Fiction: Samosas And Chai

He watched her buttock muscles sway to the music known only to elephants. Slow graceful movements that belied her shrewish nature. She was a hag, a witch he hated with such vehemence that there had been times when he had actually dreamed about putting the pillow on her snoring face to end it all.

He could just about hear the mumbling protests from under the pillow, the swinging arms trying to push the pillow away and then the blessed stillness of not having her run his life, rule the roost, rule every waking and sleeping hours of the thirty years of marriage suffered together.

Creamy lards of flesh oozed out of the sides left naked between the saree and the blouse. Tires accumulated over years of afternoon siestas, her lazy over weight body however remained a source of attraction to their young son's friends.

They didn't come over just for the hot samosas that his wife was renowned for but for her sensuality, for the way she made a man feel as if he was the only one she craved and wanted to warm her bed for the night.

She never did take any man to bed besides him in these thirty years of marriage but she kept the hope of sharing her bed alive till the young 'desperate to be laid' fellow finally did get laid by someone else.

He watched her latest victim over the cup of chai that he sipped in small measures. Over the steam he eyed the supposedly nonchalant fellow called Ashutosh. The young guy had clean features, nothing spectacular just pleasant enough to make one think that he wasn't the kind who'd kick a mangy mutt. But he knew better, young men like Ashutosh would do anything for the scent of those dark moist lips nestled in lumps of hair even if they belonged to an old some fifty year old hag like his wife; they were that desperate for sex.

"More samosas? Ashu?" she leaned over and let Ashu catch a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage. Two squashed over ripe mangoes in a push up wonder bra blazed their glories at Ashu and his adam apple responded in kind.

She laid the plate down and sauntered next to Ashu. Ashu moved a little to the left trying to keep some space between them. It was a two sitter; he was skinny and she was a woman of a sizeable girth.

She smiled and put a hand on Ashu's leg. "So tell me Ashu, how is your mama doing?"

Ashu's fair skin turned crimson and he stuttered "She is fine Auntyji"

"Auntyji? Did you hear him honey? He called me auntyji." She pouted and smiled at her husband who let his teeth show in a menacing smile.

She was good at playing the cat and mouse game and he was a mere spectator. There was a time when she would flirt with another man in front of him to drive him wild and it generally ended in a torrid romp in the bed but over the years the play had gone stale but she continued the motions out of habit.

He noted that her hand seemed to have crawled close to Ashu's crotch. Those precocious fingers could just as well have cupped the giver of life but they remained a mere inches away titillating Ashu and scaring him at the same time.

As the smell of the hot samosa tantalized his sinuses he asked his wife "Kunti, are you planning on getting me a fork and knife any time soon to eat my samosas with?"

Their eyes met and the unspoken hatred bound all three in a Karmic loop. She reached forward and took his empty cup away and replied "Why not honey? I'll take just a moment to get your fork."

She left for the kitchen, again and their eyes followed her silent swaying gait back into the kitchen.

Ashu's eyes remained on the kitchen door, utensils clanged and banged as she looked for the fork and he in the meantime continued to observe Ashu.

Ashu's lean frame twitched and trembled at different points, scrawny legs shook as if he was on a train, fingers trembled as they tried to hold on the delicate porcelain tea cup with blood red roses painted on the pristine white surface.

He had picked that tea set especially for Kunti in Amsterdam some twenty years ago, while they were still in love. She had squealed like a new bride when he had given it to her and had made her pleasure known in different ways the night he had returned from his Europe trip.

She had never used that tea set in these following years, even his son's wife's family had not been 'good' enough to served in those precious cups but here was Ashu, his son's childhood friend, drinking tea from the never before used cups.

He gaped like a stupefied gold fish as realization dawned on him. That witch had finally found her balls and slept with one of their son's friends. Mirth bubbled up and spilled from his lips.

Chuckles became an outright roar and Ashu's eyes skated back to the old gentleman whose wife he had lost his virginity to.

He felt like an ant cornered. He shouldn't have come.

"What's so funny?" Kunti asked

Ashu hadn't seen her come back or stand menacingly over her husband.

"Oh, you stupid stupid bitch! You couldn't keep your legs together. Could you? At your age you went and fucked our son's friend? And, that too with a complete moron, a loser who probably slept with you because no other woman would have him."

He laughed even louder, gasped for breath and tears of mirth trickled down his cheeks.

Fear crawled up Ashu's spine, the old man who had been the epitome of unperturbed demeanor looked like a fragile gazelle laughing manically in front of an enraged Bison.

"Take it back" she snarled. "How dare you call me a bitch!"

Ashu cleared his throat and tried to protest "I didn't sleep with her"

They didn't acknowledge him.

Her grip over the fork tightened and she snarled a little louder "Don't you dare call me a bitch."

His eyes seemed to pop out of his pinched face "You rather I called you a spent whore?"

"Take it back" she screamed and drove the fork right into her husband's left eye and pulled it back.

The squishy sound of an eye losing its hold over a long alien object jarred Ashu's senses.

"Auntyji! Kunti..." he sprang up from the two seater

She roared "You fucking bastard! You take it back!" and drove the fork into her husband's right eye.

She straddled her shocked wounded husband and began to wreck bodily harm with the little piece of cutlery.

Ashu began to scream. He couldn't move nor did his vocal cords shut down.

Her arse was plonked on her gyrating husband's body.

Ashu's screams became their screams. They all screamed. Until one scream stopped.

She got up from her husband's unconscious body. Splattered blood mixed with bits of peas and potatoes caked her face. She smiled at the horrified young man and asked him sweetly "Would you like some more hot samosas before we go to bed?