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Love is what counts, rather than rules laid down by lawmakers. I have the man I wanted as my husband, but so do Sheila, Numa and the others. Why deprive them of what they want out of love?”“I’ll sleep on it, but I still have my doubts about what you girls see in him, to share him so much.”That evening, John did his best to prove himself a good husband, but could only prove it to several of his wives before falling asleep. The others sought his attention in the morning, preventing him for getting up early.As a result, he had a late breakfast before attending to Chief Numa for any duties she wanted. Numa sought his help with defence training for the newest warriors in the tribe, but quietly told John, “Leave out those two deserters for the moment. Tell them you are too busy to work with everyone, so you have to prioritise the females for now, as they need more of the basic training.”John replied just as quietly, “You are being extra careful, my love. That is fine, but don’t let it get. Hum logo me ladai ho jati hai. Hum manage kar lete hai.Babita: Seriously? Can’t be. Tum dono me ladai ho hi nahi sakti.Seeing my blank face, she asked again. “Kis baat pe ladai hoti hai tum dono ki?”Me: Aesa kuch nahi hai. Generally aise hi choti moti baat peBabita: Fir bhi. Give me an example. Last kab hui thi ladai?Me: Kal raat ko.Babita: Kyun?Me: Bas aise hi. Mera maan tha, uska nahi.Babita: Ooooo… thaki hui hogi woh. Itni hot dikhti hai tumhari wife to. Main to hot bhi nahi hu. Kaise Raj ko convince karu.Me: Generally, uska mood kam hi hota hai. Waise bhi looks important nahi hote. Feelings hoti hai. Tum dono ke bich feelings hogi to sab acha lagega.Babita: True.Saying so, she just kept her head on my shoulder. I slightly kissed her head on side, and we kept looking at ocean with the sun set at the distance. After some time we got up and left for our homes. While travelling in train, we kept chatting on WhatsApp.We don’t chat in front of our spouses much. At around 11.30, my wife.
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While he felt entitlement to go into every room in his mansion, his forehead beaded with perspiration and his heart beat in his chest, the blood rushing in his ears. At first glance, he didn’t see where Letitia kept her art. The cherry wood writing desk was clear of material. Scanning the room, he saw a plain cedar chest near her bed. Glancing from side to side and waiting a few seconds, listening, he then crept over to the box and pried it open. Inside there was a plethora of pens and loose-leaf paper. Drawings of men, mythical beasts, mermaids with long legs that were webbed, horses and centaurs seemed to permeate the pages. There was a drawing of several women swiveling their hips in a smoky room, a harem of women. A sheik sat upright on a large pillow, puffing on a hookah as his eyes glittered while the woman danced in the room. Gazing at the image, he could smell the shisha smoke in the room and hear the tinkling of the woman’s coins on their dresses as their arms and bodies.

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