Monique

Monique was enjoying the life of domesticity with Rupert too much to actually want to return to the centre stage. She kept reminding herself that this was the final act before she could leave her identity behind her and submerge herself in that of her husband.

She put on a bodycon dress that was kept in her old bag, the bag she was reluctant to part with. That bag consisted most of her ties with Monique. Rupert had left early in the morning leaving her free to dress according to will. As she put on the last stroke of mascara the pride of Monique came over her face replacing the docile housewife. Makeup has such an adverse effect on women. It transforms them from the outside and the inside. Every man wonders at the marvel that a well made up and confident spectacle a modern woman is. Mankind rarely acknowledges that it is the man's loyalty to the outward beauty that instils in make-up the power to be a magic tool of transfiguration. It did not take long for Monique to replace Shimonthini but it would obviously take Shimonthini a lot longer to completely obliterate the remnants of Monique that lingered within her.

She procured the address for the makeshift studio where her designs were being brought to life. She was informed that the Chairman himself was taking interest in this assignment. One thing Monique knew was that she could not face the Chairman of Phoenix International, the man on whose stories she had literally grown up. It wouldn't really be fair to her husband. What she did not imagine was that her husband would be standing in the middle of all the actions shouting instructions at her assistants like a pro. The first reaction that Monique had on seeing her husband was shock which was followed by panic. She rushed out of the studio and dialled Henry's number. Henry at that time was en route for a three-day concert in Switzerland.

"My husband is here. I can't show up dressed like this." Monique shrieked over the phone.

"Trust me Monique your husband will be happy to see you like this if he is a part of Bert's group."

"I can't do this. Let him take care of this." Monique said.

"He is not the designer. You are." Henry persuaded.

"I don't care. I quit."

"I will ask Bert to fire your husband. What's his name again?"

"No and I never told you and I don't think I will"

"Then do as I say." Henry coaxed.

"I'll put on a mask or something." She finally said.

"If your husband can't recognize you behind a mask Bert better fire the bloke," Henry said.

"Henry, have a nice trip." Monique ended the conversation.

It is indeed a funny assumption that a mask may be able to create a divide between two creatures created to form a whole. The mask in question did not need to be fabricated from a thread or a cloth. It was the mask of presumption.

Rupert looked at the woman entering the room wearing a suave red evening gown with an asymmetric hemline and high neckline wearing a Victorian veil and his instinct knew that she was Madame M. He knew exactly who it was but it was a game he had devised to play to win her heart. Whom would his wife desire, the man she grew enamoured with from stories, that pushed her to peaks of professional success or the man who promised her a future when the burden of her past was too much to bear. Either way, she had only one choice and that was him.

Rupert went forward and asked 'Madame M' for her hand which she readily offered and he brought to his lips in a gentle kiss. The action was automatically performed without the slightest hesitation. The entire room stood still as she accepted his kiss. Rupert knew that Madame M was playing on their imagination. She knew she was attractive and had the poise and glamour to go with it. Rupert could feel the desire surging through him the same desire that had made him wallow in guilt before a wife he owed his commitment to. How foolish it was for him to feel guilty about a dream where he dreamt of his wife without knowing that it was her.

"Monique I presume?" Rupert asked, confident of her reaction from the shortening of her breath. Yes, desire raged equally on both sides.

"How do you know my name?" Shimonthini asked. Rupert could hear in her words the slight hesitation of giving herself away but he took it as a ray of doubt that her lover Henry had given her away.

"Henry Monnet and I are close. You are safe with me." What a joke destiny plays. Monique stood baffled at her husband's assurance on behalf of her best friend.

"Thank you." She mouthed not knowing if the whisper reached his ear.

Over the years Rupert had seen one good thing come out of Henry's years of therapy. That one good thing was his relationship with Monique. He knew the bond the two shared which was perhaps thicker than blood. He was yet to inform Henry that the Monique he so much cared for was in fact now a sister in true sense to him.

