Telugu original: Ampasayya Naveen
Translated by Rajeshwar Mittapalli

He leafed through the magazines once again. Cinema, politics, stories, jokes, even those glossy photo spreads—none of it caught his interest.

“Boring,” he muttered.

“Everything bores you.”

“Except you.”

“Give it time—one day, I might bore you too.”

“Impossible.”

“If you don’t go to the grocer’s now and buy what I asked for, it’ll be impossible for me to cook for you today.”

“Oh dear! Boring, Lavanya!”

He squeezed his eyes shut and rolled across the bed like a sulky boy. After a moment, he sprang up, poured himself a glass of water from the jug, raised it to his lips, and changed his mind. He set the glass down on the teapoy, half irritated, half restless. Then he tipped the water into the bathroom sink.

Catching sight of his own face in the large mirror beside the coffee table, he paused. He had always liked his reflection.

“Those lovely eyes, that curl of hair, that mischievous mouth—how could I ever let you out of my sight?”

“Why’s that?”

“I’d fear some flirtatious girl might steal you away.”

“Or perhaps a sorceress might cast a spell and keep me tied to her.”

“You silly thing!”

In the mirror’s gleam, Lavanya’s lips met his—softly, longingly. In an instant, she was gone.

A sudden urge to smash the mirror swept through him, and he turned away.

He glanced at his watch. Five past ten. Only three minutes since he had last looked. Time refused to move. Inside these four walls, it had frozen—he felt imprisoned in it.

He slumped back on the bed. Turned the pages of the same magazines again. Looked at the ceiling, the bright tube?light, the ceiling fan that sliced the air in lazy circles. Everything felt suffocating.

He shut his eyes tight, then opened them again. The room suddenly looked unfamiliar, almost menacing. Why was he here at all? This town, this hotel, this furniture—none of it belonged to his life.

A thousand rooms, a thousand guests, and not one soul he knew. He was a stranger among strangers.

He rolled over on the bed again. The mattress felt hard, stony, unkind.

“Are you leaving already, love? Without you, this bed’s unbearable.”

“What else can I do?”

“When you’re beside me, it feels soft and warm; the moment you go, it’s full of pebbles. Stay a little longer.”

“The maid’s yelling outside. I must open the door—let me go.”

“Bothersome creature! Has morning come so soon?”

“It came long ago.”

“Who knows when I’ll see you again?”

“Oh, stop it—let go of me. You say the same every day.”

“Before you go, just one more kiss, Lavanya.”

“No more. How many ‘one mores’ do you need?”

“Let’s see you escape then.”

“And what’ll you see?”

“You.”

“Oh, what a fate I have.”

“Why complain so early in the day?”

“For what else? Your teasing only gets worse.”

“What have I done now?”

“Stop pretending and hand me my clothes—the maid’s knocking again.”

“You’re the one who’s made me this mad.”

“I give up! Now, please, my clothes.”

“Not till you promise.”

“Then I’ll get up and go anyway.”

“Truly? Then fortune’s on my side!”

“Enough! I’ll wrap myself in the bedsheet, go next door, change, and come back. That’ll serve you right.”

“Lavanya, wait—just a minute.”

He clutched the bedsheet and pulled, but it was not their bedsheet at all—it was the stiff, starched sheet of the hotel room.

He froze. Memories surged like flame. How deceitful memories were—how they burned.

Every nerve in his body writhed. His heart hammered; his blood felt ready to burst from his veins.

He needed Lavanya. At once. To bury his head in her chest, to merge his body with hers, to lose himself in her breath. To give everything he possessed and take everything she offered—to collapse time into tenderness and fall into that quiet, wordless sleep that comes only after love. Only then would the fire inside him cool.

He had to do something—anything—or this ache would consume him. He thought of rushing to her. Impossible. Hundreds of miles separated them. He would be ashes before he reached her.

A cold bath? He imagined himself lying on blocks of ice in a factory somewhere. He had to act, or madness would claim him.

He sprang from the bed, dressed at once, locked the door, and hurried down the stairs. He did not even wait for the lift. People crossed his path; he barely noticed them. Hands thrust in his pockets, he strode out into the morning.

“Rickshaw, sir?” Several drivers surrounded him.

