Chapter 59 Maa ka ashirwad worked wonders
Maa ka ashirwad worked wonders, especially when the said Maa wanted you to get married so badly that she pushed you out of the house, the city and the continent.
“You better come back with your husband next time.” She had squeezed Amaal under her arm at the airport, making Dad grunt. He was now a reluctant member of the Samar Party, but as always, he still thought she could do better.
Amaal stepped back on Indian soil in the cosy winter of December, with the last few months in London having reset a whole lot of her life, her perspective and her priorities.
She now wasn’t hard pressed on running behind the trail of her career.
She had given it enough of a decade to finally slow down.
She was no more desperate to make it big, to keep her CV glowing, to stay ahead of time itself.
She was now ready to settle down. Buy that house, even if she needed a loan, get her parents to return now that Jammu-Kashmir was her future, and marry that man standing at Arrivals.
She spotted him before he did, and Amaal slowed down, keeping him in her eyes before he realised she was here.
The Shimla Airport was busy with this Delhi flight traffic, the passengers in a commotion of trolleys and bags around her.
She had eyes only for Samar. Even from this distance, standing among a line of waiting families, he stood out.
Not because of his height or sharp eyes, but because of the sheer strength of his presence.
His kurta sleeves were rolled up, his burn scars a bright, beaming part of him, visible around the leather jacket he had folded over one arm.
The mandarin collar of his kurta was open at the top, giving a peep into the side where another scar lived.
And yet, the melted skin only told a story of bravery, of redemption, of simple decision-making in a man as complex as this one.
His head turned, and she knew the exact moment he spotted her, because that straight mouth, which was pressed into a thin line, began to soften. Slowly, his eyes shone. And he took off his specs just as she ran the remainder of the way to him, abandoning her trolley.
His arms opened when she thought she would have to weasel her way into him, and Amaal jumped, making him whirl with her momentum. His low laughter reverberated in her ears as his arms pressed her tight to his chest.
“Netaji,” she pulled back, making it a point to give him a once-over. “Wear a koti now at least.”
“I will.” He set her down, putting his specs back on and stepping around to get her trolley.
Amaal turned to look at him. She had seen his back in some of their life’s worst moments and now it was a delight to see it as he caught hold of the handle of her trolley. She sighed, then noticed eyes on them.
“What happened?” Samar touched her lower back, pushing her trolley one-handed. She stepped out of his touch.
“Umm, Samar,” she leaned in. “People recognise you here.”
“Yes,” he gathered her close again, making her hold onto the trolley handle with her free hand. “But I am not as famous a face as you think. They will see me, talk about it and forget it. Our Deputy CM Balwinder Joshi is famous.”
“Look at that, when I left India, you were a small-time Himachal party…” she teased. He meandered the trolley to the parking lot. “We were never a small-time party. And now we are expanding across three North Indian states.”
“How’s that going?”
“I am seeing you after three months, you think I will waste my time talking about the party?” They reached his white Innova and he began to set her luggage in.
“We have all of the night.” She shouldered him.
He snapped the dickey shut and squinted at her under the sun. “But I have to wait for that through this taxing dinner you have said yes to.”
“I couldn’t say no to Iram. And Arth was so cute asking me to come because he wanted his gifts.”
“I hope you’ve brought my gift.” He settled into the driver’s seat just as she took the passenger seat.
“You told me you didn’t want anything…” she whirled to pull her seatbelt on and found her hair tugged in his grip until her head was turned and his mouth stamped on hers. Her insides clenched. And just like that, he let her go.
“Samar!” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. He was pulling his seatbelt on and turning the car out of the lot.
“You seem happy to see me, luv.” She turned in her seat, crossing one leg under her other and getting comfortable. The long flight from London to Delhi and then the connecting flight here had done her in. But one look, one hug, one kiss and she felt good as new.
“Should I not be?” He drove out of the airport and onto the highway.
“You better be.”
“Stop looking at me like that, Amaal.” His eyes were straight ahead.
“Like how?”
“Like you want me to take you home first.”
“You can’t even see me to see how I am looking at you!”
His head whipped, and intense, dark eyes stared straight at her — “Can’t I?”
“Look ahead.” She turned his cheek, making him vibrate. “And don’t answer a question with a question.”
“It’s going to become a gene mutation. We have to make sure the kids don’t do that.”
