent fellow. Not a seducer. It must be case of love developing as a result to constant association. How is your family life?"

"What do you mean?"

"Is she distancing away from you, or is she as usual, or are you both closer than before."

"That is what I am unable to explain. We are closer."

"Sex life?"

"That also I am not able to explain. There is a revival."

My uncle smiled a knowing smile.

"I know something of this from personal experience. Would you expect your aunt to have had an affair?"

"Aunt Booma? Never. She was the epitome of womanly virtues." I said. The colonel chuckled.

"It happened a long time ago. I'll tell you the story." He took time out to ask his maid to bring two mugs of beer. She did shortly after, and as we were imbibing he told the story.

"At one time I was in H.Q. for an extended period of over five years. There was a brigadier named Swaminathan doing some top-secret work in Intelligence. You aunt was his civilian secretary. It was a ten to five job. This Swaminathan was a magnificent personality. A striking figure, he had eyes that bore into you. Booma was unabashedly an admirer. Anyone who came into contact with him had to be his fan. At some point he must have become a husband figure and a relationship developed. She was not to talk about her work, and as an army man I did not pry into what were army secrets. But signs were there in plenty that spoke loudly of a close relationship between the two. Strangely this relationship brought Booma closer to me than ever before. We were more loving, and our sex life, just as in your case, revived.

"I know of officers taking liberties with their subordinates wives at parties. This was not such a case. Both of them were taking part in it with equal enthusiasm. On some days I would find Booma sad. Apparently she felt that she was cheating on me, and that disturbed her. I felt sad for her. For a woman to be in the company of a man like Swaminathan for seven hours every day and not become his lover was something that was not humanely possible to achieve. Booma had not resistance against that.

"I did not do anything. There was never any question of my confronting Booma. It ended when Swaminathan became a Major General. I came to Madras for my final posting, and then retirement. She never met Swaminathan after that. He used to write, and Booma told me that he has written and about the things he was doing in his retirement, but she never showed me the letters. He died not many years after from natural causes. Booma was sad when she heard the news. If she wept it was not in my presence.

"But she did speak to me once about her friendship with the Brigadier. That was three years ago when she was on her deathbed.

'Balu,' she said, 'I have a confession to make. These brain secondaries will soon put me into coma. I can see it coming. Before it happens I have to tell you something. Behind your back I was once having an affair.'

'You mean Brigadier Swminathan,' I said.

'Yes. From your body language I know you knew. But I want you to hear it from me.'

'At that time we were such a loving and caring couple,' I said, 'that I could sense your feelings towards the Brigadier."

'Yes Balu we were very close then, you and I. My affection for you was very great. But I loved him too. I could not resist him. I just could not. I often used to wonder how it was possible for me to love both of you. Women can, Balu. She has a vast store to love. Nature has endowed her a body for bearing ten children and the mind to love them all with mother's love. She can handle two men with ease. But men do not understand that. If they love one it must be at the expense of the other. But you understood, Balu.'

'Yes, Booma I understood. You are my wife, but that does not mean you are my property. You are a full-blown person with your likes and dislikes, your desires and your hates. For seven hours a day you were in the immediate presence of a magnificent personality. You admired him. He liked you, and soon between you two a deep affection developed. You have a right to that relationship. Mature love between husband and wife must permit that.'

'You did not think I was his mistress. Did you Balu?'

'No. You were his wife, physically and more important emotionally, just as I was. You were practising polyandry, an immensely respectable state in human culture. That's my story Madhu. She told me about the bundle of letters she had in one of her boxes. She wanted me to put them in a file and she smiled as she said that. This habit of mine of filing letters was a joke between us. They are tender letters of two persons who loved each other. Two days after that she went into coma, and never woke up."

"Uncle did you take it as casually as you say you did."

"I did not take it casually, Madhu, but intelligently. This type of relationship strengthens the bonds between the man and his wife. The great love we developed for each other continued after we left Delhi. It held on undiminished till the end. You and I are not alone in this Madhu. Women are working everywhere, in offices and hospitals and factories, hundreds and thousands of them. They are in the company of men many of whom they like and admire as husband figures. It is not strange if they develop a relationship that they find comfortable. They are happy, and those around them are happy too, provided a thoughtless husband does not barge in and make a mess of it. It harms no one; on the other hand it strengthen the family bond. Husbands must be mature enough recognise this phenomenon. The good news is many do. Polyandry is no longer a tribal custom. It is alive and kicking in the modern world. What you have to do is clear Madhu. Pretend that you know nothing. I assure you that it would be the best decision you have ever made.

I went straight home. Hema and Laila were playing Scrabble. I had a wash and change and sat watching them play. Scrabble was a new acquisition, and both were intensely in it.

"When are you two meeting your Peach Melba uncle again," I asked when the game concluded. They exchanged glances as if there was something they wanted to ask me but were not sure how I would take it. I helped them out.

"You both like that uncle is it not?"

"Very much so," said Laila.

"You Hema."

"I also like him very much."

"Then you must see him whenever your mother feels that you should."

"Yes, Appa," said Hema. "The doctor, nurses and other staff are going on an excursion next Sunday. Uncle has invited us. We want your permission to go."

"Certainly, and have a nice time."

"Thank you Appa," they screamed in unison, and Laila rushed out of the room followed by Hema to tell her mother the good news. Some time later Hema came and snuggled close to me.

"What did your mother say," I asked.

"She did not say anything. But she is very, very happy." Hema then hugged me and said. "You are the world's greatest father."