As Jayanth left for the office, Pushpa saw him off at the
lift opposite her apartment. She rushed to the balcony outside the hall to wave
her hand as she usually did when he started the car.
When Pushpa entered the hall, she found her neighbour seated
on the sofa, mischievously smiling at her. The neighbour said, “I was waiting for your
hubby to leave before rushing in unseen, and you know well for what purpose.”
“I do not approve of it, and every time you tempt me to do
things I regret later. I will no longer fall victim to your persuasions, no
matter how hard you try.” Pushpa said in a determined voice and with strong
intent.
“Pray, do not get upset with me. Tell me honestly, with your
hand on your heart, whether you dislike it. In which case, I will trouble you
no more.”
“True, I must confess I like it, but I am scared what if my
husband comes to know of these clandestine aberrations between us. He is given
to wild rage and may hit the roof.
“Do not worry about that. We will keep it strictly between
us, and no one will know about it.”
Poor Pushpa fell victim again to the wily words of her
neighbour Sumitra but seemed highly happy.” I must concede you are highly
skilled in cooking any cuisine, and this luscious, juicy Jangri you gave
me now is the nearest approximation to ambrosia.
You know I am highly diabetic, and if these indiscretions
were to manifest in the next report, I am sure my doctor would put me onto
regular Insulin pricks.”
“I agree, but tomorrow is Diwali. I promise I will no
longer lure you with my sweet preparations,” Sumitra replied even as she hugged
Pushpa with affection.
