‘Madam, this is Mumbai—young, old doesn’t matter in this city. Actually it shouldn’t—and doesn’t—matter anywhere, except in your head. And second, religion and society—when have these things mattered to you?’
Meera’s thoughts went to her time in Delhi, when she was cruising along at twenty-six and had suddenly been sucked into the vortex of marriage. As was the tradition in India, when you turned a certain age, you were supposed to find a stranger, tick the necessary boxes in the list and get married. It was always about the right age, and adjustments to turn the stranger into the right partner along the way.
Meera was always clear that it would be companionship that would make her settle down and not societal stamp, but despite this conviction, her life had started revolving around that one word—marriage. From family gatherings to the Holi-Diwali gatherings, every place became a meeting ground for boy talk. But Meera did not budge; nor did her parents, who supported her decision.
Meera’s reverie was broken when her phone pinged. Kanika gave her a mischievous look, pointing at the message that had just come from Adil: Good morning, Ms Newspaper! Meera smiled.
Kanika started singing a song from a popular Hindi film and Meera hit her with a pillow. Laughing, Kanika picked up the tea mugs and left the room.
With Kanika gone, Meera turned her attention to the text and replied: I work in a magazine, not a newspaper.
Ah! One and the same thing.
Okay, if it is the same thing, I will call you Mr Photographer.
Chalega, as long as you call me.
Meera laughed and blushed at the same time, and sent him a laugh emoji. She then got up to get dressed for office.
While in the cab, Meera’s mind went back to some of the people she had met. Vikram Singh. Meera had met him only because he was the son of somebody her father knew. He was an interior designer and looked like a good prospect. But to the utter dismay of her family, Vikram had turned out to be quite a dud. He had told Meera, ‘Yaar, tu to journalist hai . . . I want a 70 per cent homely girl. Tu to kab ayegi, kab jayegi . . . aisa to nahi chalega, na, shaadi ke baad (You are a journalist and I want a 70 per cent homely girl . . . There will be no time to when you come or go . . . this won’t work after marriage).’
Then there was Akash, who had made tall claims of being intrigued by her work and trying to know her, but Meera later realized that his father, who would regularly check their mails, did not approve of her.
Then there was Prateek, the investment banker who just couldn’t stop drinking, and, ultimately, Meera had realized he was just trying to get over his ex.
Once she had met a lawyer—she couldn’t even remember his name—who had thought that Meera’s driving with her girlfriends across northern India was very adventurous and that his ‘Mummy-ji’ would never allow it.
As soon as she got out of her cab, her phone beeped again.
Hello, Ms Newspaper, can we meet for coffee today?
Meera smiled. Why?
What do you mean why? I want to meet you, that’s why.
Yeah, so I am asking, why do you want to meet me?
There was no reply from the other side, so Meera let it be. She got busy in her work, but constantly kept checking her phone. Finally, around 5 p.m., her phone rang. It was Adil.
‘So, Ms Newspaper . . . Why I want to have coffee with you is because I have never met a more engaging person than you in my life.’
Meera smiled to herself and said, ‘Sorry, can’t hear you. Can you be a little louder?’
Adil repeated, ‘Because I have never met a more engaging person.’
‘ . . . Sorry, can’t hear you . . .’
Adil repeated, ‘ . . . Most engaging person . . .’
Meera started laughing and Adil finally understood that she was teasing him and he laughed with her.
In the next hour, Meera reached the designated coffee shop.
There was an awkward moment when they both didn’t know whether to hug or to shake hands. Finally they decide on a half-hug and sat down. They ordered coffee and Adil began by telling Meera a little more about himself.
‘So you get excited about international projects . . . Beautiful women and amazing locations. What more does one want?’ Meera teased him.
‘I am not into beautiful bodies; I like brains. I like conversations about films, about life, sometimes random talks, sharing childhood memories and sometimes toilet humour . . . These are the areas I specialize in,’ Adil replied naughtily.
‘Ugh! Gross! Who does that?’ Meera made a face.
