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John was on his way to Canberra by a bus coming out of Sydney. He was seated very comfortable in his seat with the humming of the engine in the air. His phone rang at the moment when the bus was on the verge of departure. His wife, making inquiring appearances, enquired whether he had had a pleasant journey all the way up in Delhi to Sydney. He told her all was all right, and his voice was so soothing, yet part of him was tired of the weariness of constant movement.

When he hung up he saw someone sliding into the vacant seat beside him. A young lady, perhaps of mid-twenties, with very relaxed eyes and a warm smile on her face. “Hi, I’m Tina,” she said casually.

“John,” he replied, smiling back.

My friendly greetings led to yet another pleasant course of dialogue. And they discussed the places that they had the visited and their favorite foods, and even books that had influenced their perceptions of life. John could not believe that time was passing. The three hours ride was like a flash.

But something other, under the warmth of the conversation, roused John. He experienced some kind of attraction that was both exciting and disturbing. Tina was charismatic in her own way. John was hesitant to stand when the bus arrived and the passengers started picking up their stuff at Canberra. He did not wish to have the moment over.

Tina looked slightly closer to him as he stretched out to his bag. Oh, it was very nice talking to you, said she, very meekly. She walked by smiling winkingly at him, and handed him a card.

John was paralyzed a second. Why had she given him her card? Was it a thing a mere token of friendship? Or was it an invitation hushpuppy? The very thought of it pained his blood.

John jumped out of the bus and his head became a battle-field. On the one hand, lust and curiosity were murmuring over him: Call her. Meet her. No one will know. On the other side his conscience was screaming: You have a wife to see you. Don’t betray her trust.

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He walked out of the terminal still in his hand, with that card, recalling the pleasant call of his wife this morning, the warm voice of her, her belief in him. And the picture contradicted that smiling of Tina, that flash in her eyes.

John got on his feet and stared at the card. Hooliganism in human nature is a very dangerous game with temptation and he was not an exception. He fantasized about dialing her number, asking her to go out and have a cup of coffee, perhaps to the next level. Once he almost convinced himself that there was nothing wrong. Why does he not simply enjoy life, like any man?

But as soon as the thought had entered, a heavy feeling of guilt, came pushing in. What would he say to his wife in case she ever heard it? And would he be able to gaze her in the eyes, and realize that he had been unfaithful?

At last John pulled the card in half and threw it into the nearest bin. He felt a weird tranquility, which was afterwards succeeded by a tint of melancholy. Because the temptation had been sweet indeed and almost impossible to resist, but there was the greater satisfaction in putting it aside, a conviction that he had not compromised his principles, or violated the confidences of his wife.

John found out as he headed to the taxi stand that being strong was not in indulging in all of the temptations that were placed before him but making a decision about which ones to resist.

He smiled faintly to himself. The love that he had towards his wife was greater than the charm that Tina had bestowed upon him.

Ultimately, it was not guilt, prohibited excitement or anything that John was leaving Canberra with but a renewed sense of commitment.

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