The BMW sped through the night.
The environment within could be termed as electric' and to some extent, even volatile'. Ananya stared fixedly ahead, muttering something under her breath as Kabir navigated the sleek vehicle in the evening rush.
"What a day. On my mark, get set, go! This is what you have got reduced to, Ms Ananya Kashyap turned Sharma? Get up early in the morning, make breakfast, pack lunch and start! Then this Trisha had to fall sick today! That girl can't take care of herself. And the channel can't find a substitute of her calibre, and I have to plug the gap!"
A small smile graced her husband's face as he whistled a tune from the bygone era.
GGGussa itna haseen ho to...
But it only served to add some fuel to the fire. Ananya resembled a pressure cooker on the verge of explosion.
"And Mr Kabir Know It All Sharma...and that oily baldie Khalid..."her mutterings paused for the want of a better adjective, "asking me to anchor the gossip show Ba Bahoo aur Lighter..."
"Not lighter, Maachis!" the words were out of Kabir's mouth before he realized the impact. Ananya exploded with a blinding flash.
"You keep your mouth shut, OK? I am not your stupid, stammering, muttering reporter here. Leave that for the office!"
"Ananya...darling...I only wanted to.." He tried another effort after being sure that she was belted in. Which she was, but one could not count on it for long.
"Dont you Da-aarling me, OK? Leave that for Malvika at the office. Or for Trisha, who will start salivating at one smile from you. Oooph! Aaah! Kabir Sir this, Kabir Sir that! Cant stand such fangirling. And I can't understand how you can!"
"Jealous, aren't we?" Kabir certainly knew how to needle her. And of course, her sensitive spots.
"JEALOUS! ME?" She turned to him, ready to lunge. He ducked instantaneously. She might as well throw the mobile at him. "You know what's jealousy, Mr Kabir Sharma? The expression on your face when Manav hugged me. Or when I hugged Ronnie. That expression was worth a million dollars. I just hope someone would have captured that expression, I would have aired it as "Pati bhi kabhi Boss tha...or "Comedy circus with Kabir Sharma", on your dear Trisha's show. I am sure the trps would have soared much earlier!"
There was silence in the car after that. Phew, that was close, Kabir thought as he shifted gears to negotiate a speed breaker. Any further needling would have resulted in a full fledged nuclear war. Even there you could escape if you reached the shelter in time. Here there was no escape and certainly no chance of survival.
The cold war continued till they reached the apartment. The last gears disengaged themselves with a click and the door opened inwards to a spacious flat in a posh locality of the city. Kabir threw himself on the sofa, desperate for a cup of coffee but decided against it after a look at his still smouldering wife.
The day had been a long one. Right from sniffing for a story to the investigation and the final draft, she had been up on her toes the entire day. Then Trisha had reported sick and her work doubled. Not that she would mind it, but to do a gossip show like Saas-Bahu was not her cup of tea. She was just not made for that style of reporting. And that made the job even more difficult.
He subconsciously reached for the remote and switched on the TV, wherein a repeat telecast of her show was being aired.
A small smile graced his lips as he took in his bubbly wife rattle off the gossip like a trained parrot. She looked so cute, fighting off the anxiety of being in an unknown terrain and a rebellious lock of hair at the same time. He never knew when he paused the display and reached out, feeling her facial outline with his fingertips, ending at the luscious lips as they pouted and unpouted...
Ten chimes from the clock alerted him about the hour. Where was she? He tiptoed across the house. She was not in the kitchen and not in the study either. So that left one place.
Their bedroom. He silently opened the door and there she was. He could discern a silhouette of her sleeping. She had turned away to the wall and cuddled his pillow in her arms.
Hey..was she asleep? Kabir's sharp eye detected a movement that suggested otherwise. He tiptoed back to the kitchen and returned back with a tray bearing two steaming mugs of hot chocolate.
"Room Service! Miss Kashyap?" he enveloped her from behind and whispered in her ears, half anticipating the recoil. But luckily his wife had cooled down significantly by then.
She sniffled in reply. He turned her to him and stuck a theatrical pose.
"Some hot chocolate for my lady! And then I am ordering pizza!"
"I am not hungry!"
"Oh really?"
She sat bolt upright in the bed at his mocking tone.
"Point no 1, I am not Miss Kashyap anymore. Point no 2, I hate Pizza, it is too fattening for me. Point no 3.."
He silenced her by a finger, "Point no 3 I can complete for you. You are tired and would love to have a hot chocolate prepared by your loving husband. Right?"
A lone tear trickled down her cheek.
"Tsk, tsk...what a waste of water!" Kabir caught the tear just in time. "Now I can understand why Delhi is facing water shortage!"
She smiled amidst tears and accepted the mug. He took the other one.
"Upto the mark?"
She nodded her appreciation and licked back the frothy remnant of the drink from her upper lip.
"And after that..." he was suddenly serious as she handed over the drained mug.
"What...?" She looked at him in askance.
"I am still hungry!"
"You said we are ordering pizza?"
"I am not going to have Pizza!"
"Then what? Shall I cook..."
Kabir smacked his palm against his head. His wife had missed the crux of the convo, as always. He pulled her in his arms.
"Now do I have to be that specific, Mrs Sharma?"
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