by Simi K. Rao
“Ohhh!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck. “That’s just what a woman longs to hear from her husband, be it the truth or otherwise.”
“It is absolutely nothing but the truth!” he said, holding her back. “Would I ever lie to you? Wait, I have a lot more.”
“You have more?” She raised her eyebrows in surprise.
“Yes.” He nipped the delicate skin on the inside of her elbow. “The silky supple skin, which he yearned to make a meal of—the smooth curves of her bosom, which he couldn’t wait to smother with his bare torso.” Shaan grumbled, “God, girl! You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment. This desire has become a permanent ache inside.”
She emitted a ragged breath when a feather-light peck landed on the cleft revealed by her deep neckline. He rushed to remove his shirt.
The alarm went off shrilly, shattering the quiet and making her scream.
“Oh no!” She scrambled to the side of the bed.
“What the—! You aren’t going anywhere without my say so!”
“I need to go. I’ve promised Mama I’d make breakfast today.”
“Bloody hell! Tell her that her son-in-law is interested in an entirely different type of feast!” He stretched to pull her back.
She fingered his cheek. “I can’t. Daddy’s waiting desperately for his only daughter’s special American pancakes.”
He collapsed on his back, lamenting, “God! A wife like this…”
“Sirf kismet waalon ko milti hai!” (Can be treasured only by a lucky few!) She giggled before hurrying into the bathroom.
***
“Now what prompted you to set this up without consulting me first?” Shaan tried to look furious but failed utterly as he strapped himself into the passenger seat of the old Mercedes.
Ruhi, looking stunning in aviator shades and a deep blue and pink silk sari wrapped demurely around her graceful figure, gave him the once-over. Her dainty hand was placed firmly on the stick shift. Cocking a shapely eyebrow, she enunciated slowly, “Just in case you’ve forgotten, I am your wife—”
“That one I haven’t heard before,” he countered promptly.
She remained unflurried. “Therefore, I possess certain rights just like you do.”
“Good gosh! It’s all news to me! Didn’t seem so earlier this morning!”
She flushed, ready to spit fire. “Well, if you want us to make any progress in our relationship, it’s highly imperative you bury the demons of your past! Now will you please direct the way Mr. Shaan Ahuja?”
He had to admit for perhaps the ninth time that there existed considerable amounts of grey matter behind those dark shades. She has a finger on my pulse for sure, he thought with grudging admiration, but I wasn’t born yesterday either, Mrs. Shaan Ahuja.
After getting her thoroughly riled up in the next half hour by leading her in a merry-go-round about town, he finally steered her to his ancestral home.
Now back in a place that he had been desperately trying to avoid, he felt at a complete loss. Sensing his agitation, Ruhi gave him a reassuring smile while adjusting her sari’s pallu around her shoulders.
“Everything will be fine. I am here by your side,” she said, giving his fingers a tight squeeze.
He smiled back feeling a renewed surge of confidence, and clasping her hand securely in his, strode over to the front door.
But he couldn’t banish the familiar dread that settled deep into his bones as soon as they stepped into the cavernous entryway while Dada, their family’s old faithful, scurried away to inform whoever was around that the prodigal son had returned.
Shaan felt the description appropriate when he glanced around and right away began to associate each and every object in the vicinity with some unhappy memory of his not-so-distant boyhood and youth—such as the priceless red-and-gold China vase (that his father had acquired during one of his innumerable trips abroad) which used to stand on the right of the marble fireplace that Shaan had accidentally run into and wrecked as a willful ten-year-old and ended up receiving the whipping of his life.
Though the scars had long past disappeared from his hide, they remained permanently etched in his memory as evidence of his father’s unbridled cruelty.
It was not unknown that Shiv Ahuja had always treated the inanimate with more deference than any living, breathing creature. “Imposing, isn’t it?” Shaan asked Ruhi as he saw her eyes absorb everything with curious trepidation. Suddenly, he was glad he hadn’t brought his young bride into this cold unwelcome house before now.
