ENIGMAS

Neha sensed a slow movement around her, which could have been easily mistaken for a gentle breeze, had it not begun to seep through her. She felt like she was being possessed by an unknown entity and she stiffened when the unexplainable assumed the shape or form of a hand that began to fondle her. She resisted with her will as she was incapable of pushing the invisible force away from her. Fear paralysed her as the thought that she was becoming one with the supernatural invaded her mind, which commenced a bout of incessant chanting. Prayers seemed to be powerless in the face of that mystifying persistent potency which continued to maraud against her will.

Fingers trailed on her supple skin and Neha could hear her deafeningly loud breathing drown every other sound in her bedroom. She could not summon enough courage to open her eyes let alone sit up and investigate or reason the origin of the unexpected intrusion that was frighteningly and strangely seductive. She was unsuccessful in her rationalisation as the roving hand was determined to terminate her digressions and left her gasping in pleasure. Manipulative fingers prodding, probing and caressing her body from head to toe made it impossible for her to harbour any sinister feelings about the freakish encounter.

The inscrutable turned more demanding and urgent, which matched Neha's rapid breathing, forcing her to relax and subduing her instinct to protest. She could feel its grip tightening around her waist groping for softness embedded within her inner lips. When she struggled to appear unresponsive, Neha felt the hold slacken only to wander away to the soft swell that accentuated her femininity. Hungrily the hand clenched and unclenched over her mounds of softness making her arching body clamour for more. Neha suppressed her moans as disturbing John, who was sleeping in the adjacent room, was unthinkable during the witching hours.

Wave after wave of sensual pleasure washed over her ruining the possibility of peaceful repose, which would have rejuvenated her for the next day's tedious hours. Neha's attempts to surface from the tormenting sea of desires were shattered when the caresses turned into agonisingly slow penetration that engulfed her entire being in sweet ache. She quivered with delight unable to deduce the source of her enjoyment. She relished the moment when her inner lips parted welcoming the anticipated thrust wishing for the incessant tease and torment to consume her with a raging passion. She felt a tug at her fuller bottom lip and as she was succumbing to the bewitchment a melodious ascending ringtone ended the night of clandestine debauchery.

Neha switched off the alarm on her mobile phone and lay staring at the ceiling struggling to differentiate between fantasy and reality. The nightmarish dream felt so real that it was impossible to dismiss it as chimera. She headed for the showers not wanting to break working days' routine and as she unwound herself in the long warm shower she reflected on how life itself was an enigma. There were so many occurrences in her life that would have appeared less abstruse had she been successful in obtaining solutions. With a sigh, Neha concluded her reminiscences as the call of duty claimed her mornings. Ensuring that John woke up on time, showered, changed in to full school uniform and had a healthy breakfast took a toll on her and by the time she hit the road she found herself ranting and raving about innumerable issues such as lack of discipline, traffic and lateness.

Neha dropped John at his high school as usual and breathed a sigh of relief only when she had eluded the traffic bottleneck near the school zone. The smoothing vehicular flow of the Hume Highway, which was uninterrupted, untangled Neha's taut nerves and she paid some attention to Mikee and Emma's Radio show on 96.1. It usually took an hour's drive to get to her destination and as she was driving Neha thought that her decision to migrate to Australia in her advanced stages of pregnancy throwing away a substantive position in a government institution was nothing short of a gamble. She was one of the fortunate candidates, among the several hundred thousand who sat for the Teacher's Recruitment Board examination, to have emerged victorious both in the written section and the interview. Within few months, Neha received the guaranteed permanent appointment letter as lecturer in English at a Government Arts College and Neha's teaching career skyrocketed with the transition from self-financing institutions to government colleges. Industriousness being her middle name she laboured for four years to complete her doctoral thesis on existentialism, however, its submission was followed by the Australian government's grant of Permanent Resident visa at an hour that was fortuitous.

Neha realised the need to focus on the road as her musings were impairing her driving skills. She swerved dangerously around the corner of Charming Rd and into the teachers' parking lot ignoring the 40kms school zone sign. As she rushed into the school building, she noticed mothers with prams and fathers in work attire waiting outside the library.

'It must be one of those PTA meetings,' Neha ruminated as she stormed into the staffroom flinging a muffled 'Good morning' to the occupants engrossed with their routines.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she noticed a blank, highlighted space on her timetable for period 1. Pangs of hunger ravaging her reminded Neha that she had skipped breakfast. Coffee was inevitable, of course! As she watched the thin group of mothers with prams and toddlers grow into a significant cluster in the quad through the staffroom window, Neha envisioned the days when she traversed everywhere with a pram. Commuting to University was no different.