He waved them away and walked a little way down the road, stopping by the pavement. What now? He had already seen every film showing in the town. Drinking did not tempt him. He had no friends here.

A brothel? The thought streaked across his mind like a spark. He was disgusted with himself the next instant. What kind of fool was he? Couldn’t his mind keep still for a moment? If only thought itself would stop—if only silence could live where his memories did.

“What’s the matter, sir? You look lost. Trouble passing the time, is it?”

He turned sharply. A man had appeared beside him.

“Who are you?”

“Never mind who I am. You look lonely, that’s all. Loneliness, sir, is a dreadful disease—it drives men mad.”

He studied him. The fellow was small and wire-thin, in grimy shorts and a tattered vest. A patchy beard, thinning hair, and eyes that gleamed with sly amusement.

“Are you here on business, babu?” the man asked.

“Yes.”

“You look restless, sir—don’t know what to do with yourself.”

“Yes. But spare me your pity. Mind your own business.”

“This is my business, sir,” the man said softly, sidling closer.

“What is?”

“Relieving men like you of their loneliness.”

“How’s that?”

“Simple—you tell me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can arrange some company for you.”

“Company?”

“A nice girl.”

“Oh...”

Something, deep inside him, stirred—a small light flickered in the darkness.

“Yes, sir! Tell me what sort of girl you like. Would you want her for the whole night, or just a few hours? Say the word.”

He felt the ground give way beneath him. If he did not push the thought away at once, this stranger would drag him into some pit.

“You scoundrel! Do you know who I am? Speak one more filthy word, and I’ll hand you to the police, you pimp!”

He turned furiously, abandoning the idea of the paan kiosk, and strode back towards the hotel.

Disgusting creature. He had heard there were such men in Vijayawada, but this was the first time he had actually met one.

He marched through the reception hall and began climbing the stairs, slow and heavy. Halfway up, he stopped. Could that rascal really find the kind of girl he had just described? Fool. Maybe he could. This town was full of that trade.

Back to that room? That bed? Those walls filled with silence and memory? He could not face it. If he went back, he would go insane. Yet if he stayed out here, that man would haunt him, follow him everywhere.

He hesitated—then realised he was going down again instead of up. Through the reception, out into the compound.

Was the man still there? He looked around. Yes, coming towards him. He must not meet his eyes, must not answer him. If he came too near, he’d strike him.

“Why torture yourself, sir? Just one word and your night will be heavenly.”

“Be quiet!” he said, though the words came out weak and uncertain.

The man smiled. “Trust me, sir. I can get you any sort of girl you fancy. She can stay the whole night if you wish.”

For a few seconds, Vishal said nothing. His throat felt dry; the air thickened. Words emerged with difficulty.

“Really?”

“Tell me the kind you want.”

“She must be educated and neat. I want someone bright, lively—always smiling. She should have fair skin, big eyes, a slim figure. Can you bring me such a girl?”

“Of course, sir. Go back to your room. She’ll be there in fifteen minutes. What’s the room number?”

“Forty-two. If she’s not as I said, I’ll send her away.”

“As you wish, sir.”

The man vanished into the crowd and soon climbed into a rickshaw.

Vishal froze—he had described Lavanya in every detail.

What if Lavanya ever knew? He’d tell her he’d only done it to forget her, that his loneliness had driven him to it. Would she forgive him? He doubted it. Could he forgive himself?

He felt the edge of a trap closing round him.

~*~

“A catastrophe, Lavanya—a huge one!”

“What’s happened, darling? Why do you look as though the world’s ended?”

“Our general manager’s sending me to Vijayawada—for ten whole days—to oversee the company’s sales.”

She laughed softly. “Is that all? You frightened me. I thought it was something serious.”

“Is that all, she says! You don’t understand. I’ve been tormented ever since I heard the news. Ten days without you—ten days of misery. You women are heartless.”

“Don’t be melodramatic. It’s work—you’ll have to go,” she said, smiling.

“That’s what makes it torture. In all the eighteen months we’ve been married, have I ever been away from you for ten days? Ten whole days, Lavanya! Do you think I’ll survive it?”

“You’ll come back,” she said lightly. “Your life and mine are bound together. By the way, why are they sending you? Isn’t there someone else in your office?”

