Chahina

By Shreya Dixit

She was at his studio. He was not busy but he didn't want to meet her. Not right now. Not ever. She was waiting, reading something on a device. He guessed it was an iPad. She didn't look too shabby. She had flowing long hair that she left open, she was dressed in a saree. What a pretentious prick, did she think that he would be enticed with a woman parading around to be a traditionalist? Just cause he was an artist? He remembered that she worked at a bank or something such... He knew he was acting like a petulant kid but he just didn't want to get married. He hated the fact that he needed to get married to get access to his trust fund. Something he didn't know about, until he realized that he needed a lot of money and needed it immediately. Well his parents were shrewd enough to realize that he would not be marrying otherwise. He agreed to meet her in the hope that his parents would lend him some.

She looked breathtaking in her saree when he did see her but it was not something he would admit. His perception of her grace must have pushed him to say what he said next cause he would not have said it otherwise, "You must be the person I'm expected to marry." She looked at him surprised. She looked at him, from head to toe and got up, subtly and almost surreptitiously. Smooth. Smart and poise. Not saying a word.

He wondered if she was someone who had a crush on him, rendering her mute. But his gut knew better. That his fair complexion, height, broad shoulders, and a body that was treated as a temple didn’t seem to impress as much as it would normally have. He ate healthy to maintain his head of hair and mind, even though for some inexplicable reason it found the need to give the woman in front of him a mischievous look.

She didn't move, just looked at his eyes trying to scrutinize. It felt like she was judging him, if he was really behaving the way he was.

He was beginning to feel unsettled and prattled on, "Look I don't mind marrying you. But I need a lot of money. And I need it now. I don't have the time to explain what it is for, so I'll marry you if you lend it to me, no questions asked. I'll pay you back, eventually, once my trust fund opens up post our wedding." She had black eyes, that's what unsettled him, he decided.

“How much?" The first words she spoke. Her voice was commanding and soft.

"2.87 crores." She tilted her head. He found himself walking toward her and stopping right in front of her. It was as though she was a magnate and he was just an iron filing.

A crazy smile came on her lip as she closed her eyes and said, "Would you like a cheque or account transfer?"

His jaw dropped, she was rich? How else would she so casually agree to loan him the massive sum of money?

He thought he remembered his mother whispering in his ear at a party of how that intelligent dark beauty was an orphan. Maybe this was someone else, maybe he had mistook her for someone else.

She was wearing a white cotton saree with a simple slim black temple border with a traditional black blouse that wasn't skimpy but wasn’t orthodox either. It showed just enough to entice. She looked like wrapped sinful chocolate.

He looked into her eyes, to clear his mind off the dangerous direction it had begun to head to, and remembered the one thing that he wanted to see done at any cost and said, "Bank transfer" she took out her phone without taking her eyes off of him. She still looked a bit amused with just hints of mild irritation as she looked at her phone and opened an app. She gave him her phone, “Go ahead fill in your details. I'll transfer the money once it's activated." He stared at her dumbfounded. He seemed to consider what was happening in front of him. This lady was offering him the money. He looked at the HDFC Bank platinum portal. He had a quick decision to make and he found it to be a no brainer. He filled it in and handed it back to her. She might not send the money at all. She could just walk out, she was not beholden to him in any manner to pay him. But, he didn't want to feel later that he hadn't tried everything possible. If she noticed his seconds of hesitation or reconsideration she didn't say a word. He handed her phone back to her. She didn't look at him again as she started to leave.

"I'll send the money. Next time your parents ask you to meet someone maybe you can be… less desperate.” She didn't look back as she threw in. "I hope you can pay me back soon." She simply walked away. He shook his head and went back to his office. He hadn't been busy because there was nothing he could do. Now there were plenty of arrangements to make in case she did send him the money he so desperately needed. He was glad he did because by next afternoon there it was, the money from an Aadya reading emergency. He felt light with relief in an instant and the next, his stomach sank as he realized that black hair dark-eyed chocolate skin tribal wench who was probably dabbling in magic was going to be his wife. He sighed resigned to his fate. And it was worth it…?

