Honest Sam – Bookie
Proclaimed the billboard nailed up against a wooden shack. Sam would give odds against almost anything. One could lay bets with Honest Sam and rest assured of a fair return. Sam was meticulously honest and forthright. He had nearly gone under a few times, but the mathematically proven odds favouring the bookie let him survive and prosper. In time his business grew and Sam moved into better accommodation.
Sam’s social acceptance arrived quite swiftly. His growing wealth suffused an acceptable stature to his position and insured a place for him in the social hierarchy. He dressed well and spoke well. He was invited to most functions in town and was generally seen to hobnob with the ‘well to do’ genre.
Sam contemplated marriage again; he was lonely, marriage would help him put Denise firmly out of his mind once and for all. He would be careful not to make the same mistake again. He would choose a woman for her integrity and stability; he would never fall for good looks ever again… she stepped out from under the blanket: slim and lovely, stark nude her breasts firm … Sam put his palms over his eyes. God! Would he ever be able to put her loveliness out of his mind? “Please, Lord, let me get over her; she is evil!” he prayed.
Shelly was a widow with a small child: a little boy. (Ideal, thought Sam). She came from a good though not rich family; she was finding it a struggle to make ‘ends meet’. At the close of the month, the pay of a schoolteacher was exhausted. A deep scar across her face sadly marred her beautiful bright eyes and pleasant smile. A scar she had received in an accident in which her husband had died. She was quiet and even-tempered. Exactly, thought Sam, the kind of woman he was looking for.
Sam took to courting her. She was reluctant at first and was always very proper. Oh, excellent! Sam thought. He worked hard at charming her and slowly she relaxed in his company and began to trust him. He had, after all, got over his blind drinking sprees, hadn’t he? It showed great strength of character.
The town readied for the popular wedding. “So decent of Sam to give the poor woman a second chance,” they said. “Sam is a gem! Look how he has turned out.”
Sam prepared his house to receive Shelly. It was apparent he had finally made it. He went to bed with a smile on his face.
Sam surfaced from a deep alcoholic daze. Where was he? He looked up; the sky was light. Was it dawn or sunset? He raised himself and leaned against the wall. It slowly came back to him: the wedding preparations; arranging a priest who would come to the house to perform the nuptials; the catering and food, beverage and grog - everything was in place. He had retired to bed ‘dog-tired’ and happy.
Sometime at night a little sound awakened him and he switched on the bedside lamp. She stepped out from under the blanket: slim and lovely, stark nude, her breasts firm …Sam gasped and rubbed his eyes.
Denise was back!
She slipped under the covers; her sinuous body wrapped itself around his and inflamed his awakening libido. She rubbed and manipulated him until his body was taut as a violin string, she then thrust him into herself, and Sam was blown away!
She kept him in the bedroom for four whole days. Feeding him copious amounts of alcohol and coaxing him to feats of repeated sex. Sam remained in a daze. He was either ‘passed out’ or in the throes of an orgasm.
On the fifth day he came out of his stupor, and looked around for Denise; he went looking for her, swaying down the hallway. There was a sound from the spare room. He opened the door and stood gaping: Denise was straddling Frank, her old lover, both were moaning in ecstasy ‘bare arsed naked’ and heaving.
The old anger came exploding back. She had completely ruined him once and now she was doing it again. All his days of struggle and desolation engulfed his senses. She is evil, flashed through his mind, she has returned to ruin him and grab his wealth.
He went back to his room, pulled out a handgun from a drawer, and tiptoed back. He shot them both as they reached their groaning climax.
As the thunder of the twin explosions died, he pulled a bottle of whisky from a crate and sloshed it neat down his throat. He sat there drinking steadily watching their blood slowly coagulate. Flies found their eyes and open mouths. Strangely, he felt nothing: no remorse, no regret, just a numbness that engulfed him. As dusk gathered, he lurched off through back lanes, bottle in hand, going who know where.
He tried to take stock of himself. He retched in the gutter and noticed he had finished the bottle. He heard a police siren and pushed himself off the wall. He crossed the street and started to climb some wide stairs.
“Halt!” the voice came from below. “Halt or we shoot.” Sam was beyond caring. The police gave chase and had no difficulty catching him.
It was two days before Sam was sober enough to be produced before a magistrate. The charges were read out and Sam pleaded ‘not guilty’ to murder and to a second charge of culpable homicide. Sam was remanded to judicial custody.
The extreme mental provocation that was thrust upon Sam and the Machiavellian manipulations that he had been subjected to were points of debate and speculation by the towns’ folk. The general consensus was that though Sam was weak and manipulative, especially in the hands of someone as beguiling and malevolent as Denise, a murderer he was not!
