Category: Daily Post Challenges

The air was thick with excitement and stifled giggles. The prospective groom, Ranjit had arrived with his family to see Juhi, the eldest daughter of the house.

“He’s so handsome!” gushed her friends as they peered from the doorway and ran back to report to Juhi who sat demurely inside, waiting to be summoned.

Juhi adjusted her flowing dupatta and flicked back her long plait. “And he is a doctor,” she couldn’t help boasting.

“Doctor, my foot,” sneered Reeta, “he’s just a compounder. All he does is dispense medicines.”

“Rubbish!” Juhi’s sister was up in arms, “He is a doctor. We went to his clinic. There was a huge queue of patients.”

“He may call himself a doctor but I know the truth.” Reeta shot back.

“What truth?”

“That he is only a registered medical practitioner – an RMP, not a doctor.”

“It’s the same thing.”

“That’s what you think.”

“You are just jealous.”

“Why would I be jealous?” Reeta retorted. “I am going to marry a ‘real’ doctor in the city, not some remote village which doesn’t even have electricity.”

“It does have…”

“Juhi!” Her mother came bustling in trembling with excitement and nervousness, “come along. They want to see you. Now behave yourself. Keep your head down. Don’t forget to touch their feet. Speak but only when spoken to and speak softly….”

She led Juhi out, muttering instructions.

“What is your name?” The elderly man with the big mustache asked.

“Juhi.” Her voice was barely audible.

“Can you cook? And sew?”

Juhi inclined her head.

“Have you been to school?”

“Yes, I studied till Class 5.”

“Did you just go to school or can you also read and write?”

Juhi’s eyes flew up to meet Ranjit’s mocking eyes.

“I can.” She said.

“Which? Read or write?” He smirked. “Don’t mind but I am the only doctor in the entire village. I have a certain standard to live up to. My wife cannot be illiterate…”

“I can read and write.” She asserted.

He pushed forward a notepad. “How about a little test?”

She looked at her mother, who nodded encouragingly. “I know only Hindi.” She said.

“Don’t worry. I don’t have such high expectations!” They laughed.

Ranjit began the dictation.

Juhi bent her head and laboriously wrote them down with her tongue sticking out from one corner of her mouth.

After the dictation was over, everyone held their collective breaths as he scanned the notebook.

After an eon, he lifted his head and smiled. “She passed the test.” He looked at his father. “We may put her on the shortlist…”

“Wait a minute,” Juhi spoke up, ignoring the gasps, “I want you to also take the test.”

“Me?”

“Yes.” She looked at him in the eye. “Please take down my dictation.”

He went red. He looked at his father for guidance and support in dealing with the unheard of insult.

Her mother nudged her. “Juhi! Apologize this very instant.”

But the groom’s father laughed and slapped him on the back. “Go ahead son and show her who you are – a respected and highly educated doctor.

Ranjit gave in and accepted the challenge. But not before his eyes had burned into hers, promising retribution.

“Please check it, Madamji.” He said mockingly as he handed the diary back to her after the dictation was done. “Happy?” He turned to his father and declared, “I like her spirit. Can we finalize her?”

“You may.” Juhi spoke up. Her eyes were glittering. “But I refuse to marry you.”

There was pin drop silence.

She held up the diary. “He failed the test.”

***

Written for the Daily Post’s one word prompt – Better

A/N This story was inspired by a incident reported in the news last week. Hats off to her.

Sameer washed down on the last bit of the burger with a healthy swig of beer. He was sick of airport food, which was all that he got these days. On the flight from Chennai to Delhi, he had had a wonderful dream of dal and rice, just the way she used to make.

How can the cook mess up something as simple as rice and dal? I could do it better, if only I had the time.

Liar! You hate going into the kitchen because it reminds you of her.

Everything reminds me of her dammit.

Then why did you let her go?

She didn’t want to stay.

Did you ask her to stay?

Why would she listen to me?

When has she not?

She left didn’t she?

You left her no choice. You forced her to choose between self-respect and her love.

So fine! She chose herself.

What did you expect? That she would prefer to choose a moody obnoxious…

Whose side are you on?

Hers obviously. I am sick of you and your blasted ego. Just because you don’t like to say sorry, admit your mistakes, you let her go.

Oh stop whining. Move on. It’s been two years…

Oh so you’ve been keeping track?

What’s there to keep track?

You lie even to yourself. Hey isn’t that her?

Where? Shut the hell up and stop messing with my mind.

I am not messing with you! And even if I am, what can you do? Push me away like you did her? Just because she told you a few home truths?

What rot! I didn’t push her away.

That’s what you think. And deny as much as you like and the way I see it, she still has a firm clasp over your heart.

Nonsense.

And every now and then she gives it a squeeze.

His heart stopped. There she was – at the bookshop.

Go to her! Don’t let her go away again.

Stop being so Bollywood. What do I have to say to her?

Tons.

But I can’t say it. I wrote it all down. I even published it.

You should have sent her a copy.

What if she laughed at my face?

She has the right. Besides the book is funny.

Very funny.

If you hadn’t used a penname, she would have known by now. She couldn’t have missed it.

I couldn’t make fool of myself.

So you used a female penname?

Oh shut up.

For once be honest with yourself. Do you or do you not believe what you wrote? If you do, do not let her go. Fate has handed this chance do not let it slip.

I couldn’t.

Why can’t you? Just say hello?

What if she refuses to talk to me?

Just the kind of tonic your oversized ego needs.

What?

I told you I am on her side.

Help me dammit.

Go to her and apologize to her.

What if she insults me?

What if she doesn’t?

What if she does?

That’s the risk you have to take. That’s what you have to decide. Whether you love her or yourself.

She had finished purchasing her book and was moving away towards the boarding gates.

 He couldn’t let her go. Not again.

“He…hello?”

“How are you?” No surprise. No flicker of recognition or emotion.

“Fine.” Limbs and heart leaden, he turned away.

“Do you mind autographing this book?”

 She held out his book.

“Y…You know?” He held his breath.

“Yes. I read the book.”

“How did you like it?” He couldn’t quite hide his smug expression. His book was good. The reviews and sales proved it.

She looked at the book in her hand. “The book is good. I especially liked the twist in the end.” She met his eyes.

His heart thudded. “When he walked away?”

She nodded.

He shrugged. “It is what the protagonist deserved. To be punished. To be alone, forever.” He cleared his throat. “If you have already read it why did you buy it?”

“I wondered if it was all mere talk. I wanted to find out for myself.”

“And?” His breath eased and his heart steadied. He felt on top of the world. He could picture her in his their home. Nothing would have changed. It would be as if these two years had never happened. He at his table tapping away, a delicious fragrance wafting around him while she pottered about…

“I better go that’s my flight.”

“But…”

“I’ll mail you my thoughts.” She paused. “Or maybe I won’t. You can buy the book and read it. Stay well.” She walked away.

***

Depending on whom you’ve been rooting for I hope I managed to jolt you or extract a chuckle or two 😉

Thanks for reading! I would appreciate if you let me know your thoughts 😉 Or would you prefer me to wait for the bestseller? 😀