He used to tell us, how much he misses her wife and to how big extent he loved her. We used to pity for him, how a women can divorce a very good pers...n like this.My wife usually wears sari at home and I have seen instants where he tries to see the private parts of my wife. That is common among every man so I did not take it seriously. I am not aware whether my wife was aware about all these stuffs. But she does not seem to care. As days passed bad ideas began to grow in my mind. One casual. " What?" he exclaimed, now completely lost. "Ah, you're not mad at me?" No," she frowned again. "Why would I be?" I don't know," he stuttered. "Taking advantage of you maybe? Taking from you what you didn't want to give?" That's silly," she said shaking the hair out of her face. "You gave me a gift that I never thought I would have, one that I didn't even know I wanted. No, I'm not mad at you. I'm sad because I must tell you something and I know you will not want me again once you have heard. ’ ‘Sure, no problem,’ I said accepting the package and signing for it. ‘What do you do here,’ he asked looking around my Spartan office. ‘I’m a writer. I write stories.’ ‘I didn’t think you’d need office space for that,’ he said scratching his head. ‘I’d think that’s something you’d do out of your house.’ ‘Yeah, I know,’ I said with an uncomfortable chuckle. ‘I write custom stories for people who have a difficult time recording a memory and who want it saved to paper or computer disk to read. Without further ado, let me come straight to the crux of the matter at hand whereby in my youthfulness, where the sky was the limit, I could not help but cross the barrier of forbid dance to taste the love and the lust of my life then. I was around 20 years old then (now am 30) and living in New Delhi in a posh location pursuing my higher studies. The hullabaloo amid the tedious hostel life somehow took a toll on my mind and body. I felt that I needed to let out steam to regain sanity and.