We Indian - In Love

Gulsum Basheer   http://talkalittledo.wordpress.com/

 A secret rendezvous gone awry. The couple is in a quandary. But then, all is well that ends well.

Before marriage, when my husband and I were in love, we hid the fact from his parents. We were both colleagues in a MNC and had known each other for quite sometime.We were both engineers and were twenty-five year old grown ups.

 But we Indians! When it came to telling our parents about the one we love, we really had to move cautiously.

I had dropped in at his house a few times before, with other friends. His parents knew me a little and had  always been  friendly towards me. But I was not sure how they would react if they knew that I was planning on marrying their darling son.

One Sunday, my boy friend and I decided to meet for lunch at this big hotel, Savera in our city. I arrived on time but my guy was a little late.

I waited in the reception area, looking expectantly at the entrance.

A man entered and on seeing him I got the jolt of my life. It was not my man, but his father who walked up the three steps to the hotel. He gave a start on seeing me, trying to see whom I was with. I turned the other way, pretending I had not seen him.

My hand was busy texting my guy. “Don’t come. Your dad is here.”

His reply came with a ping. “Too late…have come… he has seen me.”

I turned very slowly and saw that my sweet heart had got off his car and was checking it in with the valet-parking chauffeur while his father stood watching him with a questioning look.

I saw out of the corner of my eye, that my boy friend walked up to his dad had a conversation of sorts with him. Then he walked casually towards the eating joints in the first floor, completely ignoring me. After a decent time had elapsed I sauntered up to the lift, pretending I had not seen either of them.

On the first floor, we had a discussion as to what to do.  I wanted to scoot. Run 100 miles away. But my beloved would have none of it. He had told his dad that he was meeting some colleagues for lunch and anyway it was too late to get a table at any other decent place on a Sunday. He said that his father always frequented the  dining hall on the ground floor and we would be safe if we kept to the first floor restaurant.

As we waited for our table, hoping for the best, his father walked right in with two friends and tapped his son on the shoulder. I stood stupefied waiting for fire works. Nothing happened.

His dad was wonderful that day.

Pretending that he did not find anything amiss with his son taking a lady colleague out to lunch alone, he made us join his table and treated us to a sumptuous fare. But suffice to say that I hardly ate anything at that meal and was like a cat on a hot tin roof.

Later that night at home, father and son had a man-to-man conversation and my dear one convinced his dad that I was the girl for him.

His papa gave the thumbs up to our love. Apparently he only laughingly quipped:

“I hope that the next time she bumps into me at a public place, she won’t pretend  she has not seen me!”

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