Take One Arranged Marriage...

She shrugged. ‘Nowhere that’s suitable for a honeymoon,’ she said. ‘I’ve always wanted to go on a tiger safari. We went to Gir for a vacation when I was kid, and saw lions in the wild, but I’ve only seen a tiger once, and that was in a zoo.’

‘Let’s do that, then,’ Vikram said, surprising her. ‘We can go to the Jim Corbett National Park, or to one of the reserves in MP—Band-havgarh or Pench.’

‘Won’t that look a little odd?’ Tara asked.

Characteristically, Vikram shrugged. ‘It’s our business where we go,’ he said. ‘I’ll have to pull a few strings to get us a booking in time. And we can do Khajuraho either before or after.’

Tara’s face promptly flamed in embarrassment—Khajuraho was famous for its erotic temple sculptures, and she did not want to spend the rest of her life having her leg pulled by people who knew she’d gone there on her honeymoon.

‘OK, the Taj Mahal, then,’ Vikram said, noticing her confusion. ‘I suggested Khajuraho because it’s in the same state as Pench, but if the idea bothers you we can go and see the Taj.’ She looked unconvinced, and he added ‘By moonlight?’ in encouraging tones.

‘I can’t decide which would be worse,’ she muttered, and he laughed outright.

Tara had decided quite early on that Vikram’s laugh was one of the sexiest things about him, and an automatic little thrill ran through her. His laugh or his voice—the jury was still out on which was sexier. Maybe she should invite her friends to meet him and then do a poll. She realised suddenly that he was saying something, and gave him an enquiring look.

‘What’s the Taj done to upset you?’ he repeated.

‘It’s a tomb!’ Tara said defensively. ‘Besides, I’ve already seen it.’

It had been a hateful trip, staying in a cheap hotel and going to the Taj on a bus full of other penny-pinching small-town tourists. Seeing the Taj with Vikram would be something else all together—but visiting a monument to love when they were both marrying for convenience seemed ironic to say the least.

‘Hmm,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘I’ll figure something else out, then.’ He touched her hair, threading his fingers slowly through its length. ‘Let me know what you want to do about your surname.’

‘I’d like to keep my own, if it’s all the same to you,’ Tara said. ‘I don’t like the sound of Naintara Krishnan.’

She stood up abruptly. The feel of his hands tangling in her hair was doing weird things to her insides, and the temptation to jump on him and claw his clothes off was immense. But both their mothers were in the next room. Being caught making out with her fiancé in the living room of her parents’ house would give bringing shame to the family a completely new and different twist.

‘Something wrong?’ Vikram asked when she got up and moved away.

‘No,’ Tara replied. ‘I’m tired of sitting in one place like a lump of dough, that’s all.’

He grinned at that, lounging back on the cushions. ‘You don’t look very doughy,’ he said. ‘More like a jumpy kitten. Come back here.’

There wasn’t even a hint of command in his voice, but Tara found herself obeying him automatically, going and sitting next to him on the sofa.

‘Nervous about the honeymoon?’ he asked softly, and she nodded.

‘It’s not just the honeymoon, it’s the whole marriage thing!’ she blurted out. ‘It’s taking on a life of its own. My mum is obsessing about my trousseau, yours is picking out honeymoon destinations, there’s a bunch of my dad’s relatives coming down from Chennai I’ve never met before in my life. I’ve completely lost track of what’s happening! And I’m finding it difficult to get my head around the whole thought of being married. This isn’t like going away to college, is it? It’s like a … a … brand-new life I’m getting into, and I don’t feel prepared. You seem so completely in control, and you know exactly what you want. I feel like a confused mess in comparison!’ She ran out of breath and stopped.

‘I’m a little nervous, too,’ he said quietly.

She blinked. ‘Are you?’ she asked, ‘Seriously?’

Vikram’s voice had a wry undertone as he replied. ‘Seriously. I guess I’m just better at hiding it than you are.’

‘Lawyer training.’ Tara sighed. ‘Playing your cards close to your chest. I wish someone had taught me how to do that. I inevitably say exactly what I’m thinking.’

