The Accidental Wife (6 page)

The End or a New Beginning

S
o this is where she lives, Rihaan mused, as the taxi cab rolled to a halt in front of a series of quaint, old red brick buildings in a relatively quiet and secluded neighborhood just outside the Delhi University Enclave. The thick morning fog that cloaked the entire locale had just begun to lift bestowing an oddly surreal and mystical essence to the surroundings.

“Block D is right in front of you,
sahib,”
the cabbie remarked, pointing to the apartments at the very end of the street.

Instructing the man to wait, Rihaan sprinted in that direction.

The name board at the bottom of the stairs announced that Naina Rathod’s apartment was located on the 4th floor. Deepika’s name was not listed alongside hers.

Hope she’s at home and in a receptive mood,
he thought as he raced up the staircase.

“Ruko!
Stop!”

Pausing mid-stride, Rihaan twisted around but didn’t spot where the voice was coming from.

“Look down, mister!”

Rihaan craned his neck and detected a rail-thin, bespectacled boy barely over eight or nine years old scowling up at him.

“If you are heading for Naina
didi’s
place, let me tell you she doesn’t see anyone without an appointment. Do you have one?”

Rihaan cocked an amused eyebrow. “Uh…no, I don’t. Perhaps she’ll see me without one? By the way, who are you may I ask?”

Puffing up his frail chest, the boy declared with pride, “I’m her bodyguard and personal secretary. Anyway, you won’t find her at home right now. She teaches tutorials every morning.”

Rihaan took a quick peek at his watch. “I guess I’ll have to wait then.”

“Oh…you don’t give up, do you? Are you one of her
aashiqs
? Haven’t seen you around before,” the boy asked suspiciously.

“Aashiqs?
What
Aashiqs?”

“One among her many students and colleagues who keep dropping by on some pretext or other, wanting to chat or take her out.”

So she has bewitched quite a few other men as well! Poor rascals!
Rihaan thought amused.

“Are you her boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend? Why do you ask?” Rihaan queried curiously.

“You are her type, I think. Serious, and…not really bad to look at,” the boy admitted grudgingly. “If not, then I was going to ask her to wait a few more years till I’m all grown upwhen we can be together and…”

“Zip your mouth,
bachu,
cause I
am
her boyfriend,” Rihaan erupted.
Gosh! Did I really say that? I must have gone mad!

He cleared his throat. “We…had a slight tiff yesterday and I am here to apologize to Naina. So when you see her do not reveal that I’m here. I want it to be a surprise.” He winked conspiratorially before continuing up.

After the passage of a harrowing ten minutes, when hope of her return had faded to a faint glimmer, he heard the boy shout excitedly down below.

“Di
…you are back!”

Popping his head cautiously over the balustrade, Rihaan spotted the figure of a girl emerge from the fog, riding like the wind on a bicycle, hair flying loose and wild behind her.

His breath caught in his throat.
Why does she affect me like this?

She jumped down, laughing and out of breath. “What’s up, Saket? Didn’t you go to school today?”

“No,
di
. I was practicing at being your bodyguard,” the boy said glancing up pointedly.

Rihaan drew back in a hurry.

“Bodyguard? Why would I need one?”

“Zamaana kharaab hai di, aap bahut bholi ho!”
(It’s a bad world out there and you’re very naïve.)

Rihaan heard the sounds of a scuffle, and then her crystal clear voice rang out, “First learn to defeat me in an arm wrestle, then think of becoming my bodyguard, Saket. Now get your butt to school and stop making lame excuses!
Chal phatt!”

“Okay
di,”
the boy sounded peeved. “But there’s a surprise waiting for you upstairs!”

“Surprise? What surprise? Not one of your pranks, Saket!”

“Check it out for yourself,
di.”

Holding his breath, Rihaan pressed his back against the wall as her quick feet raced up the four flights of stairs and then came to an abrupt halt.

Don’t look at her, Rihaan. Don’t!
But he had to. He was coerced by her beauty.

From the top of her lovely little head to the bottom of her scruffy keds, his gaze embraced her, drinking in her flushed cheeks, her soft lips parted in a surprised ‘O’, her lissome figure not disguised by the worn-out jeans, or the thick, beige turtleneck sweater or those beautiful, bright eyes…

Rihaan wrenched his mind back to sanity. “So…it appears I have to get an appointment to seek audience with my own wife?”

***

Meanwhile, Naina’s brain had also taken a hike.
Oh God, no! It’s him again!
Wonder what he wants from me now? I escaped narrowly last night. And worse, he looks even more hunky in those rumpled clothes and stubble, plus his red-rimmed eyes.
Bechara!

“Wife hogi meri jooti!”(Wife, my foot!)
she mumbled.

“What did you say?” he glowered.

Naina stepped back and would have taken a tumble down the stairs hadn’t he caught her arm just in time.

“I…said that I’m not your wife.”

“So the actuality of both of us prancing around the sacred flames not too long ago has already left your mind?”

“I… I just meant I’m not your wife in
that
sense.” She snatched her arm away.

“Oh… I take it you mean like in the convergence of two hearts! You know very well I don’t care for that sort of nonsense,” he snapped.

She blushed crimson. “I don’t either! Anyway, what brings you here? I thought we were over!”

“Darling…” He bent down, speaking in a loud whisper, his mouth close to her ear. “Don’t you think it’d be better if we took our argument indoors? Looks like we may have an unwanted audience.”

“What…?” Naina’s voice shook as she glanced around and spied Saket ducking out of sight.

“Just get in, will you?” Rihaan grabbed the keys from her trembling hands and pushed the door open.

“I’m sorry.” Naina was apologetic. “I…I have not been able to rest at all since yesterday. Deepika deceived both of us and many other things have been weighing on my mind, such as how am I going to afford the rent of this place anymore.” She spread her arms in a helpless gesture.

