Unforgettable Love Story

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Life is Like a Car Crash

Life and Car CrashWell for some it is true that Life is Like a Car Crash. And that is unfortunate, because Life does not have to be that way. Yet living life by accident is the only option available to one who does not understand how life works.

Don’t you wish to expand your options? Well perhaps I am preaching to the choir here, because if you are reading my posts you probably are Expanding Your Options Now. That is what my teachings have to offer, expanded life options.

My wife had driven this very same loop at least ten times. This time I was letting her make the right turn herself. I was trying not to compensate for her over steering. We were creeping along so slow anyway. But when she was just about to hit the curb I shouted, “Shyni Stop!” And that is when she floored it!

Up the curb, quickly gaining speed, through the picket fence, heading straight for the solid cement corner of the garage, I thought, At this speed we will certainly plow right though into their living room. It was all happening in slow motion. I did not even have my seat belt on.

Then somehow, the car made a dramatic turn to the left, barely missing the garage, our lives seemed somehow to have been pulled out of some nightmare that should have happened but did not. Pedal to the floor, still gaining speed, we blew through the picket fence further down the garden. It flew across the street. At which point I reportedly slapped my wife on the back of the head and said, “The breaks, for God sakes the brakes Shyni!” I don’t really remember that part, but she did. Fortunately she found the breaks.

The house owners run out of their house and the wife said, “Is anybody hurt? What happened? Oh my God look at my garden. Look what she did to my garden!” And the husband said, “Honey, go into the house and call the police.” So the wife went inside to call the police. Thank God. Neighbors came out, the police came, by then all was worked out, details exchanged. Hysterical neighbor wife calmed down. We went home.

I never realized how dangerous it was teaching someone to drive. A simple slip of the foot, no built in automatic reaction; too much happened too quickly for either of us to think. We could have killed someone.

Now it would have been easy to blame my wife and shout at her. In the past I would have. It would have lasted for days, weeks, months or longer. But I’ve grown past that, and it took a lot of work too, but that is not the topic this time…

The reason this happened is because when the sh!t hit the fan my wife had no driving skills to fall back on. She was stuck. What happens when the sh!t hits the fan in your life? How do you react? How long does it take you to recover from the event? How much extra work or hardship did you make for yourself because of your reaction?

My wife has not even learned to ride a bike. So her skills of dexterity in motion have not been developed. The safest thing for her to do is to get her practice in a car with dual controls. And a lot of practice is what she needs. There is nothing wrong with her. She just needs practice to train her body. Then her automatic reactions will be the ones that will keep her safe behind the wheel.

And this is true about you and the other people in your life too. There is nothing wrong with you, you are not inherently broken. But unfortunately you have training that does not serve you. Perhaps it did at one point in your eternal life, but it does not serve you now. So you need new training and you need to practice your new skills.

Hey, I will make you a deal…I will provide the training if you will practice. So check out my blogs which offer the wisdom of the ages. There is a secret. Well it is not really a secret, but most people have disrespected and discounted this wisdom so much that it might as well be a secret. For as far back as there is recorded history in any civilization there are stories and teachings of masters who have passed down the secret to their mystical powers. These stories all tell the same secret and if you follow these time proven practices, you too will discover the secret in your very own life.

I hope you will join us on this fantastic journey of Self discovery and awakening. Don’t crash your life, it will just be more work to fix it up and get it running smoothly again. Be proactive, study, and practice. Take it from me, someone who knows from personal experience. Nothing you do with your life will benefit you more.

Love and Blessings,
Michael Skowronski

P.S. My book Unforgettable: A Love and Spiritual Growth Story is not just an entertaining love story. It is also a book filled with time proven wisdom that teaches by real life example. This is a true story of powerful personal and spiritual transformation.

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The Couple Reunite

Couple ReunitedThis is the last part of the Kidnapping and the Wedding story. This was continued from…

That evening, after dinner, I went outside to enjoy the evening air and get some work done. Everyone else was getting ready for bed. Then Shyni came out and asked me, “Are you ready to come in for sleep?”

“No, I am not tired yet. I’ll just stay out here and get some writing done. You go on and go to bed, I’ll come in later.”

Then Shyni got nervous. I could tell she did not know what to say. “You should come in to bed now,” was all that she could say. I decided not to object and just go with the flow. She took me into the bedroom and then told me, “My mother kicked me out of her bed.”

Not understanding I replied, “What? But I thought that we couldn’t sleep together until the temple marriage.”

