The Accidental Wife (2 page)

But his achievement failed to make the slightest dent in his mother’s demands when he told her later that day. She screeched into the phone like a witch who’d discovered she’d slept through Halloween.

“Rihaan! Do you want me to kill myself? If so, prescribe me some poison!”

Damnit! Why can’t I be left alone for even a moment!
He closed his eyes, counted slowly to five and replied. “Okay Mother. I’ll give the matter serious consideration.”

“Wow, really?” She sounded excited, her voice raising an octave. He could imagine her eyes gleaming with delight. Indeed, she’d make an awesome witch. “Then shall I start discussions with the Sharmas for their daughter, Renu? She’s supposed to be a really good cook. Or what about the Roshans? Their younger girl, Sush, is apparently very skilled in needlework.”

“Ma…are you getting married or am I?” he barked into the phone.

“
Beta
, listen…I…just want to make it easy for you.”

“I’m willing to listen,” he retorted sternly, “but only on one condition. I’ll choose my future wife entirely on my own.”

The Girl

“O
kay, my baby, whatever you wish Rihaan. Just be sure she can walk, and isn’t a deaf mute.
Tumhara koi bharosa nahin.
(You cannot be trusted.) And
haan
, she should be Indian. Fine?”

“Mom, you are crazy!” Rihaan exclaimed, roaring with laughter before ending the call. At least she won’t bother me for a while, he thought. He switched his attention over to his tablet to review the details of the next case, when it struck him.

“Oh damn! What have I done?” He’d just told his mother he was ready to get married. Was he insane? He staggered against his desk, sending the gadget along with several plastic models of the brain and vertebral column crashing to the floor.

“Dr. Mehta…anything the matter?” Anna, his secretary, popped her strawberry blonde head around the door of his office, followed by her baby pink-clad buxom figure.

“Uh…my mom…she…” He stopped short, his mind wandering as he looked at Anna. Rihaan had often wondered why his chief had opted for such a uniform. They ran a serious medical outfit, not a spa! Maybe it was to put their anxious clientele at ease.
But was it working? Someone should do a survey.

“Your mother? Is she unwell?” Anna crept in to the room.

No! She’s perfectly fine. It’s I who’s in urgent need of psychotherapy!
Rihaan wanted to holler; instead he tried to train his lips into a placid smile. “Ah no… I just got off the phone with her and realized it’s her birthday tomorrow. I haven’t gotten her anything. Would you happen to have any suggestions?”

Anna smiled at him, sending an open invitation to sample her wares. “Of course, I’d be happy to.”

Rihaan gave her an encouraging nod to continue, but Anna’s brain ran a bit slow at times. He could have asked her to leave him alone, however that would hurt her feelings. Besides, he found her a good resource for a lot of things that a single guy like him knew nothing about, both at work and home.

She opened her dark pink mouth, her tongue lifting to her top lip for a moment before she spoke. “Your mother must have dropped some hints. They always do, mine certainly does. All you need is to give her what she wants.”

Yeah, that’s it! And die a premature death!
Kahaan aake phas gaya yaar! (What kind of terrible fix have I got myself in!)
He could picture his mother dialing up all her relatives at this very moment, telling them the good news that:
Mera
Rihaan finally
sudhar gaya! (My Rihaan is finally on the mend!)
He could also picture all of them fawning over him. The very idea made him break into a sweat.

Damn! I need to get myself together! And I need some advice!
He looked amiably at Anna. “Awesome suggestion. I’ll think on it.”

She gave him a huge beatific smile. He knew he had made her day.

He stood up. “I’m going to take a shower, then I’ll be gone for lunch for about an hour or so. Do you mind taking any non-urgent messages? And please, if my mother calls, tell her I’m busy in the clinic.” When he saw her frown, he explained with a wink. “I want to keep her guessing.”

Anna nodded and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Soon he was refreshed and dressed in fresh crisp garb, which included a jacket. Rihaan looked like the successful Wall Street Banker he wasn’t. Still, he felt uneasy and awkward. He was more at home in his surgical scrubs dining in the hospital cafeteria, than in this fancy-schmancy restaurant with his childhood friend, who also happened to be his landlord—Rudra Jaiswal, or Rudy, as he preferred to be called.

