Revenge

Mir Mahboob Ali

F

 lorentine Cecilia, of non-white origin, exuded a special kind of attraction. Working in a Pan-world organization, though a junior officer, she was strategically placed to deal with head of departments and organizations. Her foreign origin afforded her far better access than her local colleagues, and therefore, she enjoyed unofficial superiority over locals. Single and carefree, she emanated energy and vigour. Her ever-smiling face earned her many friends, but her ruthless handling of defaulters made bitter enemies, as well. For some unexplainable reason she made more enemies among her own gender. She was blessed with both in abundance. A bit snobbish, basking in her assumed superiority that came from preferential treatment accorded to her for her alien origin. Otherwise, she is a very warm and intelligent person with a bit of idiosyncrasy. 

Bangladeshis working with her was blessed that they were not very good in the language she used. Therefore, abusive utterances, extremely offensive, expressionlessly blurted out, would be mistaken as praises being showered. She regularly used those against senior officials with immunity. Perhaps, it was not the language but the accent that made all the difference. Her local colleagues would not mind, since those officers actually deserved kicks on their butts, and all of them would be seething inside to just do that. So, her rude language wrapped in smiles was a sort of a relief, since that helped release the pressure building within. 

Well, she was a human being and had all the frailties of a human. The general perception was only fun and frolicking was all that mattered to her, not love, affection and other finer qualities of the heart. But shocking everybody, she fell in for a man amidst strong rumours that she was a lesbian. She was found dating with men reputedly of homosexual inclination. But that did not damage their reputation. Perhaps, they were bisexuals! 

A workaholic, working late in her office, nobody suspected her of having an affair with a colleague from another section. The man was married and had wife and children back in his country of which she suspected nothing. At the end of his contract, though the organization wanted to retain him, he on the pretext of homesickness left his job and Bangladesh. She was devastated. Blood pressure ran alarmingly high, and she started showing signs of fatigue. Waiting in the flank, the devilishly handsome Blythe Broomfield readily gave his shoulders to cry on. And, even risking his wife's displeasure, he let her place long distance calls from his office to another continent while nobody was around to the man she loved, because of the time difference this involved late night calls. She tried in vain to convince him to return to her, not knowing his marital status. Broomfield, using his position as the Chief Executive of his organization, misused telephone for a dear friend! This continued for sometime, and Broomfield's very beautiful blond wife was aroused so much that she personally intervened to stop the trysts, in the name of helping a friend.

A wife has all the reason to be jealous, because, Cecilia was desirable, and vulnerable at that point of her life. She innocently craved for love, affection and company. Broomfield was too ready to provide just that. Florentine was not in any way inclined to raise storms in a peaceful married life. Shattered by the agony of separation, she desperately was looking for a support to cling to. She was not in a position to think straight, as she had just been jolted and the wound was still bleeding. In that extremely agitated state of mind, she was not very bothered about morality. So, trying to forget her pains, she clung to Broomfield against all judgments. The relationship was more idyllically mundane than ascetic. Even a wife accustomed to fleeting flirtations finds it hard to standby as a witness, to a bond gradually developing, even if it is not stamped with wifely status.

Broomfield was fatally attracted to Florentine and decided to continue with a clandestine relationship. He was sure that Florentine was permanently hooked in the affair. After a while her hazy head cleared, and she found her balance back, and could realize that she had become dependant on Broomfield for mental solace. Now, she desperately wanted get out of the bondage of dependence, because, she had a free soul, that always drove her to seek freedom. And then, she was not prepared to be a mistress. But, she was desperately in need of company. Without the exhilarating touch of a man life seemed very colourless to her. The churning nothingness does not let her sleep. She was utterly perturbed.  Just at this critical juncture of her life, God provided an outlet in the form of McMahon, a bearded likeness of Christ. This was a simple easygoing young man, ever smiling, easily influenced and mislead, not very virtuous, as his likeness might suggest. By a sheer design of the Providence, they were thrown together to work on a multi-organizational Project. McMahon was a subordinate officer of Broomfield, and was a very trusted lieutenant. Therefore, Broomfield gladly let them work together in the night after office hours, to prepare a survey report. Young, energetic and vulnerable to the irresistible female charm, McMahon fell for the experienced enchantress who initially zeroed on him to wrest herself free of the mesmerizing influence of Broomfield. Gradually, unknowingly, they really fell in love. This was an intense love affair with all the allied sound and fury. It flourished in the background of the blazing Middle-eastern War of early nineties. A high-tech war threatened everybody on the planet with retaliation by manual terrorism! That super high-tech technology was not enough to assure protection to the human targets scattered around the world, from low-tech-mundane-terrorist attacks. Therefore, particularly, the westerners were ordered to leave an unprotected third world country to seek refuge in their country of residences. A few remained behind at their own risk. At the very first opportunity Broomfield left for his home, where he virtually enjoyed paid holidays, and he was too consummate an opportunist to let go such golden opportunities.  While leaving, hoping to bring an end to the interracial affair, Broomfield ordered McMahon out of the country. He was sure that McMahon was simply infatuated and was under the spell of Florentine’s charm. Florentine is a superbly crafty seducer. While, McMahon came under the purview of a country engaged in the conflict, Florentine was free to decide, not yet under strict orders to leave for a safer place. 

Florentine saw through the scheme, for she knew Broomfield very well. The lovebirds, yet to tie marital knots, found it expedient to fly out and slip unofficially back into the country, unnoticed, almost immediately, thus ensuring uninterrupted honeymooning. For the rest of the time until clearance was given for return she remained intoxicated with the nectar of McMahon's youth, totally oblivious of the world, he was spellbound. Broomfield could not trace them anywhere.  The thought of Florentine and McMahon haunted him and almost drove him crazy. The revelation that while all this time Blythe was desperately trying to locate them, they were happily honeymooning in this country, added fuel to the fire, and drove him completely overboard. Already incensed by the surreptitious love affair, his ego was wounded severely by the ingenuous deception. He turned into a Serpent writhing with jealousy. Revenge! Revenge! His heart kept shouting at him! Meanwhile, Florentine and McMahon took the extra precaution of getting married. Marriage earned them the sympathy of many locals who were antagonistic earlier. A sense of total defeat engulfed Broomfield, and he was enraged further. 

Intent on avenging his wounded pride, Broomfield invented and contrived to frame McMahon, he could not touch Florentine. While he was trying to prove that McMahon was guilty of defying orders and breach of contract, McMahon totally oblivious of the world around him, was passing his days totally immersed in Florentine’s all consuming love. Waking up, a bit late, he hurried to save himself, but it was too late, Broomfield already had woven a net around him. He helplessly wrestled in the net and finally succumbed like a tired netted fish. He was a big fish, for many small fishes were crushed in the process of his desperate fight-back. Detractors assign the cause of Broomfield's wrath to his intense infatuation, or may be love, for Florentine. Florentine herself could not explain Broomfield's reactions, otherwise. Perhaps, rightly so!