The Accidental Wife NOTE PLEASE READ -154 - Page 19

Thanks again for the positive response.

9: JOURNEYS

The following few hours had Rishabh seriously questioning his rationalizing skills. Truly he seemed to have taken leave of his senses. Groping gingerly over his skull with both hands, he sincerely hoped the wiring was still intact--his livelihood was at stake!

"Aww Sh...! What in hell was that?" The aggrieved frustration he'd so stoutly been keeping a muzzle on eventually found a release.

"A pothole. Don't you have potholes in America?" His beauteous companion quipped[SV1] with a sweet smile.

It maddened him further still, "You call that a pothole. It's more like a sinkhole! And no, we don't have potholes in America. And even if we do, they usually get fixed right away. We could've got killed back there. You should report it to the local authorities!"

"Really? You think that'd work?" She snickered while turning to face the [SV2] window. "Mr Mehta, what world are you living in? Even if they did take action, it'll be just a patch up job, to be washed away with the next monsoon. Our society eats and breathes corruption, it's part of our lives. We'll be lost without it."

She burst into a full throttled laugh at his astounded expression, "Don't worry. We made it so far, didn't we? It'll get better once we're on the highway."

Rishabh settled back, preparing to brace his frame against the worn out seat cushion. Did we really make it? He was having a rough time figuring out his wife (not in that' sense as she seemed so often to admonish him). She had proved once again that she was a personality of extreme opposites; on one end, a silly school girlish prankster who pitched in at a lark to help her 'friend' and on the other, this compellingly brilliant young woman who spilled acidic gyan at the drop of a hat. Even a chameleon would be put to shame!

Why did he sense that there was more to this beautiful disaster than she was willing to reveal? As she sat by his side, unassuming and carefree like a village belle, swathed in pleats of gay silk, the edge secured tight around her head--a makeshift shield against the gusty wind with pensive eyes trained into the distance. What did they see? The vast stretches of chaotic third world urban sprawl or her future? What mysteries lay camouflaged inside those exquisite depths?

He urged to probe further, delve deeper, and have a conversation--an intellectual powwow with the brain behind that proud brow. It'd surely be well worth his while.

Just then, another bone crunching jolt. Rishabh! What are you thinking? She's a female! And you want nothing to do with the likes of them, remember? Women, especially wily ones like her, can ruin your life! Just follow her advice, finish the task at hand and move on!

Yes, move on! Resolute, he turned his attention away and caught a pretty young girl staring wide eyed at him. He smiled--she colored--her male escort sporting a particularly luxurious handlebar appendage bristled and Madhu giggled.

Rishabh balked. These men are way too touchy about their women folk! Now what on earth coerced me to take this godforsaken journey?

He didn't have to go too far to find the answer. It's my brain, my wonderful eternally pragmatic intellect that of late has launched itself on an acid trip! What else could possibly explain the goings on?

Earlier when he'd got Madhu's message, when he'd been almost ready to wish her to Timbuctoo for an indefinite period, whether his parents believed him or not. Perhaps he should have.

I need your help. Can you come to my place ASAP? Rest in person.'

He'd stared at his phone nonplussed. What's with this girl? He didn't try to question how she'd come by his number. It was glaringly obvious she was far sharper than he when it came to practical matters.

But he hadn't paused to deliberate. He'd run like a lovelorn blockhead, leaving his family bewildered. His mother must have figured it all out by now.

"Sorry, I think I'm in the wrong place."

"No Rishabh, you are exactly where you should be. Thanks for coming so promptly."

What? Has she changed her mind yet again? He thought astounded. Not because she looked gorgeous as usual but because she looked bridal (for want of a better word). With her slim figure ensconced in a dazzling silk sari, a smattering of classic jewelry, and just the right touch of makeup, she looked the image of a comely, uninitiated and virtuous desi bride-- enough to gladden any discerning mother-in-law's heart.

He must have worn a particularly befuddled expression, for Madhu burst into a peal of laughter.

He mustered a straight face. It took some doing. "Care to clue me in?"

She sobered up quickly, "Can you help me out? Come with me to my hometown."

His interest was piqued, "As what?"

"As my husband. To meet my family."

"But I thought you said you were..." He waited for her to stub her toe.

She did so gallantly, "Yes. I am an orphan and...you'll know more soon." Then she dealt out the ultimatum. "Are you coming? Yes or no?"

He scowled, blistering with indignation. What the hell does she take me for? A willing stooge?

She looked unruffled, prompting him to simmer down and nod without enthusiasm. After all one good turn did deserve another. And he was intrigued enough.

'

'

You'll know more soon.' But when is that soon going to be? Rishabh thought passing a wary glance around. Fortune had finally switched sides, or so it appeared for the time being--his arch nemesis seemed dead to the world, snoring with his cave of a mouth wide open.

"Hungry?" She asked, attempting to deduce his sullen countenance. "Here." Producing a plastic box from a large cloth bag she'd hauled from home, she pried open the lid and thrust it under his nose. It was full of what looked like fresh coconut cookies. "Some bad calories, doctor sahib?"

