The Accidental Wife Page 9

  “What’s up?” Rihaan asked. “Anything wrong?”

  Naina started and glanced over her shoulder, not realizing that all along she’d been subject to his surreptitious perusal.

  “No, it’s nothing,” she said, her voice short.

  “Fine,” Rihaan retorted. “You’re welcome to your miseries. But please help me out of mine. I’m dying to meet my in-laws!”

  The flash of anger in her eyes deepened his grin which infuriated her even more, but she chose to look away so he wouldn’t see her expression.

  “Hold on!” Their driver let out a shrill warning just as he took a sharp turn and began climbing a steep incline.

  Rihaan reached over and made a grab for Naina’s waist. She didn’t struggle as she was too preoccupied with her own thoughts. Holding her close, he stared at her face while the rickety cart lumbered up the hillside.

  The scenery was rustic and the situation tranquil, yet it couldn’t belie the upheaval in both their hearts.

  Relationships

  Rihaan couldn’t pass up an opportunity to tease Naina. He chided her, “You made a big mistake by not getting your family’s blessings for our marriage. At the least they had a right to know.”

  “They wouldn’t have agreed,” she said, brusquely pulling away from his grasp.

  “Then why tell them now and invoke their anger?”

  “It has to be done. Or… I’ll never be free.”

  “I don’t understand,” he said.

  “You wouldn’t.”

  His inclination to probe further was hampered; their journey had come to an abrupt end. The carriage had drawn to a halt just outside a tall arched entryway that led into a wide open courtyard overlaid with cobblestones and surrounded on all sides by low brick and stucco walls. But what struck him dumb was a stunning ancient edifice that towered five stories high; a structure of rare and exquisite craftsmanship who’s red and pink limestone walls mirrored the brilliant colors of the sunset. He’d never seen the likes of it—except perhaps on the internet.

  “The Rathod palace; my ancestral home,” Naina explained simply, coming to stand beside him. “The only one that remains standing; a gift from a local Nawab in the 18th century. We come from a long line of well-known zamindars but there’s apparently some royal blood running somewhere.”

  He dropped suddenly to his knees exclaiming, “I plead to you, princess! Punish me however you will for I’ve sinned, but please spare my head.”

  She stepped back and bellowed with wild laughter. Her face flushed a deep red and tears trickled down her cheeks. “Very funny. But I’m not a princess. Even if I was, I’d be a very unlucky one.”

  Thus, plunging him into a deeper mystery. She stalked on ahead and up a long, wide flight of flagstone stairs to the main entrance. On the way, they passed a small group of tourists who watched them go by with envy. Curiouser!

  And as soon as the smartly turned out Durban laid eyes on Naina, he bowed low and threw open the heavy double doors.

  Rihaan was impressed. “You must be bloody rich and you worry about paying rent!”

  “My family’s pride weighs heavily on my brother’s shoulders,” she said softly, eyeing the coat of arms above the entryway that displayed the rising sun. “Everything is mortgaged to the hilt.”

  “I don’t believe it.” He tilted his head up, taking in the magnificent domed foyer of the grand old haveli.

  “The government takes care of most of the upkeep,” she said glancing at him. “You saw the tourists outside. They also pay Shamsher Singh’s salary. The family has been relegated to the old zanana quarters, including the men.” She simpered. “My mother would’ve been tickled pink.”

  She moved on, not giving him any time to absorb the grandeur as he had to scramble to keep her in sight. He tracked her up a claustrophobic spiral staircase, then through a confusing network of corridors framed with decorative arches and lined with colorful miniature paintings as well as fine latticework jharokhas affording an unparalleled view of raspberry skies that one could enjoy from almost utter seclusion.

  Though nothing seemed amiss on the surface, on closer inspection he could make out cracks in the plaster and peeling paint. “Then why continue to live here?” he asked, looking over her shoulder as she peered through a beehive window pane. A puff of breeze brought her veil skimming across his face, instantly transporting him to a tropical paradise replete with exotic fragrances and unlimited possibilities. He curbed his desires.

