The Accidental Wife (23 page)

Of Spells and Guardian Angels

I
t was the darkest of nights in the middle of nowhere and it was cold,
so very cold,
with a bitter, biting wind. And in the midst of this hell, Naina found herself running as fast as her broken feet would allow her. She was fleeing from something unseen, something more terrifying than anyone could ever imagine.

The wind began to howl, pushing her back, smacking her on the face with her own hair. Her limbs were heavy and weak, like stumps of dead rotting wood and the numbness began creeping up her torso. But she wouldn’t give up. She just couldn’t.

Up ahead on a low hill she thought she saw some flickering lights. They emboldened her to get moving again. But she had barely progressed a couple of feet when the ground under her started to slide. The asphalt had turned into a bed of loose gravel.

She fell forward and began to crawl, using her nails as talons, seeking purchase on the steep incline which had abruptly transformed into a river of slime. It poured into her nose and her mouth, extinguishing her screams for help.

The thing had almost caught up. She could perceive its putrid burning flesh. The heat seared her skin. She closed her eyes and prayed for a quick end.

Just then the earth tore apart and she saw herself plunge into a gaping hole. She plummeted, gathering speed as she dropped, further and further. But she wasn’t alone, there were others with her, falling, too. And they were laughing in great merriment.

Astounded, she looked around and saw that she was seated on top of a gigantic Ferris wheel, high in the sky, floating among wisps of soft cotton.

“Naina!” Someone called her name.

“Here!” She responded earnestly seeking the source.

The voice belonged to someone she knew, but hadn’t seen in ages. She finally spotted her. A beautiful woman with a face radiant like the sun. And she was smiling at Naina while eating ice cream. Rocky Road. Her favorite kind.

“Mama!” Naina screamed, reaching out with both her arms.

But the woman drifted away, waving cheerfully as she disappeared into a dense bank of clouds.

“Mama!” she called again.

“Mrs. Mehta!” Someone tapped on her shoulder.

“No,” Naina grumbled, burying her face deeper into the pillows, desperately attempting to reassemble her dream. But it wasn’t to be.

“Good morning. I’m Cara. Your new nurse,” announced a woman with an incredibly bright smile on her perfectly done supermodel face.

Naina decided right away she didn’t like her. “Where’s Stephie?”

“She has the day off,” the supermodel nurse replied, the corners of her mouth straining to reach her ear lobes and almost succeeding. She maneuvered a tray table close to the bed.

“It’s way past breakfast time. But Dr. Mehta insisted to let you sleep through. He said you had a…”

“Dr. Mehta? Rihaan?” Naina exclaimed eagerly, struggling to sit up. “Is he here?”

“No. But you have other visitors,” Cara said.

Naina became aware for the first time of the small crowd gathered in the room. Her beautiful, dark eyes, the most prominent features on her thin, pale face, grew wider as they darted from one person to the other.

“You know who we are, don’t you? I’m Rima, Rihaan’s sister,” voiced a pretty young woman dressed in a becoming yellow and pink spring dress.

“Yes. I do. How are you?” Naina answered slowly. She did recognize them from the pictures Rihaan had shown her. Yet it felt odd seeing them in the flesh, in a most surreal way. The fantastic fable had finally come to life, filling her both with excitement and fear.

Her gaze first rested on a gentleman (who was apparently more than slightly fond of his
paneer tikka
and
tandoori
chicken) whom she recognized as Rihaan’s father. The smile he wore on his ruddy face was so frank and genial that it instantly caused her to relax. She judged him to be a kind-hearted and down-to-earth individual, a person who invited trust and confidence.

She smiled back at him before moving on to his wife—a short, thin woman wrapped in a grey-black sari. She was examining her keenly with hazel eyes, which were just like her son’s, though hers weren’t smiling.

Seized by a peculiar sense of unease, Naina looked away and spotted a strange man standing right beside her bed. He wore the saffron robes of a priest. His bright, jet black, beady eyes made her skin crawl. She desperately fought the urge to pull the covers over her head.

“You’re looking very good,” Rima said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

Naina, thankful for the distraction, looked gratefully at her, though she knew she was lying. How could a pale sickly alien wearing a chemo cap to cover her shaven skull look good? But Naina forgave her for she believed Rima bore no ill will in her heart.

Her sister-in-law placed a large bouquet of painted daisies on the bedside table along with a box of chocolates. “Rihaan told me there are no dietary restrictions. He said I could bring anything that’d encourage his picky, little wife to eat.”

Naina smiled nervously, all at once realizing how desperately she missed him.

