There was a certain strength about Kiran that was comforting. He exuded confidence. Even in her nightmare, she had instinctively turned toward the sound of his voice.
Amma and the rest of the family had always proudly claimed that Kiran was super-bright and that he’d performed exceptionally well in school. He had an engineering degree from the prestigious Indian Institute of Technology and an MBA from an American school. At twenty-seven, he was already an executive at a high-tech company. Everyone in the family knew he would eventually take over his father’s business. He had mentioned heading his father’s branch office in Mumbai. His future seemed bright.
Kiran was so different from Suresh—wonderfully, refreshingly so. Megha couldn’t help making that comparison every time she looked at Kiran.
Perhaps sensing her eyes on him, Kiran looked up from the computer. “Feeling restless, Megha?”
“A little,” Megha admitted, the heat rising in her face at being caught staring.
“Still worried about being discovered?”
She moved to the drawing room and sat down in the chair across from the sofa he occupied. “The thought does cross my mind often.”
He pushed aside the computer and leaned forward, looking her in the eye. “I don’t want you to worry, Megha. Haven’t I promised to protect you?”
“I trust you completely, Kiran, but Amma is a vindictive woman. I’ve lived with her for the past year. When she wants something, nobody can stop her. She’s like a rock hurtling down a steep mountain.”
“I know that. That’s why I want you to move to Mumbai. It’s so big and crowded, she’ll never find you there.”
“Maybe,” she replied with an uncertain smile. The subject of Mumbai sent an involuntary tremor through Megha. It was a big, bustling city, an unknown place. She’d heard about the heat, humidity, crime and poverty existing side by side with unimaginable wealth, tall buildings, beautiful shopping areas, and the beach in Mumbai from friends and TV and movies. She’d never been beyond fifty miles of Palgaum in her entire life. Although she disliked the idea of big cities, Mumbai sounded like heaven at the moment, compared to Palgaum, but it also scared her to no end—the classic dilemma of the known versus the unknown evil.
Assuming she went with Kiran to Mumbai, what would her place in his life be? What was she to him now? Every day she asked herself that. She hadn’t found an acceptable answer yet.
Kiran rose and stretched, then invited her to take his place on the couch. “Why don’t you get on the computer and amuse yourself on the Internet?”
“But you’re still working on it.”
He stifled a yawn. “I’ve done enough for one day. You’re free to use it.”
“I—I don’t know much about using computers.” It was embarrassing for Megha to admit she’d hardly ever used something that was so commonplace these days. Even small children knew how to use a computer.
He frowned. “Really? They didn’t have computers in your college?”
“In the computer science department but not in the liberal arts section. I never had my own computer either, and no one in Suresh’s home has one.”
“I’ll teach you.” Maybe because Megha hesitated, he said. “It’s very simple. Come here.”
So Megha sat on the couch. She’d always wanted to learn more about computers and this was the perfect opportunity.
Kiran settled down beside her and gave her a brief lesson in how a computer worked. After a few minutes, with his encouragement, she timidly picked up the mouse and learned how to navigate the screen without letting the cursor get out of hand. As she started to learn more about web sites, and search engines and keywords meant to retrieve any kind of information or entertainment, her spirits lifted. Kiran showed her how to look up movie reviews, the latest news, addresses, consumer reports, merchandise for sale, tracking down people and telephone numbers, even recipes and shopping.
She smiled to herself. The entire world was available at the touch of a button. How incredibly wonderful! It was much simpler to learn than she’d thought, too. Within minutes she was typing in keywords all by herself, and enjoying herself immensely. A couple of times Kiran’s patience seemed to slip a bit with her non-existent typing skills, but other than that, she was more than pleased with her first computer session. She turned to Kiran with an excited grin. “You’re right. It is fun! No wonder some people get addicted to this.”
“If you learn how to type, it’ll be even more fun. What took you an hour now will take no more than five or ten minutes.”
“Is it possible to learn typing on one’s own?”
“I learnt on my own. I was a two-finger man until I entered the field of software and started to practice touch-typing.”