Rihaan smiled. “It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize. By the way, you have a beautiful place here.”

“It is small, but I try to keep it cheerful.” She was inwardly pleased he liked it. The apartment was indeed quite pleasant, with simple wicker furniture tastefully decorated with cushions in bright pastels, large windows draped in sheer linen admitting lots of sun, and off-white walls displaying an array of art.

“They are gifts from a couple of students of mine,” Naina said, when she saw Rihaan examine one of the pieces closely.

“Hmmm…that must mean you are a very good teacher.”

“Nothing beyond the ordinary. Anyway, how did you find me and what do you want?” she asked, throwing her arms up and going into a lazy stretch.

Rihaan blinked, riveted again. She straightened up at once.

“I…got your address from Deepika’s parents. I need a favor.”

“You could have saved a lot of effort if you had just asked for my number last night,” she retorted with a coy smile.

***

He felt something unfamiliar stir inside his chest.
I have only you to blame for my stupidity,
Rihaan thought, gazing silently at her.

“Oh My God! I suddenly remembered I am hungry! Have you had breakfast?” she asked, suddenly looking annoyed.

“Breakfast? No. But I don’t have any time.” He peeked at his watch again.

“Please!? Not a speck of grain has entered my stomach since yesterday morning. I will die of hunger, then I won’t be of any use to you at all.” She smiled again before heading toward what Rihaan assumed was the kitchen.

“I can make
phataphat
upma
in just ten minutes!” she said peering at him through the open door frame. “Meanwhile you can relate your troubles to me. C’mon spill it. Don’t be shy!”

Rihaan stepped into the tiny kitchen to find it dwarfed by his lanky frame. Folding wiry arms across his chest, he leaned gingerly against the wall and watched as she went about her task in a haphazard fashion. Her attempts at putting on a show of neatness and method were failing hopelessly.

“Go ahead, what are you waiting for?” she said with a virulent glare, incriminating him for her inefficiency.

“I want my rights.”

“What?”
She turned away from the refrigerator and gawked at him.

“My parents are flying in today and I want you to be there to greet them with me as my wife… I mean, play the role of my wife.”
Hell! What am I saying? Asking? She
is
my wife!

“Why would I want to do that? You know our marriage meant nothing to me!”

“Nor does it to me, but right now I’m in a major bind. If I don’t produce a wife today, my mom is sure to kill me!” Rihaan said trying to assume his best beseeching expression. He hadn’t found much use for it in recent years.

She regarded him silently. “You don’t look that delicate to me. Why don’t you just tell her the truth? She’ll understand. She’s your mother after all.”

“If that was all it took I’d do so in a heartbeat. But my mother, she won’t stop there. She will start by making a mockery of me in front of the entire family, then she will take it upon herself to save me by hooking me up with a girl of her choice back in the States. That’s even worse than my current situation!”

“Really…is it?” Naina’s eyes brightened with an eerie light. “Perhaps it’s better for you to be a mama’s boy and do as she says. Maybe the girl she finds would be exactly the one you need…beautiful, accomplished, competent, supportive…”

“And a nag! They have all been trained in the art…every single one!” he exclaimed vehemently. “I have personally witnessed the destruction of some of my friends’ lives and I’d rather go to hell than join the ranks! Please don’t say no. Naina, I…”

She put her hand up to stop him. “Okay…I need some time to think about it.”

“But…they’ll be here any moment now.”

“Can’t you wait a few minutes at least till the
upma
is done? Good heavens! You men are all the same. Want everything this very instant!” she said, hustling him out into the hallway. “Just go sit there and it’ll be ready before you know it.”

A few minutes later Naina walked into the living room with the food just as she had promised, and found him in deep perusal of a large album.

“This certainly doesn’t look like the portfolio of an aspiring model,” he remarked, scrutinizing the black and white photographs.

She placed a plate of the hot aromatic semolina dish on the table. Sniffing at the fragrance, he recalled that he too hadn’t consumed much of anything even remotely nourishing since yesterday.

“Eat up first!” she said.

Placing a spoonful in his mouth, he chewed thoughtfully. “It’s excellent.”

“Thanks,” she said with a happy smile before spooning some into her own mouth. “You are fibbing! I forgot to add salt!”

“I don’t salt my food. It’s bad for you. I like it this way.”

“Well maybe. But I really think you said so just to please me.”

“Can’t I?”

She blushed, then quickly changed the topic and began speaking in earnest, pointing to various pictures in the album. They were of regular people; in particular children stricken by poverty—stark, bold and real.

Rihaan’s brow furrowed in thought looking at the photos. “These are really good. Each and every one evokes deep contemplation. What’s your connection?”

“I’m a freelance photojournalist,” she explained simply. “And these are some of the scenes I’ve captured over the years. I strongly subscribe to the opinion that a single picture is worth a lot more than a thousand words.”

“Really? This is amazing.” He was in awe as he flipped through the remaining pages. “And what is this? I think I saw it in a magazine somewhere.” He indicated a portrait of a terrified young boy clothed in rags fleeing from a mob of angry men, holding a piece of bread in his hand. “You took this, too?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “It was for a feature on street children in
Landscape
magazine and this happened to be one among those chosen. I shot it in one of the slums of Mumbai. It’s meant to illustrate that most juveniles steal out of necessity, not because they derive pleasure from committing an audacious crime. They are entitled to rehabilitation. Instead our society bundles them into prison where they are bred into hardened criminals. And
we
complain about sky rocketing crime rates!”

Rihaan observed quietly as she sat there stock still, staring intensely at the picture; fine eyes aflame, delicate nostrils flared, and generous lips pursed into a thin line. She looked different…driven.