The Mask

                                              THE MASK

The scene was straight out of a Bollywood movie that thrive on sex and sleaze . A woman was stripping in full public view . Amitabh was stunned. How could this happen ? This was his regular root to office. Yet he had never come across such a sight. But the scene was much too provocative to move away. He parked his car and settled down to look.

He did not have the courage to get down and be seen in public ogling at the woman. He was well known and respected. A strange desire stirred in him. His eyes latched on to the scene.

The woman was meticulously going through the titillating ritual of disrobing herself. From the haggard look, ragtag clothing and matted hair it was not difficult to identify her as the mad woman who roved the streets of this area. She was young and in spite of her mental illness was very healthy. Dust and dirt had covered her in a thin layer like rust on a brass vessel waiting to be scrubbed clean. But the sheen of gleaming flesh was visible from under the coating.

She was now discarding her top dress, which consisted of strange multi-coloured mixture of petticoats, man's shirts and ribbons. Amitabh's breath stopped. He had never seen such beautiful breasts in his life. He gasped. He knew it was unfair to derive sexual pleasure out of the plight of a deranged person. He looked around. Life seemed normal. But then he looked carefully. The panwalla, the grocer and couple of rickshawpullers were looking though ostensibly busy in their work.

Amitabh felt guilty. Guilty of spying on the privacy of another person. But the act had stirred some reactions between his legs. He was now perspiring . His mouth felt dry. A bizarre desire overtook him. He felt like rushing out of the car and possessing the pair of mounds of flesh so proudly projected on the dirty chest. He had not felt such rush of adrenaline in his life. The lady continued with the charade now tugging teasingly at the lower portion of her dress, which was also a mess of torn sacks, and strips of clothing of undeterminable age and colour. All through, she had a smile of mocking amusement pasted on her perched lips.

Her slender waist was now bare exposing the deep navel. Amitabh could feel his manliness in all it's glory of 45 years stirring restlessly. He felt so guilty of such voyeuristic pleasure that he lowered his head. But he did not need the visual stimuli any more. It was imprinted in his mind. With hands shaking, lips dry and temperature rising he somehow managed to reach his office.

He could not concentrate. His marriage of twenty years had been spent exploring the nook and crannies of a female body. But Sumitra had never been able to stir such precipitous feeling. She had been a good wife, both in bed and outside; caring, sharing and understanding; but never provocative. Amitabh felt the flame rising inside which he thought had been extinguished long since. He thought of the children who were in college. He also thought about himself. He was well placed earning a decent salary. He had some standing in the local community.

But the thought of the security and peace could not give him any solace. His mind was in an upheaval. After office he headed for the bus stop instead of his home. It was getting dark. He parked the car some distance from the bus stop and started walking. He hoped he would not bump into anybody he knew.

She was there; a darkened shape on the concrete pavement. She was singing in a low voice. He advanced cautiously and sat near her. He produced a bunch of cookies from his pocket and offered her one. She looked up and the eyes met. Her eyes were darker , darker then the darkness outside and the dark thoughts in his mind. He could not read them.

He asked her to play a game of touch. She did not object. He offered her another cookie and told her to discard a piece of clothing. She giggled and obliged. She collected twenty cookies before she was fully naked. Amitabh sat there transfixed. She seemed so unconscious of her body. He thought for the last time about Sumitra and the children before placing his hands on the mound of flesh. Then he forgot everything. The world seemed to shrink and condense into a small shack littered with rags. All human forms disappeared. He was only aware of his own being and an innocent laughter. He felt cool evening breeze on his bare back. After what seemed like ages he stood up, brushed the dust and pieces of dirty cloths from his body and picked up his dress.  That night he slept like a log.
*                      *                            *                          *

The guilt came, later. Towards dawn he discovered his shoulders were on fire where the nails had dug in. With each discovery of physical pain he became aware of the enormity of his action. How could he do this ? how could the faithful, loving husband of twenty years suddenly turn unfaithful by seeing a naked mad woman. Was it an act of perversion . Or a rebellion against his contented existence ?. Along with the thought came another. What if somebody came to know of it ? He imagined the reaction of his wife, the kids, colleagues  and felt like plunging from a summit. The summit of his social prestige, his dignity, his long held beliefs, from the heights of trust reposed on him by his unsuspecting wife, by the loving children. How would they feel when they would discover that their adored person for years had just discarded them for a mad woman and some cheap thrills ? the thought was unbearable. After much deliberation he decided to forget the episode as a wet dream , the likes he used to have in his teens.
*                  *                    *                            *
He heard the slow , leisurely laugh. As he turned around, he saw her smiling at him. Amitabh felt the rush of adrenaline ; this time in panic. She extended one hand and asked,' Give ma a cookie and I will take off one piece of clothing'. Sumitra was enraged and embarrassed  at the same time. Amitabh felt like running away. Sumitra gave a strange look at him. He could read the thoughts. How dare she talk like that ? Did you ever ask her to take her clothes off ? Amitabh was red like a tomato. Did Sumitra find anything amiss in his behavior ? The women have an uncanny way of perceiving such things. With much difficulty he contained the urge to clamp his hands on the mouth of the mad woman. He maintained a stolid silence. She giggled and said, ' No problem. You are with your wife now. You are wearing a mask. So you cannot play with me. I understand. But take off your mask soon or you will die. I will be waiting at the usual place. Bye.' And off she went leaving behind a trail of dust, suspicion, apprehension and relief.

Sumitra looked at him quizzically. Amitabh shrugged. How could he be responsible for the mad behavior of a mad woman ? And why should he explain ?

*                      *                        *                          *
Evenings came with that peculiar stirring in him. Was he actually wearing a mask ? A mask of a good man. A mask that camouflaged all his inner ugliness ? Had he been living the life of a sham person ? His basis of life was being threatened. What did the lady say ? Take off the mask or you will die. Was he living now ? Was he free to do anything he likes? Who would stop him ? His family ? His wife ? Society ? Who ? He was really confused. Yet in his subconscious he felt that desire. The desire to possess that dirty piece of flesh in a dingy sack even at the cost of his secured life, wife, house, children and all the wealth in the world. He was not so secured after all. What kind of security was that which shattered at a slight touch of desire ? He wanted to be free. Free of all the trappings of a cultivated existence.

*                    *                        *                      *
One evening he drove towards the bus stop. He parked the car near the sack. She was there singing as usual in a low sonorous voice.  This time, he did not offer her a cookie. He had come to beg. Beg her of her happiness , her attitude of living, of doing what she wanted to. She extended a hand. He took it in his. He did not urge her to take off the clothes. They sat there for a long time. He holding her hand. She singing softly and giggling intermittently. Stars smiled in the sky. A bird chirped for a while. And then all was quite. Peaceful. Time and space lost all meaning.

*                      *                        *                  *

Next day, Sumitra lodged an FIR in the local police station about her missing husband. The panshopwalla, the grocer, the rickshawpullers did not see the mad lady anymore. Nobody tried to connect the two disappearances. It was not necessary.