We have a tradition. Every year, we go somewhere neither of us has been. Last year, we got lost in the alleys of Hampi. The year before, we nearly missed a flight in Phuket because Neha insisted on finding the perfect mango sticky rice. These are the vignettes I will replay on my deathbed.
We don’t know what the next chapter holds. Maybe children. Maybe a move to a different city. Maybe a challenge that will break us or make us stronger.
But here is what I know for certain: The keyword will never be a finished book. It is a live, ongoing series. And I am the luckiest man alive to be a lead character in her story. We have a tradition
That moment defined the first chapter of . It wasn’t about grand gestures; it was about intellectual sparring. Our early romance wasn’t a Bollywood musical—it was a Sorkin-esque dialogue festival. We dated for two years, arguing about books, analyzing each other’s childhood traumas, and pretending we weren’t falling helplessly in love. Act II: The Plot Thickens (The Courtship) The romantic storylines during our courtship were unconventional. We didn’t have a "will they/won’t they" tension. We had a "how will they survive their own stubbornness" tension.
This is the story of how Neha transformed from a stranger into the leading lady of every romantic storyline I will ever need. Every great romantic storyline requires a memorable meet-cute. Ours was neither a rainy Parisian street nor a collapsing library ladder. Ours was a traffic jam on a sweltering Tuesday afternoon in Mumbai. The year before, we nearly missed a flight
The first year of marriage was surprisingly hard. Romantic storylines rarely show the morning breath, the argument over dishes, or the silent treatment over forgotten anniversaries. Neha and I fought about money. We fought about in-laws. We fought about the correct way to load a dishwasher (she is right, by the way).
To Neha: Thank you for choosing to be my chaos, my calm, and my co-writer. Our narrative is my favorite thing I have ever created. Maybe children
In the context of , the wedding was the end of the prologue and the beginning of the actual story.