Benign Flame: Saga of Love by BS Murthy (sci fi books to read TXT) 📖

isn’t it? If ever we could make it, then our unfolding passion could lead us into a whirlpool of eroticism, won’t it?’

What with his spirits revived thus, as the room bell rang, he thought, ‘Well, there’s always a tomorrow, but for now, it must be Subba Reddy.’

“I’ve dragged Ranga Reddy along for the pleasure of your acquaintance,” stormed in Subba Reddy with his friend.

“I believe in reciprocity,” said Raja Rao in welcome.

“Ranga Reddy owns half of Rayalaseema,” said Subba Reddy, patting him.

“You can safely reckon a trillionth of it for a realistic figure. But I’m sure he couldn’t be off the mark when he says that you’re an architect to watch,” said Ranga Reddy to Raja Rao.

“Let a peg or two make way into his system and then we can savour Raja Rao’s unfolding versatility,” said Subba Reddy, pulling a ‘Black Knight’ from his briefcase.

“Our friend is all praise for your ideas about the way dwellings are to be built,” said Ranga Reddy, sipping the whisky.

“It’s only a better talent that can spot some talent in others,” said Raja Rao heartily.

“Let’s divert the topic to the fair sex for any way it’s all bricks and cement all day long. If Ranga Reddy too wants to turn into a realtor, so be it,” said Subba Reddy, pouring another for him.

“You seem to be putting ideas into my head,” said Ranga Reddy.

“It’s not a bad idea at all, but let’s first finish with women as Subba Reddy won’t get started otherwise,” said Raja Rao mirthfully.

“What’s the latest in the capital’s grapevine?” asked Subba Reddy.

“A man could have murdered his wife for gain, or else a bored housewife could’ve taken a paramour. That way, what’s there to the scandals but for the change of characters, the plot being the same? As for the grapevine, isn’t it all that is there to it?” said Ranga Reddy dismissively.

“But the thrill of it never wanes, does it?” said Subba Reddy.

“That’s true, whether we admit to it or not, all of us eye the scandals involving illicit sex. At the back of it could be our innate urge to be the lover of every desirable dame that is there, and so it’s as if we supplant those paramours in our daydreams. So as to savour the sleaze, we convert private affairs into public scandals and if the involved were to be rich and famous, then we publicize their liaisons in the tabloids,” said Raja Rao.

“Whatever, it’s well settled by now that all men are promiscuous though some claim to be romantic, whatever that may mean,” said Subba Reddy.

“Promiscuity is man’s nature while romanticism is one’s culture,” said Raja Rao.

“Isn’t it mere semantics?” said Subba Reddy dismissively.

“I think unrestrained urge is promiscuity while passion refined is romanticism,” averred Raja Rao nevertheless.

“That sounds very much true,” said Ranga Reddy glancing at his watch. “Now, I’ve something up my sleeve. Raja Rao garu, I’m doing nothing worthwhile at present, though I’ve the means to take up almost anything. Why not we join hands to rebuild Hyderabad, or rather more of it?”

“I’m planning to shift here soon though not to turn into a realtor, and in case you take the plunge into the real estate, I would love to be your consultant,” said Raja Rao.

“Done, let’s schedule it for this vijayadasami. Meanwhile, I would tie up the loose ends,” said Ranga Reddy.

“Three cheers, as and when you set up shop here, you can count on my account too,” said Subba Reddy.  

The next afternoon, when Raja Rao was all set to leave for the Gaganmahal Nursing Home to meet Roopa, he got a call from his boss, asking him to join him for a crucial meeting next day at Bangalore. As he had not much time left to catch the Bangalore Express, he rushed to the reception to checkout.

‘Roopa would be terribly upset, but how can I meet her now. What if I wire my resignation and sort out things with her. No, that’s not fair even for love’s sake though it’s said that everything is fair in it, is it? It’s a matter of my professional credibility that I can ill-afford to lose, even for her sake. So, I shall talk to her on phone and hint my love and devotion,’ he thought dejectedly.  

Soon, as the telephone operator at the Nursing Home told him that Roopa was not to be found there, Raja Rao left the message of his departure for her, and half-heartedly headed towards the Nampally Railway Station.

Thereafter, when Roopa reached the hospital in anticipation, as the unexpected development devastated her, she sank on her knees, alarming receptionist to summon the doctor on duty. At length, having been recuperated by the timely care, a distraught Roopa began to lament, ‘I shouldn’t have gone home at all, but then, how my mother-in-law insisted that I rest for a while. Oh, how I wanted to hang on here till he came; it’s as if I had a premonition! What’s the sense in living if hard luck were to trick me at every turn in my life? Had I been around when he rang up, wouldn’t I have blurted out about my love for him? Why doubt, haven’t I prepared myself for every eventuality? Even if I were to develop cold feet in the end, I could’ve still cried over the line to convey my love. But then, why didn’t he just peep in, before leaving? Shouldn’t he have, if he really cared; why did he leave me in the lurch? How could he be so cruel to me?’