Rudy was a stockbroker who worked in one of the big corporate banks and whose every minute was valued in the millions. But Rihaan needed advice, and who better to seek it from than Rudy, who had finally bowed down to pressure and got hooked himself.

They usually met every 3rd Thursday of the month to exchange notes and make small talk, but today Rihaan had called for an off-schedule meeting.

“No booze
dost?”
Rudy wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Nope. Can’t afford to slice the wrong piece of brain. I have a case at two.”

“Oh yes. You neurosurgeons and your smart BS!” Rudy laughed, downing his scotch and soda in a gulp. Signaling for another, he ogled the big-chested waitress.

Rihaan chuckled. “Remember you are married.”

His friend frowned, appearing to seriously ponder the statement. “I guess I am.”

Rihaan was surprised. “I thought you were happy. Wasn’t Shirin your girl?”

“Yes, she was, but now she’s my wife. Huge difference!” Rudy said, leaning forward. “Let me tell you a secret. It wasn’t my choice to marry. She got pregnant.”

“Uh huh…” Rihaan mumbled. He was well-versed with his friend’s escapades. It was bound to happen. “You did the honorable thing, then.”

“Guess I did, but I wasn’t prepared. Hell! Never before have I made so many excuses for not coming home on time like I do now,” Rudy exclaimed with a wry laugh, then regarded his friend. “You’re so lucky, dude! I envy your freedom.”

Rihaan shook his head. “No more. Mom fooled me into giving her my word I’d marry, and soon.”

“Really?” Rudy looked impressed. “Guess that’s the price one pays for having parents. Congratulations!” He reached across the table to shake Rihaan’s hand. “So, is it going to be that hot chick Renu who was all over you at my reception? I’d have fancied her myself if Shirin hadn’t messed me up.”

“Which Renu?”

Rudy burst into laughter. “You are blind. Truly blind, Rihaan. You missed a girl like that! She was Miss New Jersey or something, and man does she have curves!”

Rihaan gave a wry shrug.

“Okay, then let your mom choose your wife and live happily ever after with my blessings,” Rudy said, grinning widely.

“No! Never! I can’t!”

Rudy looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t get married to someone she chooses. I’ll be finished. All those obligations, parties, demanding wife and in-laws. No way, man, I’d rather kill myself.”

“But that’s what marriage is all about—compromise.”

Rihaan nodded. “Exactly. That’s why I’ve kept away from it this long. I don’t want to compromise. I have no interest in assuming the role of a dutiful husband and son-in-law. What I want is somebody who will stay out of my way. Mind her own business while I mind mine.”

“You don’t need a wife. You need a servant.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Rihaan said. “I just want someone who will comprehend me and my work. I want to continue like I am now…without any distractions. She can do what she wants; kitty parties,
pujas,
whatever. Just don’t expect me to be a part of it. We’ll get a bigger place. She’ll have all the luxuries she wants.”

“If that is so, I agree. You won’t find a girl like that here. Even if you do, her family won’t leave you alone.”

“Then what am I to do?” Rihaan asked, feeling desperate.

“Maybe you’ll find someone suitable back home?”

“Really?” Rihaan was unconvinced. “Are girls less demanding there?”

“Well…that’s for you to find out.” Rudy shrugged. “Besides, a guy like you is a dream catch. Any father would give his right hand to get a son-in-law like you. Plus, the perk of coming here to the States. Anyhow, that seems to be the only reasonable option for you now.”

“How am I supposed to find this mystery girl? Fly to India and search with a bloody microscope?”

Rudy shook his head in mock disbelief. “Pal, haven’t you heard of the world wide web?”

***

Mulling over Rudy’s advice filled Rihaan with skepticism. Was it ridiculous to assume a woman, especially someone who fit his requirements to a tee, could be found online. Perhaps Rudy was taking him for a fool just like his mother.

He seethed with indignation as he flagged down a yellow cab and slid in.
First I fall into my wily mother’s trap and then my Casanova friend makes a mockery of me! What kind of idiot am I?
So deep was he in his thoughts, that the cabbie had driven several blocks in the wrong direction before Rihaan realized it and asked him to turn around and head back toward the clinic.

Rihaan tried to talk himself out of his quandary. “This won’t do,” he said aloud to himself. “I can’t let petty things overtake me and curtail my life. My work comes first. I won’t let my patients down.”

