AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I tried to speak but nothing came out. I shook my head.
A small smile from Purva. With nimble hands, he unbotted the top button of my shirt and planted a tender kiss on my collarbone.
15 August 2013.
On the occasion of Independence Day, the readers of ‘Pearls of Wisdom’ are in for a treat. Purva has made a glorious debut on the blog under the rather inglorious pseudonym of ‘Dimple’. It makes more sense – if you can dare to call it that – when you read the title of the post announcing our wedding: ‘My Pimple to wed Her Dimple.’
I am not even sure I know how I feel about this and am trying to make sure that Purva does not go online.
Ever.
16 August 2013, 10.00 a.m.
‘You look happy, Kassie,’ said Padma, flicking aside her hot new bangs and grinning her widest. Of course she knew already. Pitajee and Padma have become too thick recently for her to not have found out within minutes of us getting back together.
‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’ I said, throwing my arms around her.
‘You silly girl,’ said Padma, wrapping her arms around me. ‘That doctor guy is perfect for you, you know that, don’t you?’
‘Yes, I do! Yes, I do!’ I yelped, grinning from ear to ear.
20 August 2013, 11.30 p.m.
After her last post on our pending nuptials, Mum has been inundated with questions from despairing mums from across the world, all worried about getting their daughters married to suitable surgeons with high networth.
Mum called today to comment philosophically on how borders are but lines on the maps and how mothers from all over the globe seem to have the same problem – difficult, obstinate daughters.
Her readers seem to treat her with an inexplicable air of reverence. Mum treats them with an equally inexplicable I-am-shri-shri-shri-Prabha-Shukla-esque superiority.
25 August 2013.
‘We might have a problem,’ said Purva, looking seriously at the faces before him.
‘What?’ Anu and I said, in unison.
‘My mum.’
‘Oh dear!’ I said, slumping back into my chair. I had completely forgotten about her.
Pitajee giggled.
‘And what is that for?’ I asked.
‘From what I know, her conclusion, when you called off the engagement, was that you are off your rocker.’
‘What?’ I wailed. The problems just don’t seem to end.
‘If I remember correctly, she lamented that Agra was too far, else the mental asylum there would be the perfect place for you spend the rest of your life,’ said Pitajee, now howling with laughter like a madman.
‘Pitajee,’ I said, the tone of my voice heavy with threat. ‘Stop it or I will throw this coffee at you.’
By now, Purva was trying hard not to laugh and that infuriated me further.
‘I mean, only a few days ago, after due deliberation, the consensus was that you are as mad as a hatter. And now, to tell her that you are back in her son’s life … can I be there when she is told of the return of the madwoman?’
Even though he had a point, a promise was a promise, and I picked up my latte and threw it at him with a sweet smile on my face.
Once the commotion that obviously arises when someone throws coffee at someone else had subsided and Pitajee had glared at me to his heart’s content, we settled back to discuss the matter.
