A Love-Hate Triangle

(Part one)

Author's note: This is a pure work of fiction and all characters and events in the story are imaginary and fictitious. Although, human imagination is also influenced by external stimuli. In the case of author, someone has always served as poetical inspiration to imagine, fantasize, think and write. So, this work is dedicated to someone, heart unfold like a flower before whom. This is the first part of story, four more to come.

*

It was another hectic day at University for Professor Gouthami Iyer, when she returned home all whacked, carrying usual tropical heat and dust of Chennai's busy streets over her simple mud color Saree. Her favorite color! The only reason it was so desired that mud color absorb lot of dust and smoke. For years, colors and clothes had no fashion value for her but a necessity of her colorless life. Using edge of print-less Saree pallu, she wiped beads of sweat, sporting over her pencil neck and creamy neck, on entering her small apartment.

It's been long in her excruciating hectic life that Gouthami last thought on any other value of clothes but covering her well-toned body. She was 44, but with about 44 curves over that well proportionate body. If one has to study the science of women's curves, Gouthami could have been a perfect subject and develop a new theory of curves.

He was a dusky body still firm, enduring hardship and cruelty of all weathers, like a slope of snow was so well proportionate, rich with enticing curves. Long slim neck of her was like a stately tower, where love himself imprisoned lies, to watch for glances, down there at the wonder land of her tight blouse. A simple cotton blouse that Gouthami always wear, is like a treasure chest, about to explode, if she just breathes heavily, but she rarely do.

Her C cup breast were round as full moan and heavy as a big debt on her chest. Brown nipples have long forgotten erection yet, her nipples were naturally thick as her index delicate finger. Her body would narrow and expand at her bare waist, as a tide that ebb, or tide that flow expanding to her round, big and naturally arched butts. Gouthami would mostly allow her long and thick well-oiled hairs to sport over her butts. But those long silk hairs were long deprived of any flowers, as her air and nose had forgotten the jewelry around.

Only once, about 22 years ago her narrow waist was wrapped in a silver belly chain, for her wedding night. That piece of jewelry was sold by her husband in very next week, but her waist was still the same, narrow and curvy. Her majestic thighs, never stretched to their limits, together with curvaceous calfs would form a perfect long leg- so perfect for strong shoulders! Yet, man around her would never consider her arousing mainly due to extra amount of grace and a permanent melancholy she wears over her oval face.

Coming home was not a bird's return to warm nest. A gamble addict, jobless, lousy son-in-law, Mohan is always there with complaints for poor food or lack of a child Gouthami's daughter was not able to deliver him in three years of marriage. If he is silent luckily, Gouthami would find Ramya, (her love-sick fool married daughter) crying in some corner. Ramya was so good in it; she could summon tears as one summons servants. Ramya's life was only a HD remake version of Gouthami's miserable life, except had Ramya chosen a man of her dreams- Mohan Iyengars, all against the wise advice of her mother and he turned out to be a low life dependent man.

This evening, Mohan was there at home, as Gouthami stepped inside the small living room. It was very reliving to find the house quiet and properly clean. She wanted to avoid him and go straight to her room, when Mohan's eager and remarkably pleasant voice held her feet.

"Wow...! Mother-in-law, we are going to USA!" Mohan received her with a rare joy in his voice, holding a crispy paper in his hand. "Congratulation, MIL", he waved it to her in excitement, as if he has got a ticket to heaven.

Over the years Gouthami' heart has grown icy as a fountain in the fall but here on listening what Mohan said, her expressions change at once, like leaves change color in spring. "Give it to me", Gouthami grabbed the letter in utter haste. "Mohan, I've told you so many times, don't open my mails", she roared on him.

"You did not tell us, you've applied for PhD scholarship, Mother-in law?" Mohan's eyes were glowing like blue coal, a rare glee on his hopeless face teased Gouthami.

Ignoring him, Gouthami read the scholarship offering letter and her idle hopes; she had managed to carry with her like empty shadows, turned into an embodied joy whose race is just begun. She was selected for a three year PhD program at Stanford University. Gouthami read it again, as many time as she could, to defy her best companion, bad luck. A complete sponsored scholarship, with a stipend three, times higher to what her government college was paying her in Chennai. The scholarship also had offered her a free accommodation. Gouthami was reading it over and over again and greedy Mohan was watching her face bloomed like a flower.

