The One She Was Warned About

by Shoma Narayanan

  She bit her lip. ‘I care too,’ she said. ‘It’s just that I’m not comfortable with the thought of moving in with you. I know it’s hypocritical, when we’re sleeping together, but I’m a little conservative that way.’

  Nikhil nodded. ‘Are you OK with an engagement, though?’ he asked, and his lips thinned as the pause lengthened.

  ‘Maybe not just yet,’ she said. She wasn’t sure herself what was holding her back—a few minutes ago she’d been thrilled at the thought of being engaged to Nikhil. But dimly she felt that if she said yes now both of them would be entering into an engagement for the wrong reasons. One part of her said that she was making a stupid mistake, while the other part desperately wanted to get away and think.

  ‘Right...’ Nikhil said.

  His voice was controlled, rather lifeless, and Shweta had a sudden twinge of doubt. Maybe he wasn’t as blasé about the whole thing as he seemed. She watched him as he closed the ring box and put it on the table, but his face was impassive.

  ‘I’m sorry, Nikhil,’ she said helplessly.

  ‘Is there something in particular that’s bothering you, or...?’

  Shweta shook her head. ‘I just feel that we should take some time and think this through properly. I’m crazy about you, but it’s been only three weeks, and you know what I’m like.’

  Her face was appealing as she looked up at him, and some of the rigidity left his face. ‘Little Miss Take-No-Risks,’ he said, with only the faintest trace of mockery as he took her hand and kissed it gently. ‘I understand. But don’t keep me waiting too long, OK?’

  With a little sob, Shweta threw herself into his arms. She did love him—more than she could say—and it took all her will-power not to cave in and agree to an immediate engagement.

  Nikhil hesitated for a second, and then he put his arms around her and held her close. Shweta’s rejection had hurt, and it was a measure of the depth of feeling he had for her that he wasn’t resentful. Maybe he’d gone about it the wrong way, he thought. A romantic gesture might have worked better. But he hadn’t wanted to dazzle Shweta into agreeing to marry him only to regret it later.

  * * *

  ‘I can’t understand you,’ Priya said in despair when Shweta told her. ‘Any fool can see you’re completely besotted by him. Why would you say no?’

  ‘It’s too soon,’ Shweta muttered.

  ‘And you’re scared?’

  Her eyes flew up to meet Priya’s. ‘Not scared, exactly,’ she said, and then, ‘Or maybe, yes—I am a little scared. I’m not sure what Nikhil sees in me, and I need to know it’ll last. He’s dated all kinds of women, and he’s never stuck with any of them for more than a few months.’

  ‘I bet he’s not asked any of them to marry him either,’ Priya said. ‘He’s a very attractive man. You can’t blame him if he’s played the field a little. You need to trust him.’

  ‘What are you? His PR agent?’ Shweta asked crossly. ‘I just need some time to think, OK?’

  Priya shrugged. ‘Nothing wrong with taking time, but don’t keep him hanging around for too long. He doesn’t look the patient type.’ Her voice gentled as she saw Shweta’s stricken expression. ‘I don’t mean he’ll dump you if you don’t agree to getting engaged,’ she said. ‘But he won’t know why you’re holding back, and he might get impatient and angry. Why don’t you just speak to him a little more openly? Tell him what’s bothering you.’

  ‘But I don’t know properly myself!’

  ‘Would you get annoyed with me if I told you?’

  ‘Probably,’ Shweta muttered. ‘I hate it when you go into your psychoanalyst mode.’

  Priya laughed. ‘I’m not trying to psychoanalyse you,’ she promised. ‘But it’s pretty obvious—your dad closed himself off from everyone when your mom died, and somehow he’s made you think it’s safer to have a bloodless marriage of convenience rather than expose yourself to that kind of hurt.’

  Shweta felt a lump come into her throat. ‘They were very happy together,’ she said. ‘My mom and dad. I don’t remember her much, but you can tell from the photos and when he talks about her... But that’s got nothing to do with me and Nikhil.’

  Priya sighed and left it at that. Perhaps it was best for Shweta to figure things out for herself. At least she’d progressed enough to realise that she belonged with Nikhil and not with someone like Siddhant—hopefully, in time, she’d learn to trust him with her heart.

