The Company of Women

Khushwant Singh

Description

Recently separated from his nagging, ill-tempered wife of thirteen years, millionaire businessman Mohan Kumar decides to reinvent his life. Convinced that ''lust is the true foundation of love'', he embarks on an audacious plan: he will advertise for paid lady companions to share his bed and his life. Thus begins his journey of easy, unbridled sexuality in the company of some remarkable women.There is Sarojini Bharadwai, the demure professor from small-town Haryana who surprises Mohan with her ardour and sexual energy; Molly Gomes, the free-spirited masseuse from Goa, mistress of the sensual impulse; and Susanthika Goonatilleke, the diminutive seductress from Sri Lanka. After each affair ends and before the next begins, Mohan finds solace in the practiced charms of his obliging maid, Dhanno, and in the memories of his first lovers: the American Jessica Browne, to whom he lost his virginity, and the Pakistani Yasmeen Wanchoo, who brought him the heady passion of an older woman. In The Company of Women, Khushwant Singh, India''s most widely read author, has produced an uninhibited, erotic and endlessly entertaining celebration of love, sex and passion.

Informations

• Publié par: Penguin Books India Pvt Ltd
• Date de parution: 01 février 2016
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9788184753264
• Langue: English

Extrait

Khushwant Singh

The Company of Women
Contents
About the Author
The Secret Life of Mohan Kumar
One : A New Beginning
Two : Dhanno
Three : Letter From Rewari
Four : Sarojini
Five : After Sarojini
The Memoirs of Mohan Kumar
Six : I, Mohan Kumar
Seven : Jessica Browne
Eight : Yasmeen
Nine : Homecoming
Ten : Getting Married
Eleven : Honeymoon in the Shivaliks
Twelve : Mary Joseph
Thirteen : How the Marriage Died
Fourteen : Molly Gomes
Fifteen : Susanthika
The Last Days of Mohan Kumar
Sixteen : A Bai in Bombay
Seventeen : A Fatal Illness
Eighteen : The Death of Mohan Kumar
Author s Note
Acknowledgements
Follow Penguin
Copyright
PENGUIN BOOKS
THE COMPANY OF WOMEN

Khushwant Singh was India s best-known writer and columnist. He was founder-editor of Yojana and editor of the Illustrated Weekly of India , the National Herald and Hindustan Times . He authored classics such as Train to Pakistan, I Shall Not Hear the Nightingale (retitled as The Lost Victory ) and Delhi . His last novel, The Sunset Club , written when he was ninety-five, was published by Penguin Books in 2010. His non-fiction includes the classic two-volume A History of the Sikhs , a number of translations and works on Sikh religion and culture, Delhi, nature, current affairs and Urdu poetry. His autobiography, Truth, Love and a Little Malice , was published by Penguin Books in 2002.
Khushwant Singh was a member of Parliament from 1980 to 1986. He was awarded the Padma Bhushan in 1974 but returned the decoration in 1984 in protest against the storming of the Golden Temple in Amritsar by the Indian Army. In 2007, he was awarded the Padma Vibhushan.
Among the other awards he received were the Punjab Ratan, the Sulabh International award for the most honest Indian of the year, and honorary doctorates from several universities.
Khushwant Singh passed away in 2014 at the age of ninety-nine.
I