It was probably a week later when he asked his parents.

"So when is my wedding?" His parents just looked at him puzzled. "Wedding? With who?" He looked at them realizing that Aadya hadn't said a word to them. He didn't remember what she said, he had been so preoccupied but he thought he heard her say something along the lines of get ready to be hitched. Wasn't it? Congratulations on your impending nuptials? Was it? He couldn't get himself to Google her name to find out anything about her. He just shook his head and left the room and went back to his apartment. What was she playing at?

He realized that he didn't even have her contact number to call and ask her the question.

---

It had been almost a year since the day when he had finally managed to save the amount she had lent him when he saw her. She was at a resort's lovely restaurant where he had stumbled in around 2 in the rainy afternoon after a long morning of his Tam Brahm friend's wedding. She was dressed in a simple black tank top and a beautiful and rich red silk skirt. He almost didn't recognise her, her long hair seemed to be longer. She seemed to be enjoying the music and the breeze, standing at the rails looking at the sea. He watched as a man walked up to her and spoke to her standing too close to her. She laughed at something he said and kept the glass down just in time to be pulled away by the man. She was taken by surprise too. For a moment he wondered if she had settled down, found a man who didn't beg for money before he even learnt her name and took the ring he offered. He felt the pain of foolish self-pity. What an idiot he was learning himself to be, he had fallen for a woman he had told himself that he couldn’t possibly like. Guess it was the money talking, the feeling that there was an individual who could save him.

He finished his drink and walked back to his room to find the tall man towering over her, getting handsy with her. He was almost about to swoop in and help when she kicked the towering man in the balls and almost made a quick escape only to pause a little to look at him in recognition, share a quick wave of hello, and hurry on. He had smiled a little, in dumbfounded acknowledgement and like a good and obedient pet, he followed. She ordered herself a gin and tonic at the bar and headed to the washroom, to rinse her mouth, he supposed. When she came back she found him seated next to her gin and tonic. She wordlessly took her drink and was about to walk away. When he said, "Hey… wait! Are you alright?" She looked at him with those big black eyes. Had she always been this short? Somehow her personality the last time left him remembering her to be taller. She simply nodded and emptied her glass.

She got a new drink, and the bartender seemed to favor her. She sipped her drink waiting for pearls of words to fall off his mouth. When he didn't say anything. She just said, "I don't have spare money to give, go ask someone else Chanda for whatever your pet project is at the moment." She was not in a good mood. She turned around and almost walked out when he anchored her shoulder. The look she shot him with was brutal and brusque, but he shook his head with a small smile.

She looked at him infuriated, that expressed so easily, you did just see me knee a man in the balls. He immediately dropped his hand and looked down. "I never got to thank you for that day."

She looked at him and said, "Yeah? Why is that? I was a perfectly nice person to you too." Something was different than before, she was different. Was she drunk? He felt strangely responsible for her and decided to hang out with her.

Why don't we sit down and talk, eat? Are you hungry? I'm starving! He ushered her to a table and sat across from her. She was still holding her glass. She looked at the bartender and raised her empty glass. The good man Friday for a bartender, nodded and started preparing her drink. He hastily ordered some food. He talked about himself.

Why did he like photography? How he was scared of the finance world and hence felt like he couldn't help his parents with their business. He shared how he was here for a friend's wedding. Satya, a woman he really admired for her thirst to explore the world and smarts to afford it. He ate and watched as she didn't eat enough. She kept drinking and eating very little… she lit a smoke and laughed at his expression, only to stub it.

He had noticed though that she had started asking him questions before too long.

She spoke softly… "I want to call it a night.” It was just early in the 8 p.m. but already quite dark outside.

