Paramesh became furious, lecturing her on total surrender. ‘Even if I’m wrong,’ he replied, ‘I expect unquestioning submission from you in this regard. Remember that there is no alternative if this relationship is to be maintained in its most peaceful possible state. Or else, as you know, terrible things might happen, and you’d better not blame me when they do.’

Sahana’s former lover Manish returned to her life at this precise juncture. Because hate spirals upwards, its root causes overshadowed by its object’s increasing centrality, Sahana entered into an illicit relationship with Manish for no particular reason, simply out of loathing for Paramesh.

One evening, at a small party at a friend’s house, Paramesh started railing against eating meat and fish. ‘The most extreme form of enjoying meat is cannibalism,’ he declared. ‘Human flesh is the most delicious of all!’

Sahana wept buckets that evening, sitting on the toilet in the friend’s house. Finally, she ground her teeth – ‘So it’s hatred? So much hatred?’ On the way home Paramesh’s face appeared to be composed of nothing but a glutinous green substance. The next day she not only cooked some fish, she ate it in Manish’s arms. Then, drawing strength from ultimate hatred for the first time in her life, she let Manish have her. But she could see that this hatred was working in its entirety on her and her alone. Since Paramesh could perceive nothing of it, since he had no inkling of this nightmarish loathing, the only person who had to suffer from it was Sahana herself. Poor Sahana! Not only was she the one doing the hating, she was also the one feeling its impact. Just like cheating – as long as the person being cheated on remains ignorant of their deception, the burden is borne entirely by the one doing the cheating. And again, the moment it all comes to light, technically speaking there’s no more deception. And yet the person who had done the cheating continues to bear the entire burden, as before! In other words, people can cheat, but can never be cheated – it really was entirely one-sided.

In the same way, Sahana cheated Paramesh, but Paramesh wasn’t cheated. Sahana hated, but Paramesh did not feel himself to be the object of hatred. Sahana remained perpetually drenched in her own loathing. Yet whenever Paramesh wanted to be intimate with her, at whatever time of day or night, he smelt strawberry, gulabjamun or mint on her breath. He was able to kiss her fervently, his body completely relaxed. He could say, ‘Have you stopped loving me, Sana? Why else would your mouth be so cold?’

At the same time, when she came to cook the fish she had bought, Sahana would frequently discover that it was rotten. Completely putrefied! During sex with Manish she would discover that she didn’t want him, while with Paramesh she suffered from guilt, disquiet and fear – with hatred filling the rest of her hours. This unspoken, inarticulate hatred progressively crossed the limits of forbidden pleasure, rotting just like stale fish. Yet Sahana could not simply pick out the scales and bones and throw them away. She could not forget that she and Paramesh were repulsively unalike.