She didn’t have time to reply for they were immediately assaulted by the ministrations of his youngest sister-in-law, Manisha bhabhi, who had assumed the monumental task of spreading some cheer into the desolate surroundings, something the rest had given up on long ago.
“Oh my gosh!” she exclaimed as she fluttered into the formal living area. “What am I seeing here? Did I get off the wrong side of the bed this morning, or did my sweet brother-in-law finally decide to share his beautiful biwi with the rest of us poor mortals?”
“You could say so, bhabhi, though I wanted to keep her under cover a lot longer!” Shaan affirmed with pride and saw Ruhi smile with shy pleasure.
Manisha’s genuine laughter echoed round the hall. She perused Ruhi from head to toe then pulled her in to a warm embrace. “I don’t blame you at all for doing so, Shaan, because I’d have done the exact same in your place. What do they say? A rose by any other name—”
“Would smell as sweet. How right you are, bhabhil! My Ruhi is indeed like a lovely rose!” Shaan said, grinning widely while his wife threw him a warning look.
“Bhabhi, this isn’t fair! Where are my little niece and nephew? I just saw a glimpse of them at the wedding.” She interposed to divert the discussion.
“They are still at school. You can see them after they come back. I presume you are staying with us…aren’t you?” Manisha said, looking askance at Shaan.
“No, we are not,” Shaan declared firmly. “We are here briefly just to meet with you and mother. How is she?”
“But, Shaan…” Ruhi said.
“No, Ruhi, I’ve made my decision.” His brown eyes told her clearly he did not welcome any further debate.
When she looked away disappointed, he wished he could recant his words but didn’t want to take the chance; he was trying hard to shield their blossoming relationship from any further insult.
Manisha opted to not argue, being no stranger to Shaan’s stubborn attitude. “Mummyji is not feeling well again. She hasn’t come out of her room for the entire past week.”
“Why, what’s wrong, bhabhi?” Ruhi asked, exchanging an anxious glance with her husband.
“Oh, nothing’s the matter with her! She just wants attention. It has become a monthly ritual. She’ll be fine if you ignore her like I do,” a resounding masculine voice proclaimed.
They wheeled around to see a tall, hefty man stroll into the house who Ruhi recognized as her father-in-law.
He scrutinized both of them for a long time. Even the unflappable Shiv Ahuja couldn’t conceal his astonishment upon seeing his youngest son with wife in tow on his premises, having given up a while ago of expecting Shaan to return anytime soon; their last meeting hadn’t exactly ended on pleasant terms as far as he could recall.
“Jeeti raho beti!” (Live long my child!) he said when Ruhi bowed low to touch his feet, bursting into a loud guffaw when Shaan refused to follow suit. He hadn’t changed.
“What a pleasant surprise! Looks like my son is keeping you happy. Are you, Shaan?” He glanced pointedly at his son.
Ruhi smiled serenely, not very comfortable in the presence of her flamboyant, almost autocratic father-in-law, the exact antithesis of her husband.
“You can judge for yourself.” Shaan was brusque, not appearing too pleased about this mee
ting.
“So you seem to have heeded my advice, that’s my boy!” Shiv Ahuja declared pompously, clapping his son on the back while winking at Ruhi. “Better to keep certain things hidden under the bedsheets, right?”
“It’s not the way you think, Dad.” Shaan bristled with anger when he spied the perplexed look on Ruhi’s face. “I want to talk to you, in private!”
Shiv Ahuja concurred not wasting time with pleasantries; as a businessman, he considered every moment precious.
Waving Shaan to a high-backed Victorian chair in his luxuriously-appointed home office, he got straight to the point, “Why are you so upset when I’m stating the simple fact, son? I didn’t reveal the sordid details, or is bahu so modern she doesn’t mind you carrying on with this mem?”
Shaan didn’t bother to sit; rather, he wished to be anywhere but here. “Don’t insult me by calling me your son. I did not aim to ever carry on with two different women openly, or otherwise, like you!”
