The first thing Bindu noticed about her husband was that he was ridiculously well-mannered.
The second thing she noticed was that this was going to be a problem.
Lakshya had opened the car door for her, carefully helped her settle into the passenger seat, adjusted the AC because he thought she might be cold, and even asked whether she was comfortable before getting into the driver’s seat.
He had done all of this without once appearing impatient.
Bindu, meanwhile, was sitting stiffly in her heavily embroidered wedding saree, wondering whether she was supposed to keep smiling throughout the journey.
They had been married for barely a few hours. Their families had arranged everything, from the first meeting to the wedding ceremonies, with remarkable efficiency. They had met twice before the wedding, both times in the presence of their families, and had managed approximately fifteen minutes of actual conversation between them.
They were, essentially, strangers who had just promised to spend their lives together.
“Are you tired?” Lakshya asked, starting the car.
“A little.”
“We’ll reach home in about forty minutes. You can rest there.”
“Okay.”
“Would you like some music?”
“Anything is fine.”
He switched on some soft instrumental music.
Bindu looked out of the window.
Instrumental music. Of course.
She glanced at him.
He was driving with one hand on the steering wheel, his other hand resting near the gear, looking composed and entirely unbothered.
He probably listens to classical music while reading the newspaper in the morning.
She suppressed a sigh.
Lakshya glanced at her.
“Something wrong?”
“No, no. Everything’s fine.”
He smiled.
She returned the smile.
Both looked away.
Lakshya was secretly congratulating himself on having handled the first few hours rather well. His mother had given him an entire lecture about being patient, considerate and attentive. His sister had advised him to make Bindu feel comfortable. His sister-in-law had specifically told him not to behave like one of those husbands who expected their wives to adjust to everything.
He had taken all the advice seriously.
He was determined to be a good husband.
What he didn’t know was that his wife was equally determined to be a good wife.
And neither of them had the slightest idea what that actually meant.
By the time they reached the house, Bindu was almost falling asleep.
Lakshya noticed and gently touched her shoulder.
“Bindu? We’re home.”
She opened her eyes, immediately straightened and looked around.
A large, beautifully lit house stood in front of her. The entrance was decorated with flowers, and several members of the family were waiting outside.
Her stomach tightened.
Lakshya noticed.
“Don’t worry. They’re all very nice.”
She nodded.
He stepped out, came around to her side and opened the door.
“Come.”
His hand extended towards her.
She hesitated for a fraction of a second before placing hers in his.
The family welcomed her with the usual enthusiasm. There were aartis, rituals, photographs, teasing, laughter and a seemingly endless number of instructions. Bindu smiled through everything, trying to remember names and relationships.
Lakshya stayed close, quietly helping whenever he could.
When one of his cousins tried pulling her towards the living room for photographs, he intervened.
“Give her a break. She’s been standing in those heels for hours.”
His sister laughed.
“Already defending your wife?”
Lakshya rolled his eyes.
Bindu looked at him with a grateful smile.
He’s actually very thoughtful.
After another half hour of ceremonies, he finally managed to take her upstairs.
Their bedroom was spacious and tastefully decorated. Fresh flowers stood in a vase on the bedside table. The bed was covered with a beautiful white bedsheet, and a small tray containing chocolates, water and snacks had been placed near the window.
Bindu looked around appreciatively.
“It’s beautiful.”
Lakshya smiled.
“I’m glad you like it.”
He walked towards the wardrobe.
“I’ve cleared one side for you. There’s also some space in the bathroom for your things. If you need anything else, just tell me.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
He turned towards her.
“You must be exhausted. Why don’t you change and rest? I’ll be downstairs for a while. Take your time.”
Bindu nodded.
As soon as the door closed behind him, she let out a long breath.
“Oh, God.”
She looked at the room again.
It was lovely. Almost intimidatingly lovely.
She placed her jewellery on the dressing table and sat on the edge of the bed.
Her husband was a gentleman.
A proper gentleman.
And she had absolutely no idea how to deal with one.
Downstairs, Lakshya was having a similar crisis.
His younger sister, Naina, had cornered him near the dining table.
“So?”