“Unlucky me! The job should’ve gone to our deputy manager, but he’s vanished on a month’s leave. So they’ve dumped it on me. I leave tomorrow.”

That night, they clung to each other as though separation were a storm approaching. They reached the height of their passion—wordlessly, wildly.

Afterwards, as they lay in the dark, he murmured, “I can’t bear the thought of being away from you. The hunger, the thirst, the emptiness—how will I manage?”

“You won’t look for any shortcuts to ease that hunger, will you?” she said teasingly.

“Shortcuts? Never. Even in dreams, I couldn’t be with another woman. Do you think what I feel for you is only physical pleasure? My heart and body move together.”

“Who knows? How can we trust anything a man says?”

~*~

Vishal trudged to his hotel room that evening, feeling weighed down by a heaviness he could not name.

He closed the door, sat in the easy chair, and stared at the wall. Would that fellow really bring the girl he’d described? Had he truly said those things? Perhaps it had all been a joke—something to pass the time.

But what if he really did bring her?

He had read about call girls in stories, seen them in films, heard them mentioned in conversations among colleagues—but he had never met one. The thought gave him a jolt.

He glanced at his watch. It had been quite some time since the man had gone. Why hadn’t he returned?

My God—was he actually waiting for her?

“Who knows! How can we trust anything a man says?” Lavanya’s voice echoed in his memory.

A soft knock broke the silence. His heart thudded.

Had she come? The thought sparked a mixture of curiosity and fear. He rose quickly, his fingers shaking as he turned the handle.

A girl of about eighteen slipped into the room and closed the door quietly behind her.

At once, the air filled with the scent of jasmine.

He stood staring at her. Words failed him. Her presence was like something unreal, dreamlike.

She placed her handbag on the teapoy, sat on the bed, and began leafing through one of the magazines.

“You seem quite fond of reading magazines,” she said.

Vishal could not answer. He simply gazed at her.

She looked exactly as he had described her to the pimp. She had the freshness of a flower, a clean, unstudied grace. Her blue printed saree was simple but perfect, her hair plaited neatly and lined with jasmine. She looked every inch a girl from a good family. Anyone seeing her outside would assume she was a college student.

“What’s wrong, Mr?Vishal? You look deep in thought,” she said suddenly.

He started. How did she know his name? Did she know everything about him already—who he was, where he was from?

“How do you know my name?”

She smiled and pointed at the small pile of magazines on the table. “It’s written here, on this copy of India Today. You’d left it open on the page you were reading.”

He laughed—half embarrassed, half amused. “You’re very clever.”

“Thank you. You really are fond of these magazines, aren’t you?”

“In a place like this, they’re all I have for company.”

“Are you afraid of solitude?”

“Yes.”

“Haven’t you any friends?”

“None in this town.”

“Would you like to be my friend?”

“For a few hours you’ll be here, and then you’ll be gone. What’s the point?”

She gave a peculiar little laugh, like the tinkle of glass.

“Why did you laugh?”

“Oh, no reason. You didn’t like it?”

“It’s not that. I’m just wondering where you learnt to laugh like that—it’s almost too lovely.” He hesitated. “What’s your name?”

“Anuradha.”

“That’s a nice name.”

“Thank you.”

“What were you studying?”

“I was doing my Intermediate. Then I stopped. Don’t ask me why.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want to stay cheerful for the few hours I’ll spend with you.”

He thought of asking about her parents, about how a girl like her had ended up in this life. But something in her tone made him drop the idea.

“Are you here on business?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“How do you like the town?”

He exhaled. “Since I arrived, I’ve been counting the minutes till I can leave. From that, you can tell exactly what I think of it.”

“May I guess what holds you so firmly in your own town?”

“Some things are more beautiful when kept inside the heart than spoken aloud.”

“Shall I tell you what that beautiful thing inside your heart is?”

“You can’t.”

“What if I can—and if I’m right, what will you give me?”

“Anything you wish—within reason.”

“Don’t go back on your word later.”

“I won’t.”

“Who knows? How can we trust the words of you men?”

Her repetition of that phrase struck him like a whip. He jumped up, agitated.

“Why do you all say that—‘How can we trust men’? I meant what I said.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“It’s all right. My promise still stands.”