“Is it hard?”
He shook his head. “I can show you. You need to practice though, or you won’t gain speed.”
“I’m willing to do it. What else have I got to do all day? I really want to learn, Kiran.” She giggled. “I want to watch my fingers fly, write letters and articles, make magic.”
Chuckling, Kiran logged off, shut down the laptop and eased it into its leather case. “Looks like you’re addicted already.”
A tiny spark of an idea ignited in Megha’s mind. What if she could learn typing—not just the basics, but enough to become a good typist? It could be her first small step towards independence. Maybe she could even get a clerical job somewhere.
A computer! Why hadn’t she thought of it days ago when she’d noticed the one sitting on Kiran’s desk in the bedroom? “Maybe you can teach me some more tomorrow?” The next day was Sunday, and Kiran would likely be home all day. “Then I can practice typing on your desktop computer.”
He thought about it for a moment. “Let’s leave the computer lesson for another day. You’ve been cooped up in this flat too long. I’ll take you out somewhere for the day.”
She swallowed hard as terror replaced the earlier euphoria. “I can’t go out!”
“We’ll get you dressed in different clothes, change your hairstyle, and get some big sunglasses. Nobody will recognize you.”
Her heart was beating loud and fast. No, she couldn’t step out of this flat—not when she was just beginning to feel somewhat safe. “I don’t want to go out, Kiran.”
He shook his head. “It’s not healthy for you to sit here day after day and worry yourself sick over Amma’s next move. You’ll lose your mind if you constantly think negative thoughts.”
“Yes, but…” He’d never understand what paralyzing terror felt like. Nobody would understand unless they’d experienced it firsthand. “Wouldn’t you rather use your precious Sunday to socialize with your friends or something?” she suggested.
“I socialize with them every morning when I play tennis,” he reminded her gently. “We’ll find a way to deal with that demented Amma.”
“Dealing with Amma is not easy, Kiran. Poor Appaji has turned into a quiet, gutless little man in doing just that,” Megha said. But she didn’t want to dampen Kiran’s spirit entirely when he was trying so hard to cheer her up. “Maybe we could go for a late evening drive or something, when it’s dark outside.”
“No. We’ll go shopping. I hear shopping always cheers up women.”
“I’m not like other women.”
Kiran clenched his teeth for a moment. “As if I don’t know that!” he murmured. But before she could question him, he quickly added, “Trust me. I’ll call Pramila and see if she can lend you a salwar-kameez outfit.”
Loath to turn down every one of his suggestions, Megha conceded. But she was convinced this was still wrong, maybe dangerous. Entirely wrong. Thoroughly dangerous.
Chapter 11
Megha slid into the passenger seat of Kiran’s car. It felt strange. The outfit she had on didn’t fit. Ashok’s wife was obviously a lot shorter and plumper than she. Megha also wore a pair of sandals that belonged to the same woman and they were one size too small, making them pinch her toes. The still-necessary bandage on her
foot didn’t exactly help matters.
Sitting beside Kiran made her uneasy. This scene should have had Kiran’s wife or fiancée sitting beside him, excited about going shopping with him. Instead he was escorting her, his runaway cousin-in-law. She felt like a common thief. She was going against everything she’d been taught since birth. They were both defying their traditional Hindu moral code. She could only hope the sum total of her sins didn’t affect Kiran’s future lives. He was merely playing the role of protector and didn’t deserve to be punished by the bad karma surrounding her.
As Kiran eased the car out from the parking garage and out the gates, she turned to look outside the window, anxious eyes scanning the immediate area for Amma’s spies. When she recognized no one and saw nobody looking their way, she settled back in her seat.
Flipping down the visor, Megha glanced at herself in the attached mirror. She had to admit her camouflage was quite effective. Dressed in the loose, lemon-yellow outfit with the flowing chunni covering the top of her head, her hair pulled back into an austere bun, and the huge, outrageously gaudy sunglasses perched over her nose, she was indeed unrecognizable. Even her own mother wouldn’t be able to tell who she was.
