2 States: The Story of My Marriage Read online

  2 States

  Chetan Bhagat is the author of four bestselling novels - Five Point Someone (2004), One Night @ the Call Center (2005), The 3 Mistakes of My Life (2008) and 2 States: The Story of My Marriage (2009).

  Chetan’s books have remained bestsellers since their release, and have been adapted into major Bollywood films. The New York Times called him the ‘the biggest selling English language novelist in India’s history.’ Time magazine named him as one amongst the ‘100 Most Influential People in the world’ and Fast Company, USA, listed him as one of the world’s ‘100 most creative people in business.’

  Chetan writes for leading English and Hindi newspapers, focusing on youth and national development issues. He is also a motivational speaker.

  Chetan quit his international investment banking career in 2009, to devote his entire time to writing and make change happen in the country. He lives in Mumbai with his wife Anusha, an ex-classmate from IIM-A, and his twin sons Shyam and Ishaan.

  To know more about Chetan visit www.chetanbhagat.com or email him at [email protected].

  Praise for previous work

  Many writers are successful at expressing what’s in their hearts or articulating a particular point of view. Chetan Bhagat’s books do both and more.

  – A R Rahman, in TIME magazine, on Chetan’s inclusion in the Time 100 Most Influential People in the world

  The voice of India’s rising entrepreneurial class.

  – Fast Company Magazine, on Chetan’s inclusion in the 100 Most Creative People in business globally

  India’s paperback king.

  – The Guardian

  The biggest-selling English-language novelist in India’s history.

  – The New York Times

  A rockstar of Indian publishing.

  – The Times of India

  Bhagat has touched a nerve with young Indian readers and acquired almost cult status.

  – International Herald Tribune

  Text copyright © 2015 Chetan Bhagat

  Originally published by Rupa Publications

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Amazon Publishing, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Amazon Publishing are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  eISBN: 9781503987548

  Cover Designer: Rachita Rakyan

  This may be the first time in the history of books, but here goes:

  Dedicated to my in-laws*

  *which does not mean I am henpecked, under her thumb or not man enough

  Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  Act 1: Ahmedabad

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  Act 2: Delhi

  12

  13

  14

  Act 3: Chennai

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  Act 4: Delhi reloaded

  42

  43

  44

  45

  46

  47

  48

  49

  50

  Act 5: Goa

  51

  52

  53

  The Final Act: Delhi & Chennai & Delhi & Chennai

  54

  55

  56

  57

  58

  59

  60

  61

  62

  63

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  No creation in this world is a solo effort. Neither is this book. From the person who makes Xerox copies of the draft to the delivery boy who makes the book reach shops, everyone has a role. In particular, I’d like to thank:

  My readers, you that is, have made me what I am. Last time I mentioned that I wanted to be India’s most loved writer—and you gave me that. Thank you. Please continue with your support, and if possible, give me a tiny but permanent place in your heart.

  God, for his love and blessings.

  Shinie Antony, the first reader and editor of all my books so far, who tells me what works and what doesn’t, not only in the book, but also in life.

  Abhishek Kapoor, for his wonderful suggestions. Prateek Dhawan, Shambhavi Kirawant, Ratika Kaul-Haksar, and Anusha Bhagat for great comments on the manuscript.

  My publishers Rupa & Co. for taking my stories across the nation.

  My family for their constant support.

  My friends from college, ex-colleagues at Deutsche Bank and Goldman Sachs, my current friends in Mumbai.

  The newspapers that publish my columns and give me a chance to share my views about new, progressive India that I dream of constantly.

  The filmmakers who were inspired by my stories and spent years bringing them to life.

  I also want to make a couple of disclaimers. One, this story is inspired by my own family and experiences. However, this book should be seen as a work of fiction. Also, for authenticity, I have used names of some real places, people and institutions as they represent cultural icons of today and aid in storytelling. There is no intention to imply anything else. I’d also like to tell all South Indians I love them. My better half will vouch for that. I have taken the liberty to have some fun with you just like I have with Punjabis—only because I see you as my own. You only make digs at people you care for.

  With that, I’d like to welcome you to 2 States.

  Prologue

  ‘Why am I referred here? I don’t have a problem,’ I said.

  She didn’t react. Just gestured I remove my shoes and take the couch. She had an office like any other doctor’s, minus the smells and cold, dangerous instruments.

  She waited for me to talk more. I hesitated and spoke again.

  ‘I’m sure people come here with big, insurmountable problems. Girlfriends dump their boyfriends everyday. Hardly the reason to see a shrink, right? What am I, a psycho?’

  ‘No, I am the psycho. Psychotherapist to be precise. If you don’t mind, I prefer that to shrink,’ she said.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said.

  ‘It’s OK,’ she said and reclined on her chair. No more than thirty, she seemed young for a shrink, sorry, psychotherapist. Certificates from top US universities adorned the walls like tiger heads in a hunter’s home. Yes, another South Indian had conquered the world of academics. Dr Neeta Iyer, Valedictorian, Vassar College.

  ‘I charge five hundred rupees per hour,’ she said. ‘Stare at the walls or talk. I’m cool either way.’

  I had spent twelve minutes, or a hundred bucks, without getting anywhere. I wondered if she would accept a partial payment and let me leave.

  ‘Dr Iyer. . . .’

  ‘Neeta is fine,’ she said.

  ‘OK, Neeta, I don’t think my problem warrants this. I don’t know why Dr Ramachandran sent me here.’