‘Surely he could’ve come, if only he cared,’ she continued in her depression. ‘Has he, as feared, lost interest in me? Did he call on us yesterday only at Sandhya’s behest? Was all his courtesy only for the old times’ sake? Hadn’t I noticed that his looks lacked passion? How I deluded myself then, thinking that he could’ve been inhibited in Sathyam’s presence? Has his passion dissipated in our separation? Do I count for him anymore?’

Feeling miserable, and unable to steady her thoughts, she went home, as though to remove herself from that unlucky setting.   

‘Is it possible that his passion was no more than a passing interest in me?’ she felt nervous as she lay in her bed. ‘Am I destined to be disappointed in love as well? If only he cared to tell me about it, I would’ve reconciled to my fate, but can I really? No, I can’t live without him; don’t I want him at any cost? But what am I to do now to make him mine? What if I beg him for love, but, did ever begging begot love? It’s cold end that’s in store for an unrequited love, if not, Sathyam would’ve been enjoying its warmth in his hearth for so long now. So be it but my destiny is linked to his passion for me; I’ll be blessed if he takes me, and if not, I would be doomed forever. Will he or won’t he, oh, how this suspense is killing me?’

‘Surely, I was cheated by fate to air my love for him, but won’t my destiny let me have the last laugh in our liaison,’ she thought as she pulled her missive for him and the letter she wrote to Sandhya from her blouse.

Stirred by what she had written to him, she began reviewing her situation, all again, ‘won’t anxiety consume me before all else? It might as well, so, why not I post it to him forcing fate to reveal its hand? But what if Sandhya reads it by mistake; in her longing for my letter, surely, she might not notice its belonging, and won’t that seal my fate. If only I knew his office address! But how am I to procure it now without giving rise to unwarranted suspicions? So, is it that I’ve reached the dead end of love; well time only would tell if my life keeps me alive for him to rescue me.’   

Roopa reached that stage in love when a woman feels obliged to keep her love alive so as to sustain her belief in her ability to love and be loved.

 

Chapter 23

Playboy at Play

 

In the mid-January that sankranthi, the exhibition ground in Hyderabad came alive as the fair curious of all ages swamped the premises. While some sauntered in and out of the assorted pavilions, others flocked to the eateries, but, it’s the garment shops that took the cake at the annual fare. All the same, the really curious, so it seemed, stood rooted at the vantage points to ogle the bevy of beauties that made it to the annual fair.

In the pavilion of the Austral Industries, its young executive director, ostensibly reviewing the sales figures, was figuring out the vital statistics of the female visitors. What was of particular interest to him was the impression the air-conditioners, their new product, made on the potential buyers. Satisfied with the bottom line, he came out into the open to ascertain the proclivities of the passing women, abounded by then.

‘Almost every dame in her youth is beddable,’ he thought, lighting his India King. ‘While some may be repeatable, rarely are they keepable. But, each of them is obtainable, though with some of them; it may take some time, and even a little effort. Yet, it’s the quick-fire affair that affords man ego satisfaction as well as ready gratification; besides, won’t that make it easy for him to bring the curtains down, when it suits him, though women tend to hang on to the illicit stage that much longer.’

‘But should any lass resist long enough, then it would be a different ball game for the adventurer,’ he continued with his soliloquy. ‘Her reluctance to give in would only enhance her appeal by the day, deepening his desire by the night, which makes it difficult for him to rescind, and what’s worse, he might need the nuptial knots to loosen her shackles of passion. And when it comes to the married man, courting maidens could be a hindrance, for they harp on his divorcing the spouse as a prerequisite for their favours. But luckily for men, the hard nuts to crack are few and far between, and strangely, the harder the struggle to win women over, the sweeter would be the pleasure in having them, isn’t it?’

‘But with their ripen wares, aren’t married women truly mouthwatering?’ he continued to delve into the proclivities of the fair sex. ‘Thankfully, they are ready-made for liaisons, though some of them may need a man’s helping hand to cross the threshold of fidelity for them to indulge in their raunchy beds. By the way, what else draws man to a woman than his desire to access her persona specifics; and once drawn, won’t she bare her veiled assets for her fancied man to dabble with her private accounts? But then, after a few of his jaunts to her favoured joint, what else would be left in her for her lover to explore and for her to offer? Thus, thereafter, how could she cater to his need for variety and what else she could conjure up to sustain her enticement? Oh, the poor thing, seeing his interest in her wane, won’t she turn more so eager to keep him in good humor? But then, the more she gives him; even more she satiates him, and its only time before she finds her paramour bypass her favours for lesser flavours. That’s the woman’s bother, anyway, why should I bother?’

Noticing a pretty lass of twenty pass him by, he thought, ‘Doesn’t she swing her seat as though to suggest that there’s a way right up there? Why, won’t the heaving boobs and a bulging bottom with something passable for a waist in between sum up woman for man? Didn’t La Rochefoucauld say that man is the sum total of all the women he had ever loved; probably what he meant was that the measure of a man’s worth