The verdict of the court, when it came, reflected the popular opinion and Sam was set free on a suspended sentence.
Sam rang the doorbell repeatedly, but Shelly would not answer. He could hear the prater of her child, but she would not respond. Sam’s excitement slowly died and a sense of hopelessness suffused his mind. He realized Shelly would not forgive him - if only she would let him explain things to her. But how could he explain what he had allowed Denise to do to him? How ever would he explain the sexual power Denise wielded…he was a puppet in her hands. But now it was finally over. She would never haunt his mind. How could he explain that to her?
Sam realized that even in death Denise was once again destroying his life. He saw the hopelessness of it all: how could he expect Shelly to understand? He slumped down on the steps in despair and buried his head in his hands.
He didn’t know how long he was on the steps. A sound made him look up. He saw Shelly standing there, a few feet from him. She was looking at him and she didn’t look angry. Sam jumped up and Shelly moved forward and embraced him.
“You don’t have to say anything, I have spent the last hour trying to understand the situation and I think I now understand it in my own way. So don’t say anything. Let’s bury it. All I know is that I love you very much and if you’ll have me I am willing to marry you.”
Sam shut his eyes tight, but tears squeezed past and wet his face. His body shook with emotion as he thanked the Lord for his mercy.
Sam had finally kicked out the odious trappings of Denise’s memory!
Final Analysis
Madan was in love! This had to be love: he satisfied all the requirements of someone in love; let’s see: he thought constantly about her (Bina), he rang her umpteen times a day; their conversations were long and, to an outsider, nonsensical (an important requirement), he liked the way she looked and loved her little ways; he loved all her facial expressions: her eyes, yes, her eyes he simply adored; her body was great and he just couldn’t stop kissing her. What more was required? “Sure,” he assured himself, he was in love.
They were both working people and flat broke. Well, if that wasn’t a level playing field…? He had asked her to marry him and she had said, “Later, after we have saved some money.” she always said these very wise things. That’s why he loved her, no?
“December,” he decided. ”Yes, December would be a nice time to get married.” That would give them…let’s see, eleven months to collect some money. “That should be OK huh, Honey?” She looked at him and smiled indulgently. How does it matter, she thought, December or March or whenever, when they had enough money they’d get married and that was that.
Bina met Madan on a bus to Shimla. Madan and his friend, Lalit, were on the bus taking a short holiday to g
et away from the heat of the plains. Boy and girl sat across the aisle and smiled when ever the bus lurched and their eyes met…which was very often. In Shimla all three had constantly run into each other; there is only the one main street and so one is bound to meet often. Madan and Bina were attracted to each other and by the time the holiday was over, love had visited them. Lalit was completely ‘cheesed off’ with Madan’s constant mooning over Bina. They had come to enjoy the sights of Shimla, but Madan enjoyed only the sight of Bina. Lalit was, therefore, forced to take walks alone.
All three returned by bus after the short refreshing holiday. This time Madan and Bina sat together and Lalit sat across the aisle –there was no need for surreptitious eye contacts across the aisle.
Madan sought out Lalit one evening to give him the good news. “Hey, buddy of mine, where have you been?”
Lalit smiled crookedly, “I’ve been here… all along I’ve been here! Since our return from Shimla you have not found time to ‘get together’”.
“That will all change, Pal, all will change. We’ve decided to tie the knot, Bina and I, and I want you to be the first person to know. A small affair… we want it to be a small affair, you know, just close friends, her parents and mine. Hey, what do you say, ol’ Buddy.”
“Great, man! Wow! When does all this happen?”
“Probably December, Jan., Feb., you know, sometime then. We are saving money like ‘absolutely’. Should have enough by then…what about you, matey? When will you get married? Look for a dame, man, and we could get married together. Wouldn’t that be absolutely fantastic or what?”
Lalit could see his friend’s enthusiasm gushing out of control. He put up his hand to slow him down and then looking him in the eye said somberly, “I am getting married in February!”
Madan was stunned, “What do you mean? What are you saying, man? What do you mean getting married… to bloody whom? I haven’t seen you around with any girl… come on, man, out with it.”
“You haven’t seen me around with any girl because I haven’t been going around with any girl.”
“Then…? Then what?”
“Then, my friend, my parents have arranged for me to wed the daughter of a very respectable family in February next year. My Dad knows them well and they have inter-business connections. Mum says Meera, that’s her name, is very lovely.”
Madan opened and shut his mouth a few times; he shook his head in disbelief looking boggle eyed at his friend, “What the hell are you saying, don’t talk crap, man! Are you telling me that you are having an arranged marriage, are you off your nut? And we are supposed to be emancipated young men! What’s wrong with you… are you completely bonkers or what? How can you share the rest of your life with someone you’ve never met?”
