By Chetan Bhagat
Love marriages around the globe are uncomplicated: Boy loves woman. lady loves boy. They get married. In India, there are a couple of extra steps: Boy loves lady. woman loves Boy. Girl's relations has to like boy. Boy's family members has to like woman. Girl's kinfolk has to like Boy's kinfolk. Boy's family members has to like girl's relatives. lady and Boy nonetheless love one another. They get married. Welcome to two States, a narrative approximately Krish and Ananya. they're from assorted states of India, deeply in love and need to get married. in fact, their mom and dad don t agree. to transform their love tale right into a love marriage, the couple have a difficult conflict in entrance of them. For one could struggle and insurgent, however it is far tougher to persuade. Will they make it? From the writer of blockbusters 5 aspect somebody, One evening @ the decision heart and the three errors of My lifestyles, comes one other witty story approximately inter-community marriages in smooth india.
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Additional info for 2 States: The Story of My Marriage
It was already hot and I had missed half the day. My balcony was now bare and I had no cover from the people walking back and forth. Sweeping, 56 / How to Get Into tHe twIn Palms walking, dogs shitting. I stared out toward The Calcutta. There were red and blue cups littering the front yard. There were Christmas lights blinking on and off on the top railing. I shook my head and sat down. I stared down to my cigarette-hiding place and saw that they were gone too. ” My neighbor with the homemade haircut was leaning into my balcony from his mother’s balcony.
That was the kind of girl he wanted me to be. Karolina WaclaWiaK / 55 I WOKE UP LATE. I DIDN’T HAVE ANYWHERE TO go anyway. My head hurt and I had forgotten to wash my face. My eyes hurt from the caked on makeup and my skin felt slick. I went to the bathroom and took a look at myself. I thanked God that I hadn’t let Lev in. I wiped the soot caked around my eye and looked at my nails. Cracked polish, chipped like skylines and worn down to nubs. They hurt and were inflamed. I poured hydrogen peroxide over each finger.
A kabanos. I didn’t care who saw me. The sausage was dry because I had left it unwrapped in the refrigerator and it tasted like jerky. I had a jar of horseradish next to me and I would dip the sausage into the jar and pull out a clump at the tip and eat it. That mixed with the cigarette I was furiously inhaling made my breath hot and sour. I leaned back in my chair and heard a creak and snap. The crack at the bottom of the chair was getting worse and I didn’t care. I snuffed out the Misty and started another one.