She sat there and finally admitted, I need help. I can't get up. She looked up with a cheeky smile. She was even more drunk than when he had met her, despite his best efforts. He got up and offered her a hand, she got up as gracefully as she could being as inebriated as she was. When he asked her where she was staying she stopped and said, “Damn. I… I want to walk around. You can go ahead and leave.” he just stared at her as she extracted herself and wobbled on weak knees away into the garden. He didn’t know what to make of it? Didn’t she have a room in the hotel? Why was she planning to walk around at night? Come to think of it. It sounded like a lie. As though she was planning to get out and get to a different hotel, in this drunken state these days. He was concerned and that was his nature. But he also didn’t want her to leave, she was an addictive presence. He calmly took her hand and reinserted it in the crook of his elbow.

‘I have nowhere else I’d rather be… I don’t mind walking with you if you don’t mind walking with me...’ She didn’t say anything and seemed to accept his company by not extricating herself out of his arm. She rested her head on his shoulder after looking at him, trying to catch his eyes as he studiously avoided hers. He felt that she could genuinely read his mind. Otherwise why would the woman so easily part with the money, if she hadn’t been able to figure out what it was for...and she could have only known them in his fanciful mind through him as she had read his soul when they met.

He wondered if she knew that it might be possible that he was doing this only to feel less guilty for not having repaid her yet. He grew warm under her scrutiny. She was cold and he said, “Look why don’t we go back to my room. It would be warmer there...”

She just shrugged.

Had she nodded off? He just took her to his room.

He found himself pulled down to her height and kissed, just as they entered the room against his door. He was tired, he had been up since early morning but he woke right up at being kissed with very drunk lips. He enjoyed the warm kiss, and embrace and her strange way in which she seemed to hold him captive by a leg on his hips. She was not a tiny vulnerable woman at all. She felt like she was a dark woman who practiced weird magic in the forest and knew how to incapacitate him with just a look. He perpetually found himself entranced by her. She looked flustered too for what it was worth. He would have enjoyed the kiss a bit more if the flushed look was not merely from alcohol and the convenience of him being a man in the vicinity. She let him go and slid away from him almost into the door, recognising his frozen disbelief as disinterest. She looked up at him through hooded eyes.

”I’m sorry. I should not have done that…” she did look repentant. The fact that he had invited her to his room to warm her and strung her along was his idea. She was just playing into the expectations he had successfully crested.

He didn’t know how to make light of the situation but tried anyway, “While being of service would have made it easier for me to repay you, I personally would like to repay in a manner that would express my gratitude better.” She looked at him, her eyes were suddenly huge. She slapped a hand over her mouth. She tried to get the wardrobe to open which didn’t seem to satisfy her. Why was she doing that? She opened the door opposite the next leading to the washroom. Aah. And got in to start hugging the porcelain toilet. He just hoped he had left it clean enough.

He held her hair has she hurled all the drinks she had consumed earlier. She looked shattered. He wordlessly helped around. She looked a far cry from the saree clad woman who had waited for him in his lobby and offered him the money as though it was pocket change. She looked human, tired and almost as docile as an Indian cow. She got off the floor and rinsed her mouth. He offered her, his mouth wash which she gratefully took. He cracked another joke, “Well you finally get to taste my mouth’s flavor after all.” She turned around and threw up in the pot again. God, he had the worst timing. He wasn’t sure anymore how the throwing up was timed anymore, was it something to do with his brilliant jokes? He hoped not as he held her thick black hair in his hand again waiting for the puke to be hurled in the loo. Except she was laughing, she stood up and washed her face. Was she embarrassed, laughing out of sheer embarrassment of all the events of tonight? He was not sure at all. She was, however, drunk enough to probably find it amusing. He stared at the dark woman with beautiful features who said conspiratorially, I’m glad we didn’t get on with it tonight imagine me puking on you unsuspecting in the bed. He frowned but had to laugh at the end of it. That would have been more disgusting than anything ever. She got out of the washroom and looked uncertainly around his room as he sat on the sofa set and gestured her on to the vacant one. She just stood behind it and said, “Thank you for helping me… I think I should be heading out. I’m really sorry if I made you feel like I was soliciting you because you owe me the money… That was not my intention.”