She smiled—and that smile washed over him like cool rain.

“All right then. If I guess the secret rightly, you’ll grant me what I ask. Don’t back out!”

“Yes, yes! You’re killing me with the suspense—come on, what is it?”

“I’m about to tell you. Ready?”

“Ready.”

“The loveliest thing in your town... is your Lavanya—your wife, your world, your everything. Am I right?”

He sprang up as if struck by lightning. Joy, fear, confusion—all collided in a single breath.

He reached her in two steps, grasping her shoulders. “You know Lavanya? How do you know her?”

“Calm down. I don’t know her,” she said quietly.

“Then how did you guess?”

She chuckled and slipped her hand beneath the pillow, drawing out an envelope.

At one glance, he recognised it—the letter he’d written to Lavanya that evening, neatly addressed, which he’d meant to post. Somehow, he’d left it on the bed.

He gave a long sigh. “You’re amazing, Anuradha. Go on—ask for whatever you want.”

Ignoring his words, she said softly, “Lavanya’s a lucky woman.”

“Who?” he asked, though he knew.

“Your Lavanya.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because she has a husband who thinks of her every minute of the day.”

“You’re mistaken. If I loved her so much, I wouldn’t be here with you now. I’m a fraud.”

“No—you called me here to escape her memory for a little while. I understand that now.”

Her words pierced him. She seemed different, older—almost pure.

“There’s something strange about you, Anuradha. No matter how I try to step back, something draws me closer. I can’t explain it.”

She met his gaze. “Mr?Vishal, don’t worry. I’m not here to cause you any trouble. In a few hours, you’ll go your way, and I’ll go mine. Let’s just make the best of this time. Come—I’ll make you forget Lavanya for a while.”

She lay back on the bed, stretching herself out like languid perfume in the air.

Vishal stood rooted. He wanted only to look at her.

“How long will you devour me with your eyes?” she teased. “I’m tired, love. Come to bed.”

Anuradha switched off the tube light.

In the glow of the red bedside bulb, her skin gleamed delicately, and desire stirred in him again.

~*~

“I’m getting sleepy, darling. Put down that dreadful magazine, switch off the light, and come to bed,” Lavanya murmured in his memory, her voice slow and rich, teasing.

“I’m coming—just a minute.”

“Oh, really? Is that silly magazine more important than your wife?”

“You’re wasting our night, love. Relax—the bed’s the best place for that.”

He felt bewitched. He moved towards the bed as if drawn by a tide beyond his control.

Anuradha reached out and caught him. He fell into her arms.

The fragrance of jasmine rushed around him, sweet and dizzying.

Desire flared—wild, unstoppable. He pulled her closer, covering her neck, her face, her shoulders with kisses.

“Wait,” she whispered.

“Why?”

“I forgot something.”

“What now?”

“The pill.”

“It doesn’t matter—just this once, don’t ruin the moment.”

“That’s easy for you. But it could ruin my life.”

“What could happen? Perhaps a child—a boy or a girl. Do you think we couldn’t raise one?”

“Mr?Vishal, what are you saying?”

He froze. His eyes opened wide. His breath caught.

The room spun and slowly came back into focus. His mind cleared. He wasn’t with Lavanya—there was no Lavanya here at all.

He pulled back sharply, dropped into the chair, and buried his face in his hands.

“I’m sorry, Anuradha. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I feel as if I’m losing my mind.”

“I’ll cure your madness right now,” she said lightly.

She rose from the bed, opened her handbag, and took out a small tablet.

“Don’t,” he said at once. “You needn’t take that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t.”

“Can’t? Am I that repulsive?”

“No. You’re beautiful—anyone can see that.”

“Then come here.”

She swallowed the tablet and drank some water.

“Anuradha, I like talking to you. It’ll be dawn soon—let’s just sit and talk until then.”

She looked at him, startled. For the first time tonight, a flicker of curiosity crossed her face. Almost defiance. She had known many men—men who came to her as if their lust were a commandment. None of them had ever said anything like that.

“You made me a promise,” she reminded him quietly. “Did you forget?”

“No.”

“You said you’d give me what I asked for.”

“I did—if it’s within my power.”

“You’re strong enough—it’s within your power.”

