It was almost ten years from the gangbag we had at the cottage.

Main ek bade company ke takeover ke baad New York se wapas Delhi jaa raha tha. Main apne assitant Deepak Basu se phone pe baat karta hua airport ki lobby main aahi raha tha ke ek aurat aur bacche se takrata takrata bacha.

Phone zara kaan se hata ke "sorry mam" kehne hi wala tha ke ankein khuli ki khuli reh gayi.

"Faiz?"

"Raj?"

Main phone mein moon laga kar Deepak se kaha ke main baad mein baaat karta hoon.

"Faiz, tum yahan? My God. Kahan ja rahi ho."

"Wapas India, ise ghoomne le aayi thi."

Then I remembered the boy, a small boy held her by the finger. Something seemed familiar about him.

"You married?" I said in surprise. No one had said anything about this. Even Rana.

"You can say that." Her eyes looked into mine. Clang. Something moved with loud enough noise to drown the surrounding din for a while.

"You are lying."

She avoided my eyes. "What difference does it make."

"Look at me, you think it doesn't... Look at me damn you, you woman."

"This is not a place for making a fuss."

"You are right." I called Deepak. "Deepak, get hold of the driver and whereever he is ask him ot come to the front of departure entarnce. Change of plans. I will let you know."

I looked at the boy. "What's you name son?"

"Siraj, uncle."

I looked into her eyes again, she could avoid them now, not now. She must have have seen anger flash through my eyes, she stod defiantly. "Uncle. And you say it makes no difference."

I looked at the boy again. "Bete, thoda change of plans ho raha hai. Tumhari ye mummy hai, yeh mujh se bahot naaraaz hain, aur itna naaraaz ke ye tumeh yeh bhi nahi batati ke main uncle nahin tumhara daddy hoon. Aap log mere saath pehle ghar chalein phir sab saath India jaayeinge. Okay."

"But my daddy died in a accident."

"Dekno ye ab tak kitni naaraaz hain."

"Kya ye yeh sach hain Mummy?"

"Haan beta yeh sach keh rahein hain."

The ride back home was incredulously frustrated. I wanted to say so many things and I could with the child present. I wanted to hug her, kiss, slap her. I want to hurt her as much as I was hurting now.

The tense ride ended at last. The young boy looked with wonder at the tall building where my penthouse was. He pressed the button for the top flight and looked outside through the glass exterior windows. I called the old Indonesian maid who kept my house and told her to make a room for the child and see that he is comfortable.

"Bete aap in ke saath jaao, okay. Main aur Mummy kuch baat kartein hain."

"Are you guys going to fight?'

"I don't think so, not much anyway." I laughed. "I little maybe."

As he was going out of the room he turned and asked. "Can I call you daddy."

"Yes, you may, Siraj."

When alone, I turned to the bar, pour myself a drink, added some ice and turned to her. "Follow me."

I padded to my bedroom. Put my glass on the table by the bed. Looked at her.

"I couldn't do it." She said, her voice a beginning to break. "I couldn't call you and say cancel your wedding Raj, I am pregnant."

"Knowing you, stupid though that is, I can. But didn't you hear of Rita and me breaking up. You were in town didn't it occur to..."

She walked over to the table and picked up glass, taking a few sips.

"There was never really a right time. I wanted to a million times."

"So what should I do with you now?" My voice betrayed the pain, the hurt.

She put the glass down, came closer. "Don't Raj. Please don't hurt this much."

I turned away, tears building in my eyes. I fell back on the bed. She came close. "I was stupid, I agree. Don't hurt Raj." Her tears were flowing too.

"How can you expect me not to Faiz. I am a father and... and..."

"It was difficult when you left... the first couple of months were hell. Plain fucking hell. Then I discovered I was pregnant. Thoughts of suicide faded away, I got a life. I had something to life for. Mom hated me for doing it, Abba is angry with till today. Now you."

I remained silent. "I could come after you. I didn't know, I couldn't know. I did not want to be accepted by own out of pity. And there was no way knowing if you still wanted me." Her voice faded, she lay her head on my chest. I could feel her every nerve, I could feel her every breath.

We lay there, our passions talking, argueing, angry and dancing.

I took a deep breath, her heaving with my chest. "What do we do now?"

She looked up, her eyes already red with the crying, the sress. "I only know one thing, never part again."

"Never?"

"Not unless you want to."

"And you think I might."

"Hell no." A smile creased her lips at last, it brought one to me. "Hell no. The bond was formed a decade ago and it is going to break." She was sitting up, her ass on my crotch, her finger opening my shirt. Her lips reached out to me, and for the first time, there was no fear. No fear of loss, of despair. No fear of parting.

We made love till dawn. We made love like teenagers, urgent and frenzied, we made love like adults. Reaching into each other's soul. I think my second son was concieved then.

* * *

I sat on the balcony, whiskey in hand. Faiz came up behind me. We looked up at the skycrapers dotting the landscape. I wrapped an arm around my pregnant wife. She looked absolutely ravishing.

"Faiz..." I whispered. Contentment in my voice, something that comes from a bond that is unbreakable.

"Raj...".