Recollections of sprinting with the pram to drop her baby off at the University Kids campus and having to retrace the route to attend lectures; of facing disappointments when assignments were returned sans credit or distinction and of being a victim to tall poppy's syndrome; of exiting the lecture hall just before 7 pm to pick her son from the day care at closing time and of wondering, while looking at the tear-stained face of a traumatised child who had lost his battle to exhaustion, if the sacrifice made for a tertiary qualification was worth the grief, inundated her psyche. Recollections of pushing a pram in the early hours of the morning through the nearly deserted streets of Campsie; of quickening pace to reach the residence of a family day carer who defied rules to welcome a struggling migrant's nine months old baby at the crack of dawn; of whizzing through Beamish Street and boarding a specific train to ascertain that Kuring-gai campus was reached on time via linking transportation came crowding into her mind.

Neha, who was never a quitter, knew only too well that adversities often lead to accolades. She persevered holding on to moments such as a rare display of genuine affection by a few friends who claimed her succinct spare time, a word of recognition that augmented her sense of achievement, a goal-intoxicated contribution that would eventually warrant success. With great reluctance, she yanked her gaze from the quad reminding herself of the need to organise herself for the next period. As she ascended the stairs, the day appeared ominous for some awful reason. She could not dismiss the foreboding feeling as insignificant. It dampened her high spirits and wrenched away her moment of basking in the glory of her accomplishments.

She shoved the anxiety building within her to the back of her mind and concentrated on distributing workbooks to Year 8 students who had piled into the classroom at the knell of the bell. She was kept on toes by the queries of inquisitive children whose lively expressions betrayed their growing interest in the topic 'Media Madness', which they were determined to mask. It was their way of seeking vengeance on an educator, who did not believe in wasting a minute of their lesson in frivolous pursuits. Applying themselves diligently through any learning activity for more than half a lesson was sheer injustice to them. Being an experienced teacher, Neha was not fooled by their counterfeit disinterest. In fact, they were so skilled at their pretensions that their histrionics would have fetched them Oscar nominations. She carried on unperturbed and strained to suppress her amusement, which was short-lived due to an unforeseen interruption.

Neha was relieved by a faculty member from her lesson as the Deputy Principal had to discuss a matter of utmost significance with her. Once again that daunting feeling pervaded her entire being. It travelled languidly like a slow poison making each step to the DP's office more arduous.

When she eventually made it to the office, the DP said, 'Close the door. I received this complaint this morning. Take a seat. I want you to read it before I can talk to you about the next step.'

As her eyes skimmed and scanned through the sheets, the words mocked her so derisively. Her co-worker's false allegations paralysing every nerve in her body, reducing her to a state of immobility.

'This is not true. I have not spread rumours about anyone. Some of the information in the document did not happen. It's just plain lies,' said Neha in an almost hysterical voice when she finished reading the document.

'Where is the evidence? No names have been mentioned. I want those nameless students to be brave enough to say things to my face,' added Neha passionately.

Her request for attestation only extorted a, 'There will be a meeting tomorrow morning and you are allowed to bring a fed rep for support.'

Neha forced herself to exit the DP's office and walked through the corridor to the English staffroom with a heavy heart. Sadness overwhelmed her as the realisation, that a conspiracy had been hatched, dawned on her. Careless comments made about colleagues had been twisted and manipulated by the anonymous conspirators to suit their purpose. What brought tears to her eyes was the unfair manner, in which the issue had been dealt. Neha had no say in the matter with her request for proof fallen on deaf ears. Why a casual teacher was given undue importance and a permanent staff stripped of her dignity was an enigma! Not that Neha wanted any staff in tentative positions to be treated without equity. She was determined to expose the falsity behind the accusations, however, as she read and re-read the document to type up a counter response, uncontrollable sobs shook her body. The whole affair was inequitable as there had been many instances of unprofessional conduct displayed by the casual staff towards Neha including deliberate swearing and an insincere apology to mask insolence.

Amidst her sobbing, Neha wondered if her procrastination had turned the tables around. She should have gathered evidence and reported unprofessional conduct of the casual staff early on instead of ignoring rudeness and disrespect. Under the circumstances, Neha speculated, if things would have been favourable for her even if she had made the first move. The perception that she would have been victimised either way fetched a relentless downpour of tears. The screen before Neha became a blur and she realised she was not in a state of mind to continue. She was decisive about not teaching any more classes that day. Intending to cause no more damage to the situation, especially before the meeting, Neha packed her things quickly before students pried her with questions about her red eyes. She was not fortunate in avoiding detection. By the time she had reached the teacher's car park, students who were concerned about her distressed state and who had a whiff of what had occurred, arrived at their own conclusions.