Adil replied with a hint of pride, ‘Arre, I do . . . It’s very enjoyable. Aap dheere dheere mujhse milti rahengi to aap bhi enjoy karne lagengi (Once you start meeting me more often, even you’ll start enjoying it).’
‘So that means I’ll have to meet you again?’ Meera said, as if horrified by the idea.
To which Adil made a sad puppy face while nodding his head in the affirmative.
After this meeting, chats and phone calls became frequent between them. Although Meera was initially reluctant to let things grow between them, Adil always drew her into conversation and made her feel relaxed. It had been a few months but, to Meera’s surprise, neither had Adil made a move on her, nor had he gotten bored of her. She’d always thought either of this would happen naturally, considering the age difference between them. And that would be the time their relationship would end. Meera was always confused about his behaviour, but she also liked the fact that he never crossed a line and was always playfully flirting with her. Theirs was a lovely bond that had raw attraction mixed with fun, which made both of them very comfortable in each other’s company.
Meera was now also used to his toilet humour, which was disgusting but also made her laugh. He was one of a kind and she realized she really did enjoy his company. But, then again, her mind had its own doubts and questions.
One day when she and Kanika were out shopping, Adil came up in conversation. Kanika started teasing Meera about him. ‘He is nice, but he is a kid . . .’ said Meera.
‘Well, he can produce kids if you want,’ replied Kanika. Meera hit her friend playfully at the suggestion but at the same time blushed.
‘No, c’mon . . . Give me one good reason why you aren’t jumping into bed with him. And I can guarantee you he is a good guy . . . No hanky-panky. You are a thirty-two-year-old woman; he is a twenty-five-year-old boy. No reason you guys shouldn’t be together. Please don’t give me that age and religion and family and society and film-industry crap!’ reprimanded Kanika.
As Meera started to say something, Kanika added, ‘Take a leap of faith, Meera.’
‘But, Kanika, I have known him just a few months.’
‘So?’ her friend retorted. ‘Haven’t you heard of love at first sight? And who’s asking you to get married? You have always stuck to your guns and not succumbed to the pressures of being with just about anyone. And now if you have someone who wants to take a chance on you, then why are you being a bargad ka ped (a banyan tree)?’
Meera silently heard out her friend.
Kanika continued, ‘And I don’t think it is just an initial spark for him, because it’s been about five months and he hasn’t made any untoward move. All he wants is to spend some quality time with you and enjoy your company . . . I don’t think it is too much to ask for. And if this goes somewhere, why the hell not?’
Suddenly Meera’s phone beeped. Hello, Ms Newspaper, can we meet for coffee today?
Meera couldn’t help but smile. There was something very reassuring in Adil’s simple message today. Suddenly all her apprehensions vanished, the spark was reignited, the blood went rushing to her cheeks, her heartbeat quickened and thoughts of society went into the trash can.
Of course, she texted back.
26
Love Is Coming Soon . . .
Kiran Wingkar
Four months after their wedding . . .
When Deepti woke up, Ravi was still asleep beside her. He was in
a deep slumber and looked like a child sleeping. She wanted to give him a morning kiss but wasn’t sure how he would react. Would he like it or get upset? They were yet to understand each other. She thought it would be better not to. Then she headed to the kid’s bedroom, where her three-and-a-half-year-old prince, Shourya, was sleeping. She gave him a peck on the cheek. He was also in deep sleep.
As she sat alone in the balcony, enjoying the view of the garden and sipping on hot chocolate milk, Deepti worried about the nausea she had been experiencing over the past week. Her mother, who had spoken to her last evening, suggested doing a pregnancy test because Deepti had missed her date as well. She recalled the words of her 3 a.m. friend: ‘You both are having a hard time with each other. Do not even think about a child right now.’
Three months before their wedding . . .
It was 2 p.m. and Deepti was driving. She felt miserable. After all, she was going to attend a silly event that she had never imagined she would attend in her lifetime. It was a remarriage meet-up arranged by a matrimonial company. Her father had emotionally blackmailed her into going with the only weapon he had—her son from her previous marriage.
