Samir was on his way back home, cab winding its way along the well-worn traffic-infested roads of Sion-Dharavi, while his mind played truant a million miles away.
It would have been their first Karwa Chauth tomorrow and she didn't want to do it; the thought ran circles around his mind like an annoying little kid, untameable, intent on destroying the peace.
She didn't believe in it. Not that he did; surely, no one in their right minds could! But there was a part of him that was disappointed. It was, after all, a sweet token, a gesture of love, wasn't it?
It would have been their first Karwa Chauth tomorrow and she didn't want to do it; the thought ran circles around his mind like an annoying little kid, untameable, intent on destroying the peace.
She didn't believe in it. Not that he did; surely, no one in their right minds could! But there was a part of him that was disappointed. It was, after all, a sweet token, a gesture of love, wasn't it?
Their lunch conversation in office that day hadn't helped; this was all anyone could talk about. Rajiv had been made fun of as usual, for being a love-struck 'joru ka gulaam', this time for his intent to fast along with his wife. A few of his colleagues were planning their own grand gestures in return, jewellery and what not. They tried to be nonchalant, but Samir could sense something, pride, love, a sense of occasion at the very least, behind their facade.
He loved his wife, and the fact that she was a strong and independent woman who knew her mind. But, still..
She opened the door before he could ring the doorbell and jumped into his arms; he was thrown at first and then realised that she was waving a piece of paper in his face, trying to tell him something, incoherent with excitement.
He snatched the paper and read it with growing astonishment, it was an admit from the London Business School for the Masters in Finance program that he had applied to a while ago, and promptly forgotten about.
He was confused - happy of course, but as the full import of it started to seep through, he looked at her helplessly and told her that he could obviously not accept. They had just got married, and the program meant living away for a year, more importantly it meant all of their meagre savings, and no salary for a year or more till he found a suitable job.
He snatched the paper and read it with growing astonishment, it was an admit from the London Business School for the Masters in Finance program that he had applied to a while ago, and promptly forgotten about.
He was confused - happy of course, but as the full import of it started to seep through, he looked at her helplessly and told her that he could obviously not accept. They had just got married, and the program meant living away for a year, more importantly it meant all of their meagre savings, and no salary for a year or more till he found a suitable job.
Priya looked at him, with amazement on her face, and then smiled. Her husband was certifiably insane. She sat him down, and explained, as one would to a child, that she earned enough to be able to support them for a year or two, that he had nothing to worry about.
And then as if reading his mind, she added, "Think of this as my way of doing Karwa Chauth. I can't pretend to pray for your life, but I will support you in all the dreams you have for your life."
And then mischievously,
"Samir, jaa jee le apni zindagi."
"Samir, jaa jee le apni zindagi."
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