Well…my father never met my mother until they got married and nor did yours – so why the incredulity?
“Them were the dark ages, man.”
“Would you like to say that in front of your parents?”
In February of the following year there was a joint marriage – if one can call it that. Apart from the fact that the two events took place on the same day, there was almost nothing else in common - even the venues were widely apart.
Madan and Bina’s wedding was registered at the local Registrar’s office. A small reception was held on the lawns of a hotel where they were booked to spend the following two nights. It was a close and intimate affair where both families and their close friends intermingled freely and enjoyed the wedding. The newly weds honeymooned at a beach resort where their intimacy grew, and their bank balance dwindled. Nevertheless, they were ‘heady’ with happiness and ‘moon-eyed’ in love: they knew well enough to avoid areas of friction and to steer a cheerful course. Each had a deep respect for the other and their interactions were on equal levels.
Lalit and Meera’s wedding was a fairly elaborate affair that stretched into the third day. Friends, relatives and other invitees kept coming and going. Presents were piled high on a corner table and the family, by the third day, was in a tired daze. It was a relief to pack the wedded pair off to honeymoon at the same beach resort where they would meet Madan and his bride, Bina.
The girls took to each other the very first day. “But why won’t you work anymore after marriage?” asked Bina a few days later. “Don’t you want to be independent and a co-earner? Your husband isn’t exactly rolling in wealth, is he?”
Meera felt some awkwardness in answering, “I don’t know; maybe sometime in the future. At present my husband doesn’t want me to work.”
“What does he want then? Does he want you to wait on him ‘hand and foot’?”
“Again, I don’t know, Bina…those are my wifely duties anyway. It’s too early to say anything; we are still working out our attitudes. He is a good man…he is not arrogant or demanding, he does not put me down as I have seen some husbands in arranged marriages do.”
“My God, Meera you amaze me! You are well educated and were the head of your department at work. How can you even talk this way? Do you feel anything for each other? I don’t know if there can be any love; you both hardly know each other. You must have loved somebody in the past - you know… had an affair?”
“No, Bina, I don’t know. I have not had an affair. The usual dating, kissing and the occasional groping in the back seat, but no affair! Regarding my husband, I feel a very strong attraction to him: I want to be near him all the time. This feeling is stronger than any so called ‘love’ I have felt for another man.”
Their honeymoon over, the couples settled down in their respective homes and turned to running their individual lives. ‘Nine-to-five’ jobs usually turn out to be ‘eight-to-seven jobs’…counting travel time. This does not leave much time for entertainment and so, perforce, the two friends and their wives saw each other infrequently. Each wondered how the ‘married life’ of the other was turning out. Meera had again started to work and both she and her husband were now living in rented accommodation.
Madan’s and Bina’s exuberant love settled to a steady and deep affection. “This is what I call love,” Madan would tell his friends. “What we had in our early days, and what we swore was infinite and dying-for-each-other love, I now realize, was just exuberant passion. After a big fight, in those early days, we could easily have gone our separate ways and have never seen each other again. It would be terrible for some time, but we would get over it; our egos would never allow us the magnanimity of ‘eating humble pie’ and making up. Now, our relationship has matured: we would never accept separation whatever be the cause. Our love supersedes any cause. This is truly ‘Love’: as solid as an oak; as great and flowing as the mighty Ganga!”
Over time, Lalit and Meera underwent a similar metamorphosis: they fell hungrily in love, but very
quickly settled down to a steady and deep relationship. Their state of being wedded pre-formed a foundation for this. A child came in their second year of marriage, which bolstered and sealed their conjugation. Friends adjudged them very mature, levelheaded, and happily settled.
In Indian society, not all young males are facile or comfortable in female company. These young men rely heavily on their parents to arrange a liaison for them. Love marriages work, but there are failures too. Arranged marriages have their failures, but a larger percentage is successful. ‘Indian Tradition’ behooves a tendency to stability, permanence, and mutual sacrifice.
Almost a hundred percent of all Indian film stories revolve around the ‘love’ theme. When arranged marriages are shown they are very often depicted in bad light. This has advanced the ‘Love Marriage’ custom. However, today if arranged marriages were banned in India (for some reason), a large majority of young men and women would remain unmarried. Indian culture does not promote intimacy between adult unmarried young men and women - though this is happily changing. Encounters remain on a light semi-formal footing. Those that venture beyond this to dating and trysts opt for love marriages.
MORAL: The moral of the t
wo instances of marriage is that it is not the system one adopts (‘Love Marriage’ or ‘Arranged Marriage’), but rather the respect that the partners bring to bear in the liaison that ensures happiness and continuity.
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