“I thought you didn’t have a room.” She scratched her head pausing and said, “Ahh, I do but only starting tomorrow. I got here a day early accidently and it’s been an atrocious heaping pile of mess since 10 in the morning.” He stared at her waiting for her to talk and explain herself even more. But she just waved and turned to leave. He just held her hand, "oh no, you don't. You will wear my hotel assigned PJs and stay here. Don't worry, I'm very good at keeping hands to myself. Also, I'm dying to hear all about this mess."

She looked at him again. She almost looked like she'd prefer being told bad jokes than talk about herself. He didn't know why but around her he seemed to continually find the need to make sure she is comfortable. He got up and got busy giving her stuff. He even made coffee and tea after asking her as she changed her clothes. He finally asked her for her story. She didn't seem keen on sharing it either but she seemed to prefer it to talking about the day it had been so he let her have it.

She came out sober enough and took the warm cup of tea. She thanked him, her long mane in a turban. She looked outside the window, avoiding his eyes. It felt strange to have her in front of him sitting with a poise and sadness. She was beautiful, wearing plain white pajamas. She took off the turban and let her hair cascade over her shoulder.

“I don’t even know what you do?”

“I’m the Chief economic advisor for a bank.”

“Oh. Wow.” She smiled at him for his awe.

“What does your name mean?”

“I don’t know, I just like the way it sounds. I’m not quite sure why I decided to take it on.”

“What do you mean? Did you give yourself the name?” She took a sip and looked over the edge of the cup taking her name.

“Yes, when I was in tenth standard. It was a tedious process but I managed it. My original name was given to be Chahina.”

He kept looking at her if he was surprised. She looked out as she continued. “A church nun found me in the jaws of a dog that seemed to have other garbage too. She took me in and sent me to Kendrividyala. She had a twisted sense of humor calling me Chahina. I hated my name.” He immediately imagined a surly child with black hair and dark eyes. He laughed seeing her almost demonic smile. She slid off the sofa and sat on the floor staring out of the window. She said, “Do you think if we switch off the light and open the curtains we will be able to see the night sky mirrored in the bay?” He noticed her attempting to change the topic. He shrugged regardless and switched off the light. It was beautiful. She rested her back on the table and stared at the water and the sky. He looked at her and made himself comfortable right next to her. They sat in comfortable silence. He found himself thinking about the kiss she had given him less than an hour back.

He blushed and looked away from her glaze, “You are really good at making up stories… How did you become an economic advisor for a bank.”

She laughed and told him. He found every word unbelievable and he wanted to hold her in his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder, and maybe that was more than enough. She trusted him, that was everything. He wondered how many people knew her and came to think of her as he had. Maybe she was casting a spell and he was entwined around her little figure a bit more every minute he spent with her. He wanted to be in it. There was no hope for him, he was a willing victim if there was anything less oxy-moronic than that…

“What is your proudest achievement?” He asked her. He was just curious. She looked at him and said, “I’ll tell you but I’ll have to kill you if you ever tell anyone. It’s the worst personal investment I’ve ever made...” he nodded spell bound.

“I opened a free access library that also doubles as a tuition center for at-risk students who can be taught by people who can teach anyone who asks them to help. People are so lonely these days and there are so many NGOs who don’t mind handing out certificates to the kids who teach there...” He laughed. He loved those spaces! He frequented there himself! She was the founder!

As he watched her sleep in the morning, he realized how difficult life must have been for her.

She was beautiful to him. Her features big eyes, sharp nose and perfect pair of lips and dark skin had him bewitched. He wanted to be a part of her life. He decided he was going to marry her. The woman he'd want to face each morning faced him this morning too. When he finally closed his eyes it was with the feeling of her lips on his.

She seemed to have woken up early, taken a bath, cleaned his washroom of any remnant of her presence in his room, and left. It was almost as if they hadn't sat almost all night by the large window. Having a conversation in the moonlight. It was such a romantic moment, one he would never forget. He didn't get to see her again and he didn't have her contact number to even text a goodbye. He could just visit her office someday.

