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I've been married for three years now. I met my wife on a beautiful sunny winter afternoon at the Tughlaqbad Fort. She was a part of a photography group and I was part of a one man beer drinking group. The fort is by far the best place to have beer, it is secluded, gloomy and it has an air of royalty to it. Build by the perhaps the most misunderstood rulers of the Slave Dynasty. I guess we both share the same title of being misunderstood.
"You know it is illegal to have alcohol inside a national monument", she shouted at me, I retorted "So is making housing colonies! No one stopped them". She was quite unfazed by my comment and somehow she did see my point and also the fact I wasn't a dehati. English is a funny language, once the language of the slaves of the British Empire, it is now the language of education and pedigree.
"Well you seem educated! Why don't you go to a pub?", she asked me. "And you seem like a photographer! Why aren't you clicking supermodels?", I thought this was the funniest line I could ever come up with, beer does make you feel invincible.
"I am a nature photographer and this place is full of natural beauty", she replied. "Yes it is! Now do you want some beer?", I asked her quite shamelessly. "Ohkay!", she said. "Here!", I opened a can and hand it to her. "So whats your name?",she asked me. "Sanjeev! and yours?", I replied. " Zeba", she answered.
This is the beginning of a wonderful friendship, it seemed to me. I exchanged numbers with Zeba and after a week she called me up. "Hi Sanjeev! Remember me?", she asked me expectantly. "Of Course, Zeba", I replied.
"I want to invite you for a small exhibition of my photographs in the Aga Khan Hall on Saturday 7pm, can you make it?", she said. "Yea sure! 7 pm na! I will be there", I excitedly replied her and then she cut the call as if some more sweet words would've eaten up her balance.
"Amazing pictures Zeba!" "Seriously?", she questioned me. "Yes! I mean this leaf looks so lovely and the lighting is so...is so... I mean lovely". "Wow! you are a regular critic", she retorted.
"Zeba wanna have coffee sometime? maybe next week?", I did not what else to say. "Sanjeev I have coffee daily! Why don't you take me for coffee now?", she threw a bouncer at me. "Now! and your exhibition?", I asked her with an expression of a confused puppy. "I had only one picture on display Sanjeev and this leaf you're staring at isn't mine", she was now throwing overhead deliveries.
"So which one is yours?", I asked her. "The one with the guy drinking beer in the shadow", she replied. In the corner of the exhibition hall was a photograph of a man with a can of beer in his hands and shadow of the fort had covered him like a blanket and only the can reflected a small refraction of the sun's light. "The Silver Lining", the title of the photograph read. I was happy, sad and confused all at the same time.
"I took you advice and clicked a model, Mr. Sanjeev", she said breaking my chain of thoughts. "Its...its me? I mean wow, its way better than that sucky leaf and I mean wow", I said. "Hmm... So coffee Mr.Supermodel? My treat! Since you won me the contest", Zeba said. "You won? Seriously? Wait till my mom knows about this!! Her son is actually good for something!", I said excitedly.
We went out for coffee and she paid and we talked for hours together. We met seven or eight times after that and then I took her too Nizammudin's Dargah. This is where I realized what Zeba meant to me "A beautiful gift from heaven" and that very night I asked her hand in marriage.
Her family initially objected to the communion, but when I convinced them that I truly loved her and also the fact Zeba might be pregnant, they allowed us to get married. The marriage happened in a great haste as I truly did not want her to find out that I told her parents she was pregnant and also I did not want her to change her mind.
We have now been married for three years and I still did not know what my wife did for a living except for her random photography projects in and around the city.