‘You have to do it for your son. He will get a father. Haven’t you seen his expressions when he sees his friends’ fathers?’ he had said.
She was still not convinced, though. It had been two years that her husband had died. She had moved on, but could not imagine anybody else in his place. However, she was also missing a companion in her life. Whenever she would ask her girlfriends to go for an outing, they would make up excuses saying they already had plans with their husbands. She still kept her husband’s favourite perfume in her closet. The scent gave her a sense of his presence. She felt lonely, though she was surrounded by the people she loved.
Deepti reached the venue on time but was nervous.
How will I face other men who are willing to marry me?
She was given a number badge and a table number at the registration counter. She wore her badge and went to the assigned table. A man was already seated there, wearing her lucky number 9. She was not ready to talk. He was tall, dark and handsome—but she thought he was too tall for her 5-foot-1 frame and that he would look like 6 feet beside her.
As the evening wore on, she met other men as well, most of whom were divorced. As she talked to each of them, she realized why their wives must have left them. That tall, dark and handsome guy’s story, however, was intriguing. He was also divorced, though his first was a love marriage. He sounded reasonable to her, and she was curious to know why he was single. Other than him, she did not find any of the other men attractive.
A couple of days later, she found a marriage proposal from the tall, dark and handsome man in her mailbox. She studied his profile. He was a deserving candidate—he had a job with a handsome salary, had his own house and was a fitness freak to boot! He had already registered himself for the ‘Ironman’ race. She remembered her high-school crush, Milind Soman, who was the only Ironman she had known so far.
His name was Ravi Kulkarni. They decided to talk on the phone. When Deepti called Ravi, he was going to Ooty for an ultramarathon, which she found quite impressive. Her first question was whether he would be ready to accept her son. He said yes. That was the only condition she had. She was hesitant to ask about his divorce. He sensed this and clarified that his ex-father-in-law was against their marriage from the start and had somehow convinced his daughter to divorce him a couple of years after their marriage. Ravi spoke reasonably on the phone as well. They decided to meet a month later.
Two months before their wedding . . .
She went alone to meet him. They had decided to have lunch together. During lunch, they shared the expectations they had from each other. His expectation was to have his own child from her. Deepti agreed, thinking it was a fair expectation.
She asked him, ‘What will you do if your ex wants to come back into your life?’
A smile appeared on his face. He said to her, ‘I was in love with her. But the way she behaved with me and my parents, I would never accept her again.’
They got along well and decided to marry in court.
Deepti was on cloud nine, reliving the bygone era of talking for hours on the phone. She was so happy. They talked for hours at night. They talked about their past, their likes, their dislikes, and so on.
One month before their wedding . . .
One day, Ravi came to meet Deepti. They were talking and laughing, but Ravi seemed restless. Deepti had parked her car on an empty road. She wanted some quiet time with him. Every place they went to was crowded. She was saying something when, all of sudden, he grabbed her hands, pulled her into his arms and pressed his lips against hers. She got butterflies in her stomach. Immediately, she pulled herself back from his arms into the driving seat. She had not expected this. They remained quiet for some time. She was not angry. In fact, she had quite enjoyed the romantic moment.
Twenty days before their wedding . . .
As the days passed, the length of their talks got shorter and shorter. She found it strange. In her previous marriage, the talks had increased with each passing day. As time passed, Ravi became merely a passive listener during their phone calls. He would ask Deepti to talk, but she could not find any subject to talk about on some days. She sensed something was not right.
A day before their wedding . . .
Deepti was waiting for her mehendi artist when she got a message from Ravi’s cousin. His cousin wanted to tell her something. Puzzled, Deepti started reading.
His ex-wife was a good person. She was close to me. They got separated because they wanted different things in life. He suffered a lot due to his blunt and straightforward nature. You have to teach him how to behave with kids. He doesn’t have experience with kids. I suggest you find some common interest so that you can spend quality time with each other. Initially, keep your finances separate.
Deepti kept reading the text messages. She was perplexed.
