As if acting on a fully charged electric impetus, the moment that swish of scarlet sindoor was smeared on the parting of my hair, I took upon myself the role of the newly-wedded biwi – Blame it on my over-exposure to Bollywood or just my self-sketched character, I was on!
She is perfectly happy with her husband, and mind you, both of them are really attractive. They had gotten married to each other after a couple of months of whirlwind romance in college. Everything looked perfect from the outside – The customary Christmas cards from the couple, the vacations in Venetian Islands, and the adorable home they live in, where we got invited a lot to in the last year.
I lived in a huge house, in a joint family of sorts, and since in those days, I was the only child living full-time in the house, I was pampered to bits. I roamed around in nothing but a pair of shorts in the summer heat, running up and down the flight of stairs of the majestic house, the house that held years of historical enigma, and gave birth to one of the greatest writers of the time.
It was only after my exam that I noticed that my boyfriend was not eating anything either. This covert was easier than solving the cube root of 3645 – He had been fasting as well. No, he did not believe in it, he did not think that staying hungry for someone for a day could add incremental years to one’s life, and yes, he’s a big-time foodie.