‘Yes, Mom, there is no need of another car,’ says Mr Perfect.
Thank God! I cannot bear landing in one more scandalous moment after that afternoon.
‘No,’ says my mother. ‘You will go in separate car. That’s it.’ No more discussions.
I know what mom is trying to do. Seriously, Indian mothers can be such a headache
sometimes!
We take another car—this one’s an Audi!
The streetlamps look beautiful this foggy evening, between the mist and dark night.
Mr Perfect doesn’t say a word. So to end this awkwardness I start a conversation.
‘How about your higher studies? You don’t want to study further?’
‘Krishna, I have already done my MBA and I have also been a research scientist at the
Indian Institute of Agricultural Sciences. So now I am working on increasing crop yield
methods while simultaneously learning the ropes of my father’s business and also doing
some actual farming. What else you want me to do?’
My jaw almost falls to the ground.
‘Oh!’ I said. ‘So you would want a wife who can stay with you? I mean, a housewife.’
‘Yes, I would definitely want a wife who can stay with me, Krishna.’
I knew it! A narrow-minded control freak. Huh!
‘But, he continues, ‘if my wife wants to work, she can work with me in our business.’
He never ceases to surprise me. I am feeling good about it. But still I am confused about
why he wants me to marry him? He can get any girl he wants.
Suddenly, the car stops and I notice that we are near a hill.
‘Where are we? Don’t tell me that the car has stopped working.’
‘No, Krishna. Please stop watching those romantic movies in which the hero–heroine get stuck in a car and then their romance starts,’ he says, grinning.
‘Whatever! Just a thought; it has nothing to do with romantic movies.’ I say, annoyed.
‘Let’s go.’
‘Where?’
‘Up there. To the top of the hill.’
‘Are you kidding me? I’m not going there.’
‘Huh! Stubborn girl.’
He takes my hand and we move towards the hill. As we reach the top, I can see the river
on the other side. This scene is breathtaking. Although it is far below us, the sheer height
does not seem to scare me. Instead, I feel great—so amused and thrilled.
A cold breeze blows my hair over my face.
‘It is so beautiful, nothing can be more beautiful,’ I say.
‘I knew you will like it.’
Suddenly, Mr Perfect gets down on one knee, pulls out a ring and says the world’s most
magical words: I LOVE YOU, KRISHNA. WILL YOU MARRY ME?
I am dumbstruck at that moment. Here is Mr Perfect—and that too on his knees, asking me
to marry him!
This cannot actually be happening. All this only happens in the movies. I wish I could
hold on to that moment forever.
‘Krishna, please reply, my knees are hurting and it’s very cold out here.’
I smile, my eyes wet with tears, and say, ‘YES!’
Thrilled, he gets up and slips the ring on to my finger. He then hugs me tightly. I can hear
his breath in my ears as he says, ‘I liked you when Mom showed me your picture … And I
liked you even more when you fell from the train.’
‘Then I should fall every time,’ I laughed.
‘I wanted you right there while watching that movie,’ he whispered in my ears. ‘I love
you! Be mine. Be my wife.’
I look up at him. He lips come close to mine and then he softly kisses me on my lips.
‘I love you too,’ I responded gleefully.
And, like every other love story with a happy ending, ‘we lived happily ever after’.
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