Take One Arranged Marriage…

by Shoma Narayanan

  ‘I can’t do it,’ Lisa said as soon as Tara came in. Her whole body was trembling, and her face was whiter than her dress. ‘I need to go and tell Kunal I can’t marry him. I still love Vijay. This is a big mistake.’

  Lisa’s mother looked at Tara despairingly. ‘That’s all she’s been saying for the last hour. I’ve been trying to convince her that it’s just pre-wedding jitters, but she refuses to listen.’

  It looked far more serious than pre-wedding jitters, Tara thought. Lisa seemed to be on the verge of a seriously scary nervous breakdown.

  ‘Is Vikram here?’ Mrs Andrews whispered to Tara, taking her aside for a second.

  ‘Yes,’ Tara whispered back, hoping she wouldn’t be asked to go and fetch him.

  Lisa’s mother gave her an imploring look. ‘Maybe he could talk to her,’ she said. ‘He’s the only one she listened to after Vijay died.’

  Tara took the hint and went out to find Vikram. He was standing with a group of men from the office, obviously talking shop.

  ‘I need to speak to you,’ Tara said softly.

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘Now?’

  ‘Yes, now,’ she replied.

  Alerted by the sharpness in her tone, he excused himself and stepped into a secluded part of the hall with her.

  ‘It’s Lisa,’ Tara said without any preamble. ‘She says she can’t go through with this. She’s still in love with Vijay, she says.’

  Vikram muttered a curse word under his breath. ‘What do you expect me to do?’ he asked harshly. ‘Bring Vijay back from the dead?’

  Tara winced. ‘If you could speak to her …?’ she suggested. ‘Please, Vikram.’ She put a hand on his arm.

  Vikram stood stock-still, looking down at her, an undefinable expression on his face. Tara waited, almost sure that he’d refuse to come with her. Then his eyes flickered a little and he turned away.

  ‘Where is she?’ he asked, his voice remote.

  Lisa looked up when Tara opened the door. If anything she seemed to be in worse shape than she’d been when Tara had left, and her mother was now sobbing quietly in a corner. Vikram strode to her side.

  ‘You were right,’ she said, her voice toneless. ‘I’ve been such a fool—thinking I could move on with life, marry Kunal and be happy.’

  ‘I wasn’t right,’ Vikram said. ‘I’ve thought about it a lot since we last spoke, Lisa. Vijay wouldn’t want you to do this,’ he said. ‘He loved you and he wanted you to be happy. He wouldn’t want you to spend the rest of your life pining away for him.’

  Lisa started shaking her head, but Vikram hunkered down in front of her, taking both her hands in his.

  ‘Listen to me,’ he said and, as she turned her head away, ‘Look at me.’

  Tara took Mrs Andrews’s arm and gently drew her out of the room. Lisa’s aunts and cousins were clustered in the outer room, and she took Mrs Andrews to them before settling down to wait.

  The door opened after fifteen minutes and Vikram stepped out. He had a strained look on his face, but Lisa, clinging to his arm, was smiling tremulously.

  ‘Oh, thank God,’ Mrs Andrews said, surging to her feet in a flurry of pink organza, and Tara heaved a silent sigh of relief.

  Lisa looked up at Vikram, her eyes brimming over with tears. ‘Thank you,’ she said, going on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek.

  ‘You’ll need someone to re-do your make-up,’ Vikram said, smiling slightly. ‘I can’t help with that, unfortunately.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Mrs Andrews said, stepping up with tissues and the make-up kit that Lisa had abandoned on the dressing table.

  ‘I don’t think we’re needed here any longer,’ Vikram said, and Tara followed him out into the church grounds. ‘Do you mind if we sit here for a bit?’ he asked, gesturing towards a bench in a little enclosed patch of garden. ‘Or you can go back to the others if you want. I’ll join you in a few minutes.’

  ‘I’ll stay with you,’ Tara said immediately, and then wondered if he wanted her to go. He didn’t say anything, however, just collapsed on a bench and threw his head back to look up at the sky. Tara watched him silently. She’d been incredibly moved by the way he’d managed the situation. For all his claims of being callous and unfeeling, when it had come to the point he’d been perfect. God knew what it had cost him to say the words, but he’d made sure that Lisa walked down the aisle to marry Kunal without even the last residue of a feeling that she was betraying Vijay.