“Maybe we should come back later. Let
bahu
have her breakfast,” her father-in-law suggested, and began hustling his wife toward the door, much to the woman’s annoyance.

“No. Please stay. I’m not hungry,” Naina pleaded, though wishing quite the opposite.

Her mother-in-law finally spoke, but not to her. She shared a knowing look with the priest. “Guru
ji,
do you see what I see?”

He nodded, continuing to stare at Naina with his eerie eyes. “Yes. I do. This young woman’s life is in great danger. She is haunted by malevolent spirits. She needs help or else she’ll take everyone with her to hell.”

Naina looked on helplessly, wanting to but unable to push him away, as the priest anointed her forehead with vermillion and ash. Then digging into his cloth bag, he brought out a white powder which he blew into her face, making her sneeze loudly.

“Shobha, what are you doing?” Naina heard her father-in-law yell from somewhere in the room. “I thought you brought this man here to bless our
bahu
and pray for her quick recovery!”

“Her condition calls for more than just blessings and prayers,” her mother-in-law said. “Guru
ji
knows exactly what she needs. Let him do his job. It’s for her own good and for our son’s, who happens to have turned into a big hard-headed fool!”

There were more voices raised in argument. Someone fled, shouting from the room.

Meanwhile Naina stared in horrid fascination, as the priest sat down by her bed and began intonating in a loud and fervid tone. She wanted to look away but couldn’t. She was trapped; ensnared by some strange force in a dark, mystical realm.

And then to her alarm, she began to break apart. Her head separated from her torso and so did her limbs, detaching themselves one by one before drifting away. And she couldn’t do anything about it. It was a conspiracy, a vile plot hatched to annihilate her very soul. Her mouth opened to protest, but the words were rammed back into her throat. Her heart screamed vainly inside her chest. She fought feebly, raising her hands in front of her face, but the voice only grew louder.

Fortunately at that very moment her guardian angel walked in. “What in hell is going on here?” Rihaan shouted.

He ousted the wicked man from the room and admonished everybody to be silent and stop irritating his wife. He even ticked his mother off and sternly warned her against committing such foul acts again. “Enough is enough. There’s nothing wrong with my Naina, absolutely nothing! Understood!”

My Naina.
She closed her eyes and reveled in the sensation of being his.

Beacon of Light

“S
omething’s brewing in that little mind of yours and it’s potent enough to overcome the soporific mix we feed you. Care to put me in the loop?” Rihaan remarked feigning surprise one afternoon, when he came upon his wife engrossed in a task other than the one she was usually in—her post lunch siesta.

“It’s nothing. Nothing that would be of any interest to you,” Naina retorted sharply, snapping shut her notebook and shoving it deep inside the folds of her blanket.

“Hmm…that makes me even more curious,” he said casually sauntering over to the window, from where he pretended to regard the buildings across the street, before turning back to her with a sly smile in his eyes, one designed specifically to unnerve her.

But she hung tough, gripping the book even harder. It’d certainly not do for him or anyone else for that matter to become privy to her incoherent ramblings which were bound to lay her wide open to ridicule. These were her very own, brand new, untried thoughts and feelings and she chose to guard them with ferocity.

It had been only a few days since she’d been involved in her new hobby. The journal, a gift from one of her therapists, had come with specific instructions: “Write in it every day, anything, as long as it is positive.”

In other words, it was a prescription for pragmatism, or to put it plainly— “Drink your poison and stop complaining!”

It had irked her immensely to the point of indignation. She had scoffed at the idea, finding nothing to be even slightly perky about. Until lately.

“Your lips are cracked, they are dry as a bone. Where’s your nurse? Let me get her.” Rihaan, who’d been examining her face closely, frowned with concern.

“No, please…don’t. She’s busy.” She reached for his hand. “Besides, it’s just a minor thing. See, I can fix it,” she said gaily, swirling a moist tongue over her lips.

He burst into a loud guffaw. “Gosh! You are one smart vixen. Nonetheless an adorable one.” He stared at her, looking as if he wanted to say more. She waited eagerly, but his pesky little pager ruined the moment.

“Seems like we’re running late for your therapy session. Shall we go?” he muttered rather brusquely.

She sighed, nodding a grudging assent while trying to swallow her disappointment. He helped her transfer to the wheelchair, taking care her bony behind was cushioned well.
Work! Work! Work! That happens to be his only mantra and getting me well his sole mission!
She silently fumed.

