#1| IshRa : Meherbaan FF | Thread One - Complete. Moved to Thread Two. - Page 21

C H A P T E R 10 S A B M E R A T U Part A

Chapter Edited by Dhara (@dsgirl)

Raman had always loved the colorful chaos that came along with life - that was the fun in being Indian, he had concluded. The loudness, the overly done events, the class consciousness and everyone's struggle to move ahead in life whilst entwining their lives with you. Raman's fondest childhood memory had to be one of those days where his mother relieved from her daily chores and relaxed as she chatted with her friends - something that she had stopped doing upon moving to Delhi. Delhi had been their home since Raman was a ten year old kid. Their move to Delhi had never been an opposed one. Raman was born into a middle class Punjabi family - who were wealthy rurally in their little world but in the real world their wealth had meant nothing, Raman's father was an ambitious person who strived hard to succeed. He had moved to Delhi at the mere age of thirty five with three kids and a heavily pregnant wife. Life in Delhi wasn't difficult, nor was it easy - it was moderate, just the way they liked it. Papaji had left early in the morning only to return late at night. He had started his own business and it was flourishing, enough to keep four kids fed and clothed. There wasn't much left but what remained behind was invested in their kids' future. Raman had always been Papa's favourite boy - until he married Shagun. Shagun, who brainwashed him against his parents. Papaji had never said anything against Raman, who joined his father's rivals company nor had Papaji said anything when Shagun instigated Raman against him - all he had wanted was the son who he doted upon to dust away the dust that protected him from the realities of life. His Raman who was keen on making his way in the harsh world had refused help from his father. Raman had toiled away like a camel in a desert with Shagun being his oasis - his mirage. When Raman had finally dusted himself, it was too late for him. Not only was he served with Shagun's betrayal but also Papaji's attack that forced him out of his misery. The two events put together had killed Raman Bhalla - the gentle soul and in place of him came Raman Kumar Bhalla - the fierce, cunning and ruthless businessman with no care or feeling. Raman Bhalla was the caterpillar which had morphed into Raman Kumar Bhalla.

Upon realising that his father's life long work was just for him - his Papaji's Happy. Papaji who had recognised Raman dream as a kid had brought it up to reality using the last 15 years to form a base which later gave birth to Raman Kumar Bhalla. A gift that could never be surpassed - not even by Adi. His father's sweat, blood and youth just to form a base for his son to build his dreams on - the industries had always been Raman's - from the day they were founded and for the four and half years to come Raman had just expanded his father's business that would always be his. He had toiled day and night all over again - this time for himself. For his family. For the daughter he would never profess his love to. For karma, who bit him in the ass for no god damn reason.

And then came Ishita barging into his life - his firecracker. As dangerous as she had turned out to be she had given him more times the joy. She had thought him to live. To love. To breathe. To let go. She had taken over his responsibility, if not shared them and in return she had only asked for trust, faith and hope. Three things that he had given her unconditionally along with their daughter. Along with the hurt that came along with being tied to him. She had smiled as she held his hand, joining him in their journey through life and death. And to her vows she had been his wife - in happiness, in sickness, in rich, in poor, without doubt, with faith. Theirs had been a relationship that no world's could describe and she had loved and cared for anyone and everyone but him. Care, yes. Love, no. Their life was no fairytale, but he intended for it to be. They had a life of their own and he would truly make it theirs. Raman Kumar Bhalla refused to be friend zoned by his own wife out of all people.

That night after being a loner in a room full of strangers who admired and worshipped him for his accomplishments and power rather than attempting to know him, Raman had decided to retire to bed. To Ishita's bed. Ishita had just given him an apprehensive nod, indicating him to go ahead. Raman's luggage was brought and moved to Ishita's room. He had laid on the bed, and within seconds he had fallen asleep. The dance practices with the backup dancers taking toll on him. He could imagine Ishita's jokes as he fell asleep "Buddhe ho rahe ho Raman. 12 years ke bete jo hai. Look at you, white hair. Murugan, my husband is getting old. Ye kya hai."

Hours later Raman was awakened with his face in Ishita's cleavage as his Madrasan stared at him. He had stood still of how long, he didn't know until Ishita had calmly stated, "Oh you woke up. Call up Anmol. My phone is dead. Ruhi has decided to sleep over at Tammy's. Shravan peed his pants and then cried for hours only to join Ruhi and Tammy on their sleepover, our daughter is such a Gangster. Poor Vandu akka. Not only is she pregnant, she now almost had a hysterical son to take care of."

"Ruhi will be fine for a day, Ishita. It's so late. Leave them alone for a day."

"It's not Ruhi. That little Juliet has locked up my cupboards or instead, has made someone lock then and now I have nothing to wear. "

"So you're going to bed in this?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Do you want a choice? Okay, stop glaring, with your smudged makeup... it's scary. Wear one of my shirts. They'll fit you and it's just us in the room."

"You dream huge. Some serious hopes there, why Mr Bhalla. I'll wear a bikini for you."

"That's on our to do list but change first. God. Though that looks great on you, you've worn it the whole day and not to forget night and there's no way you're sleeping with me wearing that."

"I never said that I was sleeping with you. Why would I sleep with you? Sleep with you, haaaw. Ramaaan."

"Feel free to sleep on the floor then. Actually no, I don't want to be tagged as a horrible husband. Just change and come will you, we'll even watch one of your lame shows if you do it fast, it won't make a difference."

"My body does nothing for you, why don't we experiment?"

Raman suddenly hated the volunteer in him. If only she had known the things her body or the thought of it did to him. She would run away blushing while he penned down the next book that could knock Kamasutra off it's position. Experiment, he was gone for. Dead. Gone. Minced. Gone.

Ishita had then emerged in his shirt, it covered every part of her perfectly the sad part being it ended eight inches above her knees, giving him bad ideas. He couldn't be sane. Heck, sanity was the last thing on his mind. Asking him to keep sane was like asking a sex addict to abstain from the act.

Raman, stop perving on your wife, he chastised himself. But she's your wife, another part of him responded. And she's a feminist, the last thing you need is a lecture, the first part of him taunted.

It was Ishita's new forte to trip and fall over flat surfaces and she had done just that. His wife had tripped with the help her own two feet and toppled right over him, landing them in a severely compromising position. That was how Raman Bhalla, innocent Raman Bhalla, father of two kids who was sitting at the foot of his wife's bed pondering over sweet nothings was double attacked by his wife. First, when she walked out of the washroom as if begging him to devour her then and then. And the second, when to make matters worse she had landed right on top him - right on top him and between his legs to be precise and they now lay splattered on her bed, her wet hair plastered all over her face now devoid of all the makeup she had worn for the day as his wife stared at him with a soulful gaze.