Epilogue

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"Keshav I don't care about that shit inside, make her... make my wife safely out of the OT." I hissed on my fellow doc, gynaecologist, who was appointed for Pulu. Yes she was pregnant! One fine morning nine months ago she suddenly declared, she was. Brilliantly! I mean I was just thirty two for heaven sake, roamed only till Chicago. She was just about be thirty and only had five years of experience as a literature professor.
I was not ready! We were not ready! But then again, according to my mother and dearest wife, men are never really ready to be father. Nonsense!

And as the result we were here today.

"What the shit are you talking!" My wife flinched making a dirty face and slapped at my forearm tightly even in that state, looking almost like a planet.

I glared at her glare and flinched at the nurse. "Take her away in the OT right away!" I couldn't bare her sight like that anymore. I couldn't touch her its been three freakin months topping with her tantrums. Moods swing my ass! I am talking insane? I care a shit.

"If anything happen to her I won't think for a moment before strangling your heart out I swear!" I glared Keshav who made a poker face in reply.

"that won't be necessary. Its a mere operations!" He growled and walked inside the labour room.

"Butu sit down. It's fine!" Baba howled. Ofcourse he was happy. I scowled. "Oh! Come on...!" He started his lecture and my mother accompanied while I chose to pace forth back at the corridor of Delhi's one of the most pricy nursing home. Yes we moved to Delhi as soon as I had my M.D. degree. Kolkata suffocated me. For some obvious reason. The city snatched away an important portion of my life and I didn't risk the rest.

Anyways! And right now one of the most famous cardiologist of the city was biting his nails as the gynaecologist of his wife walked out of the OT.

"It's a girl!" Dr. Keshav Sharma grinned widely coming out of the theatre.

"Really?" I heard my mother.

"how she? How's Pulu?" I ignored the rest.

Keshav darted a very nasty glare at me.

"Baby and mother both are fine. Pulu will be in sense in hours!" He patted me and turned at my parents with a light grin. "She is very very beautiful!"

*

"Butu!" I heard my mother as I was entering the room after finishing some procedure. My wife was shifted to bed. She was still sleeping and I huffed. My mother indicated me to walk up to her at the baby coat. I didn't believe myself as a father, I mean I had been a complete shitly utterly nonsense person. With scared steps I walked at that coat and peeped. She was sleeping clenching her tiny fists.

My mother lifted her on my crossed arms "keep her head on your palm! Careful!" She whispered.

And that was it. A little part of mine. A token, an evidence of my love. Truly, utterly, legally, mine. Only mine. Entirely mine. I was scared but the way she was on my arms, the way I felt her heartbeat on my palm, I was relieved. I knew there was no one, there can't be any one that I could love so much. I didn't even needed a moment to fall for her. I was always. She was my daughter. I smiled planting a soft kiss on my wife's forehead, unable to thank enough for gifting myself to me once again.

And today, right now, my little angel was going away from me. When she grew up this much, I never noticed. In a bright dark maroon banarasi my little baby, who came wrapped in baby pink baby wrapper, was going to leave my house. When she became so big that her mother sought out a guy for her! What? Of course an arranged marriage. My daughter following his father's step would find out love after marriage, without any tension. Unlike my son. An utter nonsense. Okay okay I wanted my children to be like their mother. Y'know I am kinda...errr... Utter shit with all those fucked up track record, but no my daughter totally grew on me, face, features, and a neurologist, but she had mouth and had to admit brain of her mother, and topped making us proud with a gold medal. Dr. Progyaparomita Chatterjee. I wanted her to study a little more but...well any ways leave it.

My throat pained as I lifted her palm on Rivu's, my well son in law. A decent guys. I think so. Hmm. If not, I won't mind doing a surgery over his main blood pump with out any need.

"you are here?" I flinched as my dearest idiot son opened the door of my room with a bang. A certified nuisance. He has all those idiotic qualities of mine and that utter nonsense. "dude everyone is waiting for you down stairs. And you..."

"Fuck off!" I growled.

"Baba, your daughter is not going to the boarder, she is marrying only!" He chuckled rolling his eyes. See teasing part.

"Where?" I heard my wife's voice.

Not she too. Can't I just...

"You are here! Everyone..." Her words halted as she looked at me. "What's wrong with you! You...crying?" She exclaimed. As if!... I looked away. "Oh! What's this childish behaviour Butu. Come on now!"

I shook my head. What will she understand! Heartless woman!

"What if he is not the right person for Tultul?" I asked her. What if...?

My wife smiled. But the answer came from my son.

"Your daughter will do a brain transplant surgery for my innocent bro in law." He grumped. I glared. He ignored it studiously. "Now move your ass old man!"

He rushed and despaired at I stood up to rip off that head of that asshole.

She didn't cried. My daughter didn't cried but smiled brightly with tears filled eyes and pecked my cheeks like her five years son I was. "Baba don't cry!" She said but well... I couldn't.

I gazed at Rivu. Yea he looked gentleman and quite decent. He was a scholar of Literature and a professor of JNU at the age of twenty nine. Pulu's choice you see!

My Delhi's CR park home was felt quite as my doll whooshed away. Only gleaming with the blinking lights kept the house looking alive.

And on my bed at the night I was thinking.

"What if he is not good enough!" I asked again.

"He is Butu. And she will be more than fine trust our daughter!" My wife smiled snuggling in my arms. "and what are you crying like a child, you are at the age of being grandpa now. Buck up!" She mock scolded me. I blushed.

We laid down. My wife stil had her long wavy hair and with my surprise not a one string of her hair was white. They were still of their natural colour, brown like brounvil chocolate and smelling the sweetest. I buried my nose in them.

"Thank you!" I mumbled.

"what for?" She asked in a tired sleepy voice.

"For letting me have a fairy-tale to tell my grandchildren. A long fifty years of fairy-tale. I love you Mrs. Chatterjee!"

She kept quiet for sometimes. Then said, "the pleasure is all mine Mr. Chatterjee. Totally"...

END.

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Thank you so much for reading this story. Hope you guys liked it. Please vote.

Now, I have started writing a second book too, as you guys said yes so much, and encouraged me.

The link of the second book is here, https://www.wattpad.com/story/100998976-other-groom-the-tale-of-the-rejected-guy . :)

XOXO...

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