"You shall give us a big treat", asked Mohan with childish greed.

Gouthami run to her small room, hiding her tears from this low life man, who was already living in her home at her expense. Nothing had given an stupor in her life, like that scholarship had given and she did not want to spoil her joy, it was a rare moment on ecstasy among her ancient sorrows. Often enough, life had tossed Gouthami like a fretful stream among rocky boulders. She was only 19 when her hubby died leaving her with a three month old daughter and half a million debt. Since then, hardship, loneliness and never ending plight of everyday life are getting so well with her.

It was Ramya, her daughter, her life and only reason to live, which made her resolve hard as bronze. Gouthami studied, after death of her husband and found herself a decent job as a chemistry teacher in a girl's college of Chennai. She worked hard, offered private tuitions to earn extra money and cleared all debts of her late husband's. She built a small world of her own, in raising Ramya with all her love and little resources. But another disaster, Mohan was awaiting her, when Ramya fall badly in love with him and finally married to this good for nothing son of a rich arrogant lady.

In her small bedroom, Gouthami kept reading the scholarship letter, in which she was instructed to approach US embassy ASAP. She felt like a soft haze, like a fairy dream, is floating over wood and stream, till she falls asleep.

============

Mohan was a qualified doctor from a well-respected and rich Tamil family of doctors. However, he never wanted to study medical science. Classical music was his passion and becoming a professional singer was his dream, despite his tuneless voice and contrary to the wishes of his dominating mother, Dr Vidya Iyengars. Mohan grew under the overwhelming shadow of Vidya, who was a leading gynecologist and owner of one of the biggest private hospital in Chennai. Being a single parent with an ultra-feminist tooth, Vidya had dominated entire life of his son, never letting Mohan grow in confidence and strength of will. Vidya had even compelled Mohan to drop the idea of becoming a classical Tamil singer and forced Mohan to be a doctor, a profession he was perfectly misfit for.

Not only profession but Vidya had controlled his entire life, what he eat, what he wear, what friends he make, each and everything in Mohan's life had a strong stamp of that dominating mother. This resulted in killing Mohan's entire personality. He became a doctor but could not even run his private practice, for his intense naivety to blood and wounds.

Nevertheless, all that goes, come back always. So Vidya, too had to pay for her domination in the end, when Mohan decided to marry, Ramya, a girl from other cast and that too from a lower middle class family. It was something never acceptable for Vidya to allow her only son, marrying in a poor family. That too family of Gouthami, whom she hated, as she did hall fire.

Like Gouthami, the angry and rich Vidya could not stop the love birds from marrying bet she threw Mohan out of home and life. Mohan finally had taken a decision of his own in his life but lost all the luxuries and comforts of rich life. This happy-go lucky Mohan was left with nothing, but to mourn for the -days gone by and dreams of establishing his own pathological lab or releasing his first music album.

For the last two years he was sheepishly living at Gouthami small apartment. His mother Vidya had ensured that no hospital in the town gives him a job, nor Mohan wanted any medical practice. He was simply a house worn for Gouthami. She lent him half a million, withdrawing from her provident fund to establish a pathological laboratory in Chennai. However, but Mohan's non-commercial mindset and over curious method of inquiry resulted in the closure of lab, in no time. So he was practically unemployed.

Still waiting for those wealthy days of his youth, Mohan started share market business but again, this time he was trapped by gamblers, leaving him with nothing but a new found habit of gambling. Permanent stress, over drinking and sense of worthlessness had affected nothing in his body but his libido. His sex life simply within couple of years was reduced to be nonexistent. To dodge his young bride Ramya and her unattended needs, Mohan would spend nights out of home and sleep in day time, when Gouthami and Ramya are not at home.

It was all evident, in Chennai Mohan had no more chances than a hen has of hatching a codfish from a fried egg. His enraged mother, Vidya would never let him settle here, unless he divorce Ramya. Moving to another city with no resources was something Mohan would never want to dream even. On that night, he decided that he won't let Gouthami go alone to USA. Either the entire family will go to USA or Mohan would divorce Ramya.