When their mother was admitted for drug overdose Henry was going through his third foster home in four years. He had undergone abuse in every home. Rupert was luckier of the two siblings at having found his Mamma. That is what he called Mrs Mornington. When Rupert urged his Momma to finally intervene in his brother's life Henry was already far gone. He had stopped communicating with the world. His silence was heart-wrenching. That was when he went into therapy for the first time. The doctors made him talk. They starved him until he begged for food, froze him until he begged for clothes. Finally, they declared him cured and when they did Henry submerged himself into the sea of narcotics. Rupert tried to help but all in vain. Rupert's friend Andrew tried his best to get Henry into rehab. By the time Henry was clean he had already wasted a large part of his life and even then he was scared of human relationships. Henry failed to forge a bond of trust with anyone. The only person he clung on to was Rupert. Rupert was like his favourite toy and he flashed it around. So when Henry told Rupert that he had made a pen friend from far away it wasn't hard for him to expect that he would be one of their topics of discussions. When Henry asked Rupert to finance his friend's education or spend some outrageous amount of money for a trip she had always wanted to make Rupert indulged for the sake of his brother's sanity.

When a few days back Henry explained Monique's fascination to him he was again reminded of that dream where he thought he cheated on his wife by mere thought. Now all such fears were assuaged as he peered into the veiled face of the woman he was destined to spend his entire life with. The tremble in her voice was perceptible to him. He was enjoying her torture but did not intend it to be too long drawn. The morning after the London fashion week he would end her torment if she did not come to him earlier.

For a moment Shimonthini was alarmed for Henry shared all the secrets of her heart, some of whom should be inaccessible to her husband. A part of her refused to believe that Henry could grow close to anyone other than her and Bert. Bert, the name came automatically to her lips and she blushed. How many times had she thought of that name in her innocent youth and blushed? When Shimonthini befriended Henry he was sick, undergoing therapy but she wasn't well herself. She was a misfit searching for an identity of her own, an identity that separated her from being her father's daughter and her sister's sister. She wanted to be someone in her own right and she found her thoughts resonate in Henry's letters about his brother who had forged his own fortune irrespective of birth. Shimonthini always knew that the society that Henry belonged to was different. It was not divided into arguing clusters in the name of a social class, economic strata or religion. Still, Bert had the capacity to stand beyond all that and yet claim his own among the world. A fascination that started as an inspiration grew into so much more before she was enslaved by her loyalty to Rishi.

While her husband guided her to the design board Shimonthini's eyes searched the room for a man she could no longer love. It was her husband's touch on her arms that brought her back to the present. "I am personally looking after this event because it has become a matter of pride for me. I hope you will communicate any and every requirement to me directly." Rupert told Monique,

Shimonthini's mind buzzed with the words and like any other woman she thought on a personal level before acknowledging the professional. Behind her netted veil Rupert could decipher a widening of her cherry red lips. "Why is it a matter of pride for you?" Shimonthini asked half hoping her husband would recognize her.

"No one cheats Phoenix Group of Industries and gets to enjoy the spoils. Not even an attractive woman like you Monique." Rupert said and his hand reached around her waist and he bought her body in contact with his. Shimonthini's heart stirred ferociously in anticipation of more. Rupert warmed her with his body heat and pushed her away leaving her cold and empty. Then Rupert turned away and left the studio without turning back.

Rupert wondered whether his action would leave his wife feeling wanting or jealous. He was affected by the fact that she hid a part of herself from him. He wanted all of her, Shimonthini, Moni and Monique. He understood the sexual tension and knew how to use it as a weapon and that is exactly what he was doing. Rupert was never a celibate. Some would call him a womanizer. Rupert worked hard and partied harder. But never in his life had he enjoyed more than flustering his clueless wife.

Monique did not know what to think of what had just happened. Why do women give the onus of recognizing fortune's games on men? Why are men supposed to be the one to ask them out? Why are men the one who is supposed to go down on a knee? Men, the most insensitive of the species are entrusted with the responsibility of sensing the unexpressed hopes and desires and give colour to them. In a patriarchal world, it perhaps denoted the power a man has, to make or break a woman's world. But if the world were not given to the forefathers to rule would the insensitive men still be entrusted to address the emotional needs of the vulnerable women? Monique wondered whether to glory in the proximity she had achieved with her husband or be offended at the way he had cast her off. Shimonthini wondered if Rupert had pulled closer a woman different from his wife and had pushed away out of guilt. It was a strange situation when the wife suspected the husband of cheating with herself. Still, the seed of doubt is powerful and it gave root to Shimonthini in Monique's soil. Monique was not allowed to bask in the glory of Rupert's arms but Shimonthini was plunged in the gloom of being cast off.

