Rishabh's quiet uptown apartment was alive and thriving again with the sweet and sharp laughs of a certain someone freshening the air.
"Stop pulling my hair Rishabh". Madhu whined to her husband who was equal parts amused and terrified by his fingers getting stuck in her dense curls.
"Why? You don't look uncomfortable", he retorted.
"No, it really hurts".
"Hurry, get up. Let's sleep now", he answered hand still firmly holding her hair.
"You're drunk. I'll take the couch". She pulled the opened cognac out of his hands.
"Come on. I remember your license plate number. I can probably even drive. Wife? Um? Please?"
"Okay. But you don't get to blame me in the morning".
"Call"
"And we're just making out. Nothing more".
"We'll see about that girl".
"But...what...about...the baby?" she asked between kisses.
"I don't know. I looked into adoption while you were gone".
"And?"
"They said it'd be fine for a married couple".
"But we got divorced, didn't we? So it'd be difficult now. Do you want us to try again?" she seemed willing to compromise now as if losing him again wasn't an option.
"Do you mean that?" he was searching for a validation in her eyes but he found none.
"No, I don't. I just want us to be happy and if a kid is it then...I don't know. I am tired".
"Why am I like this? I knew it when I came back to you. I love you more than I love the idea of a child...but"
"But you want one anyway?"
"Yes".
"You won't regret giving up the chance to have your own child. One who is your flesh and blood?"
"No. I don't just want A child. I want a child with you".
"I can't stop going undercover. I probably won't trim my work hours. I'll make a horrible parent". Here came the self-doubt.
"I can be the clingy one, the bad cop who watch her every step and you'll get to be the good cop. The one who brings her candy and takes her side in our little fights".
"No, who said it'd be a girl? I want a boy. No, two boys", she said.
"Wait, I thought you didn't want a kid".
"I want to be the only girl in your life". Now she was just acting childish and sappy. Yes, more sappy than anything.
"Are you jealous of our imaginary baby? Look at that! Wow, you're impressive Madhubala".
Suddenly, her phone started ringing. Then, his phone. Then, the landline in the living room. Her iPad was soon blasting notification alerts. One after the other, it seemed as though the entire apartment had turned into a communication channel bunker.
Madhubala calmly rose up from underneath Rishabh and silenced all devices. Then, she took a long look at on of the messages flashing on her computer screen.
"Turn on the TV", she said to Rishabh.
He switched on the news broadcast from channel 9 and it was his wife's face flashing all over the screen.
"Breaking News Alert: Investigative reporter and the chief editor of Bombay Times Madhubala Kundra has just been fired by the paper for what could turn out to be the biggest breach of journalistic expression to hit this country. Speculations are being made that her termination is a direct result of her editor harshly criticizing the foreign policy of the current federal government. As of now, a warrant has been issued for her arrest and we estimate that a defamation suit by the party in power could result in a call for a maximum eight year prison sentence. This is certainly a surprise move early this morning and the newspaper is scrambling to prepare a statement. However, looking at Ms. Kundra's termination we can certainly say the newspaper is not siding with her".
Madhubala stood frozen in disbelief. The editorial was exactly one month old. Because she gave complete freedom of intellectual expression to her subordinates, the newspaper under her supervision was thought to be the closest to non-partisan reporting one could get in today's bias driven world. She was one of the lucky ones who did not have to succumb to the pressure of favoring one political philosophy over the other. But this was one of the few times she was being punished for speaking her mind. She should have seen this coming. But she didn't. If no one had reacted for 30 days, she assumed it was safe to move other things.
Seeing as her life was turned upside down without notice, that was clearly not the case.
"If I go to jail, we can't adopt together", she turned of the tv and looked to Rishabh.
"It's okay, don't worry about that right now. Eat breakfast and get ready in comfortable clothes. I will call a lawyer to bail you out as soon as you get to the police station".
"Let's not marry again. You can adopt on your own and if everything works out, I will add my name to the family registry. Either way, we can still be together".
"You are tough. You'll make it through".
And for the rest the rest of breakfast, they lay on the couch watching children's cartoon. Rishabh held her from the back supporting both her weight and her worries in his embrace. Their reconciliation celebration was a short one but this time, they were determined to make it last. So when cops and reporters came knocking at their doorstep, Rishabh did not falter and Madhu did not waver. They walked out hand in hand until the mind-numbing crowds broke them apart for a minute. He followed the police car behind her and smiled at her as she walked out in handcuffs holding the victory sign like this was a catwalk and the pavement to the police station was her runway.
Indeed, he married the right woman.
THE END
Author's Note: Before you ready your eggs and rotten tomatoes folks, let me explain. I wanted a feeling of continuity with their life, an open ending suggesting that they are getting somewhere (positive) but not feeding you the information on exactly where. I also wanted to tackle the journalistic freedom issue but there is no good reason to. The story has run its course and when my muse can feel it, I know it's time to move on. He is usually right.
We had a good run, right?
Let me know what you think.
Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi 2
Udne Ki Aasha
Members Lounge