“So what?”
“How is married life?”
He gave her a look.
“Naina, it’s been three hours.”
“Exactly. Plenty of time.”
“Go away.”
She grinned.
“You’re nervous.”
“I’m not.”
“You’ve adjusted your hair four times since coming downstairs.”
Lakshya ignored her.
His elder brother, Arjun, joined them.
“Leave him alone. He’s trying to maintain his good-boy image.”
Lakshya frowned.
“What image?”
Arjun laughed.
“Don’t worry, brother. The truth will come out eventually.”
Lakshya threw a napkin at him.
Upstairs, Bindu had changed into a comfortable night suit and was arranging her belongings.
She had just finished putting her skincare products on the dressing table when Lakshya returned.
He knocked before entering.
“Can I come in?”
“Yes.”
He walked inside, carrying two glasses of water.
“Here.”
“Thank you.”
He placed one on her side of the bed.
“Do you need anything?”
“No, I think I’m fine.”
“Okay.”
He looked towards the bed.
“I’ll sleep on this side.”
Bindu nodded.
A small silence followed.
“Good night, Bindu.”
“Good night, Lakshya.”
He switched off the main light, leaving the bedside lamp on.
They settled into bed, each occupying a very carefully measured portion of the mattress.
Bindu lay facing the wall.
Lakshya lay on his back, staring at the ceiling.
Neither was asleep.
After several minutes, Bindu shifted slightly.
“Lakshya?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you awake?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
A pause.
“Are you uncomfortable?”
“No. Are you?”
“No.”
Another pause.
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
They went back to staring at their respective sides.
It was going to be a very long night.
The next morning, Lakshya woke up at 6:15.
He had slept terribly.
Not because of Bindu. Quite the opposite. He had spent most of the night being excessively conscious of her presence, ensuring he didn’t move too much, pull the blanket away or accidentally disturb her.
Still, he was determined to make a good impression.
He showered, got dressed and went downstairs.
His mother was in the kitchen.
“You’re up?”
“Yes, Ma.”
“Where’s Bindu?”
“Sleeping.”
“Good. Let her sleep. She’s had a tiring few days.”
“I know.”
He prepared tea with his mother’s help and carried it upstairs.
When he entered the room, Bindu was awake, sitting cross-legged on the bed with her phone.
Her hair was a mess, and she looked rather annoyed.
“Good morning!” he said cheerfully.
She looked up.
“Good morning.”
“I brought you tea.”
She stared at the cup.
Then at him.
“You made this?”
“Yes.”
She took it.
“Thank you.”
He sat on the chair beside the bed.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Yes. Quite well.”
He nodded, pleased.
Bindu took a sip.
It was good.
Very good, actually.
He makes tea too?
She looked at him.
“Would you like some?”
“I’ve already had mine.”
“Oh.”
She took another sip.
Lakshya watched her for a moment.
“Do you usually wake up early?”
Bindu nearly choked.
She put the cup down.
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“On the day.”
He smiled.
“Right.”
She smiled back.
He had no idea that she was mentally calculating how long she could continue this early-rising routine before her body staged a revolt.
By the time he left for work, Bindu had already made a mental list of things she needed to do.
She would make an effort with his family. She would learn everyone’s preferences. She would try to help around the house. She would keep their room neat.
And, apparently, she would become a morning person.
God help her.
The first few days passed in much the same manner.
Lakshya continued his thoughtful routine. He brought her tea, asked about her meals, offered to help with her luggage and made sure she wasn’t left alone during family gatherings.
Bindu reciprocated with equal enthusiasm.
She helped his mother in the kitchen, tried learning everyone’s preferences, kept the bedroom reasonably tidy and made an effort to be cheerful even when she was desperately sleepy.
The problem was that both were performing a version of themselves that required considerable effort.
Lakshya, who normally slept until noon whenever work permitted, had started waking up at six.
Bindu, who considered nine in the morning an unreasonable hour, had begun waking up at seven.
Lakshya normally left his clothes wherever he happened to remove them.
Now he folded them.
Bindu normally threw her earrings, hair clips and chargers wherever she found space.
Now she arranged them in little trays.