---

Here he was waiting for her to come back from a meeting. She was draped in the saree, he now knew to be her favorite garment. He was carrying a quaint bouquet of tuberoses and red roses, along with a cheque for the amount borrowed plus savings account interest rate worth of interest too. She saw him and paused, flustered again from his sudden appearance with the bouquet. Was it because he was so transparent? Did she know somehow why he was here? She smiled, not as enthusiastically as he had hoped or expected. She walked up to him, ‘Hi! To what do I owe the pleasure?’

He smiled and sheepishly replied, “I finally have the money to pay you back just dropping by to hand over the cheque and....” It was probably just his imagination but her smile felt suddenly forced. She ushered him towards her offices, “Why don’t we sit in my offices?” She looked at the secretary seated in front of her rooms. “Abhay please see to it that we get some freshly pressed juice and water please” Abhay looked up and nodded. He was not sure but he definitely felt a strong wave of animosity arising from this Abhay bloke. She had a big corner office overlooking the entirety of the city! Maybe the money she did share was, in fact, pocket change for her. He wasn’t intimidated but impressed. She offered him a seat on the sofa and dropped the papers in her hand at her beautiful desk. For a moment he wondered if his parents looked at her as a potential bride as she could sustain his very high socialite philanthropic nature. A trophy husband to her perfect industrious nature. Besides, having her in the family would only make their own business fortunes turn for the better too.

She was wearing a fresh deep green with yellow temple border cotton saree and had her hair in a knot. She was worried and only got that smile back on when she looked at him. She was forcing herself to smile. He wished he knew why. He hoped it was not a bad time. She finally looked at him making herself comfortable, she finally spoke.

“I hope you have not been waiting for too long? I was at a meeting...” She sounded like she was wondering if she had forgotten that he was coming to meet her and looked apologetic again. He shook his head. “I just finally managed to scrummage the money I owe you.”

“Oh! Thanks.”, she said, accepting the envelope. She didn’t open it to check the amount. She just put it down in front of them on the table.

“This was fast. I was not expecting this quick return. I hope you didn’t stress over it.” he shook his head. She laughed almost bitterly and said, “So, you found yourself a bride, huh?” He felt a little insulted but he decided to forgive her. She probably didn’t know about his photography work and its sale in the collector markets or the art that he created when the lens he recognised couldn’t recreate the feeling of the moment he had got to experience. There was a knock on the door when Abhay brought in a tray of drinks. She got up and said, “Oh Abhay, you didn’t have to bring the tray in. Thanks a lot.” Something was definitely up with the man; it felt like he was in the office to spy on her. She didn’t seem to notice. She shared instead good naturedly, “Aduit. You are being served tea from one of the best students of Vishwa Bharti’s, Economics Department. Abhay this is Aduit, I would have found an excuse to meet the photographer and artist too I guess if I were you.” She said with a sweet smile.

“Thank you, ma’am. It was a pleasure seeing you in person sir. I’m really sorry once again to have booked the incorrect tickets and staying arrangements to your ex’s wedding.’’ He almost choked on the extra sweetened juice he had been served. Damn! No wonder she had rather been talking about the life she had built, over how she got there at the wrong time. He had been going on and on about his friend, the well accomplished woman who had gotten a handsome man.

She just gave a short nervous laugh, “Abhay, mistakes happen. Get over it, dear. If this is your preferred way of atonement, though, I'd prefer being served a demitasse each day at 5 p.m. for every time you get the model wrong for forecasting.”

Aduit laughed. Abhay didn’t, he seemed only more petulant. He smiled contrite and bowed out. She drank water as though she was a parched piece of paper wanting to tell a story and help alleviate the writer’s pain. She kicked off her shoes and opened her hair.

“I think I have a champagne bottle in the fridge. I finally have a good reason to open, then. My hearty congratulations again.”