A middle-aged woman came up to Monique and asked her to deliberate the team on what theme of the entire collection was to be about. Monique gave out a sigh and went back to work. It wasn't surprising that she found it difficult to concentrate. A man's love life is a part of his life but for a woman, it constitutes her gravity. Monique's gravity had shifted the moment she had laid eyes on Rupert. If managing such a large team posed a threat to her capabilities then managing a team of such a large proportion in her mental state was an even more challenge. However, to her surprise, Monique found that she had very little to do. The middle-aged woman who had approached her earlier was discovered to be her personal assistant, Bethany who had more expertise in this field than ten Moniques combined. What was she doing there? Well, she was the talent and talents did not have to be around for long.

That evening Monique waited for her husband to take her out to dinner. He did not show and she had to order room service. The next night was also a similar event. Her one week's work was almost finished and Monique decided to add some designs to the collection. For that, she needed to talk to the man in charge who happened to be her clueless husband.

"Bethany, I need to talk to Mr Mornington. Can you arrange a meeting?" She asked that evening.

Bethany who had taken their show of intimacy as a sign of a relationship was taken aback at the request. Then she assumed that it was perhaps a fashion to keep things official. Bethany arranged for a meeting between Rupert Mornington and Madame Monique. What the women did not know was that they were never supposed to be separated.

For the first time since they had arrived in London Shimonthini and Rupert were to have lunch together and it was in an open-air restaurant in the middle of the day, unlike the evening dinner that took place in elegant restaurants. It is so easy to see a person, talk to a person but it is so hard to know a person. Monique chose to put on a wide-brimmed hat with a half-veil in front so as to shield the better part of her face. The open-air restaurant that she sat in gave an ample view of the London Bridge. What Rupert got a glimpse of was that thick ruby red lips that had been playing hide and seek on their previous meeting! The flashy red lips were a definite distraction. What was more distracting was his body's own reaction to it. He was supposed to be the tormentor but his own body felt tormented. He struggled hard to hide his body's reaction to her.

When Rupert approached and took his seat Shimonthini did not waste a breath on pleasantries. As it was she was a bit short on breath. She was a thief stealing around her husband's expectations of her and trying to elicit some warmth out of his caring indifference. "I was thinking of adding a few more designs to the collection." She stated bluntly.

"Do we have the time and resources to execute those before the show?" he asked briskly in return.

"I believe we do," Monique answered.

"Then go ahead," Rupert said.

Monique nodded and got up to go. The sunlight hit her wristwatch and shined into Rupert's eyes momentarily blinding him. Rupert felt Monique's body heat pass him by and reached out to stop her from abandoning him in public. What he did not make allowance for was Shimonthini's short stature and she falls right into his arms or more accurately onto his lap. Her fragrance, up close and personal, assaulted his senses. "Stay for lunch." He said restricting her movement to his arms. Monique tried to break free in vain. Rupert was surprised at the thickening of his own voice. Yes, he wanted this woman, badly and the night seemed too far off. When Monique stopped struggling Rupert loosened his hold and she jumped into the chair opposite just in time for the waiter to come and witness their embarrassing embrace.

The silence was uncomfortable; edging up a conversation even more so. When the food came Rupert urged her to take off her hat and veil which she unceremoniously declined. Monique feared that he would press harder but he dropped the topic altogether. Rupert smiled and hid his amusement as Shimonthini tried eating from under the veil. He was a master at keeping a poker face but it was simply hilarious. All he wanted to do was devour those ruby red lips, paparazzi be damned. But he controlled himself. He was counting hours till he could get her all to himself.

Monique struggled hard to conceal her failing nerves. The more she tried to conceal the trembling of her fingers or the heaving of her supple bosom the more it gave away her state of raw wantonness. Monique had a hard time concealing her desire for the man whom she already knew as her husband. In this, she had the upper hand but she remained a stranger to him, a stranger he could not keep his hands off. That was evident in Rupert's next gesture as he reached across the table to take her free hand into his as she played with her ice cream. Shimonthini's natural reaction was to let it remain that way, intertwined as she had left it before. Only after an objectionable amount of time did she finally pull away. Rupert's whose avenues of access to her eyes had been cut off let his vision linger on the blushing skin of her neck and the trembling of her lips. He would have to make sure to have her wear red lipstick in the confines of their bedroom.