Take One Arranged Marriage.... Shoma Narayanan

I’ve given I’ll live with it.’

      Tara flushed. She’d allowed her tongue to run away with her again, but what she’d said was true. When Vikram wasn’t actively making an effort to be pleasant there was something remote and rather forbidding about him. And his height and undeniably impressive looks contributed to the effect.

      She began to fiddle with the cocktail umbrella that was still lying on the table and he reached out, his fingers briefly twining with hers as he rescued it.

      ‘Stop mangling the poor thing,’ he said, putting the umbrella aside.

      Tara stayed silent. The feel of his strong, lean fingers on hers had set up a little chorus of longing inside her, and she didn’t know how to react.

      ‘So, I’m done with my questions,’ he said. ‘Anything I’ve missed out?’

      ‘You haven’t asked me if I can cook,’ she pointed out. ‘My mother would be heartbroken. She’s spent hours teaching me.’

      ‘Ah, how could I have forgotten? So, have the lessons worked?’

      ‘I think so,’ she said cautiously. ‘At least my father doesn’t complain about my cooking any longer, and he’s the fussiest eater on the planet.’

      ‘I’m not fussy at all,’ Vikram assured her. ‘Besides, I employ a cook, so culinary skills aren’t high on my list of suitable wifely qualities. Is there anything you’d like to ask?’

      ‘Yes,’ Tara said. ‘There’s something I really want to know. What made you agree to an arranged marriage in the first place? You don’t seem the type.’

      Vikram shrugged, his light-hearted mood dissipating a little. She was right—five years ago, if someone had told him he’d be marrying a woman his parents had chosen for him, he’d have laughed them out of the room. Things had changed a lot since then.

      ‘Appearances can be deceptive,’ he said lightly. ‘I got tired of living alone, my parents would have found it difficult to adjust to a daughter-in-law from a different community—an arranged marriage just made more sense.’

      It was a simplified version of the truth, and it would have to do till he got to know Tara better. He was still in two minds about marrying her. She was very attractive, but she was also very young—he felt positively ancient compared to her. A ‘desi’ Humbert Humbert with a legal-age Lolita. The thing that tilted the balance in her favour was the fact that she seemed absolutely transparent and straightforward. His last girlfriend had been a complex mass of half-truths and evasions, and he’d had enough of that to last a lifetime.

      ‘Were you seeing someone?’ Tara asked, her curiosity piqued by his reference to a daughter-in-law from another community.

      Vikram, unused to answering questions about his personal life, was tempted to retort that it was none of her business. Then, as he met Tara’s clear gaze, he realised that it was her business. She had just as much right to ask questions as he had—probably more, given that hers was a more vulnerable situation.

      ‘I was dating a girl called Anjali for a while,’ he said curtly. ‘It didn’t ever reach the marriage stage—she wasn’t what I’d expect my wife to be.’

      ‘What do you expect from your wife, then?’ Tara asked in a low voice. The dismissive tone in which he’d spoken of Anjali jarred on her—he’d sounded uncaring, and just a little hard.

      Vikram shrugged. ‘I have a fairly busy social calendar because of my work. My wife would need to accompany me to parties and events, host people at our home. The house needs some work as well—I have a housekeeper and a cook, and they’re both fairly efficient, but there’s a lot that can be improved.’ He smiled briefly, before continuing, ‘Nothing much else that I can think of—except the obvious. Although I’m not keen on kids for a while, and I assume you aren’t, either.’

      Tara felt her cheeks heat up in spite herself. Kids. She’d never even thought of kids. She had thought of ‘the obvious’—thought about it more often and for longer than she cared to admit. She’d even had an embarrassingly erotic dream about Vikram, which she’d been trying to push to the back of her mind. She stayed silent as he continued.

      ‘I’m not a very demanding person. If we marry, you’d be free to lead your life the way you want. I travel a lot, and I work long hours. I won’t be around much—I’d expect you to be independent and able to take of yourself.’

      ‘That won’t be a problem,’ Tara said before she could stop herself. ‘I’m not exactly the clingy type.’

      ‘I know,’ Vikram said, his lips quirking. ‘From what I’ve seen of you so far, you seem to be about as clingy as The-Cat-That-Walked-by-Himself.’

      Tara tried to frown, but ended up laughing. The discomfort she’d felt at the way he’d spoken about Anjali was gone—after all, she didn’t know the full story. Perhaps Anjali had been one of those dreadful ‘girlfriends from hell’ kind of women? And Vikram looked so sexy when he smiled, she thought, it was impossible to think ill of him.

      The food arrived, and Vikram skilfully guided the conversation towards Tara’s plans to become an environmentalist and specialise in the conservation of indigenous ecosystems. He didn’t speak much, except to interject with a question here and there. It was a ploy he used often at work—making someone talk of something they were passionate about to get them to reveal more about themselves.

      By the end of the meal he knew enough about the ecosystems in eastern India to write a monograph on the subject—he also knew a lot more about Tara than he had before. His initial impression of her being extremely intelligent was confirmed, and he’d developed a healthy respect for her commitment to her research work.

      ‘I’m sorry I talked so much,’ she said as they walked towards the car. ‘I get a bit carried away when I’m talking about something that interests me.’

      ‘You apologise way too often,’ Vikram replied. He took her hand gently as they stopped by the car. ‘Tara, I’d like to spend more time with you, to get to know you better, but I know your parents won’t be in favour of that.’

      Here comes the brush-off, Tara thought despairingly, while a separate part of her brain thrilled to the touch of his hand. She’d handled this all wrong, she thought. She should have let him do more of the talking. And ordering him to ask her questions had been a terrible move—what could she have been thinking? And the worst thing, quite apart from not being able to do her PhD if he didn’t marry her, was that in addition to thinking he was hot she’d actually started liking him.

      ‘So, given that it’ll be difficult to get any more time together, I guess we’ll have to decide now.’ Vikram took a deep breath. ‘Tara Sundaram, will you marry me?’

      It came out sounding a lot cheesier than he’d intended, but the impact on Tara was satisfying. She looked stunned, staring at him with her pretty lips parted slightly, her breath coming a little faster. He realised he wanted to kiss her very badly, and to avoid succumbing to the temptation he released her hand, stepping back to lean against the car.

      Tara took a few seconds to find her voice. ‘Are you sure?’ she asked finally, her voice sounding childish and more than a little shaky to her own ears.

      Vikram nodded. ‘I am. You’d be free to do your doctorate, work at whatever you want …’ He raised a hand to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, his hand lightly caressing her cheek.

      For a second Tara had actually forgotten completely about her career aspirations, she was too busy trying to get her head around the fact that Vikram really wanted to marry her. When he mentioned the PhD, though, a rush of relief coursed through her.

      ‘Thanks,’ she blurted out.

      Vikram winced. He wasn’t sure what he wanted from her at this stage, but it definitely wasn’t gratitude.

      ‘Let’s get back and tell our families,