“What is it you want from me?”

“Tonight, I want you. I’ll give you what Lavanya couldn’t. Don’t break your word.”

He hesitated, struggling for words. Before he could speak, she undressed swiftly, lay back on the bed, and pulled the sheet over her body.

“Come on, darling. Be quick.”

Her skin glowed in the faint light. She looked like a painting come alive.

He stood a long moment, fighting the desire that rose again like flood water.

“Come on. What are you waiting for? It’ll be dawn soon!”

“It’s nearly light,” another voice echoed in his mind. “The maid will come.”

He crossed to the bed and lay beside her. She wrapped her arms around him, and he kissed her cheeks, her eyelids, her hair.

Then her hands pulled at his shirt buttons. His mind drifted—drifted far away.

“What spell have you cast on me, Lavanya? Why can’t I think of anything but you? Why does a single moment without you tear through me like a blade? Why have you filled me till there’s no space left for the world? What shall I do with this mind that beats only for you? Tell me, Lavanya—tell me…”

Anuradha stiffened. Her hands stopped. She pushed him away, firmly but not unkindly.

“Get up, Mr?Vishal. I’m not your Lavanya,” she said quietly. “I’m Anuradha—a call girl.”

He leapt up as if something had exploded beside him.

“I’m sorry,” he said. His voice was shaking.

She smiled faintly. “It’s all right. If I’d let you carry on a moment longer, I’d have won my wager. But I don’t want victory by deceit. I don’t want you to see me as her. You love your Lavanya—and she’s won.”

She began dressing in a hurry. He could only watch her.

“You may be Anuradha the call girl,” he said softly, “but I’ll never forget you.”

“Nor I you,” she replied. “I’ve seen many men—respectable men who come to towns like this for a few days, lonely, craving company. But none like you. I’ve never met a husband as faithful. I’ve never met a wife, unseen, who could hold her husband’s heart so completely. You’ve proved that love’s stronger than temptation.”

She picked up her handbag and glanced at the wristwatch on the teapoy.

“It’s almost four. I must go.”

A wave of sadness overtook him. He felt as if something precious was slipping away—something he had not even understood he possessed.

He opened his briefcase, took out his wallet, and pulled two hundred?rupee notes free.

“You must take these, please.”

“Why? I didn’t give you what men expect from women like me. I don’t deserve the money.”

“You gave me far more. You healed my loneliness. You showed me the sweetness of friendship—a rare one, even if brief. You made me realise physical pleasure isn’t the only kind there is. Please take it, Anuradha. I gave you my word—and now I must keep it.”

She gazed at him for a moment, then gave a small, amused laugh and took the notes.

“You feel guilty about keeping your promise, don’t you? All right—I’ll take the money. But before we part, do something for me. One favour—that’s all. Don’t refuse.”

“Tell me,” he said, taking her hand.

“When you go home, buy your Lavanya a lovely present with these two hundred rupees. Buy it from me.”

She put the notes back into his palm.

“Anuradha…” he began.

She shook her head. “Say nothing. When you give her the gift, tell her it’s from Anuradha, with love. Goodbye, Mr?Vishal.”

She bent, kissed his hand, and left the room quietly—Anuradha, the call girl.

Vishal stood still for a moment, then opened his wallet and placed the notes carefully back inside.

“From Anuradha, with love,” he whispered.

---

“From Anuradha, With Love…” (also titled in Telugu as “From Anuradha, With Love…”) by Ampasayya Naveen was first published in Andhrajyothi Weekly on 28 March 1980, and later appeared as the lead story in the collection of the same name, brought out by Pratyusha Publications in 2005.

Translated into English by Rajeshwar Mittapalli.

About Ampasayya Naveen

Ampasayya Naveen is an accomplished author and Sahitya Akademi laureate who has to his credit more than 30 novels and 100 short stories in Telugu. The most well-known of his novels are Ampasayya, Antasravanti, Kalarekhalu, and Premaku Avali Teeram. He is a pioneer of the stream-of-consciousness mode of writing in Telugu. His fictional works have been widely translated, including into English. In recognition of his contribution to Telugu fiction, apart from the Sahitya Akademi Award, he was conferred at least two honorary doctorates by universities.