The Secret Life of Mohan Kumar
For Mohan Kumar, it should have been a day of rejoicing. It was not.
He had looked forward to it for twelve years. His wife had at long last decided to leave him: despite the months of bitter acrimony that had preceded it, she agreed to give him a divorce provided she had custody of their two children. He was so anxious to get his freedom, that besides the children he agreed to give her whatever else she wanted in the way of alimony: jewellery that he and his father had given her, furniture, pictures-anything she named. She wanted nothing. She seemed as eager to get rid of him as he was to get rid of her. That afternoon she had packed her things and driven away with the children to her parents home. She had not bothered to say goodbye. The children sensed that this was not just another visit to their grandparents. They embraced and kissed him before running out to get into their mother s black Mercedes. The car had shot out of the gate with unnecessary speed; she had made sure the children would have no time to turn around and wave goodbye.
Mohan should have been celebrating his newly won freedom from his nagging, ill-tempered wife. But as he sat in the balcony of his double-storied bungalow, his feet resting on the railing, smoking a Havana cigar, he felt empty inside and shrouded in loneliness. There was an all-pervading silence. No screaming of children fighting with each other; his six-year-old daughter rushing to him complaining of her elder brother s bullying and he gruffly ordering them to behave and not disturb him. Their squabbles had often irritated him. Now he missed them. The house suddenly had far too many rooms, and the night too many hours. He was weary.
He thought of his relations with his wife. It was what people described as a love-cum-arranged marriage. But of course it was nothing of the sort. The day after he had returned from the States thirteen years ago with degrees in computers and business management, his proud father, a retired middle-level government servant with middle-class dreams for his only son, had gone round newspaper offices with his photographs and biodata. The next morning some national dailies carried Mohan s picture in their matrimonial pages, with captions extolling his academic achievements. Enquiries from parents of unmarried girls followed. He and his father were invited to tea, introduced to nubile girls, tempted with large dowries and offers of partnerships in business. Even after all these years Mohan was amazed at how easily he had allowed himself to be offered for sale, finally agreeing to marry Sonu.
Her father, Rai Bahadur Lala Achint Ram, had made the highest bid. He owned a couple of sugar mills and considerable real estate in Delhi. Mohan succumbed to the offer more to please his father than out of any wish to settle down with a wife. Sonu was passably fair, high-spirited and convent-educated. Also a virgin eager to opt out of virginity. They had a lavish wedding and moved into a large furnished flat provided by her father. Mohan s father moved in with them. The honeymoon went well, as it usually does with newly married couples who desire little besides the freedom to discover and devour each other s bodies. Their first child, a son, was conceived during those early days of amatory exploration.
Differences in temperament began to surface soon afterwards. Sonu was quick-tempered, possessive and wanted attention all the time. She was jealous, though she herself had no love to give him. And she began to resent his father s presence in their home-her home, for it was, after all, a gift from her father. Will your old man live with us all his life? she once asked in disgust. He did not like her calling his father old man and told her so. I married you, not both of you, she shot back. He realized soon enough that their living arrangements had to change. The garment export business he had started soon after returning from the States was bringing him good money, and he also had enough dollars saved up. Within two months of that unpleasant exchange with Sonu he was able to buy himself a bungalow with a garden in Maharani Bagh, an upper class neighbourhood of Delhi. There was enough space in the new house, and Mohan thought Sonu and his father would be able to keep out of each other s way. But he was wrong. His father, sad and diminished, finally moved to Haridwar. This was not how Mohan had wanted it, but at least there might now be peace. He was relieved to be out of the premises provided by his father-in-law.
In less than two years, Mohan had added semi-precious stones and leather goods to the list of items he exported. His profits more than trebled, and soon he was part of the charmed circle of Delhi s super rich.
None of this improved his relationship with his wife. She was, he realized with some horror, a bitter woman, incapable of happiness and determined to make him unhappy. She had made up her mind to condemn him in everything he did. If he paid the slightest attention to another woman, she would call him a randy bastard. At first he thought they were going through a period of adjustment and hoped that relations would settle down to normal. In the seventh year of their marriage, they had a daughter. But even this child did not bring them any closer. Quarrels became endemic. Hardly an evening passed without their going for each other, leaving them both utterly exhausted. For many days following a spat they would barely exchange a word. Then bodily compulsions would resolve the dispute. They would have sex, usually loveless sex, and resume talking to each other. Only for a few days.
One evening remained etched in his memory. She overheard him talking to one of his women friends on the phone. She accused him of having a liaison with that whore . She called him a lecher. He lost his temper and slapped her across the face. For a while she was stunned into silence, then hissed, You dared to hit me. I ll teach you a lesson you ll never forget. And then she walked out of the house. An hour later she was back with her cousin, an inspector of police, and two constables. Mohan was taken to the police station like a common criminal. His statement was recorded. A couple of hours later the inspector drove him back home. It had cost Mohan Rs 5000 to get the inspector to record that it was a ghareloo maamla-a domestic affair-and rafaa dafaa the complaint in the police file. That time Sonu had stayed with her parents for over a month.
Mohan thought over the relationships he had had with various women before he married Sonu. Most were with Americans or Europeans-and one Pakistani. They were not meant to be enduring; no strings attached. Great fun while they lasted. He felt they were better than being caught in the vice of one demanding woman who deprived him of the company of others. All said and done, a man or a woman had only one life to live; neither should waste the best years of their lives with someone with whom they had little to share besides occasional, loveless sex. It would be a relief for them both to end their marriage. The only ones to be hurt were the children, but even they would do better in a peaceful home run by a single parent than one where the parents were always bickering with each other. They would grow up and understand why the divorce was good for everyone concerned.
Mohan was not given to introspection. But his stormy marriage had made him an amateur philosopher of marriage and love. Marriages, he concluded, are not made in heaven; they are made on earth by earthlings for earthly reasons. The first priority is money: it may be property, a profitable business or a well-paid job. The couple concerned fall into line without bothering to find out whether or not the person they are committing themselves to will make a good lifelong companion. At the time they are asked to give their consent they are adolescents: their sex urges are of explosive dimensions, and they are eagerly looking forward to exploring each o