Part XI
Present
Ishan looked at his mother, "So what would you say is Papa's contribution to making your marriage a success?"
"His understanding."
Milind raised an eyebrow at that. "Oh no, I had created more problems for your Mama because of my lack of understanding."
"Well, that was only to be expected," she immediately defended him from himself. "When two people get together in an arranged marriage there is always a period of adjustment. It was your Papa's understanding and love that ultimately saw us through the rough times."
"Ofo...now don't argue amongst yourselves as to who contributed more to this marriage. All I can say is that both of you brought out the best in each other. I would consider that as the ultimate testimony of the strength of your marriage," Ayesha intervened.
Both Milind and Prachi smiled in agreement at that. Milind thought back at how far they had come since the first time he tried to learn about the girl he had married and felt she was absolutely wrong for him.
Past (Milind's flashback)
Milind woke up the morning after their wedding reception with the determination to do his best to make this marriage work. He had gotten up with similar feelings the previous day too but had let himself be distracted by his wife's comments and his own apprehensions over the evening reception. He prejudged his wife based on just that one innocuous comment. He had hardly made any effort to know her. From whatever little he saw of her she seemed to be an innocent soul despite her 'bold' comment. He was moved by her concern for his well-being as evidenced in her care of his bruised foot. Maybe he needed to give her a chance. Brooding over his loss is not going to get him anywhere. Moreover, she was the sister of the woman he had originally planned to marry. There should be at least some common qualities between the siblings. He needed to find out more about her so as to better appreciate her.
With these thoughts he asked her to sit beside him after their breakfast. She seemed to be very happy that her husband was finally giving her his undivided attention. He slowly prodded her with questions.
"Prachi, what have you done?"
She looked at him puzzled, not following his question.
"I mean, academically," he elaborated.
"Oh. I had completed my graduation in home science and did a diploma in catering technology and a couple of courses in cooking and baking."
His expression turned a little dull hearing this.
"So you are fond of cooking?" he asked listlessly.
"Oh, yes. My mama says that I am even better than her! After all, they say that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, isn't it?" she asked enthusiastically.
He gave her a lopsided grin, thinking to himself, 'Not this man. The way into his heart is by feeding his brain not his stomach.' He did not say anything though.
"Any hobbies, besides singing?" he asked curiously.
"Well, I read...."
Before she could complete, he asked her eagerly, "What type of books?"
"Mostly romance. My favourite is Mills and Boons," she said.
"You mean those unrealistic stories where the poor damsel who is usually demure, pretty and confused about her life is swept off her feet by her 'Prince Charming' and they live happily ever after?" he asked, wondering what sort of a girl he has landed himself.
"Precisely! You read them too?!" she asked excitedly.
"No, I don't. I've heard of them from my female friends in college. They used to say that if you have read one, you have read them all."
"Oh! Did you have many?"
He looked at her in confusion.
"Female friends," she clarified, trying not to sound jealous.
"No, not many. In fact, I have lost touch with all of them after college. Even while in college, I was more keen to do well in my studies and make a name for myself than befriend women."
She seemed relieved. "Papa told me that you are a highly driven man, the reason he liked you immediately. You see, he is also like you, very ambitious. My sister is like that too. I am totally the opposite. I am quite satisfied with what I have."
"Women do make it big these days, you know? See people like our Prime Minister, Mrs. Indira Gandhi and U.K. Prime Minister, Mrs. Margret Thatcher. They can give any man a run for his money." His admiration for these strong women was evident in his voice.
"Oh, yes. I admire them too but I prefer to be a home maker rather than a career woman."
His heart sank but shrugging his disappointment, he decided to press on.
While on the subject of politics he decided to question her about her interests in it. "What do you think about Animal Farm?"
She looked stumped, "Animal Farm? You mean animals in a farm? Well they are very useful."
"No, I mean the political satire Animal Farm written by George Orwell.'
She pouted her lips. "Never heard of it."