He was still processing all he had found out in the few words that they had exchanged. She was walking around barefoot in her office. “I haven't asked the woman yet, Aadya. So the celebrations would be premature at this point in time.” Oh. She seemed to take a moment before turning around to face him. She was still straining a smile. She looked at the envelope and then at him. “You really didn’t have to...hurry up to pay me back. While I know you aren’t an impoverished artist by any means you really didn’t have to...Well, anyway, why don’t I pour us some, all the same, to celebrate me getting richer for my investment.”

She got out pretty crystal glasses, “I always wanted to use these, never got the chance before.” She finally seemed to have relaxed.

As they drank she spoke sitting comfortably on her sofa. It was past 6, ”I feel like an ingratiate. Having one of the finer artists of our times divert his attention to pay me back the money. Very Mafia…” He chuckled at her joke. They clinked their glasses and had the first sip. He commented, “This is actually very good, I like it. Thanks.” She raised the glass again. They discussed the champagne and then fell silent.

Just like that the ease they had developed between themselves evaporated. She looked like she didn’t quite know what to make of his unease. He looked down at the flowers. He looked at her looking at them too. He finally blurted, “Actually I came to ask you to marry me.” thrusting the flower bouquet under her nose.

She froze.

A soft hollow voice asked him after a considerably long pause, “I’m sorry. What?” she sat up straighter.

He was tongue-tied. He didn’t know what to say! - I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you based on my gut feeling which by the way has been considerably augmented into action by your champagne. He could have attempted that if he wanted to pass the proposal off as a joke. She seemed to look more downcast by the minute and he couldn’t seem to find the right words. She finally laughed, “Did uncle and aunty put you up to this? Trust me you don’t have to do this. They are just too much aren’t they sometimes. I was planning to join the organization in the capacity of director regardless.” Sharp pain in his gut again. He was not sure about how he felt about her closeness to his parents. He frowned, “I’m asking you to marry me, not my parents.”

She sipped some more of her champagne and drank it quickly, “Ha… Are you marrying me, out of pity?” her voice was still low; she could not believe this was happening. He was just shaking his head when she needed to hear his voice. Her head was in her hand. She was flustered and very close to tears. She felt insulted. How had he managed to bugger this up so badly? She got up discarding the crystal to take the bottle now.

“You seem to have a drinking problem.” the first word he uttered as he followed her to where she stood by her massive window. He felt that strange change in perception again where she was taller and resolute than she had ever felt to him before. He took the bottle from her hand. He wiped the trail of tears off her cheek. “I didn’t once in my life think that one day I would ask a woman to marry me, and she would end up crying and disbelieving me.” He wanted to hold her in his arms. She laughed, pulling away from his closeness instead of leaning in. She started pacing in front of her desk. “I don’t know.” She looked at him and looked away. He got the distinct feeling that she was not able to read his motivation the way she once had. Or maybe she didn’t trust what she saw.

When she finally stopped, she took a deep breath and said, “Look I really don’t think you know much about me other than what I have already told you. I'm really flattered by your proposal. I… Seriously, I don't think this is a good idea. I’m a… ” She looked up at him and swallowed. He hoped his face was as calm as his mind was… He knew he had made the right decision granted it was based on nothing more than a day spent with her.

“I am... I sleep around. It’s got to do with some of my psychological baggage which is considerable. Besides, I’m sure you’d like a romantic, somewhat-traditional marriage… Guess, what I’m trying and seem to be doing a pathetic job at articulating is… I’ve been considered a slut and you are an artist, while it's an otherwise perfect marriage. But, I don’t think you should do this.” she leaned back, to not collapse at the table. He could not follow or understand a single thought she was trying to share with him. He heard perfect marriage and just like that little else seemed to matter. He walked up to her. She closed her eyes and centered her courage, and opened to meet his eyes as he stood in front of her.

Why are you doing this? She seemed to silently ask.

