Devil in Pinstripes Read Online Free Page A

importantly, it was an arranged marriage. Till date, the majority of middle-aged men and women (or uncles and aunties) believe that an arranged marriage is the ultimate mark of a respectable family in India. And a ‘love marriage’ is still capable of being the biggest source of gossip and criticism in the ‘society’. Well then, Amit and Chanda’s marriage was incapable of providing fodder to the society’s gossip mongers. ‘My son married the girl of my choice,’ Amit’s mother would proudly state at family gatherings. And when she would say that, mothers would turn to their sons and daughters and smirk, ‘Look at Amit’, thus making him one of those dreaded example-setters! Amit and Chanda became a yardstick for their relatives to measure their generation by. And that is why Amit’s parents were all the more proud of the marriage and of course their beautiful daughter-in-law – Chanda. Her simple demeanor and humble roots only added, and matched the list of qualities that are supposed to be the trademarks of the ideal Indian bahu. There was just one exception, and that was when she would get irritated on being introduced to others as a microbiologist by her in-laws. ‘I am a biotechnologist, not a microbiologist,’ she would say. The pride she took in her being a biotechnologist was never hidden.
    ‘If I can be a PRO, you can be a microbiologist,’ Amit would say in jest and smile at her.
    Chanda and Amit settled into a small two-bedroom tenement in the Bandra area of Mumbai. They were an ideal family – looked good as a couple, were well-mannered and soon won the love and respect of all their neighbours.
    As in any foreign bank or an MNC, NYB had a rigorous work culture. Amit would leave in the morning and come back late at night. He would call Chanda at least six times a day and Chanda would do the same. Everyday he would come back home to a delicious dinner which Chanda would have cooked. They had a couple of maids to help her out too. Life was coasting along and beginning to settle down into a routine.
    Six months passed.
    One day after reaching home and freshening up, a hungry Amit rushed to the dining table. The dinner was laid out and looked sumptuous. Amit hurriedly pulled the chair next to Chanda’s. He mumbled a few inanities and the usual complaints about the traffic and roads in Mumbai. Just as he was about to grab a roti, he suddenly realised that Chanda’s usual chatter was missing. Something was wrong. Was something wrong with her family in Jamshedpur? Was she not feeling well? A look at Chanda’s face made him forget about his hunger.
    ‘What happened Chanda? Are you okay? Your eyes look swollen.’
    ‘No. I am fine. Just feeling tired.’
    ‘Do you want to see a doctor?’ He just said that for effect. The way she had responded to his earlier question told him that something was wrong. However, he let that be, hoping that it would resolve by itself. Chanda was an introvert and hence, any further probing wouldn’t have helped.
    ‘Aaah. Could be the effect of PMS, he thought.’ A quick mental calculation ensued Yes, it’s anyway time for those days of the month. Having complete faith in his rationalisation of her behaviour, Amit very conveniently ignored Chandas’s mood swing.
    However, this soon became a regular feature. The truth was that Chanda was beginning to feel stifled and it was not because Amit had stopped caring for her. In fact, whenever Amit was at home, life revolved around Chanda. The problem started whenever he was not at home. Being an educated biotechnologist, whiling away her time sitting at home was not exactly what she had really aspired for. A doctorate degree, a career, name and fame as a research specialist were some of the dreams that Chanda had cherished and longed for since the day she had enrolled herself into the postgraduate course in biotechnology.
    This was also the first time she had stepped out of Jamshedpur. The city of horror and wonder –