by Tanu Jain
‘Because I will not make the same mistake twice.’ Veer’s voice resonated loudly. He came out from behind the curtain of the second door.
Veer and Harsh had stood hidden there ever since he’d left Meethi. Veer had remained silent with a huge effort of will, though Meethi’s face, ravaged by pain, had acted like a red rag to a bull and he had wanted to go charging in. White-faced and anguished, she looked as if she would shatter like glass but then she had stood up to Maaji Saheb, her underlying strength coming to the fore.
‘Maaji Saheb—you have shamed me! I never suspected that you could be so conniving and dishonest, stooping so low as to not care about the well-being of even your own grandchild!’ Veer slammed his mother.
Maaji Saheb stood, shocked. She had never suspected that Veer would be listening to their conversation. And she was afraid. She knew her son. He would never forgive her. And suddenly she realised she had overplayed her hand. She sank down on a chair, looking old and defeated.
Veer looked at his mother. She looked pitiful but he didn’t feel pity for her right now. He was angry with her deception and aghast to learn the role played by her.
Sending his mother here had been a ploy. He had wanted to catch her red-handed and ensure that her duplicity was revealed once and for all so that she never did such a thing again.
His major-domo had come to suspect Maaji Saheb’s faithful retainer Pran Singh as being involved in helping Meethi flee. Under his pressure, Pran Singh had sung like a canary, revealing the entire story.
Maaji Saheb had told him to smuggle Meethi out in the dark of the night to her guruji’s house. The personal guards remained sleeping, having drunk drugged coffee. After depositing Meethi at her guruji’s house, Pran Singh had driven the Beetle into the river that same night.
And his mother had never even given an inkling that she knew Meethi was alive. She had seen him drowning in misery after Meethi disappeared but she had never sought to alleviate his pain. Never revealed that the wife he was mourning was alive. Never revealed that she had been instrumental in driving her away. She had, in fact, tried her level best to push him towards getting married again. The extent and magnitude of her lies and deception stunned him. That a mother could do this to her own son had been like a twist of the knife.
He wouldn’t need to deal with her. She looked broken and defeated. He asked Harsh to look after her and have her escorted to Rajmahal safely.
He had to take care of Meethi. For all her bravado, she was looking shattered. He tightened his grip on her arm and led her to the car. When it glided to a stop, he got in and held out his hand for her.
Meethi felt totally washed out. Her head swam and she felt utterly drained. When they had arrived, Veer lifted her and strode inside. He took her to his den and, depositing her on the divan, went and poured a drink.
He held the glass to her lips and said, ‘Drink!’
Meethi shook her head wearily. She was feeling like a limp rag. But Veer forced her to take a big sip and she spluttered as heat flared inside her. Some colour returned to her cheeks, and she sat up. Veer finished the rest of it and stood up.
‘Why didn’t you tell me the entire story? You still don’t trust me to do the right thing, do you?’ Veer asked bleakly, hurt clouding his eyes.
Meethi looked at him, feeling a churning in her stomach, and said weakly, ‘I was going to tell you tonight. How did you find out?’
‘Maaji Saheb’s retainer spilled the beans. Tell me, Meethi, what exactly happened on the day of the miscarriage?’ Veer asked, tension rippling through him.
Taking a deep breath to clear her head, which seemed to be whirling, she revealed the sequence of events of that day. How Maaji Saheb had taunted her contemptuously until, maddened with grief, she had rushed for her father’s home and hurtled down the stairs.
Veer felt his heart skip a beat as the enormity of the miscarriage sank in. The trauma that Meethi had undergone completely shattered him.
‘You tried to tell me in the hospital but I was so blind that I didn’t take any notice. I’m sorry, Meethi. I feel responsible. I never thought that my mother could be capable of so much cruelty and vindictiveness,’ he said through bloodless lips.
‘She didn’t actually push me down the stairs. I lost my balance in the skirmish with her,’ Meethi recounted dully, not wanting to cause more ill feeling for Maaji Saheb.
‘And the idea to run away! Whose idea was it? Hers or yours?’ he asked, his throat hoarse with suppressed emotion.
‘She told me that I had ruined your bright future. I was a blight on your life. She would taunt me that she would get rid of me by fair means or foul. I was tired of her constant venomous barbs. My mind was a complete mess, my emotions in tatters. That last day when we made love, I saw disgust and loathing on your face and I simply lost all will to stay. I gave up. I just wanted to go away and hide somewhere. So when Maaji Saheb taunted me again I told her calmly that I was ready to leave. She made all the arrangements and got me dropped at Guruji’s house. The rest you know,’ Meethi said tremulously, the words falling like stones.