  A leaf drifted down to land on Vikram’s shoulder and Tara gently brushed it off. The gesture made Vikram open his eyes and smile at her. He took her hand in his. Tara sat very still as he shut his eyes again, keeping her hand clasped between his. She felt closer to Vikram at that moment than she ever had to any human being. It was as if her soul had been blundering around in a closed room and someone had finally opened a door and let in the light.

  She loved Vikram, she realised. Loved him deeply and unconditionally, just the way he was, with all his flaws and his insecurities and his lack of belief in himself. It didn’t even matter if he didn’t love her back. Being married to him and being in love with him was enough—it would have to be, at least for now. Vikram might come to love her in time, but right now she couldn’t expect more than fondness or physical lust from him.

  A mad impulse came over her to lean across and press her lips to his beautiful mouth, and she stayed put only with a lot of difficulty. As if he sensed her emotion, Vikram’s eyelids fluttered open. His voice had a dream-like quality about it when he spoke.

  ‘It’s like Vijay’s finally gone,’ he said. ‘All this while I’ve clung on to him, trying to keep him alive in my mind, wondering what I could have done to prevent the accident. Over the last two weeks I’ve begun to let go.’

  ‘He’d want you to be happy, too,’ Tara said, and as he looked at her enquiringly, she flushed. ‘Like you said to Lisa that he’d want her to be happy. He’d want you to be happy, too.’

  Vikram reached out to run his fingers through her hair. ‘You’re an amazing girl, Tara,’ he said softly. ‘It must be hell living with someone as moody as I’ve been since we got married, and I haven’t heard you complain once.’

  ‘It hasn’t been hell,’ she said. ‘In some ways I’ve been happier with you than I’ve ever been before.’ He looked slightly disbelieving, and suddenly all the pent-up feeling within Tara seemed to burst forth. ‘I love you,’ she said abruptly.

  Vikram’s face froze, and Tara felt her heart thud painfully in her chest as she waited for him to say something.

  ‘Right,’ he said at last. ‘Let’s talk once the wedding is over. Lisa should be ready now.’

  He got up and held a hand out to Tara. Mechanically she stood up and took his hand, following him into the church. Kunal was waiting at the altar, and the orchestra had just started the wedding march. Tara looked straight ahead of her, nothing really registering in her mind except that she’d told Vikram she loved him, and he’d ignored her. He’d looked shocked, she thought, as if she’d said something distasteful or in bad taste. She shot a glance at his impassive face, wondering what had possessed her.

  When Lisa walked down the aisle on her uncle’s arm she still looked a little pale, and not quite the radiant bride one would expect. But no one who hadn’t seen her earlier in the morning would suspect that anything was wrong. She smiled at them as she passed their pew, and Vikram smiled back encouragingly. Tara felt a fresh pang go through her.

  The rest of the wedding went by in a blur. All Tara could remember of it later was that she’d had to try very hard not to break down halfway through the ceremony.

  ‘We can make a quick appearance at the lunch and leave immediately afterwards,’ Vikram said in an undertone as the ceremony wound to a finish.

  Tara nodded dumbly. She’d been hoping Vikram hadn’t noticed how upset she was—a forlorn hope, given how observant he was.

  They were silent in the car, conscious of the driver’s presence, and Tara went into the house f
irst. She was sitting in the living room when Vikram came in, her face very still.

  ‘You wanted to talk once we got home,’ she said.

  ‘Yes,’ Vikram said. ‘I don’t know whether you meant what you said in the church garden.’

  ‘I did,’ she said. ‘Though I can see it wasn’t something you wanted to hear.’

  ‘Tara, love was never part of the deal, was it?’ Vikram said. ‘I care about you, but I’m not in love with you.’ The stricken look in Tara’s eyes pierced his heart, but he forced himself to continue. ‘I don’t think I’m capable of the kind of love you expect,’ he said. ‘That was one of the reasons I decided on an arranged marriage, so I could set expectations right from the beginning.’

  ‘I don’t have any expectations of you,’ Tara said, her voice low. ‘I didn’t plan to fall in love with you. And I didn’t mean to tell you, either—it just slipped out.’