Is he the right person or have I taken this decision in a hurry? she thought. How bad could he be?
The mehendi artist entered. Her chain of thought broke.
On their honeymoon . . .
Deepti and Ravi had decided to go to Shimla and Kullu–Manali for their honeymoon. Their honeymoon was unlike any other couples’ honeymoon. It was more like a family trip, because they were yet to understand each other. The situation got even more challenging when Deepti decided to take her son, Shourya, along. Throughout the trip, she was occupied with her son. Ravi was annoyed by Shourya’s mischiefs and irritated since he did not get enough time with Deepti alone. But he masked his feelings and focused, instead, on trying to build memories with her.
Ravi knew that Deepti used to be a sportsperson. He managed to persuade her to try out the adventure sports in Manali. To their surprise, she completed them all with ease, compared with other participants, including Ravi. It was then that she remembered the outspoken, mischievous and adventurous Deepti, who had been lost somewhere all those years due to family commitments. She told Ravi how happy she was that day and expressed her gratitude to him for encouraging her to try the sports.
On their way back to the hotel, Ravi said to her, ‘You’ll find it strange, but I’m not like other husbands who put loads of expectations on their wives—whether it be preparing a nice hot breakfast every morning or satisfying me in bed. I will never put any restriction or compulsion on you for family commitments. However, I’ve developed a set of goals based on my hobbies that I passionately want to fulfil in due course of time. I also encourage you to develop some hobbies that make you happy as well. We are two different people; it is important for us to have separate interests. I don’t want you to ignore your interests for me.’
One month after their wedding . . .
He stopped calling her in the afternoons from office. Romantic messages were out of the question. His Ironman race was around the corner and training was on in full swing. Due to this, he w
ould often come home late. Even his weekends were reserved for training. Deepti was disappointed their honeymoon phase had ended so soon. Her husband had no time for her, even though his reason was genuine. The Ironman race was one of the reasons she had accepted his proposal. Though her husband had no time for her, she was free to do anything she wanted. She started socializing with the people of her society and exploring the new city, where she had shifted after her second marriage. Ravi and Deepti were both immersed in their own worlds. But they had amazing nights together. Their chemistry in bed was undeniable. She realized that for passionate lovemaking, love was not necessary.
While Deepti enjoyed her life as an individual, she missed the kind of family life she had had in her first marriage. Her first husband and she had so many common interests that they did not have any individual interests. It was hard for her to come to terms with this new marriage. Yet, she worked hard to keep herself busy and portrayed herself as an independent woman in front of him. She didn’t want to show him that she needed him in the marriage, more than anything else. Soon, ego clashes became the most common reason for their daily fights. During one such fight, he warned her: ‘This marriage was just an adjustment for me. Do not try to pull me into it.’
And he left for his official tour.
Her heart sank. She cried her heart out and began to realize the relevance of the messages Ravi’s cousin had sent her on the day of her mehendi. She did not want to talk to Ravi or see his face any more. Deepti remembered her 3 a.m. friend and called him for advice.
Deepti told her 3 a.m. friend the whole story of her second marriage and the difficulties she was facing. Her friend listened to everything and said:
Living an independent life is not a crime, as long as he isn’t putting any restrictions on you. He is letting you live the way you want. Both of you are from different backgrounds. That girl left him, and everyone, including his own relatives, judged him during his bad time. If I were in his place, I would have been devastated. I think he is a very courageous man. I don’t think he would trust any other woman so easily. I have met him at your wedding; he is a nice, reasonable guy. Give him some time. All your fights are ego clashes. Your ego is ruining your relationship. Keep your ego aside. Nowadays, women are self-sufficient. They are able to take care of themselves. Isn’t it true? I mean, if he restricts you from doing something, will you listen to him? No. Why would you? You take responsibility for your own actions. Look at your mom and dad—your dad cares so much for your mom. He does this because he knows that she can’t do anything without his help. Does this apply in your case? Let him care for you first. Love will follow. You are both having a hard time with each other. Do not even think about a child right now.
You Are All I Need Page 18