She swallowed, feeling hot all over. A man who did not want to see any future once upon a time, not too long ago, was now talking about genetic problems in their prospective kids.
“How many kids?”
“How many do you want?”
“See, again a question with a question.”
“Pleasure to answer that with a statement and have you obey. Three kids.”
“Three?” She squealed. “That’s wild! No way.”
“Why, you wanted an answer to a question.”
“One.”
“Not enough”
“Are you bargaining for kids right now?”
He looked at her and smirked — “Can’t I?”
She couldn’t not smile, or laugh, or feel giddy, or blush, so Amaal looked away and out of her window. His hand came and tugged at the ends of her hair. She slapped it away. He did it again and she punched his arm.
“We will need to work on your punches in addition to your knife fighting and pain relief spraying skills.” He deadpanned. “But we have some time.”
“Samar!” She bit the insides of her cheeks so bad it hurt.
“Laugh it out, it will become easier.” He nodded at her mouth.
“I swear you want death at my hands.”
“I also want other things.”
This time she baited back — “And what is that?”
“Your hand, in marriage.”
“Something that is not under eighteen.”
“What’s that?” His smirk deepened. And she stilled.
“Wait a minute… was that a proposal?”
“I did ask you, didn’t I?”
“Was that a question?” She threw up her hands.
“Fine, Amaal.” He grabbed her hand in his and commanded, eyes ahead. “I am going to marry you.”
She took a deep breath, then let it go, still keeping her smile to herself — “That was the most dominating, non-romantic, boring…”
He hit the indicator and parked the car by the shoulder of the highway.
“What are you…” She didn’t get to complete that question as he tugged her wrist and smacked his mouth on hers.
His tongue tore through her lips and his fingers gathered her hair tight.
He licked her tongue, squeezing her hair and letting his specs press into her skin.
He knew what he was doing. Because he instantly pulled back, too.
She was panting, eyes at half mast, mouth open. His hand covered her cheek — “You finally let yourself feel this.”
She tried to hold it in but a giggle burst out. Samar smiled.
“I blame myself for this.” He said softly. “But now that my time is up, and you have come back, I am ready to become all that you ever need me to be, in my good moments and my bad, so marry me.”
She began to open her mouth but he shut her up with another quick kiss.
“It’s not romantic because I did not plan it. If I plan it, it won’t be romantic at all.”
Her chest vibrated.
“But I have some surprises for you. Two are at home, one is for after we get married.”
Her brow went up suggestively.
“Think clean, Amaal,” he kissed her forehead, laughing. “Think clean.”
“Samar.”
“Hmm?” His voice vibrated on her forehead.
“Us, your car with its…” she checked the backseat — empty for a change. “Contraband.” He chuckled. “And an open road, is all that’s needed. If I wanted romance, I would have gone to Khalil…”
He gripped her neck and pulled her head back — “You had to take his name.”
She grinned, nodding.
Samar pushed her neck until her lips were under his mouth and bit into the soft flesh. She winced, and felt it in other places.
“Quiet.” He licked the spot, then pressed his teeth into it again.
She moaned, pushing to kiss him. But he pulled back, snapped off the indicator and got back on the road.
“You are mean!”
He smirked. “Keep repeating these names I don’t like and see how mean I can get.”
————————————————————
“…and that’s how you keep them in control.
” Iram and Amaal sat talking in hushed tones to his right, the bonfire warm, close to them.
Samar finished the bottle of water in front of him and began to get up to throw it when Atharva’s hand came into his field of vision.
He passed it and sat back down. A second later, Atharva returned with his old guitar in hand, and sat down beside him on the thick rug spread over the dewy grass.
The women had made some noise and set up chairs, but they had spread the rug in front of a sturdy stub of a banyan tree and leaned their backs.
“What are they talking about so seriously?” Atharva muttered.
“I have no idea and it’s dangerous to ask.”
“What did you say?” Amaal caught his words.
“Nice night.” Samar deadpanned.
“You said something about me being dangerous.”
“No.”
“You did.”
“He did, he did.” Noora’s voice sounded from behind them. Samar turned, only to find him trying to hide his big body behind the halved trunk. “I heard him.”
“What are you doing there?”
“Spying.”
Samar looked at Atharva.
“Ignore him.” Atharva strung his guitar, playing with his puck.
“Since when did you start playing again?”
“Arth likes it, he is a musical kid.”