  The expression on Vikram’s face said that he wished it hadn’t, and for the first time since the morning anger began to stir within Tara.

  ‘Well, I’m sorry if my falling in love with you doesn’t fit into your blueprint for marriage,’ she said sarcastically. ‘It’s not an experience I’m enjoying, I assure you.’

  Vikram stayed grimly silent, goading her into further speech.

  ‘And it’d be more honest to just say you don’t love me and leave it at that,’ she said, ‘instead of feeding me stuff like you not being capable of love.’

  Vikram’s jaw tightened and he said curtly, ‘It’s the truth. You can choose not to believe me if you want.’

  Tara’s brows drew closer together, and she’d started to say something when he interrupted.

  ‘I don’t think we should discuss this further right now. You’re in a bit of a state, and you might end up saying something you’ll regret.’

  ‘Saying something that I’ll regret?’ Tara repeated incredulously. ‘I think I’ve already done that, thank you very much. Telling you that I love you was probably the stupidest thing I’ve done in my entire life.’ Her breath coming quickly, she glared at Vikram. ‘You’re the most cold-blooded person I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet. I’m not surprised you weren’t able to hang on to any of your girlfriends if this is the way you behaved with them.’

  ‘Maybe I didn’t want to hang on to them,’ Vikram said, and his voice was so cold it stopped Tara mid-tirade. ‘I’m saying this again, Tara—let’s not discuss it until you calm down.’

  Tara swung away from him and headed towards the door, wanting desperately to get away from him for a while. ‘I agree,’ she said, her voice muffled as she swung open the door of the shoe cabinet.

  He hadn’t wanted to hang on to his girlfriends, she thought, pulling out a pair of flat-soled pumps. Perhaps he meant he didn’t want to hang on to her, either.

  ‘I’m going for a walk,’ she announced, glad to note that her voice sounded steady and quite calm. Vikram didn’t reply, and she opened the front door and went out.

  Once outside, Tara walked away from the house as fast as possible. She was perilously close to tears, and had absolutely no idea what she should do next. Going to the institute felt like the natural thing to do, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to conceal her distress from the other researchers. And she didn’t have any real friends in Bengaluru—just people she’d met socially or through work. For a few seconds she contemplated calling Ritu, then gave up the idea. It wasn’t as if Vikram had ill-treated her, or they’d had a fight.

  Her heart felt as if it was breaking, and she didn’t think she could find the words or the courage to describe what she was going through even to her closest friend. A stray tear escaped and Tara rubbed at her cheeks. Breaking down in the middle of a crowded road wasn’t going to help matters, she told herself sternly. Nor could she expect help from anyone else. Being married automatically shut out the rest of the world, even if it didn’t bring you any closer to the person you were married to.

  An auto-rickshaw honked angrily behind her, and Tara realised that she’d wandered off the pavement and onto the main road. She stepped quickly back onto the pavement and the auto pulled up by her.

  ‘Think you’re taking a stroll in a rose garden, do you?’ demanded the driver, a large and aggressive-looking man. ‘If my auto had touched you, you’d have screamed blue murder—and I’d have been put in jail most likely.’

  ‘No, you wouldn’t,’ Tara retorted, temporarily nettled out of her misery. ‘You’d have made an even bigger fuss than you are now, and I’d probably have had to pay you for breaking my legs.’

  ‘Like the cops would ever take my side,’ the auto-driver said, pleased to have provoked a reaction. ‘A poor man has it rough these days—not like you rich ladies, with your fancy clothes and expensive jewellery.’

  ‘Oh, stop moaning,’ Tara said in exasperation. ‘Look, are you free? I need to go to Forum Mall.’ Her legs were aching, and she was beginning to feel very thirsty. The coffee shop in the mall seemed to be as good a place as any other to regroup and decide what to do next.

  ‘Can’t see anyone in the auto, can you?’ the driver said. ‘Hop in.’

  Tara dutifully hopped in and the driver took off, weaving through traffic at an alarming speed. Tara was still holding the clutch purse she’d carried with her to the wedding, and she opened it to check how much money she had. A few hundred-rupee notes, and her debit card. The card was the one linked to the account Vikram had set up for household expenses, and Tara fingered it absently. Vikram had given her everything she could have reasonably expected, she thought. Car, bank account, a lovely home—everything except what she really wanted. She felt numb inside, as if all feeling had deserted her.