“My mother told me that now I am a married woman and I should sleep with my husband.” Shyni was very nervous now. Her voice went really low. I could barely hear her. “Michael, I hope that you won’t be upset, but I don’t want to have sex until after the temple marriage. I can sleep on the floor if you like and you can have the bed.”

“No, of course not! I won’t let you sleep on the floor. I can share your bed without having sex.” I could not believe my luck. I was happy to get closer to Shyni even if I had to hold back and wait. Besides, having sex with my virgin wife in a tiny family home, with the rest of her family sleeping an ear’s shot away did not seem right to me either. And it would not be the first time I had slept with a woman and not had sex, not by a long shot. I knew I could control myself.

It was a single bed and neither of us got much slept that first night. We talked a little about our lives. I held Shyni in my arms most of the night. I kissed the back of her head affectionately many times. I kept my hands from wandering that first night, but it was is impossible to lie in such a tiny bed without feeling her firm young breasts pressing against the backs of my hands. I laid there drinking it all in and it felt wonderful. Over the next few nights Shyni allowed me to caress her body more, but she made it clear I was not to get carried away. She allowed me to kiss her on the cheeks and lips, but would not return the kisses. When I asked her why, she said that had to wait until after the temple marriage.

This arrangement gave us time to get to know each other slowly. In bed Shyni was very cuddly and even affectionate with me; in public she kept her distance. Thus my final fears were alleviated. It was both difficult and wonderful to sleep with Shyni; she remained a virgin until we were on our honeymoon.

I lived with Shyni’s family, in a small and simple Indian home with dirt floors. The actual bedroom we slept in is shown in the pictures in the previous chapter. They had no running water, only a well. At this time of the year the well water was nearly dry. The water was only suitable for certain cleaning tasks and flushing the toilet. For cooking and bathing water Shyni and her mother carried many four gallon vessels of water about half a kilometer on their heads.

Shyni boiled water for my bath every day. She set up the outdoor bathroom with my bathing products and cleaned up after me. When I came out she had chosen my clothes and set them neatly on the bed for me to change into. She washed all of my clothes. Along with her mother, Shyni prepared all of my meals, served them to me, and cleaned up afterwards. The food they made was fantastic, but if I did not like something I was able to tell her. She did not take offense, she did not complain, she did not even hold negative thoughts about my comments. If she had, I would have felt it. The next time she fed me she had taken into account anything I had told her about my likes and dislikes. With my late wife Kathryn, after my second or third “constructive criticism” of her meals, she told me, “From now on you can be the cook.”

I was not used to the kind of treatment Shyni was giving me; I was being treated like a king. All of her life Shyni dreamed of being married and being a housewife. Many times she told me that her greatest wish was to be the very best wife she could be. She was very happy to do these things for me. It showed in the way she did them. I felt loved and pampered.

Every morning I would take a walk alone into the forest of the wild animal preserve. I would climb to the top of the small hill for my morning meditation. I took my camera with me the first few times hoping I would find Elephants or Tigers or other interesting wildlife to photograph. One morning I had gotten tired of carrying the camera and was about to leave it behind when I felt the intuition to take the camera with me. That is the morning I met the Elephants. That story is in my blog The Elephants of India.

Shyni was very playful too and loved to joke around. We were counting down the days before our marriage. When we woke up I would tell her, “Only X more sleeps before the wedding.” One morning she corrected me, and told me it’s Saturday not Sunday. I was confused. How could I get it wrong? I’ve been counting down the days. But I accepted her correction…until later that day when I was out buying a chicken for the evening meal. I did not have correct change and the man told me, “Okay, you come back Monday to pay.”

To which I replied, “Monday, I can come back tomorrow.”

And he replied, “Tomorrow is Monday.”

I wasn’t sure he understood English very well. Most of them didn’t. I said, “No today is Saturday,” and I picked up the newspaper that was on his table to show him and it said Sunday. “Arrggg! Shyni, you got me!” I cried out loud. The shopkeeper just looked at me and laughed. Shyni too had a good laugh when I returned home and let her know I had figured it out.

The night before our wedding I had to sleep at the home-stay. If I knew then what I know now I would have selected a different place to stay, but Shyni did not tell me about the abduction and that Sandhya was involved so I packed up a bag and checked into my room. I returned to Shyni’s family home for dinner. By that time many friends and relatives had arrived and were either coming or going. One of them had painted Shyni’s hands with henna. My first reaction was that I wanted to object, but I kept it in. I never really liked that sort of thing, but it was a beautiful work of art, and I did not want to put a damper on the evening, so I let it go.

