'The Accidental Wife' New thread link-151 - Page 42

maan met his susral and get to know y geet brought him here

this is perfect move by you...

congrats for discontinuing your stories ...

it is better to discontinue rather than keep us waiting for many months...

but next time think before starting whether you will be able to write it to the full or again discontinue ...as you see we are also human beings who gets attached to the story, want to read what will happen next and you mercilessly stopped updating citing reasons very common that you are very busy with studies or what so ever...didn't you knew it just 2 months back while starting to write it...or do you think we readers are your puppet with whom you can play as you wish...

as a writer you have some moral duties towards your readers...

he wants to learn more about her yet he finds himself losing and cannot understand why his decisions makes no sense anymore

13. A PROPOSITION

Maan slogged up the hill, pumping hard on his pedals. Upon reaching the top, he relaxed, letting gravity take over. His bike responded by surging forward, gaining momentum as it shot down the incline. Icy wind clawed at his face; the balaclava mask offering scant protection, yet he pushed on, pedaling faster through the unfamiliar territory. Not that he was worried of getting mugged. No honest goon would risk his fingers in this weather.

Besides the only thing of value he possessed was his bike and his vital organs, and they would have to kill him to get to either.

He laughed out loud. Lately his brain had not been acting like itself, nor had his body. His short stint in India had not only turned his life on its head but also infused him with such a degree of unbridled excitement that he was having a tough time getting any sleep. Yet he wasn't the least unhappy about it.

He grinned. It had all begun a few days ago with four simple words...

***

New Delhi, Geet's apartment

"I have a proposition."

Maan sat forward in his chair but didn't dare to react any more than that. It was very probable he was hallucinating given the state he was in.

After being dragged out of his rustic bed in the wee hours of the morning, he'd been forced to participate in the Great Indian Railroad boot camp like any average commuter"My brother would never dare hijack a train.' And he'd spent the entire journey either shielding his wife from unwanted male attention (a turn prompting no gratitude whatsoever) or struggling against being thrown off the train. It was a miracle he was still alive.

He stared skeptically at the plate of spicy chaat she'd ordered from the neighborhood chaat house after inviting him in for a cup of tea and a last goodbye. Then after a brief battle with his better judgment, he shoved a spoonful in his mouth. Surprisingly, it was delicious! Worth every trip to the toilet he may have to make.

Geet repeated her words, several decibels louder this time. "I said I have a proposition!'"

"Really? What kind? Aren't you satisfied enough with what you've done already?" he asked ruefully, examining his tattered collar.

She flushed. "I'm sorry. But this time I have a suggestion that could be mutually beneficial."

"Go on..." His interest was piqued.

A smile bright enough to lighten his troubles lit her face. She indicated the letter she held in her hand, "My dream has finally come true. Landscape magazine is going to feature my work on Delhi's street children as the lead story in their January issue."

"Congratulations, that sounds wonderful," he said, genuinely happy for her.

"...And they want me to come to New York City," she continued. "They want me to work for them, which would give me the opportunity to intern with some of their best journalists for a period of six months!"

"Does that mean that you can...?" Maan held his breath.

"Yes." She nodded. "I think I can, if you would help me with the visa and plane tickets. I can put this place up for rent," she said looking around her apartment, "and get my leave sanctioned. I've been preparing for a while for this eventuality." She smiled at him. "I hope it's not asking a lot of you. I promise to pay you back."

He laughed, jumping to his feet instantly. At last things were beginning to look up. "But of course! You can come back as my wife. As for accommodations, don't worry. You can stay with me."

"I...I don't want to impose. I'll move as soon as I find a place of my own."

"Don't even mention it," he said, impulsively grabbing her by the waist and swinging her high up in the air. "I'll do anything as long as you keep my mother off my back."

***

But obtaining a visa wasn't a cakewalk as Maan soon discovered. A marriage certificate was required for which he and Geet had to appear in front of the registrar, along with a couple of witnesses. Having heard rumors about the horrors of Indian bureaucracy, he chose to fess up to good old Uncle Rajbir, though not before swearing him to secrecy. To his surprise, he didn't react the way he thought he would. Instead Uncle Rajbir heard him out with a wide grin pasted on his good-natured face. He then patted Maan on his back, and agreed to assist after extracting a solemn promise from him to never let go of his wife. She was"according to him"laakhon mein ek.'(One in a million.)

But the registrar Mr. Desai (a scrawny man with a mug wrapped tight in a woolen scarf) proved to be a different cookie altogether. Most of his statements were preambled with the words, "Mein ek imaandaar aadmi hoon," (I am an honest man,) which was apparently more to reassure himself than his beleaguered clientele who happened to be quite a few. Maan and Geet were made to wait for more than three hours, despite having an appointment. And when they presented their request, he refused promptly. "No, impossible. Can't be done. It says here that you're already married to a...a Deepika. Where is she?"

"She...she absconded, jilted me. This is my real wife, Geet," Maan said, putting on his most sincere face.

Geet nodded, following suit.

Mr. Desai appeared to find it extremely hilarious. Hooting with laughter, he clapped his cluttered desk a few times. "Yeh lo! Absconded! Which desi girl in her right mind would give up a crorepati NRI and that too a dimaag ka doctor?"

Maan mumbled, correcting him. "I'm a neurosurgeon."

"Tell me a story I can believe in!" Mr. Desai demanded.

Maan stared helplessly at Uncle Rajbir who winked and said he'd take care of it. And he did. God bless him. A brief conversation held in a curtained alcove was enough to shake the man's integrity. Putting on a faade of serious reluctance, he carried out their bidding. His pockets had been lined well.

Everything else went without a hitch. Geet's leave was approved and her tickets were bought. Maan breathed a sigh of relief. When she came to bid him and his family farewell at the airport, promising to join them in a couple of weeks, he pulled her aside. He was having the jitters again.

Grasping her hands in his, he almost pleaded. "Promise me, you won't backtrack on your word."

She smiled, replying coyly, "I won't. Besides, in my husband's happiness lies mine."

tbc