Dil Dhadakta Hai | ✔

five

"Par bewakoof zarur ho," she scoffed.

"Sirf tu-" I paused mid-grin when she hooked me with another glare, pointing a spanner at me.

...so she was not exactly in the best mood forty eight hours before our wedding. I had known her for exactly seven months, which was enough of a reason to fill the why of her anxiety. I sucked in my cheeks, leaning against's the driver door.

It was silent again.

I liked stealing glances at her, observing her. The side of her forehead now had grease stains. It wasn't her beauty that mesmerised me. In the seven months that she had known me, she had known me for real. Fast, we were going way too fast. I knew it, but I was absolutely comfortable with the pace with which our relationship had developed. Something told me that she was going to break me. But after breaking me, she was going to put me back together. It was easy, being around her, in spite of the passive-aggressive looks she adorned me with. Talking about insecurities was easy. Talking about aspirations was funny. Talking about love was foolish. That's probably why we did not doubt our decision to get married. If we were committing a mistake, it was going to be the best one.

The closing of the bonnet snapped me out of my thoughts. "Ho gaya? Itni jaldi?"

She lifted the toolkit, handing it to me. "Kuchh cheezo ko zyada waqt ki zarurat nahi hoti, Ritwik. You know it best, don't you?"

I shook my head, smiling to myself. Sure, I had been quick to confess to her about my feelings, but accepting my drunken proposal was her equally drunken mistake. Especially with her Bollywood best friend Sanaya vlogging it for the world to know and for us to never forget.

Back inside the car, I turned off the indicators and waited for her to come in. It wasn't until the engine revved to life that she pulled on her seat belt, and finally spewed out what had been toying with her mind.

"Are we getting married just for the fun of it, Ritwik?"

Slightly unsure of where this was heading to, I rolled my lips. "I think that sort of policy applies only to Vegas."

She did not give me her impassive look, did not even look at me. Twiddling her thumbs, she leaned back in her seat. She was nervous. I pressed on a button to pull up the roof of her Convertible. "I met one of your ex-girlfriends yesterday."

Unaware that I actually had many of those, I pursed my lip. "Sounds like your new movie script."

"Shut up, Ritwik," she sighed. "She wasn't there to threaten me."

"Then what's the matter?"  

"Why did you leave her, Ritwik?" She played with the hem of her shirt. "She belongs to a business family, runs her own company, and even has a perfect body, unlike me. Why did you leave her for me? I- I don't see why you would still want to marry me. I'm not exactly the size-zero actress that people salivate over, and you've known me only for seven months. We still have a lot to know about each other."

Insecurities thrived in ironies. It was the only secured feature a person could have, and flawlessly so. Beauty does not capture dreams, insecurities do. Intellect does not motivate a person, insecurities do. Fears do not make a person pretentious, insecurities do. Being insecure was alright- it shaped a person. So, when Tanya Singhal fixed me on my place with her confession just a few hours before getting her hands tattooed in henna, I was mesmerised.