I took some photographs of Shyni’s hands painted with henna. One of them is on the cover of my book, Unforgettable. More than a year later, when I gave the cover design artist the photos of Shyni’s hennaed hands, I had no idea if she would use them or not. But the resulting book cover was perfect with those hands on them because it fits perfectly with events in the story. When I showed Shyni the book’s cover art she told me, “Many years ago a psychic man told me that my hands would be famous all over the world one day. I did not believe him, I thought he was crazy. Now I know it will be true.”

The next day Shyam and some of his male relatives came over to my room and dressed me for the wedding. Yes, except for my underwear, they actually dressed me. That is the Hindu tradition. They also brought a photographer who took heaps of photos. They came so early in the morning that there were still a few hours to go before I had to leave for the wedding, so they returned to the family home and I got undressed and went back to sleep. I hadn’t slept much that night and was now very sleepy. When I awoke I had to dress myself for the wedding.

The temple marriage ceremony was a fantastic experience and very different than a western style marriage. About sixty people attended the ceremony and two hundred people showed up for the wedding banquet. Most of these people were Shyni’s relatives. One couple, a British woman and an Egyptian man, who owned a local hotel came as well as one other European who I had met came to the ceremony. Shyni has a very large family.

A few days after the accident and the abduction I ended up having to purchase the motorbike from Mohammad otherwise there would have been trouble… in the end there was much more trouble, but that happens later in the story. Shyni warned me not to trust Mohammad. I should have heeded her warning.

Stay tuned for the next installment – The Honeymoon and the Truth about Eju.

Love and Blessings,
Michael Skowronski
Author of Unforgettable: A Love and Spiritual Growth Story

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The Kidnapping and The Wedding

This is Part 3 of a story that began with these first two chapters (and a side story):

Part 1 - A Marriage Made in Heaven (Part I, Part II)

Part 2 - The Suicide and the Accident

A Side Story - The Elephants of India

Photos of our Hindu Wedding Ceremony.

After what Shyni’s family referred to as our “First Marriage” I returned back to my home-stay room in Kumily alone. I was hoping that I would not run into
Mohammad, the young man who rented me the motor bike, nor Madhu or Sandhya, the owners of the home-stay. I returned to my room only to change my clothes and take a bucket bath before going out to dinner and hoped I could at least get through dinner before there was a question about the whereabouts of the motorbike.

Showers are not common in India, and when you do find one, they usually don’t work very well, which was the case in my room. Hot water was also not common amongst the native people, as they could not afford the electricity, gas or firewood required to heat the water. Nor did they have the hot water heaters that they called geysers, except in hotel rooms and home-stays that were meant for foreign tourists. It was chilly in the morning and evening, which meant that I needed hot water, and plenty of it. The geyser did not provide quite enough for my needs so I would fill up the bucket with hot water, wait 10 minutes for the geyser to reheat some more, and then begin my bath.

Being an American I had never in my life taken a bucket bath before I came to India. The concept was foreign to me. It was not too difficult to figure out, but still I had never even considered it before my arrival on these foreign shores. You have your large bucket which you fill with water at the desired temperature and a one liter mug which you use to scoop water out and pour over yourself.

I was able to make it through my dinner and back to my room without running into Mohammad. This was actually unusual since he was a “guide” in Kumily and was often seen in the various places I would go including the restaurants. I did not run into Madhu or Sandhya that evening either. It was almost as if Sandhya was avoiding me ever since I announced that I was going to marry Shyni, because in that week of time, she stopped coming by my room to talk. Of course I was hardly ever at my room like I had been in the prior weeks. So I just figured that was the reason.

The next day however was a different story. Mohammad came to my room and asked me where his motorbike was. He had noticed it was not parked outside. He also told me that I had been seen in Peremade, one of his friends had informed him. Mohammad wanted to know what I was doing there. I told him it was none of his business and proceeded to give him a lecture about spying on us a week earlier when Shyni and I was first introduced. But Mohammad would not be distracted by my lecture, he again inquired about the bike and he insisted that I tell him where it was.

I lied to him and saying, “You don’t have to worry about your motorbike Mohammad. I am taking good care of it. It was too cold last night to ride it home so I left it at Shyni’s house and I took a rickshaw back.”

