The bored executive

He worked in a medical transcription firm. Their clients were mainly from US, so their works started after mid day, but he preferred coming to office early. To spend some time away from home, he has married a few years back but was yet to have any children.

Staying at home was never one of his favourite things. So he used to escape to office at the earliest possible time and kill his time on internet.

On cyber world he was a writer, a senior citizen, who has crossed his seventies, a widower with two married daughters, grandchildren.

Actually he has stolen this image from his own father in law, he used to use his image as his own only pretending as a South Indian Man instead of a Bengali, which his father in law was.

His wife Radha and her sister Sudha kept their father Harendhranath Das with them on rotation; his sister in law lived in Texas. His father in law did not need a single penny from them; his daughters coaxed him to stay with them because he was extremely lonely after his wife’s departure a few years ago. They have been together for forty years.

So Nagendra Ghosh used to become Nageswara Rao the moment he logged in his blogs. It had too many advantages. He could easily befriend women of his own age faking as a old, helpless, attention hungry man. These women used to shower all their attention on him thinking he was a darling old man. An image of their father may be.

He used to have a lot of fun prying out their personal stories under the veil of affection. Sometimes he went a little further too. If he particularly liked a woman he used to meet her pretending as himself, that is, the son in law of the famous blog writer Nageswara Rao. It was usually just one or two dinners or lunches together. Sometimes, it was a movie or concert together.

He has been mixing with this girl for more than six months now. She seemed quite an innocent type of girl. He had an idea that she was a beautiful girl. She was very, very charming in cyber world at least. She lived in Delhi, alone. The chance of meeting came all of a sudden. Nagendra had to go to Delhi for a official tour.

 

He went online after getting the news. Chanda came online after a few buzzes from him. He asked her if she could meet his son in law in Delhi. She consented. Asked him to introduce him to her. He introduced himself to her.

 

They met in a restaurant and he did what he had never done before. He fell in love with her and ended up in love bed. He woke up with remorse next morning but she coaxed him out of his remorse. Three days later he came back from Delhi.

 

He was about to get the taxi when his phone beeped, it was a sms from Chanda. “Missing you.”

 

It would have been a lie if he said that he fought tooth and nail to not give in, actually he just fell in her arms like a ripe fruit falls from tree.

 

From that day onward, whenever his company wanted someone to go north, he volunteered, and made a trip to delhi, even at his own expense.

 

A few years passed by, he got a little bored and started to look for new faces. Soon he started to make frequent trips to South. This time it was Shreemayee, from Chennai.

 

That night he came back home, his wife was sitting grimly at a sofa. He asked her if every thing was alright.

 

“Do you know a woman named Chanda?” she asked.

 

He felt as if the earth was moving under his feet. “No, why?”

 

“She called me up, asking about you, she is in kolkata and wants to meet me.” She said.

 

“Where is she staying?” he asked.

 

“She is staying in a hotel in Dalhousie. Here is the address…” she handed him over a slip.

 

“Let me first confirm who she is. Then we will decide if you can meet her. Okay honey?” he pecked her on the cheek.

 

He reached the hotel early next morning. The receptionist confirmed from her and gave him the direction to her room.

 

He knocked; she answered the door and hugged him, passionately kissing him on the lips. “What is this Chanda? Why did you call my home?” his words stopped in his mouth when he saw his wife and Shreemayee sitting there on the sofa.

 

His wife stood up, “I used to blog as Amrita Arora. The story writer you used to bully to no end. I was surprised to see someone so much similar to my father, so I started to pry and pandora’s box opened itself.”