Love's Journey

Jennie could not sleep well that night and about 8:00 a.m., when she woke up, she was suffering from acute headache. So many unprecedented happenings in a night! She rang up Rohit and excused herself from the shoot, apologising. “It is alright Jennifer, we understand. Take rest, we can shoot tomorrow, moreover only one scene of yours, that is, the Climax is left. You rest dear – no need to worry, we have the booking till tomorrow, now go to sleep,” he said in an understanding tone. She was going to switch her phone off when it buzzed again. ‘Oh my God, it is from home, what’s wrong? It must be late night there, what’s the problem?’ “Hello, she said weakly.” “Hello, this is Meeta Ma . . . Jennie,” she spoke with the usual serenity missing. “Yes, Ma?” she queried, an unknown fear setting down on her entity. “Jennie, sorry but I read
your diary.”
‘The night’s sudden drama, the mystery of the ‘pair of eyes’ disclosed and now this . . . so she too wants to know about the truth,’ thought Jennie. “Yes, Meeta Ma. Yes.” Jennie screamed unable to keep her emotions in control. “Aryan is my son and not Shambhu’s… Shambhu, your son was an Impotent Man, Impotent – he was impotent since you had taken him to your house . . . an incident with his stepmother when she threw a red hot charcoal on him made him impotent. But Shambhu loved me and gave my son his name Ma. And people too respected him as man . . . ‘yes a man’, Ma . . . there is no female as Parvati . . . and rest you have read in the diary. I need not repeat . . .” She shouted without any prelude and wept bitterly. Meeta Ma was shocked, dumbstruck and was ashamed at herself for doubting Jennie’s sincerity. She spoke after a long pause, “Beta I still say, even if Aryan is your son . . . do find a soul mate . . . it is necessary.” She disconnected the phone abruptly. Jennie wiping her nose switched off her phone and went to a deep sleep.
The doorbell was buzzing wild. Jennie thought she was dreaming but she wasn’t – it was really buzzing. She sprang up from the bed and ran to answer. It was Shantanu standing in front of a very dishevelled Jennifer. “On my God, what’s the matter? What have you done to yourself?” He came inside, without being welcomed, looking grim and serious. “I have been trying your number since I came to know you were not well, but finally decided to personally visit, rather than asking the Hotel to connect.” “Oh nothing . . . I think I just had a couple of drinks extra. I shouldn’t have, you see, I am not used to . . . Why don’t you sit down, I will just wash my face and come,” she said leaving to freshen up.
She was wearing a bath robe, when she again joined Shantanu, with water dripping from her, giving an alluring fragrance to her personality. “Are you ok sweetheart or you need something, any medicine?” he said getting up from the chair and coming near her to sit on the sofa. “Yes . . . yes. I am ok. And how have you been? And your meeting – how was it?” she was again acutely aware of his close proximity and dominant masculine aura, making her senses numb. “I am not good,” he said coming close to her and cupping her face in his hands. “Jennie, I love you. Yes, I love you . . . and I didn’t go to any meeting. I didn’t want to attend any meeting as I just wanted to be with you.” He said putting his lips on hers and lightly teasing it. “I want to marry you. Do you?” he said pulling her closer to him, her soft body crushed against his. ‘What?’ Jennie was not able to comprehend what was going on. Till now no one had asked her to marry. Shambhu probably wanted, but then he didn’t want her to be tied down. “I-I—” Jennie was fumbling for words and Shantanu was crushing her to himself and kissing her all over with madness.
After ages, Jennifer had tasted love in all essence, with someone wanting to marry her. This was unbelievable. Such men do exist. Shantanu stayed back with her in the hotel and they made love thrice that night, with an ecstatic Jennifer not allowing Shantanu to leave her for a moment. She had never expected to be entrapped in a torrid love affair, that too in N.Y! They finally slept at 4:00 a.m. Jennie managed to get up at 8:00 a.m. and left for the sets, leaving behind a sleeping Shantanu, asking at the Reception not to disturb her Fiancé as he was tired and sleeping . . . and she felt very nice to say—Fiancé.
Next day, the climax was shot successfully with a bubbly Jennie, unaware that once again fate was stealthily busy in playing its foul game. Jennifer had shifted in Shantanu’s house and for a fortnight her journey back to India was delayed. Rohit, as a good friend promised to manage everything for her and instructed Mukesh, on Jennifer’s behalf to go ahead with other works of Production House in which Jennifer wasn’t required. Jennifer had a memorable time of her life. She and Shantanu . . . their hearts twinkling with stars and dancing with the waves, experiencing love and passion mixed and matched rhythmically.