  Things were a little awkward between Shweta and Nikhil for the next couple of days, but soon they swung back into an easy rhythm of spending weekends together, as well as a few evenings in the week when he wasn’t working.

  ‘Amma’s decided to pay me a visit,’ Nikhil said one evening over dinner.

  His tone was neutral, but Shweta looked up sharply. ‘Just her? Or your parents too?’

  ‘Just her,’ he said. ‘Though I’m sure my parents have something to do with it. This is the first time she’s travelled alone—and she’s just recovered from a long bout of illness. But she’s insisting I don’t need to go and fetch her.’

  Shweta didn’t think that Veena’s deciding to travel alone indicated anything, but she wisely refrained from arguing the point. Nikhil tended to get completely irrational when it came to his parents.

  ‘So, do I get to see her?’

  ‘Yes, of course. She’ll be ecstatic about seeing you again. You’re probably the only person she knows in Mumbai apart from me.’

  ‘Ecstatic’ was probably an exaggeration, but Veena was definitely very pleased to meet Shweta when she arrived in Mumbai. ‘It’s so nice to see you!’ she said, beaming all over her thin, rather careworn face. ‘It’s been years since I saw you last—you were just a little girl! I remember when you came home after school one day; you were so polite and respectful. Ranjini and I couldn’t stop talking about you!’

  Shweta smiled back at her. ‘It’s good to see you too, Aunty,’ she said. ‘Will you be in Mumbai for a while?’

  Veena’s face clouded. ‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘Nikhil’s father’s not very well, and Ranjini might find it difficult to manage on her own.’

  It was the second time Veena had mentioned her husband’s mistress, and Shweta found that her childhood memory was perfectly accurate in this instance—there was no trace of resentment in Veena’s voice when she spoke about Ranjini. Not for the first time Shweta found herself thinking that there was a lot more to the elder Mr Nair’s domestic arrangements than met the eye.

  ‘Is it serious? Nikhil’s dad’s illness?’

  Veena shook her head. ‘Oh, no. His blood pressure’s a bit high, and he’s due for a cataract operation in his left eye.’

  ‘They can manage a cataract operation perfectly well on their own,’ Nikhil said as he came into the room carrying three cups of coffee on a tray. ‘Now that you’re here I’m not letting you go in a hurry.’

  Veena’s eyes were frankly adoring as she looked up at Nikhil. ‘Oh, thank you,’ she said, taking a cup from the tray. ‘You shouldn’t have. I was about to get up and make the coffee.’

  ‘I’m buttering you up,’ Nikhil said, giving her a lop-sided smile. ‘So that you stay here for as long as possible.’

  ‘I can stay for a couple of weeks,’ Veena said. ‘After that I’m pretty sure the two of you will be tired of having me around.’

  ‘Of course we won’t,’ Shweta said impulsively. ‘Nikhil’s been looking forward to seeing you, and so have I. It’ll be fun showing you around.’

  Veena smiled, but said nothing, and Shweta couldn’t help feeling that she’d leave once the two weeks were over.

  Nikhil was looking a little tense again, and she hurried to change the topic. ‘Do you still watch Bollywood films?’ she asked Veena. It had been a bit of a joke around school—Mr Nair solemnly escorting his wife and his mistre
ss to the movies every Saturday.

  ‘Ooh, yes,’ Veena said, sounding more like a sixteen-year-old than a grey-haired lady in her sixties. ‘Some of these new actors are quite good. But I don’t like the actresses much—all they seem to do is wear tiny clothes and dance around in front of the men.’

  Shweta cast an involuntary look at her own rather short skirt. She’d come over directly after office, and it hadn’t occurred to her to change.

  ‘Oh, much tinier than that,’ Veena assured her earnestly, catching the look. ‘You look very nice, dear. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.’

  Nikhil caught Shweta’s eye and burst out laughing. ‘Oh, God, Amma, you’re priceless,’ he said finally. ‘Poor Shweta—now she’ll lie awake all night wondering if you think her clothes are tiny.’

  Veena gave him a reproving look. ‘No, she won’t,’ she said. ‘Do you watch movies now, dear? I remember your father didn’t let you when you were a child.’