“I went to Shyni’s house just before. My bike is not there. There is going to be trouble. Now you better tell me what happened. I will bring the police here!” Mohammad’s tone turned angry and determined. Again I was surprised at how much he already knew.

“Alright, I had a small accident and the bike is in the shop being repaired. Don’t worry, I will pay for everything.”

“That is my motorbike. You must tell me where it is. I need to file insurance claims.”

“I told you not to worry; I will cover all of the repair costs. It is not that much. The insurance company does not even have to know about the accident.” I was determined to give Mohammad as little information as possible.

“Now you stop playing with me. You must tell me where it is. Did you get hurt? Was there anyone else on the bike with you? Did anyone get hurt?”

“No one got hurt. I was alone.”

“If you don’t tell me where it is I am going to bring the police here…Do you want that?”

“If you bring the police I will tell them how you were spying on our conversation the other evening…Do you want that?”

“You better get that bike back here by this afternoon or there will be trouble.” With that Mohammad walked away in a huff.

I wasn’t sure what to do. I did not think that Shyni would be back home yet, but I went there anyway to see. She was not there. Only her mother Chechi and nephew Eju were there. I could not understand them, nor could they understand me. So I was still left to figure this one out on my own.

I had work to do, so I returned to my room to resume my writing. Mohammed came by and confronted me two other times that same day. Each time I refused to tell him more than I already had. He was not happy.

The next morning I went to Shyni’s home and she was there. We talked about her brother-in-law Gopal who was fine except for some stitches and a swollen knee. Shyni told me the motorbike was in Kottayam, three hours away, being repaired by Gopal’s brother. It was only going to cost Rs. 3000 (Indian Rupees), which is about $75. I could hardly believe the cost would be so low. I figured the metal on the new parts alone would cost that much. In reality it turned out to cost only Rs. 600 more than that.

We talked about what to do about Mohammad, what would we tell him about his bike? Shyni told me to say nothing more than I had to. Then Shyni asked me, “Would you like to stay here instead of the home-stay?

I could not believe it. I replied, “Yes, that would be great. And it would save me some money too!”

“My family has discussed this and you can sleep in the room next to the kitchen and I will sleep with my mother in the main room. We cannot sleep together until our temple marriage.”

That was fine with me. At least I would be closer to Shyni and save money at the same time. And with the dramas with Mohammad, it was also more comforting to be at the family home. So I went straight back to the home-stay to collect my belongings and check out. Fortunately I missed Mohammad, but Sandhya gave me a lecture about hiding Mohammad’s bike from him.

To be continued…

Love and Blessings,

Michael Skowronski

Author of Unforgettable: A Love and Spiritual Growth Story

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The Suicide and the Accident - Part of A Marriage Made in Heaven

This is another part of the Marriage Made in Heaven story (Part I and Part II)

It was at the age of fifteen that Shyni decided she would marry a foreigner, or a white man as they refer to us in India. For years she had been telling her friends and family that she would do this. Shyni had a strong and independent great grandmother who was a very big influence upon her. This great matriarch taught Shyni how to think for herself and to see through the illusions that most people live under, which is one of the reasons Shyni is so compatible with me. Shyni did not like the way Indian men treated their wives and did not want to grow up to become a slave to her husband. She wanted someone who would see her for who she really was and would treat her with love and respect. She saw the odds of that happening with an Indian man to be quite slim.

Shyni’s father, Master Thomas, was a great musician and well known all over India for his talent. He had many students from all over the world coming to learn to play tabla and purchase a tabla made by the hands of this master craftsman. Master Thomas also taught twenty one other instruments, vocals, and dance. He won many awards for his work. So there was plenty of white folk hanging around the family home.

At the age of thirty, Shyni was already in danger of becoming an old spinster in her culture. Master Thomas had been looking for a husband for Shyni since she was eighteen years old. But he was trying to hook her up with an Indian man. A few of his European students offered to marry her; one of them was a handsome young movie director from London England. Even though Master Thomas wanted Shyni to marry an Indian man, he allowed Shyni to decide, and she declined them all. They did not feel like the right suitor for her. Master Thomas died shortly before Shyni’s twenty fifth birthday without finding her a husband.

Seven months before I met Shyni, when she was nearly thirty years old, a man from Vienna Austria proposed to her. He had known Shyni since she was fifteen and had been a student of Master Thomas. Shyni accepted and the next day they both went their separate ways, he back to Vienna and Shyni back to her job as a nurse in Delhi. Three months later he returned to Kumily to marry Shyni. He called her in Delhi and told her to quit her job and come to be married. Shyni did just that. But the years had corrupted what had once been a nice young man. He was sexually active with other Indian women and into drugs. He began insulting certain family members and after nine days Shyni called off the marriage. They never even touched each other, not once in the fourteen years that they knew each other. Shyni remained a virgin.

