Read another one shot by Reya aka maankigeet4ever which made me wonder how many miles I have to cover to be the perfect writer. http://india-forums.com/forum_posts.asp?TID=2323021 reya please don't mind but people should know what they are missing out on. I'm really sorry for plaguing you with PM's but I have to study physics in the evening...so I just want to write as much as I can before bowing down to Calorimetry devta.
Virat Missing His Maanvi
Virat sat in the garden outside the Vadhera house, gazing at the stars, and remembering that night exactly one year earlier when he and Maanvi had had a crazy conversation. Of course, at that moment, he had been more preoccupied with the mystery of a certain doctor in her hometown of Rishikesh than actually appreciating the things about Maanvi which now were beyond his reach-the way she narrowed her eyes while listening to him, the way she would then immediately open that oh-so-luscious mouth to argue with him irrespective of whether what he had said was right or not. The way she left her hair open and let it blow in the breeze so that the silken strands could caress his face, and the way she would lie down beside him and chat away without realizing that his heart rate had moved several notches up when their arms touched.
All this, and many more things where what he missed the most about Maanvi Choudhary. Why had he never told the girl how amazing she was? When she had been by his side, he had taunted her, played pranks on her, and even spoken rudely to her. She had transformed him from Virat Vadhera, jilted lover, to Virat Vadhera, a fun-loving cool dude again. She had made him realise that he was not 60 years old like Dadaji but a 26 year old guy with perfectly logical dreams and aspirations. What had happened in his past was minute compared to what he shared with her.
But his melancholy had won. He had been unable to fully show her the extent of his happiness when she was around. He remembered the time she had been rushed to hospital, and instead of trying to cheer her up, he had stood morose in a corner. The only memory of them both in which he felt he had not been a complete fool was the one where he had allowed her to get away with stealing his brother's shoes at his Viren bhai and Jeevika bhabhi's wedding. He wished he could have pulled her to his waist and told her how her childlike smile seemed to take away all the pent-up frustration inside him. But again, he had just been silent.
'Virat! Dinner is ready!' Jeevika called. Virat closed his eyes. He hated being a family man, but he had no other option. Ever since he had got married, he had had to become the perfect son and husband and sit down at the dinner table at eight 'o' clock and eat whatever preparations his wife had made for him that day.
His wife. She was not at all like his Maanvi. She was someone else altogether. Maanvi had been a carefree girl who didn't care a fig what others thought. Of course, when it came to her loved ones, she was ready to do anything to keep them happy. He still remembered how she had stayed at home during her Jeevika bhabhi's wedding just so that it could take place peacefully. When he had seen her crying by the window, he had nearly lost his senses. He had just wanted to comfort her, to hug her and tell her that it was okay now, she could come to the wedding and no one would say anything. But otherwise, she was a total monkey who loved being mischievous and breaking the rules.
His wife was hardly like the bandariya. She was calm and composed. She kept her hair tied and wore a carefully draped saree. She knew how to cook, clean, sew and iron. She was the perfect homemaker in every respect. She never said anything that could offend others, or did any masti that would result in shame to the family. She could sing and dance, but her dance, while being elegant and graceful, lacked the joyfulness and give-a-damn-attitude that Maanvi's steps had.
He sat down at the table and didn't say a word as everyone ate dinner and chattered quietly among themselves. He didn't know why he was missing Maanvi all of a sudden. He had convinced himself that she was just another tragedy in his life, and that he had to move on. What would everyone think if they could read his mind? He looked at his wife, and she smiled demurely. He knew that there was nothing wrong with her, and that on paper they were the paradisaical couple, second only to Viren and Jeevika. After a year or so they would have a couple of children who would play with Viren and Jeevika's daughter, and learn maths and history from their Shlok bhaiyya.
But that was not what he had wanted. What he had wanted to do was spend a crazy lifestyle in idyllic Rishikesh with his Manoo, teaching her little friends and living in a small cottage that overlooked the pure, breakneck speed rapids of the Ganga river.
After dinner, he went upstairs to the bedroom. A part of his dream had come true, and he now taught kids in Chandigarh. But he would often remember the greenery of Rishikesh and among them his sherni, smiling at him and completing his vision of heaven.
He brushed his teeth and changed out of his shirt and trousers into a loose-fitting kurta. He went to the window and placed his hands on the windowsill, wondering whether his Choudhrain was glittering among the stars in the sky.
'Hey,' she whispered, placing her hands on his shoulders.
He spun around, and looking back at him was his Maanvi, an exact replica of the girl from Rishikesh, the one he had loved and still loved with all his heart. She was wearing a green salwar kameez, and her poker straight hair was left loose and trailed down her shoulders, held back only by a few pins. He felt his heart jump up to his mouth as he reached out to touch her.
'Maanvi,' he said softly, worried that she might disappear any moment. She remained where she was, not at all flinching as his hands reached out to stroke her cheek. He slinked his arms around her waist and pulled her to him, running his hands through her hair. 'Maanvi,' he whispered over and over again, 'I missed you so much.'
'Oh god, Chep, if you missed me so much you should have called me. I was in the kitchen only.'
He closed his eyes and groaned in frustration. 'You mean to say that you wanted to me to call that perfect cook called Maanvi Vadhera who was too busy being the exemplary bahu to accompany me on a date yesterday.'
'Oh c'mon Virat,' she said teasingly, cupping his neck and moving her lips over his stubble. He felt his hands automatically run down her waist as she pressed her mouth to his. 'You're still upset with me because of that?'
'Don't talk to me,' he said gruffly, as he lifted up her salwar over her shoulders. 'Just be quiet, okay?'
She nodded her head, feeling herself tremble in anticipation as he undressed her. He then picked her up and carried her over to the bed, unable to stop himself from kissing every inch of her. He was worried that if he stopped even to take a breath or relax himself, she would gain the upper hand and run away again. Twice they had been interrupted because Maanvi had to wake up early in the morning to make a birthday breakfast for Dadaji, or because she had to study for some final year examination. Now he wouldn't let anything come in between.
She sank down into the soft sheets, feeling as if she was not in her husband's arms, but in some kind of wondrous dream. Sometimes she wondered what had ever possessed her to become the ideal daughter-in-law types which she had thought would only be her Jeevika di's forte. Now she realized the answer-it was Virat Vadhera.
He finally stopped as he happened to glance at the clock and dishearteningly remembered that he had to wake up at five to correct some of his students' homework assignments. She smirked as he turned over on his back in frustration.
'Tomorrow again you'll be too busy to be with me.'
'Virat, you remember Soumini Bua's condition for our marriage na? I have to do all this if I want to be with you.'
'Screw her conditions,' he thought irritably, wishing that Maanvi might have misunderstood Soumini Bua's terms just the way Beeji had misunderstood them during Viren's marriage. But they both knew that if they wanted to be together, there were certain compromises he had to make.
Nevermind. Maanvi Choudhary was long gone, but Maanvi Vadhera was not a bad substitute, he thought endearingly, as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead before going to sleep.
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