A time to die, and a time to be born...

'I don’t not what he must have thought of when he opened the door and saw me standing there. His looks didn’t change, same as that of years ago. I can recall the love in those eyes when they looked mine. And it never seemed to have diminished after all these years. He wasn’t surprised at all to see me after ten long years. And I stepped in.

He didn’t say anything, just helped me in with my luggage. For one moment I thought that I should say something, but I refrained. I hugged him tight. Yes, I was wrong to have doubted him years ago, and left him in disgust. His love was platonic. His love was sacred. He thought a lot and that’s why I had left him. I wanted the adventures, the fun, the wildness. He wanted my love. Just my love.

My heart started beating very fast as I held him close to me and tight. I could feel his warm breath on my shoulders. His grip tightened. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I held him tighter. He caressed my hair. He kissed my shoulder, then moved on to kiss my forehead.

Adventures I had enough. Men would crave for my body. Making love to me would rid them of all their anxieties. But the pain would be indifferent to me. I felt duty-bound to oblige them. Sex was their drug. None loved me. They loved my body. They loved having sex with me. My only ware of worth was my genitalia. It earned the money for me. Was that all I’m capable of? Or had my vanity suppressed my faith in love? I would eagerly wait for these men. Weeks passed by, months passed by, years passed by. I waited and waited and waited for the many men. But none loved me.

The men were very vulnerable. They would be nervous. They would shake and be unsure of their touch, their actions. They were insecure. But he was different. He looked composed and confident. There wasn’t the shakiness in his breath. It was peaceful. It was from the soul. For all I knew was, he loved me.

Slowly I lifted his head of my shoulders and we kissed. He pulled me closer; my breasts pressed harder on his chest. I doubted if he felt anything else at that time. He kept on kissing me, and I didn’t pull back, for I too felt the heavenly feeling of love for the first time. I kissed many men in my profession. But somehow I was a reborn a virgin that moment and it felt like my first kiss. Yes, I was a virgin reborn.

That night we made love. It was like never before. He yelled. He roared like an animal! But it didn’t matter, and I felt immense pleasure, because this was how it had been since the beginning of time, when the first man met the first woman and they made love for the first time: they shouted.

Then his body collapsed onto mine, and I don’t know how long we stayed there, our arms around each other. I stroked his hair like never before. I felt his racing heart gradually slow down to its normal rate. His hands began delicately to move up and down my arms. He kissed me and said with a smile-“Good evening!”

“Good evening,” I said.'

John wiped the tears off his cheeks. Anushka lay silently in the casket. John never had the heart to say the three magical words. “I love you,” he said looking at his wife’s dead body. She passed away in the morning. It was their fiftieth marriage anniversary. She told John to read her diary from the very day she would die. And this was the first article in her diary. Yes indeed, for that was the first day of her life, her life as a lover.