by George, MM
“Anil!” she called. Anil was at the far end of the kitchen near the stove. “Will you heat up some water? These kulhars are too cold.” She turned to put the offending kulhars into a large basin so that the hot water, when it was ready, could be poured over them. The next thing she knew, the world had gone ‘boom!’, swept away by a huge explosion. Flames and smoke engulfed the kitchen. Mira was thrown aside and felt her head hit the wall before blackness took over.
When she came to a few minutes later, the kitchen was full of smoke and people. Some light had been made available, so she could see Anil being put on a stretcher and carried outside. Then hands were lifting her up also on to a stretcher. She heard her own voice protest feebly, “I can walk…”, then a soothing voice in reply, “We can’t take chances, just lie back.” She closed her eyes, thankful for the relief the darkness offered.
Downstairs at the party, the speeches were on. Up at the main table, Ranbir had just finished dinner, when he heard the shouting outside. He caught Ajay Chacha’s eye and Chacha indicated he should go and check. Ranbir made his apologies and went out softly. He reached the lobby just in time to see Mira being carried out on the stretcher. His breath caught in his throat. Good lord! That was Mira! Was she hurt? How? If anything happened to Mira…his face turned white at the thought. Was that an ambulance they were putting her into? He just about managed to read the name of the hospital on the side of the ambulance before it sped away into the dark. Ranbir felt a wave of panic engulf him. He ran to the white Porsche parked just outside and shouted to the driver to give him the keys. Then he drove off after the ambulance, tyres screeching as he hurtled out of the gate.
When he reached the hospital, he found Dhruv in the lobby. Dhruv had traveled with Anil and Mira in the ambulance. Ranbir shook him urgently. “What’s happened to Mira? Is she hurt? Why was she in the ambulance?”
Dhruv shook his head. “Ranbir, we don’t know yet how they are. All I know is that there was an explosion in the kitchen and both Mira and Anil were hurt. The doctors are examining them. They’ll let us know.”
“Which doctor have they been assigned to?” demanded Ranbir.
“I think a Dr. Kapoor,” said Dhruv, but Ranbir had already marched off before he could finish speaking.
Mira opened her eyes to find a nurse in a pink uniform looking at her. “Ah, you are conscious at last! I’ll call the doctor.” She went out of the room, closing the door behind her.
The doctor came in and examined her. “You’re a lucky young woman,” he said when he had finished his examination. “You’ve got away with just a few bruises. That arm and your head will be a little sore for a few days, but there’s no lasting damage. We’ll discharge you in a bit.”
Mira smiled faintly at him, then said, “May I have some water please?” The nurse held her propped up while she sipped some water from a plastic cup. Mira heaved a sigh of satisfaction when the water was all gone. Her throat had been rasping with all the smoke she had inhaled and the cool water felt so good. Then she remembered. “What about Anil?” she asked the nurse.
“Who Anil? The boy who was with you? He wasn’t as lucky as you. He has some serious burns on his arms and the left of his face.” Mira’s face convulsed in sympathy.
“Your sister and mother are outside, waiting to take you home. I am going to send them in now.”
Ma and Reema came in soon after. “Di, how are you?” asked Reema, striving to hold back her tears. Ma was quiet, but her strained face spoke of the stress she had been through.
She patted Mira’s head and murmured, “Thank God for his blessed mercy! I could not have borne another loss.”
Slowly, Mira put together the story. One of the gas cylinders they had been using had run out and Anil had attached a fresh cylinder to the stove, but he had not checked the cylinder properly or he would have known that it was leaking gas. When he lit the match to heat the water, the cylinder had exploded. “It has to be God’s grace that you were not near the stove, my darling,” said her mother gravely. “When you get home, I am going to organize a havan in thanksgiving.”
“How did you know?” Mira asked.
“Ranbirji called me and sent a car,” said Ma. “And Reema came with his cousin.” Mira looked up at Reema, a question in her eyes.
Reema shook her head at her and said, “Di, let’s go home now.”
Mira got up slowly from the bed. They were walking down the corridor when Reema exclaimed, “Ma, we forgot the medicines!”
Ma pressed her hand against her mouth, “Hai Ram! You take Mira to the car and wait. I’ll just go and get them.”
“I need to sit down first for a moment,” said Mira. Her head was splitting.
“I’ll get you some water?” asked Reema and she nodded.
She was still in a daze when she saw a familiar figure in the lobby across from the corridor where she was. It was Ranbir, talking to a doctor. “Send all the bills to me,” he was telling the doctor. “I want the boy to get the best possible care and attention, no expense spared. So please, just go ahead and do whatever you need to.” The doctor murmured something. She heard Ranbir’s voice again, “And what about the girl?” Again there was the sound of the doctor’s voice and she saw Ranbir’s face light up with relief. It puzzled her in some way, but her head was too heavy for her to make sense of it.
Reema was back with a glass of water. Mira drank it gratefully and stood up resolutely. “Let’s go to the car,” she said. She couldn’t have explained it, but she couldn’t have faced Ranbir at that moment.
Reema kept hold of her arm and helped her towards the car park, chattering excitedly all the while: “Di, you should have seen Ranbir when we reached the hospital. He was like a mad man because the doctor refused to tell him how you were. Dhruv had told him that you were in the kitchen when the cylinder exploded and he was frantic beyond belief!”
“I need to sit down,” murmured Mira. Reema led her to the car and helped her inside. She rested her head against the glass of the car window. It was cool and felt good to her throbbing head. Suddenly, a thought struck her. “Reema.” she said urgently. “What about the dinner? It must have been a mess! Ranbir must be so angry.”
