2 States The Story of My Marriage

2 States The Story of My Marriage

Chetan Bhagat

Language: English

Pages: 269

ISBN: 8129132540

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Love marriages around the world are simple: Boy loves girl. Girl loves boy. They get married. In India, there are a few more steps: Boy loves girl. Girl loves boy. Girl's family has to love boy. Boy's family has to love girl. Girl's family has to love boy's family. Boy's family has to love girl's family. Girl and boy still love each other. They get married. Welcome to 2 States, the story of Krish and Ananya, who are from two different states of India, deeply in love with each other, and want to get married. Of course, their parents don't agree. To convert their love story into a love marriage, the couple has a tough battle ahead of them; for it is easy to fight and rebel, but harder to convince. Will they make it? From the bestselling author Chetan Bhagat comes another witty tale about inter-community marriages in modern India.

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I said hello to beans and cabbage. ‘Harish’s parents want to get him married. You have Ananya’s nakshatram?’ Shobha aunty said. ‘No, not yet,’ Ananya’s mother said. ‘What, Swami? Your wife is not interested in finding a good son-in-law?’ I couldn’t believe they were discussing all this in my presence. ‘Can you pass the rice?’ I said, hoping to steer the conversation elsewhere. ‘Radha, you must listen to Shobha. She knows best,’ Ananya’s father said. Indian men slam their wives for their.

Deprivation. ‘So, you understand my concern about you being from IIT,’ she said, picking up a chicken breast next. ‘Oh, so it is a natural reaction. If I am from IIT, I have to propose to you within ten minutes?’ ‘I didn’t say that.’ ‘You implied that.’ ‘I’m sorry.’ ‘It’s OK. I expected you to be like this. Let me guess—only child, rich parents?’ ‘Wrong, wrong. I have a younger brother. And my father works in Bank of Baroda in Chennai. Sorry, you expected me to be like what?’ ‘Some girls.

Finished explaining how the staff-recruiting process works in his Egmore district. I looked at the wall clock. It was nine-thirty. ‘Sorry, I didn’t even ask you for dinner,’ Mr Swaminathan said. ‘It’s OK, keep going. I’ll wash my face,’ I said and pulled back my chair. I came back from the bathroom and uncle had brought two steel plates and a bowl of lemon rice. He put the bowl in the microwave to heat the food. ‘Sorry, I can’t give you proper dinner tonight. I told the maid to make something.

There is so much to do.’ She gave me her study chair and sat on her bed. The rust-coloured bed-sheet matched the exposed brick walls. She had made a notice board out of chart paper and stuck family pictures all over. ‘See, that’s my family. That’s my dad. He is so cute,’ she said. I looked carefully. A middle-aged man with neatly combed hair rationed his grin. He wore a half-sleeve shirt with a dhoti in most of the pictures. He looked like the neighbour who stops you from playing loud music.

Sometimes in life you just meet someone or hear something that nudges you on the right path. And that becomes the best advice. It could just be a bit of common sense said in a way that resonates with something in you. It's nothing new, but because it connects with you it holds meaning for you.’ I explained with such intensity, Ananya became concerned. ‘Are you OK, baby? I shouldn’t have left you.’ ‘I’m fine. I’m glad I had time. I feel better.’ ‘I love you,’ she said, brushing floppy hair off.

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