‘That’s one of the nicest things about you,’ Vikram said, and smiled. ‘Don’t look so tragic, Tara, it’ll work out. We’re both sensible people, and each of us knows what the other one is expecting from this marriage. There’s no reason for things to go wrong.’

Put like that, their wedding sounded like a dry and soulless business arrangement. Tara sighed again. She’d told Vikram she didn’t believe in romance and being swept off her feet, but a small dose of affection would have helped.

Vikram watched her square her shoulders unconsciously, as if to prepare for a not very palatable task. Her smooth forehead was puckered in thought, and her lips were pursed slightly. She looked determined and vulnerable at the same time. So far he’d been very careful not to touch her, beyond a casual peck on the cheek or a caress on the hand, but the temptation to kiss her now was immense.

‘You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?’ Tara asked, her head still downcast.

‘I’ve been away from work for almost two weeks,’ Vikram said. ‘I need to get back and get things in order before November.’

Tara didn’t reply, and he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tipping her face up so that he could look into her eyes.

‘Cheer up,’ he said quietly.

She blinked, a little breathless, ‘I am! I mean I’m cheerful enough. Just a little jittery.’

‘Maybe this will help …’ he said.

She shivered at the promise in his husky voice, staring mesmerised into his eyes as he bent his head. He kissed her very gently, his lips feather-light against hers. The sensation was exquisite, but Tara felt herself begin to panic. She didn’t know how to respond. Her impulse was to drag his head closer and make him keep kissing her, but she had a feeling she should be doing something herself—moving her lips? Doing something with her tongue? She could have screamed in frustration when he released her after barely ten seconds.

‘See you in a month,’ he said softly, and she stepped back.

They didn’t have much time to talk after that, as Vikram’s mother came bustling into the room after a few minutes to take Tara’s opinion on a menu for the wedding reception.

The next month was crazy. Vikram went back to Bengaluru after putting an embarrassingly large diamond on Tara’s finger, and both his mother and Tara’s threw themselves into wedding preparations. Tara stayed out of them as much as possible, concentrating on getting some preliminary reading done for her PhD before the wedding took over her life. Vikram called a few times, and e-mailed often, but the conversations had a surreal quality to them—they ended up discussing trivial things, like whether the colour of the tie he was wearing to the reception would clash with her sari, rather than the fact that they were days away from committing to spending the rest of their lives together.

The wedding itself was to be a quiet family affair—Vikram wanted it that way, and Tara’s father had reluctantly agreed. Tara felt a bit of a fraud as her mother carefully arranged the folds of her green and gold brocade sari.

The whole thing didn’t seem real yet, she thought, moving her head irritably. In addition to the weight of her already heavy hair, she had enough flowers pinned in it to stock a moderate-sized florist’s shop for a week. She was extremely sleep-deprived—she hadn’t slept much the night before, and the ceremony was starting at an unearthly hour in the morning because that was the ‘auspicious time’ the Krishnans’ priest had come up with. And she was very, very jittery.

The enormity of what she was doing had just begun to dawn on her, and the result was as fine an attack of nerves as one could have hoped for.

‘This’ll be your first night—’ her mother started to say.

Tara cut across her rudely. ‘If you’re going to tell me the facts of life, Mum, you’re some ten years too late.’ Her mother flushed painfully, sending Tara into one of her instant guilt trips. ‘Sorry, Amma,’ she muttered.

Her mother recovered with dignity. ‘It’ll still be your first time. If you need to know something, ask me.’

‘Yeah, right …’ Tara muttered to herself.

Her mother hadn’t even bothered to tell her about contraception—if she thought her daughter was all that innocent, wouldn’t that be the least she’d do? Or maybe she wanted her to get pregnant, Tara thought darkly, so that she’d give up all hopes of having a career, or even a life of her own. Anyway, she’d sorted things out for herself, going to the gynaecologist mother of a friend of hers and getting three months’ supply of the Pill.

She was still brooding when her closest friend, Ritu, entered the room.

‘I’ll take over, Aunty,’ she said cheerfully to Tara’s mum. ‘Only the make-up to be done, right?’

Tara’s mother escaped thankfully, and Ritu pulled up a chair.

‘Nervy?’ she asked, raising her eyebrows.

Tara nodded.