  ‘He lets me watch them now,’ Shweta said, beginning to feel a little cross. Childhood reminiscences were OK up to a point, but she didn’t like to be reminded of how hemmed-in her life had been.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Veena said. ‘I didn’t mean it that way. I suppose he thought Bollywood movies weren’t suitable for a young girl, and he was quite right. But when your mother was alive they used to go to the movies every weekend—just like Nikhil’s father and me.’

  She hadn’t known that, Shweta thought, feeling a pang go through her. All her life she’d thought her father hated movies, but maybe he’d just avoided them because they reminded him of his wife.

  ‘Your mother was so lovely,’ Veena was saying. ‘Smita Patil was one of my favourite actresses, and I thought your mom looked a lot like her.’

  ‘Shweta looks a bit like her too,’ Nikhil said. ‘Especially the eyes.’ He’d seen that Shweta was looking a little overwrought, and he wanted to steer the conversation into safer channels.

  Veena gave Shweta an affectionate look. ‘Yes, she’s as beautiful as her mother.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Shweta said, trying to smile.

  There were very few people who still talked about her mom—her father had changed houses soon after her mother died, and he’d fallen out of touch with their old neighbours and friends. He spoke about her only rarely, and his sister hadn’t known her very well. Veena hadn’t known her well either, but to Shweta the few sentences she’d spoken had made memories of her mother come to life. So far she’d always thought of her mother in the abstract—not as a living, breathing woman who’d gone to the movies and looked like a famous actress. Smita Patil had died young as well, and that made the comparison even more poignant.

  ‘You OK?’ Nikhil asked when Veena left the room for a few minutes to fetch something.

  She nodded. ‘I didn’t realise Veena Aunty knew my mother,’ she said softly. ‘But it felt good, hearing about her.’

  Shweta refused to stay to dinner, pleading an early start the next morning as an excuse.

  ‘But I’ll drop in again soon,’ she promised a visibly disappointed Veena as she left. ‘I still remember the prawn curry you gave me when I came over to your house in Pune.’

  Nikhil came to the door to see her off, and when he pulled her close she sought his lips hungrily with her own.

  ‘Is Priya in town?’ Nikhil asked in an undertone when he released her after a few minutes. Veena’s visit meant that Shweta couldn’t stay the night in Nikhil’s flat, and the thought of the enforced separation was sheer torture.

  ‘Very much so,’ Shweta said. ‘But you can come over anyway. I have my own room, and Priya has a boyfriend of her own. She isn’t around much herself.’

  Nikhil hesitated. ‘I thought you weren’t very keen on people knowing about us,’ he said.

  Shweta’s eyes opened wide. ‘Why would you think that?’ she asked. ‘Anyway, Priya knows—how d’you think I explain being away for so many nights? Prayer meetings?’

  He smiled briefly, but still looked unconvinced. ‘We’ll figure something out,’ he said. ‘Maybe a hotel. I don’t want to put you in an awkward situation.’

  ‘It would be far more awkward sneaking into a hotel for a dirty weekend,’ Shweta said, standing on tiptoe and firmly pressing her lips to his. ‘Love you, Nikhil. Bye!’

  ‘Bye,’ he said, but he stayed at the door long after Shweta had disappeared into the lift—so long that Veena came out to look for him.

  ‘What are you doing out here all alone?’ she asked. ‘Is everything OK?’

  Nikhil nodded, forcing a smile to his lips. ‘Everything is fine,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry—I started thinking of something.’

  Veena gave him a worried look but refrained from asking any questions. She’d looked after Nikhil since he was a tiny baby—Ranjini had been young and nervous when he was born, and more than happy to relinquish him into an older woman’s care. In some ways she felt more like his real mother than Ranjini, but she was always careful not to let it show.

  ‘What do you want for dinner?’ she asked. ‘I can do rice and avial—or dosas. I have everything ready.’

  ‘Come and sit down with me for bit, Amma,’ Nikhil said. ‘We haven’t had a chance to talk properly since you arrived—I was rushing around trying to finish work, and then Shweta came over.’

  ‘She’s a lovely girl,’ Veena said warmly. ‘Are the two of you...?’ She left the question hanging delicately—she was of a generation and upbringing that didn’t ask direct questions about people’s love lives.