==========

Three days later, Gouthami reached Bangalore to US immigration office with Mohan and her daughter Ramya. During their journey, Mohan had made it crystal clear to Ramya and Gouthami that if he is not going to USA, he will go back to his rich mother's place and will do whatever she wants. In other words, a divorce was inevitable. Gouthami was caught in perplex, as Ramya on other hand was threating to kill herself, if Gouthami leave her alone with this good for nothing, Mohan. His retort was like a knife-cut across the sinews.

In high hopes and dreams of her bright future and fighting all those woes of her present, Gouthami just kept motivating them both. On reaching Bangalore, they checked in to a small hotel near the railway station and this again caused a big turn off for Mohan.

"What a cheap hotel...!" Mohan shouted in complaint at the reception counter. "No way that I'm going to spend two days in here", he declared leaving the hotel.

It took Ramya and Gouthami a lot of effort to make him agree for staying there. "We will shift to some better hotel, if a night stay will be required", Gouthami had promise him, to get himself back...though, she as not carrying that much money, to afford a better place.

This was though a last straw on the back of camel. It was now clear in abundance that Mohan is just disaster, who would keep following Ramya like a ghostly figure. Gouthami in her mind decided there and then in that small lodge that it's a high time now to dispense with this loser, once for all. If Ramya has chosen a path of suffering, better she suffer alone without this enduring failure. The iron lady of Gouthami, made her mind, conclusively but what worried her was how to do that?

They reached at US immigration office around afternoon; even the high importance of this interview had not enticed Gouthami to wear anything appealing, but the same simple cotton Saree. Mohan bought a new three piece suit for himself and to console crying Ramya, Gouthami had to buy her a branded long skirt and silk top. This along with tour expenses and visa application fees had already eaten her two month's salary, leaving nothing much for her to even buy a new Saree for herself.

She was though indifferent to all those. When you have dreams to chase, such trivialities hardly matter and you can find beauty in everything related to your dreams. Same was Gouthami feeling in immigration office, waiting for her turn. She felt a soft haze around her, like a fairy dream, is floating over wood and stream, while she kept rehearsing her answers to immigration officer.

"Mrs. Iyer...!" reception lady called her name, aloud. Gouthami jumped on her chair like she is being summoned on the Day of Judgment. "Mrs. Iyer, your turn...take a right turn and room number 007", receptionist directed her to the interview room, with a good wish in her professional smile.

Gouthami was expecting anyone but a tall, shaved head black huge man sitting behind a small oak desk, reminding her giant galleon overhead, looked like some misty monster of the deep. She gave him an inherent surprised look, like a child catching a bug in garden while running for butterflies.

The young black immigration officer appeared so huge, though he was sitting on a chair in corner, but Gouthami felt the man has filed the entire space in the office. Something of him like musk was all over the place. Those sharp eyes on big black rough face were so icy yet glowing. At a glance Gouthami spotted that broad square jaw ending that big face, to a bulbous broad neck that stretching the white collars of his cotton shirts. Thick veins were bursting out of that massive neck, and Gouthami could not stop shuddering involuntarily. She could not underestimate the power of a thick neck for drenched panties and grab the edge of desk to support her weakening legs. What the fuck is happening to me, thought Gouthami but she waited him to ask her a chair.

For some people dress hides nothing, and the man sitting opposite to Gouthami was of that clan, she could see his masculine physique under formal white shirt and a tie matching his dark face. Strong, big, powerful, muscular shoulders were not so much about how they look. They were more like a woman would want to feel, if one needs a shoulder to cry upon, he definitely had two. And the smile he softly uses filled the silence like a speech, as held her immigration form in those bulky rough hands that no one would ever fancy holding those hands.

Fuck, he is so dashing, dark chocolate, her heart suggested her gracelessly. Never had it happened to her in life, that she would think twice about a man and here thought of this dashing black beast, ran leaping through the green ways of her mind like fawns at play.

"Are you ok Mrs. Iyer?" his voice was like the clap of thunder which interrupts the warbling birds among the leaves. The small silver coated name plate at his desk was telling he is Sultan Zulu Al-Azizi. "Please have a seat", he asked with a careless curtsy but a meaningful smile crossed over his thick lips, as if he can count and hear the drums of her heart beat.

