The amazing adventures of Eve Rao and Ever Reddy

Eve Rao had a simple life. Growing up in Kadambadi, some 90 km from Chennai, paddy fields, the sun-kissed land and the frothing sea were her constant companion. Eve was growing into a beautiful young lady, just like the land she tilled – tender, fertile and ripe for harvesting. By day, Eve would dream about her knight in shining armour, striding through the paddy fields (which had windmills, by the way), making a mess of the harvest and sweeping her off her feet. Her long, coconut oil-smeared hair would flow with the breeze as the horse and her knight (who turned out to be a lanky, mundu-wearing, paan-chewing, drinking-himself-silly dark chap) galloped into the fields. By night, she would dream about getting wet in the paddy fields with her amorous lover, making love, and a lot of noise, under the stars.
Her heart missed a beat one fine Wednesday morning when her father announced that he had fixed a match for her. Eve started thinking about a man with broad shoulders and a broader outlook. Eve was no big fan of Tamil movies (which was kind of strange) but she did often fantasise about singing and dancing around trees and changing her outfit with each changing stanza.
At this point, it is necessary to describe Eve a little better to ensure continuity of this story. The dimple-on-her-chin-devil-within girl loved reading. Her favourite newspaper was The New Indian Express, which, by the way, is published from 14 centres in India and has a formidable reach in South India. She did not particularly like the Deccan Chronicle, riddled as it was with poor grammar. ToI had not yet come to Tamil Nadu even though it had grand plans (she called it cock-teasing, God knows why). The Hindu was seriously good -- it never failed to put her to sleep and was much better than counting sheep anyway. She loved Mills and Boon, just like young women of her age. Joseph Heller was her favourite, even though nothing happened to her after reading Something Happened.
As Eve put one her face powder (it is an obsession with most Tamilians), pouted her lips and checked whether the lipstick was quite alright, the boy (nay, man) arrived. He was ushered in, served buttermilk and murukku and Eve’s father tried to make him feel comfortable.
And then Eve was summoned. Her heart was beating faster than a coconut peeler having a go at the nut (which is incredulous). Entering the room, Eve tried to catch a glance at her knight (he was dark, seriously!).
You can understand the moment only if you have seen a coconut peeler at work. It was like that last blow on the tender skin when the water spurts out (if you didn’t get the analogy: premature ejaculation).
“Reddy,” he said.
“Ever Reddy,” he added.
Was he a fan of Ian Fleming? We will never know.
Eve went weak in the knees. That husky voice. Those broad shoulders (and a broader outlook too, hopefully). That 6 foot frame.
Rajinikanth, Clark Gable, Cary Grant, James Dean, Suriya thought Eve.
Sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, thought Ever Reddy (it was his name, not his surname that made Reddy that way).
It was love at first sight, the mundu notwithstanding.
The date was fixed. August 15, 2005. Eve wanted to break free (and her hymen, of course). Ever Reddy was ever ready to oblige.
Just 35 moons had to pass.

Tomorrow: Eve and Ever’s honeymoon.