Lakshya liked his food spicy, oily and preferably served in generous quantities.
Bindu liked her food spicy, oily and preferably served in even more generous quantities.
But they hadn’t discovered that yet.
One afternoon, Lakshya returned from work earlier than usual.
He entered the bedroom and found Bindu sitting near the window, arranging the flowers in the vase.
He smiled.
“Those look nice.”
Bindu turned.
“Oh, these? I thought the old ones were wilting.”
“That’s thoughtful.”
She smiled.
He looked at the vase.
He didn’t particularly care about flowers, but he liked the fact that she was making the room feel like hers.
“Would you like me to get some more tomorrow?”
Bindu looked at him.
“Really?”
“Of course.”
She was touched.
He remembers the flowers.
“That would be lovely.”
Lakshya smiled.
She really does like flowers.
Neither of them realised that they were reinforcing entirely incorrect assumptions about each other.
That evening, Bindu decided to prepare something special for him.
She had noticed that Lakshya preferred spicy food, or at least she thought she had. She had seen him take an extra spoonful of pickle at dinner.
So she decided to make chilli potatoes.
Unfortunately, she had never made them before.
She watched a recipe video, gathered the ingredients and entered the kitchen.
Lakshya’s mother was surprised to see her.
“Bindu beta, what are you making?”
“Chilli potatoes, Ma.”
“Arre, that’s nice! Lakshya loves those.”
Bindu looked delighted.
“Really?”
“Yes. He can eat an entire plate by himself.”
Perfect, she thought.
She worked on the dish for nearly an hour.
By the time she finished, the kitchen was covered in chopped spring onions, sauces, flour and an assortment of utensils.
She was just cleaning the counter when Lakshya entered.
“What’s happening?”
Bindu turned around.
“Nothing!”
He looked at the kitchen.
“Nothing?”
“Well… I was making something.”
He walked towards the stove and lifted the lid.
His eyes widened.
“Chilli potatoes?”
She smiled.
“Do you like them?”
He looked at her.
Then at the dish.
Then back at her.
“Very much.”
She looked pleased.
He took a piece and tasted it.
His eyes watered.
Not because it was bad.
Because it was spectacularly spicy.
Bindu watched him anxiously.
“How is it?”
“Excellent.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
He took another bite.
She smiled.
“Good. I added extra chillies because I thought you’d like it spicy.”
Lakshya nodded, trying not to cough.
She made this for me. I cannot possibly tell her that I can no longer feel my tongue.
He finished his portion.
Later that night, he spent fifteen minutes drinking water.
Bindu, meanwhile, was absolutely delighted with herself.
The first real crack in their carefully constructed personalities appeared on the eighth night of their marriage.
Lakshya had been trying to sleep.
Bindu had been lying beside him, scrolling through her phone.
It was 1:30 a.m.
He had been awake since six that morning and was exhausted.
“Bindu?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you going to sleep?”
“In a bit.”
“Okay.”
He closed his eyes.
Five minutes later, a sudden burst of laughter came from beside him.
He opened one eye.
Bindu was watching something on her phone.
She tried suppressing her laughter.
Failed.
Then burst out laughing again.
Lakshya turned towards her.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why are you laughing?”
She showed him the phone.
It was a ridiculous video of a man falling off a chair.
Lakshya stared at it.
Then, despite himself, laughed.
Bindu grinned.
“See?”
He shook his head.
“You’re impossible.”
She continued watching.
A few minutes later, she yawned.
“Sleepy?”
“A little.”
“Then sleep.”
She put her phone away, settled under the blanket and closed her eyes.
Lakshya turned off the lamp.
Silence.
Ten minutes passed.
Then another twenty.
He was almost asleep when he heard a rustling sound.
He opened his eyes.
Bindu was sitting up.
“What happened?”
She looked at him.
“Nothing.”
“Then?”
She hesitated.
“Are you hungry?”
Lakshya stared.
“What?”
“Are you hungry?”
He considered the question.
He was, actually.
But it was late.
And he had already brushed his teeth.
And he was supposed to be sleeping.
“A little.”
Bindu nodded.