  ‘I want to marry her,’ Nikhil said heavily. ‘She hasn’t said yes yet.’

  ‘You’ve asked her?’ Veena had no illusions about her husband’s son, and she was a little surprised at his saying he wanted to marry Shweta. So far he had flitted from one relationship to another, and Veena had got the impression that he was shying away from commitment—she had been all prepared with a little lecture on how he couldn’t treat Shweta the way he did all his other girlfriends.

  ‘Of course I’ve asked! Amma, we’ve been—’ He broke off, not wanting to shock his stepmother, and continued in bitter tones. ‘I know what you’ve been thinking—I could see it on your face when you were talking to her. You were feeling all protective, and you assumed I was playing the fool with her.’

  ‘No, I didn’t. I know you wouldn’t deliberately hurt someone, but I was a little worried. She seems to be...’ Veena hesitated a little ‘...very fond of you, and I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way.’

  ‘I’ve known Shweta since she was four years old,’ Nikhil said. ‘If I wasn’t serious about her I wouldn’t have come within touching distance of her, let alone—’ He broke off again, because Veena was looking uncomfortable. ‘Anyway, it doesn’t matter. She’s the one who needs more time to make up her mind.’

  ‘If you’re already...’ Veena tried to phrase it as delicately as she could, and then, failing, hurried on. ‘She’s a girl. I would have thought she’d be in a hurry to marry.’

  ‘It doesn’t work that way nowadays,’ Nikhil said with a short laugh. ‘And I can quite see her point—her family’s not terribly well-off, but they’re very proud. Dr Mathur’s only daughter marrying the illegitimate son of a building contractor would be a big come-down. Oh, and I got expelled as well—from a school where he was on the board of directors. Yes, I can see it going down a treat...his daughter wanting to marry me.’

  Veena had turned very white. ‘Is that what she told you?’

  Nikhil shook his head. ‘She doesn’t need to say it. I know her father, and though she won’t admit it I know she’s completely under his thumb. She cares for me, but she’s not sure if she cares enough to cut herself off from her family.’ He noticed Veena’s still expression and reached out impulsively, taking her hand.

  ‘I’m sorry I started talking about it,’ he
said. ‘It’s not your fault, and I’m sure I’ll win Shweta around in time.’

  ‘Perhaps if I talk to her—’ Veena started to say.

  Nikhil cut her off. ‘No, don’t. It’ll only make things worse. Now, come on, let’s figure out dinner—I’ll help you put something together.’

  Veena allowed Nikhil to coax her into the kitchen, but she was deeply troubled. The rift between Nikhil and his parents was bad enough. The thought that Nikhil was suffering even today because of his illegitimacy was unbearable. She’d been happy when he’d set up his event management company, especially because she’d thought his background wouldn’t matter in the rather bohemian crowd he mingled with. She didn’t really approve of his girlfriends, with their artificially straightened hair and short dresses, but she’d hoped he would settle down with one of them. His marrying Shweta would be a dream come true. She was quite sure Shweta would come round in the end—it had been difficult to miss the depth of feeling in the girl’s eyes when she looked at Nikhil. But Nikhil was the kind of man who brooded and let old resentments fester. Shweta’s reluctance boded ill for a happy life together. He’d allow distrust to eat away at him— always assume she was ashamed of being seen with him.

  ‘Stop looking so worried,’ Nikhil teased, putting his arms around his stepmother and giving her a quick hug. ‘What’s eating you?’

  ‘I’m trying to decide between dosas and rice,’ Veena said. ‘It’s a difficult call to make—needs a lot of thought.’

  ‘Dosas,’ Nikhil decided. ‘I’ve missed the way you make them.’

  * * *

  Shweta sighed as she put the phone down after a particularly difficult call with a client. The week had been dispiriting, to say the least. Nikhil had been busy with work, and when he hadn’t, he’d had Veena to take care of. She’d tagged along a couple of times, but Veena’s idea of suitable entertainment was to visit every major temple in the city, and Shweta had finally given up and gone home in sheer exhaustion. It didn’t help that Veena kept giving her anxious looks. She seemed on the verge of asking her something, and Shweta was sure it had to do with her not being engaged to Nikhil yet.