“Take these parathas for the journey,” Rachna urged, handing me a packet.
‘They serve food in the plane,’ I was about to say, but I accepted it. She had never grasped the intricacies of flying internationally.
This was my second trip back home in three years, following my transfer to the US. The first trip was made in haste for my parents’ funeral after their tragic accident. The delicate situation was probably the reason why either Rachna or her parents did not ask about when I would take her to the US.
Even if they had, my shrewd mind might have spun a tale and convinced the unassuming trio.
This trip, I did not allow them to talk about it, as I had successfully managed to pass on some documents for Rachna’s signatures, as essential papers for her ‘upcoming’ trip. Her trust in me was so strong that she signed without hesitation. The purpose of my journey was thus served, though discreetly.
Rachna, a modest woman with only a high school education, stood in stark contrast to me, a driven mechanical engineer. Our wedding story was something akin to a Bollywood plot. When I was hardly two years old, My father made a vow 33 years ago to a friend. Despite the significant financial disparity, with my father positioned favourably, he pledged that if his friend’s wife gave birth to a girl, he would accept her as his daughter-in-law.
Fate had tied our lives together. Rachna was born into that household soon.
My father’s strictness and commanding presence shaped my path. At 30, I took the wedding vows reluctantly, having dreamt of having a well-qualified and ambitious life partner.
Although Rachna had many endearing qualities, I struggled to embrace her completely as my wife. The whispers about our five-year-old, issueless marriage travelled.
“How can the poor girl conceive when her husband is globe-trotting?”
The gossip may have caused distress to Rachna and her parents, but did I care at the time?
And was there something I could do about it now?
Rachna and her parents waved from outside the departure gate. Their happy demeanours flashing their eager anticipation of Rachna’s upcoming trip to join me.
I stood at the airport, watching them walk away, not knowing when and if I’d see them again.
My fingers brushed against the bag containing the documents Rachna had signed.
I had made a foolish assumption that my father’s death had relieved me of all the promises he made, and I could disentangle myself from the marital bond, but fate had other plans. The blow it gave had my malicious intentions to erase Rachna from my life backfire.
What I had intended to pass off as divorce papers under the nose of my innocent wife now stood amended as documents that would make her a co-purchaser of my properties, thereby simplifying the transfer procedures later with my lawyer’s assistance.
Fate had granted me only six more months of life, diagnosed with a rare terminal ailment!