Veer flinched, her agony dripping like acid in his brain. She had suffered so much. ‘The expression of disgust and loathing that you saw on my face was for myself! The sight of you lying crumpled in our bed was like a punch to my insides. I felt guilty for not being able to stay away from you, even when you were clearly unwell. The fact that I couldn’t control my desperate hunger for you made me feel like an unfeeling, callous bastard and I just dashed from there,’ he admitted with raw apology.
As he looked at Meethi’s wan face, tear-filled eyes and quivering lips Veer was hard pressed to control the swoop of emotion that threatened to unman him. She had been little more than a child, protected and cosseted all her life, and she had borne the crushing burden alone. She had turned to him in the hospital, seeking comfort and reassurance, and he had let her down. It had been his duty to look after her and care for her and he had failed spectacularly. Knives of guilt slashed at him for his failure as a husband.
He dragged her to him and hugged her tight. ‘Meethi, I’m sorry that you had to go through such a horrifying period. I vowed to look after you, to care for you in sickness and health, to provide for your needs, to protect you, and I failed to fulfil even a single vow. It will never happen again. I will be making up for it for the rest of our lives,’ he said solemnly.
‘It was my fault too. If I hadn’t been so stubborn and rash our baby would be alive. I killed it by my carelessness. I didn’t take care of the precious gift we had been given,’ she said brokenly.
‘Hush! Never think like that! It wasn’t your fault. The baby’s time was not yet come. It wasn’t meant to come to us just then. But I have full faith that it will come when it is meant to,’ Veer said with fierce reassurance.
Meethi felt as if she had been punched. He didn’t know… She remained stiff and unyielding in the circle of his arms. ‘There is something else that you need to know. It may change the way you’re feeling right now,’ she said in a pain-filled voice. She was going to cruelly disappoint him and she didn’t want to see the horror on his face.
‘Never!’ Veer said with heartfelt conviction. His arms tightened around her.
Meethi felt her control crumble but forced herself to say the words. ‘I can never give you a child! The doctors said that I can never conceive.’ She held herself still, waiting for the questions that Veer would ask.
‘That’s all?’ Veer said, tightening his arms around her and bending his head to nuzzle her hair.
Meethi crumpled. Tears poured down her cheeks, and she sobbed uncontrollably, trembling and shaking. Veer let her cry, holding her tight, stroking her hair until her trembling lessened and then tenderly dried her tears.
He picked her up and sank down on a sofa.
‘If I had been the one unable to father a child would you have run away?’ he asked sombrely.
Meethi looked at him, dazed. There was no disappointment on his
face.
She bit her lip and shook her head.
‘Then how can you think that I would be so petty as to be disappointed merely because you cannot conceive? You and Baba taught me that a real family is not where there are ties of blood but one where each one loves the other unconditionally, through good times and bad times. You are my family and I am yours and the children that we will have may not be born from our bodies but will be born from our hearts. So quit your worrying and give me a kiss,’ he said gruffly.
‘I always thought I was your mistake—a blip in your glorious life. I felt that I didn’t add value to your life… wasn’t worthy of you and that, once I left, your life would be calm again…’ Her voice trailed off, silenced by Veer’s imperious finger.
‘It is I who is not worthy of you. I was a cold, callous, insensitive fool who failed to look after you as a husband should. I was unable to fight your fears and keep you happy. I called you an immature child when actually I was the one who had growing up to do,’ Veer said, his voice rough, in pain.
Meethi looked at him and what she saw filled her chest with tightness. She suddenly felt faint. Her head swam. Her tough, fierce, formidable husband was in pain. She lifted a hand to his face and suddenly felt blackness descend on her, and she slumped in Veer’s arms.
Veer looked at Meethi and felt himself at the breaking point. The doctor had warned him but he hadn’t heeded his warning. He had subjected Meethi to emotional trauma and she had collapsed. He rang the bell urgently and told Raj to bring the doctor immediately.
By the time the doctor appeared, Veer was out of his mind with worry. He had brought Meethi to their room and she lay there, unmoving, white as marble. He was rubbing her cold palms, trying to bring warmth to them.
He pounced on the doctor with a thunderous frown and said, ‘Do what you have to, but make her all right. She has been unwell for the past many days.’
The doctor nodded and felt Meethi’s pulse. Her eyelids flickered and she regained consciousness. She looked at Veer, standing ramrod-stiff.
‘Sorry… I don’t know what’s wrong with me…’ she said weakly.
The doctor asked her several questions and Veer frowned when Meethi admitted that she had been feeling off-colour for several days.
But the doctor smiled. ‘Congratulations, Maharaj Saheb and Maharani Saheba! You are going to have a baby!’ he said with a broad grin.
Veer and Meethi looked at each other, dazed, and then Veer said, ‘But the doctors said she couldn’t conceive again.’