She seemed to have so many emotions all boiling over her eyes and expressions, winning ones were anger and sadness. He was trying to figure her out. He didn’t want to hurt her but it all felt very precarious. What if he gave her the time to love him and she never did end up falling in love with him? What if she found someone from the banking sector just as beautiful, smart, and as intelligent as her? Nope. Definitely not an option. He simply said, “You said it yourself. It’s a perfect marriage. I’m the art, you're the money. It couldn’t be more perfect.” She tried to read him. It was sad that she seemed to believe this truer than his true expression of sentiment. “But you don’t really need me, you just need to marry someone.” There was the intelligence and twisted cold rationality that he found strangely enticing. “You know my parents they’d probably find a new rule to keep it from me if I don’t fall in line with their wishes.” she gave out a short laugh. “Please, your parents love you. It’s probably for your own good that they insure your financial well-being.”

He laughed and kissed her forehead and stood by her. “Phew, that was strangely convoluted.”

They were leaning against the table side by side when she suddenly looked at him, “Wait, your parents never sent me to meet you as a prospective bride. I just never corrected you that day, because it felt good to not be judged as an unworthy bride despite my complexion, especially since I would stick out, even more, next to your over the top fairness.” She said snarkily. She smiled at him, taking the bottle with relative ease from his hand. Her eyes seem to say, There! problem solved you don’t have to marry me. She almost looked sad.

It was fascinating how she had toppled his perfect solution within an instant. Damn, she was not easy, she was all the impossible bones intact among the sweet rui.

Later after he left, she threw away the unfinished bottle in the trash and picked up the bouquet and took it home. They were her new favorite flowers.

---

They were already married in court. This was just a celebration of their wedding. She was sitting next to him. Not meeting his eye. He wanted to look into her eyes. He was desperate for contact. He could hear some of his colleagues talk about her dark complexion as though it was a novelty. But he knew the undercurrent. She was not saying a word, just smiling the strained smile he was so familiar with. He hated it. His parents were delighted. She really could not refuse his parents asking her to marry him. Maybe she was right. They loved him after all and despite, however, she looked at herself she was not the person who she let people believe she was…

She was still living in her apartment and he was staying in the rooms at his studio. She didn’t seem to think it strange; it had just been a week since his original proposal and their discussion. She had managed to go for a business-trip between that and before meeting his parents, which was surprisingly a good thing because she didn’t have to gauge exactly how shocked his parents were to find out the woman they thought he thought they wanted him to marry and the final woman who he wanted to marry. His mother did say at one time, “Oh she is beautiful and graceful, a little dark though. Wouldn’t you look odd standing next to each other, with you being so fair and her being quite dark.”

He was not there when his parents spoke to her but she got his number from them and texted.

Selling all those pieces of art has sure given you a fine sense of business acumen and blindsiding. Congratulations your parents have asked me to marry you and get you off their hands. You’ll be pleased to hear the dowry I’m getting. You are definitely not cheap. - Aadya

He didn’t remember laughing so hard, ever. She was a gem and they were going to be together for life.

I’m worth it. Was his only reply.

She didn’t like getting pictures clicked of her. He constantly found himself looking for her and following her with his eyes. She didn’t text very often. She was happy to have parents and she was enjoying the attention they lavished her with… They genuinely liked her too. He wondered if her eyes twinkled quite the same way when she was with him. She looked radiant in a yellow and pink Banarasi silk saree and intricate and elaborate bun. She wore simple gold studs and a gold neckline that his mother had gifted. He had gifted her the gold ring. It looked beautiful in her slender finger too. She loved gold and didn’t care for diamonds. She was simple and elegant. And now his better half. She laughed and spoke with a sweetness that was lovely. He wanted to be part of the conversation and have to do nothing more than hear the sound of her voice nearby. He wanted to have an arm around her to hold her in place. She was his.

He had sensed the hesitation of a second when she held the pen to sign the marriage license. That was the one time she looked up at him as if to ask him if he was sure. He had smiled, and nodded.

After the party was over she said softly, “Thank you for meeting my friends and colleagues and introducing me to yours. They all seem nice.” He smiled, as he saw her yawn. “Hungry? Would you like ice-cream?” She shook her head. She was tired. She started opening her hair from its bun.

“Did you make it?”

“Yes”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks.” This was awkward.