Just a few weeks before I met Shyni she became disillusioned with her life thinking that God had forgotten about her and attempted suicide. She grieved her father’s death, and her great grandmother who died at the age of 100, only months after Master Thomas, they were the only adult family members that understood Shyni and that only ones she could trust. She loved and missed them dearly. Shyni took an overdose of prescription medicine, about five times the dosage that should have killed her, and being a nurse she knew what a lethal dosage was. She awoke three days later very angry at God and asking, “Why did you send me back?” She was very upset. Her nine year old nephew Eju was the only family member to stick by her the entire time she was out cold. The adults left her to live or die, depending on the will of God.

Ten days later I came along. I knew nothing of her attempted suicide when I agreed to marry her.

Shyni’s sister and her husband Gopal came to Shyni’s home late that evening of the day I asked Shyni to marry me. I was back at my room busy writing my book. The next day I went to their house and met Jessie and Gopal. I sat down with the family to formally ask for Shyni’s hand in marriage. For about thirty minutes they asked me many questions; with Shyni interpreting I answered. Their talk sounded a bit harsh, there were times I was worried that there was a problem, but Shyni told me what they said, and I believed they were happy with the marriage. But in reality there were objections, worries and fears. Would I use her and then leave her behind? Would I humiliate the family? Her brother was concerned, her sister was supportive. Others were on the fence. I did not know this, and I am glad that I did not.

This was just like something out of a movie…no, even better…because it was happening to me. I marveled at how everything in my life, my previous experiences, up to this point made me ready, willing, and able to fully take this experience in and go with the flow of it. Even a few years earlier I would not have been up for this. Because I was on such a mission to fully understand Life I thought this was a great opportunity to immerse myself in such a different culture.

Yet there was one thing missing for me at this point, something that made me a bit uncomfortable.

These days I can tell when a woman is sexually interested in me. I even felt that kind of interest coming from the second woman I met. But I did not feel it with any of the others, and certainly NOT with Shyni. I did not feel any sort of intimate connection or chemistry with Shyni. Nor had I witnessed her express any sort of affection with any of her family members at this point.

I took some inner counseling about this. First I decided that this was too big of an event in my life for God to let me proceed if it was wrong for me. I knew something would come up to stop this wedding if Shyni was not right for me. This was not blind faith however; this was faith due to all of the amazing events that I have experienced in my life that has confirmed that God is watching over and protecting me…read my book for an overwhelming taste of those grand experiences.

The next thing I told myself was that Shyni wants intimacy and touch just like everyone else does. She has already told me how important it is for her to find the right husband and that it be for life. I could not believe that she would choose to go through her life with a man that she could not be intimate with. I figured that she was just used to holding that sort of energy back and that it would come out once we were married, when it was appropriate for her to do so. And finally I knew that I had the ability to bring the absolute best out of a person. Since Shyni was willing to work at making this relationship good, I knew I could teach her how to be a good lover if she had any difficulties at the start.

I also explained my concerns about intimacy with Shyni. I told her, “Physical intimacy is very important to me. I am not like an Indian man; I am not looking for a servant. Intimacy is the biggest reason
that I want a wife. Being my lover must come naturally and should not done out of duty and obligation.” Shyni’s response was simple, “You don’t have to worry, I understand.” She was too shy to say anything more about this issue. I finished that conversation by telling her, “I take my commitment to marry very seriously and will do everything I can to ensure we have a happy marriage. But I will not stay in a marriage that has no intimacy; I will not stay in a marriage that is unhappy. Please make sure you considered this before we proceed.”

By the end of the third day, although I had not touched her, I had gotten physically close enough to Shyni to feel the warmth of her intimate energy bodies. They did not close off when I came close. She felt very receptive. This helped to ease my worries.

Over the next few days I spent most of my time at her family home. Her sister, brother-in-law and their children stayed there for six days. With each day came more and more confirmation that I had made a good decision; especially when I saw how affectionate she was with her niece and nephew.

Although they had little money or income, they owned a nice home in a great spot right next to a grassy field which borders the wild animal preserve. Wild monkeys stop by frequently and I had an encounter with wild elephants while walking only half a kilometer from her house.