But lo! The condition for her love to culminate – to blossom, put by the man who had loved and professed his love to her under any circumstance was shocking and disgraceful to the woman who had thought that finally she has met the anchor, for which she had been waiting from million years. “Jennie, you will have to leave Shambhu’s son,” he said almost like a husband, taking his breakfast. They were supposed to leave for the Airport in ten minutes, and his unanticipated, serious order suddenly baffled her. “But why . . . Shantanu . . . he—” “Look Jennie, if we have to stay together forever, so we both have to see that all our connections from our previous relationship are severed, moreover I can’t say this to everyone here, that my wife already has a son . . . alright he might not be your son—” “He is my son,” Jennie stood up from the chair without finishing her breakfast, “and in any case I am not leaving him.” “Your son?” Shatanu looked agitated. “But isn’t he Shambhu’s son?” he queried. “No, he is my son, damn it, mine and . . . and Shambhu’s . . . if you have to accept me accept me with all my flaws and if not, just don’t argue on this issue,” she said, simply not wanting to bring disgrace or betrayal to the trust of the man who had given her everything . . . who had made her what she was today . . . then only men like Shantanu Arora, owner of three million dollars Empire, come into her life. “But who the hell was Parvati then?” He too seemed in a mood to argue. “Parvati was no one, she never existed – Shambhu and I—” she looked at him with fiery eyes. ‘Bastard,’ she muttered, ‘I slept with this man, made love to him and in return he is asking to cut an organ of my life . . . that organ without which I would not be able to breathe . . .. my son for whom I bore all the muck of life.’ “Yes, what – Shambhu and I—What do you want to say?” Shantanu came and held her, his nails digging into her flesh. “Listen Jennie, whoever Aryan is you can easily say he is Vasan’s son and we can start a fresh life together – try to understand,” he said with pleading eyes. “We can sit and talk . . . you can always meet him but—”
“But what? Mr. Arora – say he is not my son? No, I am sorry, he is the light of my life . . . he is my son . . . mine . . . and I cannot bargain my happiness with his,” she said in a definite voice, returning to her previous shell of professionalism. “And yes Mr. Arora, there is no point arguing on this because this business proposal of yours doesn’t suit me.” She left shattering the male ego of a man whom she had thought to be the real love her life.
While on the Airport at New York, her mind was still swirling thinking the conditions imposed by Shantanu. Was he the same man who had said, “It doesn’t take years to find out who you love. Only in minutes, you can decide whom your heart beats for . . .
Instead of languishing on what was gone, she was now busy making a plan – a plan which was unusual but would take her back to her roots. Next time, when Aryan comes for a vacation, both of them would visit Ranchi. Yes it was funny for a person of her status to think so while planning to board plane in New York. Yes, she would visit the house where her family lived. She would let Aryan know that all people are not bad, after all. She will take him to the S.P.’s house who had rescued her, however, he might have retired by now and yes . . . yes . . . visit Deepak, that lanky schoolboy . . . And thinking that she fiddled with her Blackberry. An unknown email baffled her, but she had to board the plane so she had to have patience. After the security check and other formalities, once inside the aircraft, she read the message – a very straightforward simple message, ‘Jennifer Sebastian jee, Pranam, This is Deepak, son of the Retd. D.I.G., Ranchi. Yes, the S.P. in whose house you stayed before being shifted to the Orphanage. When the Orphanage was ransacked by the traitors of humanity, we tried to find you out, but couldn’t and thought you to be dead as the bodies there were charred beyond recognition. I had gone there in the night, without letting my family know, and found the ‘friendship band’ lying there which I had given you with my first letter . . . When after so many years, I saw your photograph in film magazines, I instantly recognised you . . . you were always very different, but could not muster up enough courage to contact, as you had become a big heroine by then. You must be surprised to know how I know your e-mail id and BB Pin. But that I will tell you later on. Now I have to make a sincere request. If on the coming Independence Day, you can visit this town along with your son (I know about your son too . . . sorry for gathering so much information about you), I will be really grateful, as we are planning to honour Dr. Sebastian for his work to humanity. And you need not worry; we will get a perfect accommodation for you. I am the Senior S. P. of Ranchi District . . . but my house is also there . . . Small and lovely, with a statue of Mother Mary having Jesus in his lap, where I live alone. I am still waiting for you Jennie . . . .’
Jennifer was extremely excited to read the simple, straightforward and unbelievable mail – can someone love her so much as to wait for her all these years. She had up till now read in storybooks about such happenings. Has destiny decided this for her.
She only typed “YES” and passed on the message. She was now behaving like a sixteen year schoolgirl waiting for the plane to land, so she can talk to her real love; know about him. Who loved her with devotion from twenty long years. “Anything, Ma’am?” the Airhostess asked her smiling. “One black coffee please, and no sugar,” Jennie did not want any adulteration in her life again, and looked up at the Air hostess, returning her smile, feeling extremely happy, waiting for the plane to land . . .

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