“Do you have Maggi?”
He turned towards her.
“Why?”
“Because I want some.”
He stared for another second.
Then a slow smile spread across his face.
“There’s some in the kitchen.”
She threw the blanket aside.
“Let’s go.”
He sat up.
“Now?”
“Yes, now.”
He looked at the clock.
1:58 a.m.
Then at her.
“You’re hungry at two in the morning?”
She gave him an offended look.
“Are you not?”
He got out of bed.
And followed her downstairs.
Neither knew that this little midnight adventure would change everything.
Bindu walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.
Lakshya switched on the light.
She looked at him.
“Do you know where the Maggi is?”
“Top cabinet.”
She opened it.
There were three packets.
She picked them up.
“Three?”
He shrugged.
“Sometimes I get hungry.”
She looked at him suspiciously.
“At night?”
“Yes.”
“How late?”
He opened the drawer and took out two forks.
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether I’m hungry.”
She stared at him.
He stared back.
Then both began laughing.
“You’re strange,” she said.
“You’re the one who dragged me into the kitchen at two in the morning.”
“Because I’m hungry!”
“Exactly.”
He filled a pan with water.
Bindu leaned against the counter.
“Do you always eat Maggi at night?”
Lakshya shrugged.
“Not always. Sometimes sandwiches. Sometimes leftover dinner. Sometimes ice cream.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“You’re not an early sleeper?”
He looked at her.
“Not particularly.”
“How late do you sleep?”
He hesitated.
Then answered honestly.
“Usually around five or six.”
Bindu froze.
The pan slipped slightly in his hand.
He caught it.
“What?”
She stared at him.
“You sleep at SIX?”
“Sometimes.”
“IN THE MORNING?”
He blinked.
“Yes?”
She stared for another few seconds.
Then burst out laughing.
Lakshya frowned.
“What?”
“Nothing!”
“Why are you laughing?”
She was laughing so hard that she had to hold the counter.
“Because…”
She took a breath.
“Because I sleep at six!”
He stared.
“What?”
“I usually sleep around five or six!”
He slowly put the pan down.
“You’re joking.”
“No!”
“Then why were you waking up at seven?”
Bindu looked at him.
“WHY WERE YOU WAKING UP AT SIX?”
They stared at each other.
A moment of complete silence followed.
Then Lakshya began laughing.
Not a polite laugh.
Not the restrained chuckle he usually offered in front of the family.
A loud, helpless, stomach-hurting laugh.
Bindu joined him.
“YOU WERE WAKING UP EARLY FOR ME?”
He nodded, still laughing.
“YOU TOO?”
“I THOUGHT YOU WERE AN EARLY RISER!”
“WHY?”
“BECAUSE YOU BROUGHT ME TEA AT SIX!”
“BECAUSE I THOUGHT YOU LIKED EARLY MORNINGS!”
Bindu slapped the counter.
“OH, MY GOD!”
Lakshya leaned against the refrigerator, laughing.
She pointed at him.
“YOU’RE A FRAUD!”
He pointed back.
“YOU’RE THE FRAUD!”
They were laughing so loudly that Lakshya’s mother almost came downstairs to investigate.
Eventually, Bindu wiped her eyes and took a deep breath.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“Do you actually like flowers?”
Lakshya stared at her.
Then slowly shook his head.
Bindu closed her eyes.
“Of course.”
He started laughing again.
“Do you?”
“I don’t hate them! But I don’t care about them either!”
He bent forward.
“Then why were you changing them every morning?”
“BECAUSE I THOUGHT YOU LIKED THEM!”
He nearly dropped the spoon.
They laughed again.
And for the first time since their wedding, neither of them felt the need to impress the other.
They simply stood in the kitchen, laughing like two idiots.
The Maggi boiled over.
Neither noticed.
And somewhere in the middle of that ridiculous night, Lakshya realised that his wife was perhaps the funniest person he had ever met.
Bindu, meanwhile, discovered that her husband was not a gentleman in the conventional sense.
He was an absolute menace.
A handsome, well-spoken, apparently responsible menace.
And she was beginning to like him.
A lot.
Married Bachelors
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