He decided there was no point discussing such type of books. It looked like she read nothing other than mindless fantasies like Mills and Boons. He switched his attention to music.
"What type of music do you like?"
"I like old hindi songs from classics like Mughal-e-Azam, Anarkali and Mera Naam Joker. I also like the compositions of S.D. Burman and his son R.D.Burman. Oh, I forgot to add Salil Choudury. His songs are really melodious. Mohammed Rafi and Kishore Kumar are my favourite male singers and Latha Mangeshkar, my favourite female singer."
"Don't you like Bappi Lahiri's compositions?" asked Milind hopefully.
"Yew, his music is so coarse." She did not notice his expression darken when he heard her belittle his favourite composer.
"What about English music? What type of music do you like?"
"I love Western classical music. Wish I had learnt it but I can appreciate them all - Beethoven, Mozart, Vivaldi, Chopin, Strauss... Do you like his Blue Danube?"
Milind was seeing stars hearing these names. He had no clue about Western music, had no patience to listen to it either. So he steered the conversation clear from any further discussion of the Western Classical stalwarts.
"What do you think about the latest rage, Michael Jackson?"
"That joker who does those moon walks, vulgar pelvic thrusts and sings in a nasal voice? Yuck I hate him. I'd rather listen to Abba and Boney M."
Milind was fast losing his cool. The girl does have some strong opinions which were in direct conflict with his likes and dislikes. He decided to change tack and ask her about the movies she likes.
"I am a sucker for sentimental movies like Guddi, Milli, Anand and the like. Jaya Badhuri is my all time favourite actress."
"Don't you like Rekha?"
"I do, but I like Jaya better. Amitji is a lucky man to have got the love of both these amazing women. Have you seen the three of them in Silsila? They say that the film was semi-biographical."
"Amitji? Oh, you mean Amitabh Bachchan? Yes, I have seen Silsila."
"I didn't like the movie. I can't stand extra-marital affairs. It had some great songs, though." She started humming Neela Aasman.
For some strange reason Milind felt guilty hearing her view on the movie's theme and that slow song was really getting on his nerves. He quickly changed the subject.
"Don't you like Amitabh's action movies?"
"I hate action movies. All the blood and noise scare me. I prefer him in those sensitive character roles he played in Milli and Abhimaan. He is a great actor who is being under-utilised in these action films. His angry man image is doing him more harm than good."
He had half a mind to retort but decided to let it pass.
"What about games? Do you play chess?" He hoped that her answer to this one at least would be yes. He loved playing the game and it would have given them the perfect excuse to spend some time together playing it as it was apparent there was nothing else they could do together.
"Oh, no. I don't play any game that would tax my brains. I'm not much of a cerebral person you see. I love to fly kites with the children in my neighbourhood."
Milind wondered what sort of an alien he has married. He realised that he and his wife shared absolutely no common interests. Nothing short of a miracle will save this marriage, he thought in exasperation and abruptly got up. Muttering something about an urgent work, he left without turning back to see her.
He went to his office where his staff members were surprised to see him so soon after his marriage. He pretended that he was concerned about his Pune project and immersed himself in his work. That evening he went to the Juhu beach and sat on the sands, watching the people around him. He seemed to be surrounded by happy families and lovey-dovey couples. He felt miserable seeing them, for they seemed to remind him of what he did not have. He turned his attention to the sunset. Now that was something he could relate to - like the setting sun, his married life seemed to be setting. Only difference was that his married life seemed to have set even before it rose, unlike the sun which shone in glory every day before bidding its good bye to the world.
As the darkness gathered around him, he trudged along to a nearby bar and tried to drink himself numb. He was in enough senses to realise he cannot afford to drive in his state. So he called up his company driver to drop him home. His driver being a discreet man, did not ask him any questions but turned up in less than half an hour to drop him at his residence close to mid night. He dimly remembered Prachi's shocked expression in seeing him at the door. He tried not to notice her, stumbled to his room and passed out.
Edited by Opti - 16 years ago
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