  ‘You have enough to pay me, right?’ the driver asked suspiciously over his shoulder. ‘Once this high-class lady got into my auto, and after I’d driven her some forty kilometres she told me she’d forgotten her purse.’

  Tara didn’t reply, lost in thought, and he didn’t say anything more—though he kept shooting looks at her through the rearview mirror.

  ‘We’ve arrived,’ he said, as they pulled up in front the mall. ‘Seventy rupees.’

  Tara got out and handed him a hundred-rupee note. ‘Keep the change,’ she said as he began to fumble in an extremely grimy pocket.

  He looked up, surprised—tips didn’t come his way very often. ‘Thank you,’ he said, and salaamed. ‘And, madam …?’

  ‘Yes?’ Tara asked.

  ‘Don’t look so unhappy,’ the man said. ‘Everything that happens to us is God’s will. Our lives are in His hands.’

  Startled by the completely unexpected pious sentiment, Tara stared blankly at him as he restarted the auto and whizzed off, narrowly missing mowing down a careless shopper who’d just stepped off the kerb. Thank heavens she hadn’t gone to the institute, she thought, if even an auto-driver who’d never seen her before in his life could tell how upset she was.

  His unexpected sympathy had brought her close to tears again, and she blinked them back fiercely. The coffee shop was a bad idea, she realised, unless she wanted to entertain the waiters by salting her coffee with a flood of tears. A movie was a better idea, she thought, scanning the mall directory—at least it would be dark and no one would be looking at her.

  Vikram heard his phone ping and picked it up to see a message from his bank thanking him for using his debit card for three hundred and fifty rupees. For a few seconds he thought the bank had made a mistake, before realising that Tara must have used the card he’d given her. The account was in his name, so the transaction alerts came to his phone.

  So she wasn’t just taking a walk, then, he thought, looking at his watch. She’d been gone for over an hour, and he was beginning to worry. He’d handled the situation badly, and Tara had every right to be upset, but he hadn’t expected her to vanish like this. He wondered whether to call her, but then thought he’d give her another half an hour—it was likely she’d be back by then, and he didn’t want her to think th
at he was being overly controlling, calling her up and demanding to know where she was.

  Tara shut her eyes and tried to block out the soundtrack of the movie. Ironically, it was one she’d wanted to watch, but now she couldn’t bear even to look at the screen. The darkness was a blessing, though. She was in a corner of the movie hall, right at the back where no one could see her, and for the first half hour she’d let the tears roll down her cheeks unchecked. Now she was trying to figure out what to do.

  Her first thought had been to leave Vikram and move into the institute hostel, but further thought had shown how impractical that was as a plan. Nothing Vikram had said or done justified her breaking up their marriage. And her parents would be devastated. A daughter who was divorced or even separated from her husband would be a far greater disgrace than a daughter who’d run away from home to study further.

  She’d have to go back, however much it hurt her to do so. But not tonight. She didn’t feel she could bear it.

  By nine-thirty Vikram was pacing up and down the house. It was more than eight hours since Tara had left, and he’d tried calling her several times. The first time the phone had rung but she hadn’t picked up. After that he’d been getting recorded messages that first told him the phone was out of coverage area, and then that it was switched off. His phone had pinged a few times—his over-helpful bank, thanking him for withdrawing ten thousand rupees from an ATM and, a little later, for spending six thousand five hundred and thirty-five rupees on his debit card.

  He messaged Tara, asking, Where are you? hoping she’d see the message and reply when she decided to switch on the phone. The house felt very empty without her, he realised.

  His phone rang, and he reached for it eagerly, hoping it was Tara calling him back. It was his mother, however, and his first impulse was not to answer. But it kept ringing and, knowing how she worried about him, he finally picked up.

  ‘Hi, Amma,’ he said.

  ‘How was Lisa’s wedding?’ his mother asked brightly.

  Lisa’s wedding. He’d almost forgotten about it—it seemed so long ago and so unimportant compared to what had happened next.