Take One Arranged Marriage…

by Shoma Narayanan

  The temptation to wake her up was almost irresistible—he was used to travelling, wasn’t tired in the least, and he’d been looking forward to his second night with his wife. Especially after her saying that they should have sex several times a day. It didn’t seem fair, though. She was very tired, and after all what was the hurry? He had the rest of his life to spend with her.

  Ten minutes later, when he slid into bed next to her, she immediately scooted up to him, cuddling close. Vikram’s body reacted enthusiastically and he turned towards her, hoping she’d woken up. She hadn’t, but her movement pressed her against a very sensitive part of his anatomy and he groaned mentally. It was going to be a long and frustrating night.

  The alarm rang stridently at four-thirty a.m., and Tara bounced out of bed almost immediately. ‘Brr, it’s cold,’ she said, sliding her feet into slippers and grabbing a shawl to put around her shoulders. She was wearing a slightly more daring negligee than she had on her wedding night, and one black lace strap slipped to expose a delicately moulded shoulder.

  ‘Do you want to skip the safari?’ Vikram asked, his eyes on her bare shoulder.

  ‘No,’ Tara said firmly, pulling the strap up and winding the shawl around her more closely. ‘The waiter told me that some people don’t get to see a tiger even after six or seven safaris. I don’t want to miss a single one.’ She hadn’t missed the look in his eyes, but she wanted to pay him back for not having woken her the previous night.

  Damn the tigers, Vikram felt like saying. It had taken him a long while to get to sleep, and right now all he wanted to do was get Tara back into bed and make up for the time he’d lost the previous night. Tigers were all very well on the Discovery Channel—going out at five in the morning to see them was not his idea of honeymoon entertainment. Then he remembered Tara saying that all her life she’d wanted to see tigers in the wild, and he groaned and got out of bed. His plans for Tara would need to wait.

  The Jeep was an open one, and even in three layers of warm clothing Tara felt half frozen by the time they got out of the lodge. The forest guide threw a couple of blankets into the back and she grabbed them up gratefully, handing one to Vikram and huddling into the second one.

  ‘Still cold,’ she said, her teeth rattling, ‘It’s freezing … my hands are turning to ice.’

  Vikram put an arm out to pull her under his blanket. ‘Hang on,’ he said quietly and, unzipping his jacket under the blanket, put her hands against his chest. ‘Better?’

  Tara nodded. She could feel the buttons of his shirt under one hand and, feeling greatly daring, she undid one and slipped her hand in to rest against his bare skin. A shudder ran through his body—whether due to the cold or something else, she couldn’t tell. She let her hands wander a little and heard his breath catch in his throat.

  He grabbed her hand as it slid lower, and held it trapped against his chest. ‘Wait till I get you alone,’ he muttered threateningly into her ear, and Tara laughed a little.

  Their Jeep took one of many trails into the jungle, and the forest guide started telling them about the animals and birds they could expect to see. Normally Tara would have been fascinated, but now she was barely listening, acutely conscious of the hard length of Vikram’s body pressed against hers. Skipping the safari would have been an excellent idea, she thought confusedly as Vikram, holding both her hands trapped in one of his, gently slid his other hand under her top. All she could do was wriggle and gasp, and hope that neither the driver nor their guide decided to turn and look at them.

  Vikram finally took pity on her when she started biting her lip and writhing against him. He removed his tormenting hand, putting it on her waist instead, and she gave a relieved little sigh. Then she found that she wanted the hand back where it had been a few seconds before. Her brain seemed to be getting scrambled after only one night of sex, she thought—she could think of nothing else. And all things considered the safari was turning out to be pretty much a waste of time. So far they’d seen a herd of deer, several monkeys and a few peacocks. Lots of birds. Not a single tiger. No wonder Vikram had wanted to stay back in the bungalow.

  They drove on a little further and the driver braked abruptly, gesturing to them to stay silent. A bird screeched out a harsh alarm call and the herd of deer grazing by the side of the trail stiffened for a second, their ears perking up before they turned and bolted into the jungle.