A gentle smooch landed on her forehead making her smile and instantly easing her tensions. It was just a benign token of appeasement. But for her, it was a moment of bliss, to be treasured and locked away in the empty spaces of her heart and permanently etched onto the leaves of her memory book. Pity, how starved of love she felt.

“Anything wrong?” he asked.

“No, nothing,” Naina said, turning a bright face to him. Yet she had to suffer his keen scrutiny a bit longer. Fortunately, he didn’t touch on it again.

The shaky foundations of their relationship had found firmer ground. They had successfully waded past the preliminary hang-ups and progressed to the next phase—the more than just friends phase—or so she hoped. That brought with it a different kind of intimacy—the reading of minds kind; the instinctively knowing without breaking the silence kind.

There was something about him that instilled a confidence in her, like in the way he spoke while looking in her eyes. It was a calming, reassuring connection that made her feel safe. So much so that sometimes she panicked when he wasn’t around.

After the unfortunate incident with his mother, Rihaan proceeded to impose strict restrictions on all visitations, except a few. No one could meet her without his prior approval. And he insisted they did so in his presence, so he could send them packing at the slightest hint of trouble or irritation.

It was a bewildering throng that flitted in and out of her room, overwhelming her with flowers and gifts. She was surprised she knew so many people and that so many people knew her. And if what they said was really true, she gave them credit for controlling their reactions when they saw her. But it wasn’t difficult to sense that they weren’t pleasantly surprised. They introduced themselves as friends and acquaintances, a few coworkers even—yet none of their faces triggered even the vaguest recollection which plunged her into deep discontent.

They told her that she was a photojournalist of some stature.
They’ve got to be fibbing,
she thought looking to Rihaan for confirmation. But he didn’t validate her suspicions, which perturbed her even more because he was the only one she trusted.

None of her visitors stayed long, except Anna, Rihaan’s stunning blonde secretary, who devoted an entire lunch hour toward giving Naina a luxurious makeover, then actually broke down and sobbed over her hand. But even she didn’t make any useful revelations, merely provided noncommittal responses to all of Naina’s questions.

This piqued Naina’s curiosity. Was Rihaan trying to protect her by keeping her in the dark?

“With time, darling. You’ll know with time,” was his resolute, almost stubborn reply.

Nor was he open about what had transpired between him and his mother that was grave enough to stop her from coming by to visit Naina again. She could only hope it wasn’t something irreparable. Rihaan’s intensity sometimes frightened her.

Yet, despite it all, Naina looked forward to seeing him every day. This guy, with his heady mix of stern and charm, cared for her. This extraordinarily handsome guy, who claimed to be her husband and showed her stuff to prove it—videos and pictures of a beautiful girl who shared the shape of her face and the color of her eyes. And even though she didn’t doubt him anymore, she didn’t tell him so. His enthusiasm was infinitely endearing.

Though he did still perplex her at times, like the day when he dumped a camera in her lap and demanded that she take pictures of him, as he required them for some odd chore. And when she did, manipulating the complex controls without hesitation, he whooped as though she had won the Olympics! Maybe there was some truth in the photojournalism rumor after all.

Yet he was the only one who, when she wailed in frustration and despair, spoke to her with extraordinary patience and deposited chaste kisses on her head.

He oversaw every step of her care, insisting on changing most of her dressings himself, his touch ever so soft and gentle.

He took her on rides around the hospital campus and sometimes snuck her out for treats to the neighborhood patisserie, all the while treating her like a princess and discounting all the strange looks they attracted.

He coaxed her and egged her on during her therapy sessions, but at the first sign of discomfort he was at her side, tending to her as if she were a fragile infant who was just learning to walk.

He would bring her books to read, talk to her or simply sit by quietly, watching her while she slept. She knew because often when she woke, she’d find him dozing with his head resting on the side of her bed. She wondered how he found the time to spend with her, as he was without question a very busy man, a much sought after neurosurgeon she’d heard someone say.

One day, she overheard the nurses talking outside her room. “The only reason why Mrs. Mehta is alive today is because of her husband and the courage he showed in undertaking such a difficult procedure.”

Naina was stumped and overcome with awe. How could she even begin to repay such an enormous debt to Rihaan? The least she could do was gather up the tenuous strings of her sorry life and buck up and assist him in his goal, even though every step took a mountain of effort.

But eventually her hard work paid off. Finally, the day had arrived to escape the bland confines of her hospital room.

But she wasn’t going to Rehab as her therapists had recommended. Rihaan had persuaded them otherwise in his usual forceful manner. He was taking her home with him.

And she couldn’t wait…