The doctor shrugged. ‘I cannot tell you why he said that because I wasn’t present at that time but I can assure you that Maharani Saheba is hale and hearty and should face no problem in carrying the baby full-term. Of course, I would like her to come for a thorough check-up.’ He bowed deferentially and took his leave.
Veer sank down on the bed next to Meethi and, pulling her into his arms, said incredulously, ‘I can’t believe it! Being with you is like being on a roller coaster. I never know what will happen next.’
Meethi looked at him with a mixture of tears and smiles, unable to completely believe what the doctor had said. How was it possible? A miracle had occurred.
‘I think Baba is up there smiling and taking care of all problems,’ she said, full of emotion. The fear she had been living with for so long had vanished.
Veer inhaled deeply, feeling punch-drunk. But then a tormenting thought occurred to him. ‘What if I hadn’t come across that painting of yours? What if I hadn’t managed to find you? What if I had been forced to continue with the empty, meaningless life I had before I met you?’ he said raggedly.
Meethi couldn’t bear to see her strong husband break down. She hugged him, trying to alleviate his torment.
‘Don’t ever leave without telling me. I wouldn’t survive the pain of your loss another time.’ Veer was unused to baring his soul but now found himself unable to control the tumultuous emotions roiling inside him.
She cupped his face between her palms and, looking into his eyes, said, ‘We were fated to be together. We had to separate because we had karmas to work out but eventually we would have been reunited.’
The soft conviction in her voice soothed him, banishing the pain of what they had suffered and filling him with joyful hope for the future.
Their life’s happiness was complete, each piece in the grand design of life having fallen in place, granting them wholeness and completeness.
EPILOGUE
MEETHI CANTERED LEISURELY on a horse, following the riders trotting ahead. Her six-year-old daughter Oorja had broken into a fast gallop, ignoring her father’s remonstrations, and Veer had given Meethi a pained look before riding hard on her heels. Oorja loved to tweak her father’s overprotective streak and Meethi knew that when he finally caught up with her he would give her a yelling, secretly proud of their spirited daughter.
Her precocious two-year-old son, Arya, was manfully trying to catch up on his small pony and, from the quiver of his lips, she knew he would have to be hugged and comforted when they dismounted because he had lost the race. Both her children shared Veer’s passion for horses and had learnt to ride before they had even begun running. To her joy, they also showed an artistic streak and had been taken under Guruji’s wing; he’d predicted that Arya especially showed immense promise.
She smiled in contentment. It was a beautiful early morning, the sun’s pale yellow rays weaving a beautiful pattern across the ground. The air was fragrant and redolent with the scent of the blossoming trees, reminding her of that magical morning at Bavdi Mahal after Veer had found her. The sense of peace she had experienced and their cataclysmic lovemaking on the edge of the lake had changed something fundamental inside her. She had realised how essential he was to her very existence. It had been the start of their journey to happiness.
And she was happy—so happy that at times she had to pinch herself to check if she was dreaming. She had become a well known painter, having held countless exhibitions, and her guruji as well as Veer were extremely proud of her. And now she had more time on her hands to devote to painting. Though Veer made sure she was occupied in other pleasurable pursuits as well.
Just remembering last night brought a flush to her cheeks. He had returned after a three-day absence and they had spent half the night making love and cuddling each other. Their love had grown stronger and she had convinced Veer to forgive and forget past incidents and bring Maaji Saheb to live with them. It had proved a good decision. Maaji Saheb had been extremely grateful to Meethi and had apologised fervently and she had never again given them cause for complaint. The birth of her grandchildren had given her a new lease of life and she doted on them.
Meethi was living a life of her own choosing. She had to observe a certain protocol and decorum at times but by and large she was free to do as she liked. They travelled about quite a bit but they enjoyed going to Bavdi Mahal the most. The children enjoyed living in the midst of nature and all four of them returned rejuvenated and refreshed.
Veer looked at Meethi, ambling behind, and felt a tightening in his chest. His gorgeous wife’s beauty increased with each passing day, as did his sense of blessedness. She had given him two beautiful, healthy children and he often mock complained that keeping his two spirited children in line would turn all his hair grey prematurely. She had made him whole and strong, brought happiness to his life, filled up the empty spaces in his soul with joy and laughter. Just as his daughter would do to some lucky boy. His heart already trembled with foreboding when he envisaged her surrounded by admiring hordes. He remembered how Meethi had laughed till tears rolled down her cheeks when he had shared his fears with her.
‘Don’t worry—’ she had smiled, enfolding him in her arms and whispered ‘—I know she will find her soulmate and twist him around her little finger. Love will teach them the way.’
He reined in his horse and waited for her to join him—his gorgeous wife, his partner, his soulmate who had made life come alive for him.
ISBN-13: 9781460383742
His Runaway Royal Bride
Copyright © 2014 by Tanu Jain
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