  Tara stood up in the Jeep, her hand on Vikram’s shoulder as she peered down the trail. ‘Look!’ she mouthed at him, pointing at the massive tigress walking slowly down the trail towards them. Two almost fully-grown cubs followed her, and the three of them were breathtaking. There was no other word for it.

  Tara sat down and clutched at Vikram’s sleeve as they came closer. In her head she knew there was no danger, but the sheer size and strength of the animals made her feel very glad she had Vikram next to her.

  The tigress and her cubs crossed the trail behind them, giving them a disdainful look before disappearing into the jungle. Tara sank back into her seat, her face still glowing with excitement. ‘That was amazing, wasn’t it?’ she breathed.

  For a single ludicrous second Vikram found himself feeling jealous of the tigers. ‘I’m glad we didn’t miss the safari,’ he said, and a sudden surge of affection filled him as he looked at her vibrantly alive little face.

  It struck him that it had been a long time since he had seen someone look so genuinely happy. At work everyone was under pressure all the time, and the people he socialised with weren’t exactly Pollyannas, either. And his family … A sombre expression crossed his face. His parents had started smiling and laughing again, but he hadn’t seen them look truly happy even once in the three years since Vijay’s death.

  The Jeep pulled up in a large clearing where a dozen or more other Jeeps were parked. The driver started unpacking breakfast, and Tara and Vikram got out of the vehicle to stretch their limbs. The sun had come out, and it was a lot warmer now. Tara discarded her heavy jacket. The driver got them steaming cups of tea and Tara sipped at hers a little too early, scalding her lips. She scowled, and Vikram tipped up her face gently to kiss her mouth gently. The Jeep shielded them from view, and Tara leaned closer into the kiss. Vikram took the cup from her and set it on the seat, continuing to kiss her all the while. They broke apart only when they ran out of breath.

  ‘Should we get back to the hotel?’ Vikram asked softly, and Tara nodded.

  Neither of them spoke on the drive back. They’d cut the half-day safari short by more than two hours, but the driver and the guide had both given them understanding looks. Tara’s brand-new thaali gave away her newly married status and, as the guide said later, a woman was a bride only once.

  Back at the lodge, Tara’s hands trembled as she tried to unlock the door to their bungalow. She got it open finally, and was barely inside before Vikram shut the door roughly with his foot, bolted it behind him, and picked her up to carry her to bed.

  The next two days were bliss. They skipped most of the safaris, only going for one more on an afternoon when they held hands all the way and didn’t see anything more exciting than deer and monkeys. Tara spent a few hours in the spa, and they swam every afternoon, but other than that they were in the room most of the time, discovering new and exciting things to do in bed. They skipped a lot of meals, too, ordering in room service whenever they felt hungry and raiding the mini-bar.

  ‘So, where are we going next?’ Tara asked curiously for about the tenth time when they’d checked out of the hotel on the third day. Vikram had been resolutely silent about their next destination, saying he wanted it to be a surprise.

  Vikram laughed. ‘We’ll be there in an hour,’ he said as he helped their driver load their luggage into the car. ‘Wouldn’t you rather wait till we get there?’

  ‘No,’ Tara said promptly. ‘If you tell me now, and it sounds awful, I have one hour in which to persuade you to change your mind.’

  ‘Right,’ Vikram said, getting into the car n
ext to her and pulling her close. ‘So it’s this way. I have a friend from these parts—he’s called Amar, you met him at our wedding reception. His grandparents were minor royalty, and his family still owns large tracts of land in the area. They’ve just got the shikaarbadi, the old hunting lodge, on one of their estates renovated. Eventually it’ll be turned into a luxury hotel, and I’ve invested a fair bit in the renovation, hoping that the returns will be good. But right now it’s a beautiful heritage home that’s been restored to look exactly the way it did a hundred years ago—down to the furnishings and the paintings on the walls. It’s by the side of a small lake, and the estate is heavily wooded. There’s even a stream and a small waterfall. And the best part is that we’ve got it all to ourselves for the next week.’ He broke off to give Tara a teasing look. ‘You still want to turn back?’