Kiran turned to her. “Like what you see?”
“Not at all.”
He gave her a wicked grin. “You could join the circus…as a clown.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “Hardly! I look very mature.” She saw through his attempt at putting her troubled mind at ease.
He chuckled. “A very mature clown then.”
Megha frowned as she noticed the route Kiran was taking. “Where exactly are we going? The bazaar is on the other side of town.”
He kept his eyes on the heavily traveled road as he merged in. “To Dharwar. Nobody knows either one of us there. We can shop without any fear of somebody recognizing you.”
“Hmm,” she grunted and cleared the frown off her face. Again, she trusted his superior judgement. Actually, she had to admit it was nice to have a strong man she could trust. Suresh had turned to his mother in even the smallest matters. This was very refreshing—having someone so practical and resolute making decisions for her. She leaned back and closed her eyes for a minute, giving in to the luxury of being driven somewhere in air-conditioned comfort.
From behind her big mirrored sunglasses she could study Kiran surreptitiously. In the bright sunshine coming through the windshield, she could see every minute detail of his face. He had a tiny mole under the left jaw. Despite the morning’s shave, his cheek was already showing a hint of a shadow. The long nose had a slight bump over the bridge. His lower lip was full and wide. His fingers were long and tapered, yet there seemed to be tremendous strength in them. The lean muscles in his arm and shoulder rose and fell each time he handled the gearshift.
Kiran Rao was definitely an attractive man. She felt a slight ripple of sensual awareness go right through her. Oh, God! Quickly she switched her gaze back to the window.
In less than an hour they reached the outskirts of Dharwar. The landscape changed. The tract became hillier and the vegetation was different from that of Palgaum. The air was much less humid, too. As in any other suburban town, there were large, spacious homes that belonged to the more affluent. As they neared the town’s center, the homes got smaller, the roads narrower, and the traffic increased and eventually slowed to a crawl.
Kiran maneuvered the car through the thick mass of pedestrians, stray animals and street hawkers inside the bazaar. He managed to find a parking spot and they walked towards the shops displaying clothing, purses, chappals, accessories, and anything else that a body needed.
After looking at literally dozens of outfits, they bought six. She wanted two and he wanted her to have many more, so they settled for six and a couple of saris and some sets of undergarments and sandals. They toured several stores, Kiran patiently urging her to look at more clothes and try them on. She turned to him in disbelief at one point. “Aren’t you tired and bored yet?”
He shook his head. “I like shopping.”
“Liar!” she accused him with a laugh.
At the end of nearly five solid hours of shopping, they noticed it was getting dark outside and that they were hungry. After stowing away the packages in the car’s trunk and back seat they made one last stop at an accessories shop, the vastu bhandar, as such shops were referred to. Loosely translated, it meant “variety store.” Ignoring Megha’s protests, Kiran decided that she should buy lipstick and nail polish. “You’re so young, Megha—barely voting age. Indulge and pamper yourself for a change,” he scolded, nudging her towards the beauty counter.
She threw him an exasperated look and started to walk away. “How many ways should I tell you this? I don’t use makeup and I don’t paint my nails!”
“All right then, I’ll do it myself.”
“What?” Agape, she watched Kiran calmly march up to the salesgirl at the cosmetics counter and whisper something to her. The young woman nodded and studied Megha across the room for a moment. Then the two of them laughed and chatted while Megha remained rooted to her spot by the exit door and fumed at Kiran’s high-handedness. And to make matters worse, he appeared to be flirting shamelessly with the woman while she filled his order and beamed at him at the same time. The sheer nerve of it!
Several minutes later, Kiran returned to Megha’s side with a triumphant grin and thrust a package into her hands. “A small Diwali gift from me.”
She looked inside the paper bag. Two expensive lipsticks and matching nail polish bottles nestled inside. She closed the bag and stomped out of the store with a scowl. Without a word Kiran fell in step with her.
