Mr. Mohan — briefly Mr. Mohammad — has problems.
She says she yielded to Mr. Mohan’s insistent messages and love letters — some of which, she claims, were written in blood.
A word to the wise: when he starts writing you love letters in blood, it is time to get the police involved. Sure enough,
A distraught Ms. Bali filed a police report, alleging that her husband had been kidnapped by his relatives. Days later, Mr. Mohan surfaced — at the house of his brother in a Haryana suburb bordering Delhi. He told an Indian TV crew that he now sought to reconcile with his first wife and children, and referred to himself by his Hindu name. Shortly after the broadcast, Ms. Bali ended up in a hospital, overdosing on sleeping pills. “My life is totally ruined,” she said.
Let’s be frank: the warning signs were there. Ms. Bali is, as you can expect, pretty peeved.
“Chand has only seen a woman in love — he has not yet seen my other side, a woman in anger.”
If I were Chand, I’d be sleeping with one eye open and a dagger at my side at all times. Of course, if I were Chand I’d also send love letters written in someone else’s blood, preferably the blood of one of my hated nemeses.
I do wonder if there’s a business opportunity here: email us a love letter, and we will write it in our own blood and mail it.