  ‘It sounds idyllic,’ Tara said, her eyes aglow with excitement. ‘I can hardly wait to see it.’

  Vikram leaned down and kissed her impulsively. She put her arms around his neck, drawing him closer. A warning bell went off in his head. Tara was rapidly becoming an integral part of his existence, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. It was time he re-established the practical footing they’d started their marriage off on.

  Gently he disengaged himself and said, ‘There’s a lot of history around the place, apparently.’

  ‘Doomed lovers and duelling at dusk?’ Tara suggested.

  Vikram shook his head. ‘Nothing that interesting. There was some fighting in the area during the 1857 war with the British, and I think a band of Indian rebels took refuge in the shikaarbadi. The Rajah at that time was a big supporter of the Indian freedom movement. And there are some ancient temple ruins from the 1600s. I’m not sure what the story around those is, but the caretaker’s family has lived there for generations—they’ll be able to tell us some more.’

  ‘No ghosts?’ Tara asked.

  She sounded so hopeful that Vikram laughed, resisting the temptation to kiss her again. ‘No ghosts,’ he said. ‘But if you like ghost stories the caretaker’s your man. Look—we’re nearly there.’

  He pointed out of the window and Tara looked excitedly as the driver stopped the car and got out to open a massive wrought-iron gate. ‘Have you been here before?’ she asked.

  ‘Once,’ Vikram said, leaning forward to direct the driver to turn left where the rather bumpy lane they were on forked into two. ‘That was a couple of years ago, though. Amar’s had a lot of work done since then.’

  The lane wound through the woods for a few hundred metres before it turned into a little clearing right in front of the shikaarbadi. Tara gasped in delight as she saw the lodge. It wasn’t very large, but it was lovely—a weathered building in grey stone, with white latticed windows and bougainvillaea creepers covering most of one side.

  ‘You can see the lake if you go around the house,’ Vikram said as Tara slid out of the car. ‘Or would you like to see inside the house first?’

  ‘House first,’ Tara decided, giving the woman who opened the door a friendly smile. She bowed in response, and Tara gave Vikram a startled look.

  ‘Old family retainer,’ Vikram said in an undertone. ‘She’s the caretaker’s wife—tends to treat all Amar’s friends as royalty as well.’

  ‘Sounds medieval,’ Tara said with a frown. ‘Does Amar walk around with a sword by his side, twirling his moustache and calling for his dancing girls?’

  Vikram tried to picture his extremely proper friend in the role of debauched royalty and his lips twitched. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘He’s proud of his roots, which he has every right to be, but his fancy doesn’t extend to dancing girls.’

  Tara had stopped paying attention to what he was saying, though. She was looking at him very intently. ‘You look so different when you smile,’ she said abruptly. ‘Years younger, and ever so much more attractive. Why are you so grim and serious most of the time?’

  The second the words were out of her mouth she wished them back. Vikram’s face had gone carefully expressionless, and he didn’t say anything for several seconds.

  Then he said lightly, ‘The grim look is part of the lawyer package. Can’t have my clients thinking I’m taking life too easy. Kamala’s serving lunch in fifteen minutes—do you want to go freshen up?’

  Tara went. Something had changed since they left Pench, she thought. Vikram was consciously holding back. He wasn’t standoffish, exactly, but the easy rapport they’d shared over the last few days was gone. Looking at herself in the mirror, Tara grimaced. Maybe she’d read too much into the automatic closeness that came after sex, and he was trying to gently set things straight.

  Vikram was scrolling through e-mails on his phone when Tara rejoined him. ‘Everything under control?’ she ventured.

  He gave her a perfunctory smile. ‘Not really. There’s a crisis brewing with one of my top clients. I’m sorry, Tara, but I might have to make a few calls later today.’

  ‘Of course,’ Tara said, though inwardly she wondered what kind of crisis could be important enough to interrupt their honeymoon.

  Lunch was a well-cooked but largely silent meal. Vikram still seemed preoccupied with whatever was wrong at work, and he excused himself immediately afterwards and shut himself into the living room with his laptop and cell phone.

