A Mess of Silence

4

Ravikul Chandel (usually called as buddhe ka kutta—Buddha being the principal Udhav Singh Verma—by the students of the school he was the senior-students coordinator in) was getting dressed for his job at school when his phone rang. It was Manish Bhati. An expression of distaste appeared on his long, fair and rather oily face, "Haan Bhati Ji?" all Ravikul wanted was to be done with the call. Moreover half the things Bhati said went over everybody's head; he had a very annoying habit of speaking too fast for humane understanding . As if only to prove this, Bhati said something on the call that Ravikul didn't catch by far.

"Hello?" asked Ravikul.

"We're planning a new-year party!" Bhati beamed and paused as if he wanted Chandel to exclaim super happy and excited expressions. Ravikul Chandel maintained his silence, his dense graying mustache drooping over his lips. He was a grave man and parties weren't his thing. Bhati continued when he realised he was getting no response, "Areh, we're going to drink our heads off! Hahha, it's NEW YEAR anyway! Doesn't come every year now, does it?" With that Bhati burst into wheezing laughter. Out of official formality, Ravikul forced a chuckle out of his mouth, no sign of a smile touching his lips. Bhati was a stupid man by nature, no question he thought Ravikul actually enjoyed his joke.

"It is tonight in Vintage Watson, we ca—"

Ravikul had had enough; he interrupted with a certain amount of rude force in his voice, "Bhati Ji! Bhati Ji! Ohho I wish I could...I wish I could come with you people and party and drink and whatever. But I already made plans with my lovely wife! I'm so sorry I wouldn't be able to make it today,"

Ravikul waited till Bhati processed his reply. His eyes closed with irritation. After a few moments Bhati said, in a rather low tone, "Oh...areh, never mind...but tell me if you change plans?"

"Yes," Ravikul replied opening his eyes, "of course Bhati Ji! Of course I will."

With that he hung up. Close call, Chandel thought and turned around. His wife stood at the threshold of their bedroom. Her shoulder length, volumous hair, hanging loose around her face and her pretty face contracted in a scowl. Displeasure busted into his veins. "What is this now?" Aparna Chandel inquired and was quiet for a moment, staring at him for million hours long two seconds. She continued when she had taken long her moody look, "Are you yet to talk to me about your New Year plans with you wife? Or have you hidden in your pocket another wife for your sad face?"

Ravikul Chandel went around doing his business; without replying. He got the comb from the dressing table and started combing his thinning hair. In the mirror he saw his wife approaching him. Before he could turn around to face her, her hands had taken hold of his left shoulder. Long shiny painted orange nails dug rather painfully into his purple checked cots wool shirt, "I believe I asked you something." she fumed, her brows frowning with aversion.

Ravikul pushed her hand away with a sweeping motion of his hand.

"The way things are going, I wish I did have another wife!" He bellowed. Aparna gave out a taunting snort, "Oh do you now Ravikul Chandel?"

She neared him in one short step and her hand went up, her fingers squeezing his face. Humorously, his lips protruded further out and it made Chandel look like a malnutritioned puffer-fish. Aparna Chandel chuckled, exposing admirable white, even teeth. She was enjoying herself, "Pick up the phone Ravi. Right now. And call whoever the fuck called you and tell him you'll be coming to the party and your wife...well, one of your wives will be accompanying you."

"As if." Ravikul hissed pushing her hand away again, and was turning around when one of her hands came up and cupped at his crotch. There her fingers squeezed. A little too hard. Huge pain from his manhood made its way up to his navel. Ravikul Chandel wailed, grimacing.