Shyni’s brother Shyam was twenty three at the time. He followed in his father’s footsteps, making tablas, teaching music, and singing his heart out. Shyam is also a world class musician; he gave his first public performance at the age of three. In the midst of the family making this decision, Shyam got a phone call inviting him and his group to give a live performance at a music college. We all interpreted this as a good omen, as God’s blessing, on our decision. This was a very high honor for Shyam because of the quality of this school and because he was the only outside performer that was invited.

When they suggested that I go along to the concert with him I was resistant due to the great traveling distance and a loss of two days time from writing my book. Intuitively I knew this would be a good experience to help bind me with Shyni’s family. My intuition turned out correct because Shyam was still a bit leery of me and he had the power to stop this marriage from happening. After that Shyam liked me and considered me a down to earth regular person, so I am glad that I went. I had trouble communicating with Shyam and his fellow musicians because they spoke very little English and I spoke no Malayalam at the time. (I am still learning; it is the second most difficult language on the planet.) I had to use all of the patience I could muster up and quiet my frustrations when things did not go as I expected, which was often. It was quite an adventure and learning experience for me.

On February 28th 2005, one week after meeting Shyni, we went to Peermade, a city that was an hour away for our “first” marriage. It was done in a law office which begun the legal process for marrying a foreigner. This consisted of signing a legal document that contained wedding vows and filling paperwork with the government. They contacted my country, the USA, to make sure I am not already married. It takes forty days for this to complete.

However there were complications…when we got there the attorney who was handling the paperwork did not have the required “stamp paper” to write the official documents on. I had driven to Peermade alone on the motor cycle that I had rented from Mohammad. It was a beautiful drive through the Western Ghats Mountain Range that I enjoyed thoroughly. The rest of the family came by bus, the common form of transportation for the majority of the people of India. There was no stamp paper to be found in this small legal town we were in, don’t ask me why, that’s just how Indians do business. So I was elected to take Gopal, Shyni’s sister’s husband, and drive to another town to find it. After a few hours of searching we came back empty handed.

Meanwhile the family had made a few phone calls and located stamp paper in another town but I was too tired of driving to make yet another one hour round trip drive. My contract with Mohammad, who I rented the motor bike from, prohibited me from letting anyone else use the bike. So it was with great reluctance that I gave the motor bike to Gopal and the attorney to go and retrieve the stamp paper.

About forty minutes later we get a phone call from Gopal, they had an accident. They were both hurt and the bike badly damaged. A jeep was sent to recover them and brought them back to the hospital in Peermade. Poor Shyni, she was so afraid that this would jinks the marriage. She was afraid that I would back out. I did everything I could to reassure her that I was not going to back out over this problem. But her fears would not go away. As I probed deeper, I found that she had greater worries. Shyni was deathly afraid of Mohammad and what he would do when he discovered that his bike was damaged. I did my best to soothe her worries; I told her that I would buy the bike from him if it came down to that. It seemed to help a little, but all of the family was on the worry train of thought so they were influencing her too.

The attorney required a cast for his broken leg, Gopal required stitches for the gash above his eye, but they would live. After the medical dramas were dealt with, we still had time to do the legal work. A funny thing happened when it came time for me to sign the legal papers…I got hot feet. Not cold feet, but hot feet, unusually hot feet. I figured it reflected just how much I wanted this marriage to take place.

Because of the drama with the bike and Gopal’s injuries, Shyni decided to go home with her sister and Gopal to help Gopal get further medical treatment. Gopal’s brother, who worked at a bike repair shop in the big city of Kottayam, came to get the bike and repair it.

Before Shyni put me on the bus to returned to my home-stay in Kumily she warned me not to tell Mohammad about the wedding and the bike. I objected saying, “What am I going to tell him about the bike? He will see that I don’t have it. He will ask questions. I can’t lie to him.”

Shyni was very worried. She told me, “You can’t tell Mohammad anything. He will stop our marriage if he finds out.”

My response was, “A corrupt person like that does not have the power to stop our marriage. We have much more power than he does. We already have the first part done. So what can he do?”

Shyni ended by saying, “You don’t know him like I do. You have no idea what he will do. He will make trouble, you can be sure of that.”

I got on the bus and headed “home”, I was not sure what to think. But I was certain I was not going to let this boy interfere with my life.

Stay tuned for the next installment of this story – The Kidnapping and The Wedding!

Love and Blessings,
Michael Skowronski
Author of Unforgettable: A Love and Spiritual Growth Story

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