Mr. India had started his culinary skills shortly after being married to his Marathi mulgi. A sudden realization had set in the day they had their first breakfast together, peacefully, that his wife is not fond of any of the South India dishes, while they ate to their hearts content. She would not speak to him other than an occasional yes or no, and on bad days, she would just glare at him. Raghav was scared of her, but he would never admit that. It was detrimental to his intimidating image. Besides, he was still carrying the guilt of his misgivings.
Regardless of his guilt and her silence, they were finally getting on better terms, though not as husband and wife. It was too early to call it a budding friendship as well. Raghav concluded that they were on ceasefire, which was not too bad after all. She had given up the thought of moving to her brother after he persuaded her that one time she was almost leaving. Obviously, that came at a cost. After all, his Marathi mulgi is a woman of strong mettle. He often hears Jai Shivaji music every time she walks in on him unexpectedly. By now, the lyrics are at heart. Damn! Marriage definitely makes a man bow down, its a trap.
Moving along, her first offer was that he had to pay for her MBA course, which he readily accepted. He came to discover that his wife was not interested in selling sarees, well, it was not her first hobby. She had always wanted to pursue her education but the turn of events always sunk her deeper into her grave. Her second offer was that he takes up culinary classes. He took up both offers because he recently watched The Godfather and realized that Don always makes an offer that cannot be refused. He missed being the Don of this house. He also felt terrible that he was nothing like Don Corleone and made a mental note of reading all Mario Puzo novels for tips on how to be a good Don, if there was anything like a good don.
The cooking classes were surprisingly interesting. Raghav discovered that his first hobby was not to play don. It was a rather simpler one, a more domesticated hobby: Cooking. After he dropped Pallavi to her university in the evenings, he drove to his new found hobby, thanks to his wife. He found cooking to be therapeutic as well. His business was going well but it came with stress and several troubles with the tax man. This new found hobby was definitely a good departure from regular work. He was slowly mastering all marathi dishes, not to his surprise anymore.
Pallavi was also doing remarkably well in her course, but it pricked his heart that she chose to call herself as Pallavi Sawant and not Rao. He was not worried about the university chaps eyeing his wife. She was too beautiful, any sane man will definitely give her a second glance. He was not worried about her falling in love with another man. His wife was a woman of remarkable character even if she did not consider him her husband, yet.
Their drive back home involved discussing their classes, sharing theories and recipes. Raghav felt good to hear Pallavi speak to him at time went by and he looked forward to their drives together. He was sure Pallavi enjoyed it as well, for he caught her smiling several times as he drove and spoke about new recipes. Or maybe she was just salivating. Food makes hearts go crazy, who said anything about love?
It was finally time to put his skills to test. How time flies, nine months is a long time. Raghav felt like he was in an examination hall, under prying eyes of his wife and mother, while his sister laughed away. He loved his sister but he could stuff her mouth with idlis to shut her up. The last time he felt this way was when he was preparing for his final exams and his worst subject was finance and tax. Rather, it was just tax. He loved finance. He performed terribly. Tax was definitely not his forte and he made sure he never pays any tax as well. He should not be thinking of tax right now, the new customs officer is chewing on his brains for more "chai pani". How much more could a man want? Surely, greed will consume humanity. While his brain and heart spoke to each other about taxes and humanity, his dish was ready. Thank God for hands that have mastered recipes like muscle memory, for the brain and heart always messes up in the most crucial time.
Dinner was served. With bated breath, he waited for feedback. As he watched them eat, he realized that chewing is a rather noisy, nasty and strenuous process. Human beings are reduced to looking like cows. He liked cows, they're gentle, but when a human looks like a cow, one can't help but laugh. Internally. Don is present and stuffing her mouth with the dish he specially prepared for her. But she looked pretty even while chewing. Her soft features seemed to soften at every bite she took and as she relished the dishes before her, she appeared more beautiful than ever. Raghav made a mental note to look up his new found fetish. Chewing fetish. Does that even exist? Why bother, these days everything is going haywire.
"And?" asks Raghav.
"And, what?"
"How was it? Did you enjoy it? How was the taste, did I add too much salt?"
"You will receive your assessment results tonight"
"Okay ma'am"
To say that Raghav was nervous was an understatement. It's not normal for a man to be nervous about his cooking skills, but it mattered to Raghav and he had stopped thinking of reasons behind his nervousness. He waited in his room for her to drop by for her daily good night wish. It's funny how one gets accustomed to the ever evolving dynamics of relationships and new formed habits. He loved to see her before they went separate ways for a good night slumber. Raghav hears Pallavi knock. She did not have to knock, he often said.
"So, what is your verdict Pallavi? Pass or fail?"
"Good night Raghav" she smiles and hands him an envelope.
Damn, women. Why is it always hard to read them. Raghav thought that he'll easily sign up for a course on understanding women, if there was any. He opens the envelope, grumpily but slightly excited.
It's her MBA results. Why would she share her results and not give him his final verdict? Women are so confusing. Of course, he is curious. Did she do well? He reads out her results.
Distinction. His heart is in a frenzy. She's an amazing woman. Strong, dependable, responsible, loving and exceptionally intelligent and he is proud of his crazy don wife.
"Oh well, I guess I will have to wait for my verdict"
Raghav had formed a habit of speaking to himself, just like Pallavi. He puts the results back on the side table when something caught his eye and stopped him in his track. With shaky hands and a palpitating heart, he picks up the results again.
Name of candidate: Mrs. Pallavi Raghav Rao.
Raghav's happiness knew no bounds and he found himself tearing up, with several questions running through his scattered brain. But for now, he let the tears dropped as he found himself in her acceptance. He held the paper to his heart and cried himself to sleep, just that this time, he cried out of happiness.
The next morning, Pallavi received a hand written card as she woke up.
"What's on the menu, you ask? All of me, forever" ^ Love, Raghav.
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Hello good people! I hope you enjoy reading this one shot which I just thought of writing before I go to bed. Today's episode really intrigued me, albeit differently. My favorite part was Raghav talking about food and the excitement I saw on his face really made its way into my heart. His love for food was quite apparent, and the way he said batata poha and all the other dishes made me chuckle. And when he said he is going to learn it for her......there goes my heartbeat. I think Raghav will make an amazing chef. By the way, Raghav has friends? News to me 😆
I hope you enjoy reading this light hearted story, which I entirely dedicate to my favorite Raghav.
PS: ignore spelling mistakes or grammar mistakes, I need to sleep. I don't usually publish without proof reading, but what the hell, right?
Good night!
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