Coming out of trance, Gouthami tired summoning a stupid smile to respond. "Yes, I'm, thanks Sir", she replied and this is when she found she was already rubbing her creamy neck. She dropped her head back to lap feeling more nervous and strangely embarrassed.

"Will it be your first time?" Sultan threw her another question without even introducing himself.

He must be asking about being in USA before. She thought before replying. "Yes, Sir ..." replied Gouthami, as a nervous little train winding it's to unknown dark tunnel. "I have never been out of India before, so it will be my first time". Yet while mentions those words first time, the warm kindling blood burned her cheeks like the breath of a hot wind.

Don't dare you blush, you bitch, Gouthami scolded that alien woman in her, whom she had never meet before.

"See, lady...yours is a very strong case and I don't see a reason why you should not be granted a US visa ...however...!" Sultan replied reading her visa form this time and this provided Gouthami a much needed escape from his piercing gaze, her mind was hardly focusing on the news, she had prayed all past three days to listen.

"...However..." continued Sultan, "I don't see a good reason, why a married daughter of yours and even her husband should be given a visa?" He spoke and again his burning gaze reverts to her oval face.

"I cannot leave her behind Sir", replied Gouthami, as desperately as a mother with a missing child. She never had trusted in her life, after her husband, but there was something in him and everything sprang from her heart like sparks from an anvil. For the next 15 minutes, she almost told him each and everything about Mohan and plight of her daughter Ramya with Mohan.

"Hmmm...", like a perfect man of few words, he said nothing much but throwing another question. "So...Gouthami (She noticed he did not call her Mrs. Iyer this time), why you are even talking that loser with you, at all?" The question came as if this bullish man had not only figured out her entire life, but he has even some solutions to lead her into future. "I mean, just get rid of him, and I'm sure , your young daughter can find a better match in USA...why don't just you and your daughter go to USA?"

This was when Gouthami too felt so surprised on her behavior, for why she had poured his heart out like the rending sea in passionate wave on wave. But her heart was not only trusting on this black beauty, but her intelligent admired his idea. If Gouthami ever felt to kiss someone, it was him as she heard that suggestion. A wide bright smile broke over her oval dusky face like sunshine over a flower.

"It will be even better to what I could dream...hope it's possible", reacted Gouthami in complete affirmation. "I will be so grateful to you personally, if you can drop Mohan out and give a quick visa to my daughter, so that we both can proceed to USA".

"Don't you think, we shall go bit more tactfully?" inquired Sultan in a suggestive voice, as if he has cooked something already in his head. "I mean unless, OUR Ramya wants an immediate divorce from this underdog Mohan, we shall keep them, hopefully engages".

"You are so kind and considerate Sir...I don't know how to thank you for this all", Gouthami brightened like a child whose broken toy is glued together. "It's just too perfect and amazing, all you saying, I leave it all on you, Sir". She was surrendering her aspirations to the call of young man, she just met half an hour ago and never in her life had she felt that secure. Instinctively her eyes moved to those strong arms, as if wants to compliment that feel of being in strong and secure arms.

"Well, there is always a way to return the favor", the moment Gouthami was about to fall in love to this younger black bull, she heard that meaningful statement. "I mean you can ask me for a date tonight, and we will work out everything in few intense sessions".

This was how life was for Gouthami, every dream was meant to be used and abused and discarded. All the good Nobel thoughts of trust and friendship and respect accumulating in her heart for this stranger, appeared as debasing fancies gather like foul birds. All those good feeling start panicking in her, like mice that steal in and out as if they feared the light. Gouthami looked at the dashing face with grief-stricken eyes like those of wearied kine spent from the plowing.

"A dinner, Sir?" inquired Gouthami reply, curbing her sobs but her voice declaring that something shattered in her like so much glass.

"Dinner is only a formality", Sultan responded, closing her application file. "Get yourself a bedroom, at Taj hotel and meet me there in lobby around 9, tonight!" The authority and clarity is his voice made it clear, that entire thing was well scripted and it was the foolishness of Gouthami, that she fall in this trap.