The Affair

The temple was filled with the soft ringing of bells and the steady chant of prayers as the aarti continued. Flames from the lamps flickered, casting gentle shadows on the faces around me. The air was thick with the smell of incense, the atmosphere calm, almost meditative. I stood with my hands pressed together, murmuring the prayers, but my thoughts drifted. Out of habit, I glanced to my right—and that’s when I saw him.

Raghav Ji.

Raghav Ji was hard to miss. Stocky and barrel-chested, he always stood out in a crowd, not just because of his size but the way he carried himself—like he owned the place. He had this rough, unkempt look about him, with dark, sharp features that didn’t do him any favors. His small, beady eyes always seemed to be watching, calculating. And despite being wealthy, he never really cared much for appearances, which only added to his unsettling presence.

I closed my eyes, letting the familiar rhythm of the prayers wash over me, a comforting distraction from the thoughts that had been plaguing my mind. My husband was away on business once again, and though I loved him, this routine was beginning to wear thin. My friends, too, were trapped in the same mundane existence: raising children, taking care of elderly parents. The dream of youth, of exploring and achieving, seemed to have slipped away, lost in the monotony of our daily lives.

As the pundit concluded the prayer, and the others around me bent their heads in reverence, I allowed my gaze to drift again. Raghav Ji was still there his eyes closed as in deep devotion.

As I turned to face the pandit, he stood before me, holding the _thali _of prasad. I took one of the sweet offerings with a pious bow of my head, the gesture automatic from years of practice. As I consumed the prasad, my thoughts drifted back to Raghav Ji. He had been coming to these evening prayers for about a month now, and I couldn't help but notice his presence.

Walking towards a group of ladies I recognized from the neighborhood, I joined their conversation, trying to focus on their words and not my wandering thoughts. We exchanged pleasantries and discussed mundane things - the rising prices of vegetables, the heatwave that had been plaguing us, the latest gossip from the city. But even as I nodded along and smiled, my mind kept drifting.

As I tried to focus on the conversation, a piece of gossip grabbed my attention. One of the ladies, her voice lowered in a conspiratorial whisper, began to discuss Raghav Ji. She had heard from her maid that all was not well in the Raj household, that there might even be an affair. The other ladies gasped, their eyes widening with scandalized curiosity.

I felt a wave of disgust wash over me. Is this what I would become in a few years? Just another one of these Aunties, gossiping about the lives of others, their marriages, their intimate secrets? The thought filled me with a deep unease.

Mumbling an excuse about being late, I quickly excused myself from the group and made my way out of the temple. As I stepped outside, the setting sun cast long shadows across the street. I took a deep breath of the warm evening air, trying to clear my head. But I couldn't shake the feeling that my life was slipping away, that I was trapped in a future I hadn't chosen.

I was standing on the side of the road, my hand raised in a futile attempt to hail an auto-rickshaw. It seemed like none were available tonight. Just as I was about to give up, a sleek car pulled up in front of me. The window rolled down, revealing Raghav Ji's face, his eyes crinkling into a disarming smile.

"Bhabhi Ji," he greeted me, his voice smooth. "Today happens to be an auto strike. You won't find one easily tonight. Please, allow me to drop you home. Where do you live?"