  Left to herself, Tara spent the next few hours exploring the property. Kamala sent one of her daughters with Tara to show her around. The girl was bright and chatty, but Tara felt too dispirited to talk. She felt awful—as if she’d been abandoned halfway through her honeymoon. For the first time she began to have misgivings about Vikram. If he was like this on their honeymoon, what would he be like when he actually went back to work?

  They had to turn back quite early—dusk fell quickly in the winter, and the woods were not very safe to wander around in after dark. Back in the lodge, Tara took a book out on to a veranda to read while she watched the sun set over the lake. The gentle to and fro motion of her swing seat had her almost falling asleep, and she jumped when the door behind her creaked open.

  ‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said, subsiding back into the chair as Vikram stepped onto the veranda. ‘I’ve been reading up on the history of this place. You were wrong, by the way, I’ve come across two sets of doomed lovers in the book already, and I’ve only just reached the second chapter.’

  ‘The author obviously knows his market,’ Vikram said.

  He sat down on the swing seat inches away from her, not touching, but still very, very close—so close that she could feel the warmth radiating from his body. Tara’s senses immediately went on high alert. Unable to stop herself, she reached a hand out, lightly touching his arm. He was wearing a jacket and she ached to slide her hand under it, but felt too unsure of herself to try.

  ‘Work done?’ she asked.

  Vikram didn’t respond to her touch, but he didn’t pull away, either. ‘Done for today,’ he said. ‘My line of work can be maddening sometimes; it doesn’t leave you with any kind of personal life.’

  Not sure whether she should take the statement as an explanation or a warning, Tara stayed silent. The night was very quiet. Except for the chirring of a nameless but immensely annoying insect somewhere in the grass outside there wasn’t a sound to be heard.

  ‘This place is so peaceful,’ Vikram said after a little while. ‘Feels like a completely different world from Bengaluru.’

  ‘It is a completely different world,’ Tara said. ‘I haven’t seen a single human being apart from Kamala and her daughter the entire day. And the woods are really well preserved—your friend’s done a fabulous job. It’s like a conservation project, the way he’s managed to re-do the place without disturbing the natural ecosystems in the least.’

  Vikram turned to look at her lazily. ‘Ah, I forgot you’d be seeing it from a scientist’s perspective. I believe Amar did take advice from an environmentalist group before he set about redoing the place. He spoke to me about it, and I thought it was a go
od idea—a project like this brings out every tree-hugger in the vicinity when it goes commercial. Having at least one major group taped up and on your side takes the wind out of their sails.’

  Tara took her hand off his arm and sat up. ‘That’s a very cynical way of looking at it,’ she said slowly. ‘Is that really the way you think?’

  No wonder he’d said she’d get to know him better when they’d spent more time together—this was a completely different side to him.

  ‘Yes, it’s exactly the way I think,’ Vikram replied. ‘And it’s the way most businessmen think. If more NGOs realised it and played it to their advantage they’d achieve far more than they do through protest marches and hunger strikes.’

  Tara frowned. ‘It sounds all wrong,’ she said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s doing the right thing, but for the completely wrong reason!’ she exclaimed. ‘Like being faithful to your wife because alimony payments are expensive. Or donating money to charities so that you get a tax break. Or—’

  ‘I get the picture,’ Vikram interrupted. ‘But, tell me, does the reason matter so long as the right thing gets done?’

  Tara threw her hands up in exasperation. ‘I give up,’ she said. ‘I’m terrible at counterarguments—people used to walk all over me in school debating competitions. It’ll take me till the middle of the night to think up a sensible rejoinder.’

  ‘You could always wake me up,’ Vikram said.

  Tara shot him a quick look. The only light on the veranda was from two oil lamps mounted on the wall of the lodge, and she couldn’t see his expression clearly—his head was thrown back against the cushions, and most of his face was in the shadows. Light fell on the strong brown column of his throat, and she could see the pulse beating at the base of it.

  Her own throat went dry with desire, and she only just managed to mutter, ‘Wake you up to explain why your point of view is irrational and wrong-headed?’