  “My brother believes he’s going to restore the Rathod name to its former glory and that I’m going to help him do it,” she said, craning to look up at him.

  Her complexion was awash with a patina of gold and unknown treasures lurked in the depths of her black irises. He had to focus to answer her. “Uh…how?”

  Rose lips curved into a bleak smile, “You shall soon see.”

  ***

  Meanwhile at the local temple, Balraj Singh Rathod waited impatiently for the pundit to end his litany of complaints and petitions so he could take his leave. It was getting late and he was eager to get home. He, along with his wife, had just concluded the annual rite of distributing food and alms to the poor and needy; an event that over the years had lost its significance, and that seemed true for almost everything he did now. After making a cursory promise to take care of the repairs; one he had no intention of keeping, he beckoned irritably to his long suffering wife, before climbing into the chauffeured car he couldn’t afford.

  It’s all a matter of keeping up appearances now, Srimati Rukmini Devi thought wistfully, studying her husband’s proud profile as he gazed out of the window. His hawk-like features were unrevealing, but she knew he was much aggrieved; embroiled in deep financial and personal conflicts, most of his own making. She had seen it all coming. But her sincere attempts at caution had been thwarted with such harsh derision that she’d stopped trying.

  There had been a time, long ago, when this same man had promised her the sun and the stars. But then calamity struck; many said brought on by the Devi Ma herself.

  Beginning with the death of her mother-in-law and perpetuated by misfortune and greed, it pitched brother against brother, dispersing the family like leaves from a dying tree. Thereafter her husband, afflicted by the curse of gambling, managed to squander away most of their fortunes.

  But two years ago when Balraj persuaded her young sister-in-law (who she loved like the daughter she never had) to come back home, Rukmini believed he had turned over a new leaf. But it was not to be. She had misread his intentions. And though she dearly wished to see Naina again, she prayed fervently she wouldn’t return.

  ***

  Rihaan saw Naina hesitate briefly in front of a heavy teak door before she pushed it open and ushered him inside. All at once he was besieged by an amazing solace as one does upon stepping into a temple. The reason was directly apparent.

  In the center of the room, on a raised pedestal, amidst a cloud of incense smoke, stood the portrait of a woman of exceptional beauty and grace who bore striking resemblance to the girl who accompanied him. Mind racing with curiosity, he knelt on a floor cushion behind her, but chose to save his inquiries for later. He wanted her to have this private moment with her mother.

  But the moment proved to be brief as the door snapped open once again and footsteps hurried in.

  “Naina! You are back!” a woman called.

  “Bhabhi!” Naina was on her feet in an instant, fondly embracing a pleasant-faced woman who seemed obviously pleased to see her.

  “I can’t believe you are here, especially after what happened last time,” the lady said tenderly stroking Naina’s cheek.

  “And who is this?” she asked, turning to bestow a benevolent smile upon Rihaan.

  “Yes, do enlighten us, dear sister. I’m curious, too,” a commanding voice boomed from behind where they stood. “And pr
ay, why are you dressed like a bride on our mother’s death anniversary?”

  A startled Rihaan swung around. His gaze alighted on a tall man of imperious carriage, clothed in pristine white, who had just stepped into the room.

  Ignoring Rihaan, the man took his seat on a low divan and focused on his sister.

  “The occasion called for it. Mother would have approved.” Naina looked at Rihaan who smiled encouragingly at her.

  “What occasion?” the man said. “Oh… I know!” His sober face lit up. “You, my beautiful little sister, has changed her mind. You have come back to honor your engagement and get married to my dear friend, Thakur Shekhawat’s son.”

  “No, I haven’t changed my mind.” Her voice shook, but she continued bravely. “The engagement was nothing but a cruel deception so you could use me as a tool to remedy your errors and get back the property you squandered away. But I won’t suffer for your sins. You can’t intimidate me anymore. I’m married now and this is my husband, the love of my life.” She came up to stand next to Rihaan who obliged by placing a secure arm about her shoulders.