Later that night, as he sat in his favorite spot on the balcony, holding a barely touched glass of red wine in his hand, Rihaan contemplated the island of peace (the park) in the middle of the concrete jungle, and let his mind drift. The two surgeries had gone well. He wondered what the biopsy on the mass in Mr. Hirsh’s frontal lobe would show. The gross features had looked suspicious. He sighed. As a doctor he wasn’t always a bearer of good news.

Not wanting to dwell on the morbid, he digressed toward something more cheerful. After finishing at the clinic that night he had walked back to the hospital to check on the young boy’s condition. He had been pleased to find him chatting up a storm with his friends. The kid was eager to get back on his feet and to play league baseball. Rihaan, delighted at his enthusiasm, had assured his patient he’d get his wish soon. But just as he was about to leave, Rihaan was embarrassed with a bouquet of fresh blooms. He said a quick thanks and rushed to make his exit.

The ICU secretary had loved the flowers.

Rihaan smiled in the dark, closed his eyes, and awaited a wonderful restful sleep to overwhelm him. But he was betrayed just like yesterday.

Well aware of the cause, he flipped on to his side and broke out into song. The valiant effort didn’t help much, rather scared a couple of roosting doves off their perch.

“God help me. Mom, how I wish I could strangle you,” he cried, before slouching back into the darkness of his living room. “I guess you won’t let me sleep until I do something about your bloody wishes!”

While he waited for the monitor of his PC to come alive, he thought; guess there’s no harm in checking out Rudy’s suggestion, even though what he says seems too fantastic to be true. Rihaan shrugged. No time like the present.

Typing ‘India Matrimonial’ into the search engine, he was struck by the numerous responses that popped up almost instantaneously.

His interest was piqued. Aside from a few, most results appeared to be fairly legitimate outfits. The usually traditional Indian wedding business had now turned commercial. All the marriage brokers and pundits who relied on matchmaking as their primary source of income would have to pack up their bags and move to the Himalayas, he thought chuckling.

He soon found himself engaged in the activity of browsing through the huge databanks of boys and girls seeking potential life partners. He was shocked at the variety he saw and equally surprised at the way they presented themselves, especially how particular they were about the kind of mate they wanted. It was just as Rudy had described—a huge marriage market.

Finally after having amused himself for a few hours, Rihaan fell asleep thinking there might just be a solution to all his problems.

***

Over the next few days, Rihaan got down to the serious business of finding a wife. And for once in his life, he knew exactly the kind of person he was looking for. And his requirements weren’t many.

1. Mid-twenties (Not too young or flighty.)

2. College educated.

3. A fairly agreeable personality.

4. Not averse to moving to the States.

5. Did not have huge expectations from the marriage, and in particular from him. He didn’t want to elevate hopes. He lay everything out in the open so the girl knew exactly what she was getting.

6. And the most important criteria of all—she should possess fairly ordinary looks; pretty enough to satisfy his mother, but not stunning. He had no desire to be overwhelmed by his future wife’s beauty. That would be a distraction he wasn’t prepared to deal with.

Soon he had narrowed his search down to ten girls. Then ultimately to one. She fit all the specs and also appeared empathetic with his views. In all, she seemed too good to be true but he pushed that uneasy notion aside.

Within the space of a week, the deal was almost sealed.

They chatted via Skype about the arrangements at two a.m. his time on a Sunday.

“Okay…so are we engaged?” she asked.

Engaged? Oh crap! Really?
“I…guess we are unofficially,” Rihaan replied.

“You can mail me the ring if you wish, but I really don’t care about formalities,” she assured him with a bright smile through the screen.

“That’s cool,” he said while thinking at the same time; these Indian girls are quite
tez.
Mom may be shocked!

“So when should we set the date?” Deepika said.

“Date? Ah…” The question threw him off. It was completely unexpected. In no hurry to tie the knot, Rihaan wanted to enjoy his bachelorhood a little longer. “Six months?” he suggested vaguely. That would give his mother enough time to make preparations to her heart’s content.

“No, that’s not soon enough.” She shook her head. “Next month or the deal is off.”

“What?”
Rihaan sat up straighter on the couch in his living room. “I… That is not possible.”