He shook his head, and looked straight ahead, trying to ignore his famished salivary glands.

"I have plenty for both of us and they are homemade."

He hesitated for a bare moment before digging in. They were scrumptious. "You knew that I'd come?"

A smile flickered across those cushy lips, "I chanced a wild guess."

Wild guess? Like hell not! Who was she kidding? She knew right from the moment she sent the message that he'd come. There wasn't any way he could refuse.

Though he was still at a loss about how he'd been persuaded abroad this ramshackle cross country bus...

As soon as he had agreed to accompany her, Madhu had hurried him to a waiting taxi. The man took off before Rishabh could slam the door shut. "Sorry to keep you waiting. Sahib has trouble getting up in the mornings." She said passing on an apologetic smile.

He fumed but kept his silence, till they were deposited on the outskirts of what looked like a bustling fish market. It was a bus station.

"Why are we here? What happened to the trains?" He demanded.

She smiled, enunciating slowly as if talking to a small child, "They are all overbooked."

"Then what about hiring a cab? I like cabs." Rishabh said casting a wary glance around. He despised crowds. And the upcoming trek promised to be exceptionally unruly, he mused sighting some agile cousins precariously balanced on bus roofs.

She laughed. "Have you heard yourself talk? As soon as someone realizes that you're not from around these parts, you'll be kissing all your worldly possessions goodbye! You are probably halfway there already." She had a fondness for hyperbole but he got the drift.

And here he was, munching on savory fenugreek rotis that set his taste buds on fire; a source of considerable amusement to his wife. He glowered at her. She smiled serenely, and then to his considerable surprise, doled out some tempering cucumber and mint yogurt dip. He was tempted to believe it was in consideration of his delicate constitution, even though she covered up saying that she was particularly wary of street food.

Mom is sure going to miss out on a lot, he thought. And what about you Rishabh? sneaked in a faint but clear voice. But he chose to ignore it because he was having the time of his life!

As she'd promised, the journey smoothed out. He began to unwind and relax; enjoy the moment--a tourist in his own country. These were his people--a peculiar and fascinating collection of mankind that he'd only heard mentioned in anecdotal references but never experienced firsthand until now (most of previous visits to the homeland having been spent in sterilized air conditioned environs). The thick rainbow turbans, the luxurious facial hair, the beedis, even a fakir with dreadlocks that his wannabe hippie buddies would kill for. All in all, a sight like no other.

His face must have shown it because his companion asked with a perplexed frown, "You like it?"

"I love it! Enthralling just like you."

She looked away, but not before he saw heat rise to her cheeks. He grinned. This jaunt was turning out way better than expected.

And then, just as the warm afternoon breeze mingled with the effects of a gratified stomach lulled Rishabh into a pleasant siesta; the bus came to a screeching halt making him lurch to the left and in the process pin his in-name-only-wife' under his weight.

It was a strikingly delightful experience; one that left him pleasantly benumbed. Do all witches come loaded with such sultriness? How was he to know, this being his first encounter. And she was positively steaming!

Sun kissed cheeks stained a deep pink and those magnificent eyes widened some more, sucking him in, he couldn't breathe... dead, dead sea. "What's up?"

For chrissakes! "Ah. I'm sorry." His eyes flitted around, "Where the hell are we?" The bus was leaning alarmingly on its side, on the unpaved shoulder of an abandoned stretch of highway. And he was treated to a sight that his untrained eye could only equate to a biblical exodus. "Are we under siege?" (Bandit Queen being his favorite childhood flick) "Get down!" He tried manhandling his unwilling spouse under the seat.

"Stop fantasizing! It's a piss halt. You know... take a leak, pee?" She gesticulated with her little finger.

Gosh! He despised it when someone reminded him of his bladder.

She made it worse. "You may want to make use of the opportunity. And no, we don't have rest areas here."

"What if I get bitten by a cobra?"

"There are times in life, when you have to take chances."

Was she laughing at him? He didn't pause to reflect, instead jumped out and after considerable exploration found relief within a grove of acacia trees. As his fellow passengers were none too keen in resuming the journey, he chose the moment to stretch his legs and lungs and listen to the quiet--- the crunch of dry leaves underfoot along with the plaintive song of the Koel and let his mind rest. But it wouldn't. Bitter memories were ever on standby.

Memories of his mother monitoring his bladder habits, of establishing a routine. She had controlled his bladder. She had controlled everything--his clothes, what he ate, where he went, whom he played with--everything! His whole life was planned out, developed and designed as per the dictates of Mrs. Shashank Mehta. And he would have continued in the role of a clueless campaigner if it hadn't been for that one fateful day, when as a freshman, he'd found her snooping in the school grounds--she being worried that her innocent son would fall for the wiles of some chaloo white girls. It was a miracle he hadn't made a break from home. It was then that he'd pledged never to bow to the will of a woman again, ever!

"Rishabhji! You better hurry, unless you wish to spend the rest of the day sharpening your snake charming skills."

Women!

tbc

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