“It was all fine, Di—after all, everything had been served. No one got any seconds of the dessert, but then considering the explosion and all the drama it caused, nobody could complain!”
***
Two days later, Mira stood at the window in the room in Renu Mausi’s flat looking out at the park and the children playing in it. Everything was as it should have been, but there was a dull ache in her heart that would simply not go away—where was Ranbir? After Reema’s revelations at the hospital, she had expected to see him, but he had not put in an appearance. The hopes that Reema had raised were dwindling with each hour that he kept away.
What a fool she was, Mira thought angrily.
Reema was still at Dewan Kutir. “Mrs. Dewan needs her,” Ma had said mysteriously when she had asked for her. She wiped away a tear that was rolling down her cheek.
“Thinking of me?” said an enigmatic voice behind her. Mira whirled around. Ranbir stood at the door.
“You?” she asked in confusion.
“Yes, me,” he answered simply, coming to the window. “Were you expecting someone else?”
“No, I…”
Ranbir took pity on her. “How are you feeling now?” he asked.
“I spoilt your dinner, didn’t I?” she said suddenly. “And now, you’ll fire me.”
He looked at her quizzically. “Well, you certainly made it memorable. We made it to page one of every newspaper in the city.”
“You’d like to kill me, wouldn’t you?”
“No, but I definitely would have killed the stupid boy who connected that faulty gas cylinder if something had happened to you that night!” She remained quiet. “Not that you were any better—didn’t you smell the leaking gas?” he demanded. She shook her head, a tear escaping from the corner of her eye.
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“Come on, Mira, giving up so easily? Where’s all that feisty spirit?”
“What did you think?” she retorted weakly. “I like to blow myself up when I get bored?”
“That’s better.” he commended. They stood at the window, looking out at the park.
“What about Chachi?” ventured Mira after a while. “Reema and Tarun?”
“All clear,” he turned to smile at her. “I had taken Dadi into confidence before getting the two of you to stay at Dewan Kutir. Her only condition was that she check Reema out for herself before she agreed to the match. She told Chachi that she knows your family well and that she herself could not hope for a better wife for Tarun.”
“And…?”
“Chacha did his bit of urging, too. He’s really fond of both of you, you know. Surprisingly enough, Chachi did not need too much urging, which speaks a lot for Reema’s exertions on her behalf. Maybe Chachi had begun to get a hint of what was coming. You know her—she never bears a grudge for too long. Now she’s throwing herself headlong into the wedding preparations. When I left home, she had Panditji over to check for auspicious dates as soon as Tarun’s last exam is over.”
“But, in that case, Reema shouldn’t be staying there now.”
“Mira,” Ranbir said patiently. “You are not solely responsible for your sister. You have a mother. Your aunt and uncle are here. If they have no objection, why should you? Dadi has said that she will come back here once the engagement ceremony is over.”
“Ohh!”
“You know,” Ranbir said reflectively. “Those boys of Dhruv’s have done me a great disservice. You seem to have lost all your verve and fire. All burnt out, my dear?”
She shook her head slowly. “If it’s all sorted out,” she asked, “why are you here?”
“Aha, I was wondering when you would come to that,” the twinkle in Ranbir’s eye deepened as he folded her into his arms.
“What are you doing?” stammered Mira. “Ma might come in.”
“She knows,” said Ranbir wickedly.
“She knows? What does she know?”
“That there’s going to be a double wedding next month. It’s going to be the talk of the country!”
“But you haven’t… you don’t…”
“Yes, I do, and, yes, I will,” he said gently, going down on his knee. “Miss Mira Talwar, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”
“But Ranbir,” she wailed. “You don’t love me!”
“No histrionics, my love,” he said firmly. “It’s too late for that and, really, this is not the most comfortable of positions.”
Mira’s was dumbstruck. “Why?” she whispered.
Ranbir got up and took her in his arms again. “My love, when I saw you being carried into the ambulance, lying so still on the stretcher, my heart stopped. The ride to the hospital had to be the worst I have ever endured. I realized that my life had no meaning without you. And when the doctors were still deciding how badly you had been hurt and refusing to tell me anything, I could have killed someone right there. I couldn’t imagine a life in which your eyes were not constantly flashing at me, your tongue was not constantly throwing challenges at me, and your body was not constantly melting against me!”
Mira closed her eyes. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You still haven’t said you love me!” she said mischievously, holding her face up to him.
“Well, you still haven’t said you’ll marry me!”
“I will if you will,” she returned.
“I love you more than life itself, jaan. Now shut up and let me kiss you!” And she did.
≈
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
MM George is the pen name of Mimmy Jain. Mimmy lives in London and edits stuffy academic books and journals when she is not dreaming up frothy romances.
Mimmy has been writing as far back as she can remember. She won her first national award for writing in the International Year of the Child, at the tender age of 14. She had her first romantic story published around the same time in a national magazine. For many years, she wrote a humour column, which was published under various names in India Week, The Financial Express and National Review.
As Mimmy Jain, she has been a mainstream Indian journalist for the last 27 years and has worked in senior positions at publications such as The Economic Times, The Times of India, The Financial Express and Mint.
You can find Mimmy at https://www.facebook.com/MimmyMGeorge, and at ‘Living in the Happily Ever After’ (mimmyjain.wordpress.com).
ABOUT INDIREADS
Indireads was started with the aim to revolutionizing the popular fiction genre in South Asia. We showcase vibrant narratives that describe the lives, constraints, hopes and aspirations of modern South Asian men and women. We take great pride in our role as a channel for South Asian writers to engage readers at home and abroad.
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