But Megha’s irritation didn’t last long. She realized Kiran was only being generous, whereas her behavior was both immature and churlish. At the very least she owed him an apology and a “thank you.” But it was her other response, the unexpected resentment at seeing him flirt with another woman, that bothered her more. Kiran was a young, attractive bachelor and he had every right to carry on with any woman he chose. Megha was in no position to condemn this, let alone feel pangs of envy. And yet, the rush of jealousy had been unmistakable. She had to curb any such feelings in the future.
As they approached the parking area, she gave him a sidelong glance. “I’m sorry about the outburst, Kiran.”
“It’s okay—you’re under a lot of stress.”
“That’s no reason for rudeness. I appreciate the gifts. Thank you.”
He responded with a slow smile. “I knew you’d come around. What girl can resist cosmetics?”
She had to admit his indulgence was endearing. “True.”
Once settled in the car she glanced over her shoulder at the packed back seat. “This must be the best Diwali I’ve ever had. If you buy me any more presents we won’t have room to put them.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll make room.” He flipped down the passenger side visor mirror and said, “Try on one of those lipsticks.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now.”
“So damn bossy,” she muttered under her breath, unwilling to admit that she liked his kind of bossiness. It was refreshingly male.
“What’d you say?” He shot her a smug smile, meaning he’d heard every word.
“Nothing,” she said with a fake smile of her own. “I’ll try the lipstick.” She fished one out of the bag. It felt cool and satiny smooth in her fingers, an entirely unfamiliar sensation. Twisting the gold-tone tube to force out the shimmering coral tip of the lipstick felt odd. Her hands shook, more from being closely observed by Kiran than from lack of practice. She hesitated, but at Kiran’s nod of encouragement she carefully put on the lipstick. It glided onto her full mouth like melted butter, soft, creamy, fragrant…and such a vibrant, warm color.
For a fleeting second she imagined her father’s image looming up behind her, his eyes filled with cold condemnation. Makeup is for prostitutes! Frowning, she stared at the image in the mirror, at her own puckered mouth n
ow painted a rosy shade of coral. Right at that moment, was she any better than a prostitute? A married woman shamelessly living with her husband’s cousin and letting him buy her pretty things was only a hair’s breath away from being a whore, wasn’t it? It hurt to think of herself in those terms. She lowered her gaze from the mirror and closed her eyes to shut out the distasteful image. No, dear God, she was not a prostitute!
Then Kiran’s voice startled her out of this introspection.
“Beautiful, just as I’d suspected,” he pronounced.
Buoyed by his enthusiastic reaction, she resolved to set her inhibitions aside and enjoy the day. Turning her face this way and that, she studied her image in the mirror, gradually beginning to like what she saw. “Not bad.” A smile touched her face. Kiran was right. Shopping for pretty things was a lot of fun.
Kiran’s throat went dry as he saw the smile light up Megha’s face. Good God, she was gorgeous! He’d always known that, but that little touch of lipstick added a different kind of allure, more sophisticated, more mature, more every damned sexy thing he wasn’t supposed to notice. His testosterone was spinning in tight circles, making him crazy! It was hard not to grab her and plant a kiss on those glossed lips. But he couldn’t do any of those things. She was still fragile. And she was just learning to trust him. The last thing he needed was to spoil what had turned out to be a very pleasant day, despite her protests.
During the course of the afternoon she had smiled, she had laughed, and she had seemingly enjoyed her shopping spree. Her eyes had glowed with pleasure at all the things in the stores. She had looked like a little girl on her very first shopping trip. Then he realized this was perhaps her first shopping spree of this magnitude.
Right now Megha was wearing one of the outfits they’d just purchased. She had put away Pramila Pai’s ill-fitting clothes in a bag provided by the store. The coral-colored salwar-kameez fit her perfectly and suited her well. Her flushed cheeks reflected the pinkish tones of the silky fabric. Her new lipstick and sandals seemed to blend in with the picture. The salesgirl at the store had judged the shade well. He nodded in approval. Damn it, Rao, just keep your bloody hormones under control, he told himself and put the car in gear.
The Dowry Bride Page 12