Shiv, who had so far believed he’d kept his affairs well isolated, was taken aback. “What are you implying? I never…is that senseless mother of yours telling you tales behind my back? If so, I’ll teach her a lesson…that sick—”
“Don’t you dare call my mother names, Mr. Ahuja! She would take your dirty secrets to the grave if it was up to her. The only way she copes is by locking herself up in a dreary room month after month where she cries unseen when all you do is rain ridicule on her,” Shaan retorted with poorly suppressed disdain. “Every soul in this house is well aware of your extracurricular activities. It’s just so that no one has mustered enough courage to confront you…until now.”
It didn’t take long for Shaan’s father to regain his composure; he being not unlike a seasoned politician. “So what. You are just like me, a regular chip off the old block.”
Shaan’s mouth twisted into a derisive smile. “That’s where you are horribly mistaken. Yes at one time I was fool enough to follow along your misguided path and exploit an innocent life as you so brazenly counseled me to, but fortunately for me and thanks to you, I was saved from committing an unforgiveable crime.”
“Thanks to me?”
“Yes…because it was you who chose Ruhi for my bride. It must have been a lucky stroke of fate she agreed.” Shaan said, smiling to himself, momentarily distracted; their early morning romp still fresh in his mind. He let out an unfulfilled sigh.
“Hmm… It’d appear she has you entangled well and good. I wouldn’t have guessed it by her innocent face.”
“How downright corrupt and disgusting can you get,” Shaan blurted out before it dawned upon him that his father and Des were but two ends of the same spectrum…creatures of habit, irredeemable. Talking to them was like talking to a brick wall. “Corrupt you’ll stand and corrupt will you fall,” he mumbled.
“You’re speaking about me?” Shiv could sense his son slipping farther away.
Shaan strode briskly toward the French doors where he paused for a brief moment to deliver his parting shot. “I came here today just to let you know that as of now I end our twenty-seven-year-old relationship. You cease to be my father, and I cease to be your son.”
“What, son, are you—”
Shaan shot him a fiery glance. “I’ll take that as a habitual slip of tongue, and yes, don’t mention me in your will.”
He watched as his father’s countenance turned purple. “I wasn’t going to, and don’t expect any alms when you and your wife end up scraping for pennies on the streets!”
“I won’t. I have enough confidence in myself to never let such a situation arise,” Shaan retorted before walking out and shutting the door quietly behind him.
Shaan didn’t wish to spend another minute in this house but neither did he want to leave without paying his respects to his mother; he felt he owed her that much.
He found Vibhavari Ahuja in her dark gloomy room looking exceedingly frail and vulnerable in her proverbial rocking chair with Ruhi sitting down at her feet. She was fondling her hair and gazing longingly at her daughter-in-law’s vivacious face. “Beautiful, so beautiful…”
“Tum wapis aa gaye beta?” (You came back, son?)
Feeling an overwhelming sense of remorse sprout through him, he rushed to bury his face in her lap. “I’m so sorry, Ma. Can you ever forgive me?”
“Come now… What happened to you, son?” Vibhavari stuttered, feeling deeply affected herself. “Dekho, your wife is laughing at you. Big boys don’t cry.”
Shaan looked up and saw years of pain reflected in her sad eyes. “No, Ma, I’m still your little child, your five-year-old who used to gambol for hours in your lap and refuse to sleep until you sang to him the same old lullaby a million times because he was afraid of the dark. I am the same Shaan who abandoned you when you needed him the most. But now I’ve come back to repent. I’m going to take you out of this dreadful place… Come with me.”
Vibhavari stared in wonder at his face and shook her head. “No, beta, no matter what, this is the only place where I’ll live and die. Besides, what will I do in a new town except get in your way? You young folks have barely started your lives together.”
“But, maaji, please consider Shaan’s suggestion,” Ruhi said, aghast to witness the deterioration in her mother-in-law’s health in such a short time span. “A new place and a new atmosphere can sometimes do wonders.”