  This brought the man springing to his feet. Anger distorted his fine features as he fixed Rihaan with a glare sharp enough to slice him into pieces. “Absolutely impossible! You cannot marry outside our clan. He’s not a Rajput. Look at him. He’s not even a man!”

  Rihaan fingered his clean shaven face. “Yes, that’s true. I don’t have a moustache, but I’m seriously considering growing one.” He laughed. But no one appeared ready to share his amusement. He read the silent appeal in Naina’s eyes.

  He cleared his throat. “I’m not a Rajput nor could I ever pretend to be one. Naina and I met by chance when I was in New Delhi for a conference a few months ago.” He looked down at her. “Something clicked. I went back home to New York, but couldn’t stop thinking about her. Her eyes wouldn’t let me sleep; they haunted me constantly.” He was surprised at how easy it was to lie. “I proposed and fortune favored me. I came back and we got married.”

  They were all staring at him as though he’d lost his mind, including Naina. Maybe he had because he didn’t sound like himself at all; more like a love-struck imbecile!

  “I don’t believe it,” her brother said. “You’re lying. She hired you. Go on, accept it!” He sneered.

  There was no way Rihaan could let Naina down. All of a sudden he had a brainwave. He dug his phone out from his pocket. “You want proof? Here it is.” Thank God for his snoopy mom who had shared the entire wedding on the internet.

  A gamut of emotions flitted across Balraj Singh’s face, ranging from stark disbelief to disgust, and then profound vexation as the video played out. But it wasn’t enough.

  “Naina, you can’t do this to me, your own brother. Besides, I’ve given my word. We Rajputs never go back on what we say. You should know that!”

  But she stood tall beside Rihaan. She was a Rajput, too. “Not at the price of my happiness. No, brother. And if you really do love me you’ll forget your pride and let bygones be bygones.”

  “That’ll never happen as long as I live!” he thundered and pointed to the door. “Leave before I do something I won’t regret. Now!”

  “As you wish.” She took Rihaan’s hand and together they left the room.

  ***

  The shadows had begun to traverse up the far walls of the courtyard. The temperature had plummeted, setting the stage for a very pleasant evening. Rihaan sat on the low stone seat that circled a gigantic tree which he had been informed was a Jacaranda.

  “It’s fed by an underground spring that also supplies our well,” Naina said.

  He watched as she took a slow turn, pausing at frequent intervals as if to commit things to memory.

  “It’s odd, I’ve never missed this place as much as I’m going to now,” she murmured staring up at the tree’s dark canopy. “My mother used to thread the purple flowers into a tiara for me every spring.” She sighed. Then seemed to snap out of it. “Let’s go. If we hurry we should be able to catch the last bus for Delhi.”

  “Go? You must be kidding.” With a short laugh, he leaned back crossing his arms behind his head. “I’m not going anywhere right now. Actually, I’ve begun to fall in love with this place and its people.”

  He snuck a sly glance at her. “Besides, I’m hungry enough to eat a camel!”

  Aghast, Naina exclaimed, “Have you lost your mind? Didn’t you hear what my brother said?”

  He responded with a shrug of nonchalance. “He wouldn’t hurt his own brother-in-law.”

  “Balraj Singh Rathod is not in the habit of doling out empty threats. At this very moment he’s probably scheming to intercept us, abduct me and finish you off!”

  “But what about the law?” Rihaan asked.

  “He’s a law unto himself.” She grabbed his arm. “C’mon, hurry up. I don’t want your death on my conscience.”

  Rihaan didn’t want to believe her, but she looked damn serious. He stood up and tagged behind her as she skipped the main gate and ran toward the back.

  “STOP!”

  Turning as one, they saw someone hurrying towards them. The person’s identity was masked by deep shadow.

  “Keep moving!” his wife urged frantically at his side.

  But before he could follow her down the narrow staircase, the voice rang out again, now a lot closer.

  “Please stop, I beg you!” the woman called.

  It was Naina’s sister-in-law. The woman paused for breath. “I…can’t let you…go like this and… I barely got to meet damaadji.”