While a storm brewed within Neha, the world continued calmly with her chores. An hour later, she stared with satisfaction at what she had typed in response to the false allegations. The compositional process had a soothing effect as it allowed her to unburden her yoke with each upright word saluting her righteousness. Neither did the incident kill Neha nor did it make her strong. She became imperceptible. The more she ventured through the wilderness of life the more secretive she became. An invisible warrior.

A STAB IN THE BACK

Two decades ago, when Neha was looking forward to graduate Master's degree with flying colours, when romance inspired her to defy society, traditions and culture; when rebellion dictated her choices and decisions, she was subjected to an undesirable interview. An interview, where she was forced to eat the humble pie in the presence of the institution's correspondent Mrs. Chandra and her father, where she had no other alternative but to swallow the insults that struggled to find its way out and where she had to take an oath to disown her boyfriend despite the fact she was twenty-two years of age. P.S.G.R Krishnammal college for women, Coimbatore was one of the best in the industry and prided itself for inculcating cultural values in its students. To turn a blind eye to a defiant postgraduate catholic student roaming the streets of the city with a Hindu boy on a motorbike would not only tarnish the reputation of the esteemed institution that values discipline above all things but also that of the student, whose chastity would be questionable in the marriage market.

Realising that Vincent was silent during Mrs. Chandra's accusations she said, 'Looks like you have no problem with your daughter going around so openly with her boyfriend. Maybe you have ulterior motives in allowing her to gallivant.'

'I have not allowed her a boyfriend. I did not know she was seeing him until you brought it to my notice,' Vincent replied calmly but sounded unhappy.

'I want a written agreement from Neha that she will not have any interaction with the 'so-called' boyfriend before we conclude this interview,' said Mrs. Chandra to Vincent who was looking at his tightly clasped hands resting on his lap.

After pausing for a few seconds, she added, 'Refusal to oblige with the stipulations would be met with expulsion.'

'I will give it in writing,' consented Neha as she did not want to prolong the humiliation her father was subjected to through no fault of his own.

She signed the written agreement in silence and recorded a stranger's name on the blank where she was supposed to include her boyfriend's name. Oblivious to her deviousness, Mrs. Chandra accepted the agreement with a triumphant smile. The chastisement at the interview ended with just a warning as the institution had great expectations from Neha, a prospective university rank holder. When Neha walked out of the correspondent's office that day she was determined more than ever to continue her affair and to seek employment further away from home on the completion of the course.

Neha reasoned that with employment came economic independence and freedom of choice. Since the interview, both Stella and Vincent tried everything in their capacity to talk Neha out of her relationship with Prem. Falling a victim to their warped logic and brainwashing was out of question. She wasted no time in applying for teaching positions in residential schools and was successful in her endeavours at KTS, Pollachi, a town approximately 44kms away from her hometown. The offer of employment was lucrative as Neha was offered free boarding and lodging besides a reasonable monthly salary. It was an escape ticket to paradise; a paradise where endless harangue on ingratitude, social expectations, failure of inter-caste marriages etc. would not be delivered periodically; a paradise where Neha would be her own master and which would be immune to parental control.

The school was situated in the heart of the residential area of Vasanthi Nagar, which could be reached via Malingapuram, a rich suburban area with palatial homes lining both the sides of wide tarred roads. The female correspondent of the school, Mrs. Kalinga who was a tall, graceful, eloquent and well-built lady, was a strict task master. Neha's memory of the first day talk given to the newly appointed residential staff was still vivid. She commenced with housekeeping, teacher's uniform, which was blue blouse and blue plain saree, and proceeded to talk about the neighbourhood.

Mrs. Kalinga added as an afterthought, 'You would have noticed on your way here that the neighbourhood is unusually quiet. This is how it is on most days,' to which most of the residential staff nodded in accordance.

'Residential staff are advised not to go for outing in uniform as the local community would recognise which school you represent. If you're using public transportation, it is recommended that you hire an auto rickshaw to reach school instead of choosing to walk alone through the wide streets of Malingapuram,' continued Mrs. Kalinga.

The talk ended with emphasis on the importance of lesson preparations and meeting deadlines.