“No, my dear child, I can’t move away. This old house has grown so used to me that it’ll perish if I leave. But I’ll be here waiting for you when you come back to visit me, perhaps with my little grandson or daughter who I’m sure will be as beautiful as you two,” she said, lovingly touching their faces. “But don’t make me wait too long, all right?”
Ruhi took a sideways glance at Shaan’s pensive face as they drove back and decided not to probe into what had transpired between him and his father. Still, he appeared more relaxed and at peace with himself, for which she was very thankful.
She twisted the unfamiliar heavy gold bracelet, which her mother-in-law had clasped around her wrist, and prayed fervently she’d be able to see her again.
***
Evening arrived and the scene changed dramatically from one that was somber to the extent of almost being hostile to one which was resplendent with the pomp and show of a gala North Indian wedding—that of Ruhi’s best friend, Radhika with her other best friend, Abhay.
The noise, the teeming life, and the confusion resembled the melee at a fish market. A foreigner would have a tough time finding himself in such a vast crowd, and unless as a child you’ve been forged by repeated exposure, you are bound to run a mile.
But the two guests of honor encountered no such trouble. Ruhi, looking simply gorgeous in her spouse’s favorite silk sari of maroon and yellow enhanced with intricate zari work all over, and her husband, Shaan, dashing in a mustard and maroon sherwani—which he had spent all afternoon shopping for—had eyes only for each other.
“Thank you, Shaan, for making it. Finally Ruhi looks like herself again. You should’ve seen her face yesterday.”
Shaan acknowledged the greeting of Ruhi’s friend and sneaked a glance at his wife who was chatting away animatedly with her friends, her lovely face radiant with unbound happiness.
He took keen interest in the proceedings having been mentally absent at most of his own. And when it was time for the Saat Pheres, he grabbed his surprised wife’s hand and forced her to follow suit.
***
“Now why did you do that?”
“Do what?” Shaan asked.
“Make me prance around the fire after you? Haven’t we done that before?” Ruhi queried, glancing at Shaan’s reflection in the dresser mirror.
Her husband looked up from where he had been intently perusing an album containing pictures from Ruhi’s college days; he found it fascinating. “Since I didn’t pay much attention during our
own wedding and have no interest in redoing it in it’s entirety, I found this a great opportunity to renew my vows. It feels good now that I have.”
“But what about my vows? I didn’t renew them!”
Standing her up by the shoulders, he explained, “You didn’t have to ‘cause you took them with all sincerity the first time. You don’t have to prove anything to me, but I have everything to prove to you.”
“No you don’t,” she said then, after a slight hesitation, asked, “So you forgive me?”
“Forgive you? What for?” Shaan asked.
“For charging all that money to your credit card, $3,500 is no small amount.” She looked anxious.
“Oh!” Turning away to hide his amusement, he said, “But that’s a different matter altogether. Besides, it was $10,000, not $3,500.”
“What? But it’s been hardly four days since I bought the ticket, and even if you add up all the interest, it’d never come to that much,” she declared, coming around to face him.
“Then what of the greenbacks I was forced to splurge on my business class ticket. Who is responsible for that?” he asked, assuming a severe stance.
“Oh no! Foolish, foolish me,” she muttered, her brow knitting together into a worried frown. “It’ll take me a lifetime to pay back such a sum. How am I going to do it?”
“There’s an easier way. You could split it fifty-fifty, half now, half later.”
“Then tell me please, I’m willing to do anything,” she asked, her eyes shining with enthusiasm.
“Anything?” He raised a doubtful eyebrow.
“Well…almost anything.” She colored violently, catching his drift.
“One half gets taken care of if you agree to spend the rest of your life with me.” He extended his hand. “Kapish?”
She nodded, slipping her hand into his grasp, allowing him to yank her body against his rugged chest. “And the other half?” she asked breathlessly, leaning on him as her knees started to buckle.
“By completing what you left cruelly undone earlier this morning…”
She closed her eyes and let him assault her lips like a starving man attacks his first meal—fierce, all out, holding nothing back.