  Naina smiled apologetically. “Sorry, bhabhi. You probably understand why. Rihaan, meet my eldest sister-in-law, Mrs. Rukmini Devi. And bhabhi, this is Dr. Rihaan Mehta, my husband.”

  Rihaan bowed gallantly.

  Rukmini blushed. “I regret I couldn’t welcome you properly.”

  He shrugged. “It happens. Family politics. I’ve seen plenty of it in mine. One of the reasons I’m here today.”

  Casting a doubtful smile at him, she grasped Naina’s hands and threaded an ivory bangle on both her arms. “Your mother’s gift to me; now they are yours.”

  “Oh bhabhi, I’ll miss you so much!” Naina embraced her warmly. “Are you upset with me?”

  “No. I’m proud of you and so would have been your mother. You’ve made the right choice.” She eyed Rihaan with ill-concealed admiration, making him squirm in his shoes. “He seems wonderful—strong, clever and honorable. He’ll take good care of you, I’m sure.”

  “We’d better go now,” Naina said looking nervous again.

  “Yes. But not without eating a decent dinner and some rest. Please go to Roshan Bhai’s, our old munimji. I’ve called ahead. Shamsher Singh will take you to his house.”

  “But my brother?” Naina asked.

  “Don’t you worry. I’ll handle him. You are his little sister after all.”

  ***

  A couple of hours later after indulging in a traditional Rajasthani bhoj fit for a king—he’d never eaten so much in his life—Rihaan relaxed on a charpai on the open terrace of a small cottage under a dense blanket of stars. He breathed in the crisp, desert air. It was the same universe he had observed at the other end of the earth. Yet this experience had never felt so raw, so real, that it almost seemed to find a home in his heart. All thanks to Naina.

  He peeked at her as she lay on another cot nearby. This probably marked the end of their brief sojourn together as husband and wife; a very gloomy thought indeed. He really enjoyed her company.

  He wondered what was playing in her mind. What was she mulling over? Was she pining for what she’d been forced to leave behind? He wished he could reach out, tell her she could depend on him, that he’d replace all she’d lost, be strong and dependable just as her sister-in-law had said. Yet he held back. Because that’d mean relinquishing control, no
t just the way he led his life but also at the cost of his independence—a thing he held most dear. Or did he really?

  Why wasn’t he sure anymore? Why were his own decisions leaving him so utterly dissatisfied and frustrated? He couldn’t say. And that was annoying to say the least.

  A Proposition

  Rihaan slogged up the hill, pumping hard on his pedals. Upon reaching the top, he relaxed, letting gravity take over. His bike responded by surging forward, gaining momentum as it shot down the incline. Icy wind clawed at his face; the balaclava mask offering scant protection, yet he pushed on, pedaling faster through the unfamiliar territory. Not that he was worried of getting mugged. No honest goon would risk his fingers in this weather.

  Besides the only thing of value he possessed was his bike and his vital organs, and they would have to kill him to get to either.

  He laughed out loud heartily. Lately his brain had not been acting like itself, nor had his body. His short stint in India had not only turned his life on its head but also infused him with such a degree of unbridled excitement that he was having a tough time getting any sleep. Yet he wasn’t the least unhappy about it.

  He grinned. It had all begun a few days ago with four simple words…

  ***

  New Delhi, Naina’s apartment

  “I have a proposition.”

  Rihaan sat forward in his chair but didn’t dare to react any more than that. It was very probable he was hallucinating given the state he was in.

  After being dragged out of his rustic bed in the wee hours of the morning, he’d been forced to participate in the Great Indian Railroad boot camp like any average commuter—‘My brother would never dare hijack a train.’ And he’d spent the entire journey either shielding his wife from unwanted male attention (a turn prompting no gratitude whatsoever) or struggling against being thrown off the train. It was a miracle he was still alive.

  He stared skeptically at the plate of spicy chaat she’d ordered from the neighborhood chaat house after inviting him in for a cup of tea and a last goodbye. Then after a brief battle with his better judgment, he shoved a spoonful in his mouth. Surprisingly, it was delicious! Worth every trip to the toilet he may have to make.