He finally asked her, “Would you mind if I click pictures of you?”

“Yes.” There was no negotiation. Just, yes she minded if he took pictures of her. She didn’t invite him to her apartment. It stung but he chalked it up to being tired. He was married, happy … and alone? How did it turn out like this?

She was going away tomorrow again on some business.

He texted her. I want to look for a home for us to share. To which she replied, Do you need me to come with you?

Yes. - It was going to be their house. What was she playing at? He was beginning to get irritated at her attitude.

OK. Let me know what time you’d like to head out, I’ll drive you.

He chose the third house they saw on a sunny morning. She paid the first down payment. She was there in all the houses they looked at, but she mostly looked at him. What he preferred, whatever was his choice. It felt like she wanted to desperately make him happy? While he imagined a kitchen where they spent time together cooking. She just watched him smile as he stood daydreaming.

She drove like a maniac! It was a nerve-racking exercise. She had informed him that she had a bike too. He was surprised and on asking for a ride she informed him that it was a single-seater. Her office car was very simple and dull but she also had a four-wheel gear gipsy. She always seemed to be watching him wearily when they were together alone. She looked like she wondered what was going through his head. For the 4 days they had bought it. She worked late and never did not come home at all.

She had managed to avoid sleeping in the house. She made excuses like she couldn't sleep or work late or simply run out of the city on a business trip. He started avoiding the big house too soon enough. Waiting for her to come home was just too much. It was just 2 weeks since they had bought the house when his model, dressed in a saree, told him about her indiscretion.

There was a photo of the Dark woman, laughing with a boss? She was drinking.

She did drink a lot and he sat fuming, he couldn’t forget what she was capable of when drunk. He still dreamed of that kiss. He could imagine her leaning on his shoulders at times. The mere imaginings of which put him in a foul mood.

When she was back in town she sent him a text - I’m back in town. Your parents want to meet for dinner.

He debated sending her the image. He gave in and sent it. She looked gorgeous in a simple cotton dress in the photo. Her hair in a plait and she was smoking with a drink in her hand.

She simply sent a question mark.

She rang the doorbell an hour later when he didn’t respond to her last message. She looked at him, it felt like she had a million questions going through her head but she didn’t know how to ask him anything.

This was the first time she would be visiting his actual workshop and not just the studio.

Her expressions spoke a million words she did not utter. You look really bad.

“Why aren’t you here and not at the house?” She asked.

“What’s the point?” She just shot him a look as she followed him to his workshop in the studio. She figured he was in a mood. She wisely said nothing. She was wearing a deep forest green cotton saree with a deep blood red border. Her hair was in a loose plait. She looked fresh.

Looked around the space, the canvases and light. She had not been to this part of the studio.

She looked at him. She was hungry. He went behind a canvass and she wandered into the kitchenette and poured herself some water. She was hungry and irritable because of it. She asked, finally controlling her insane impulse to chew his head off.

“Is this your process of work?”

He looked at her and said a bitter, No.

She felt like asking what creature had burrowed in his bum and died but she said, “So… Are we going to eat dinner at some point in time?” He looked at her. He was furious and she could feel it. She figured it was something to do with the photograph but she really didn’t know what to tell him when he would not even ask him questions or tell her what was in his mind that was bothering him. He was looking for a fight and wanting to have her at a disadvantage by making her feel guilty. She simply would not allow him the pleasure of falling for it.

It didn’t mean she couldn’t be restless. She wanted to be doing something too. She didn’t know how but she started cleaning up. Picking up the glasses with lipstick stains and pizza and salad boxes. She was mentally drained from her travel and yet restless. When the place got to resemble less of a pig sty and more of an artist’s living she was back in the kitchenette collecting the garbage in a black polythene she found on the top of the fridge. He didn’t say a word. She almost said, “I hope you know that I don’t know what this tantrum of yours is about! YOU can be rotten all by yourself!”, but she looked at herself stuffing the garbage bag she was not doing well and the mess seemed to have cleaned up too easily. She put on an apron and attacked the dishes. She knew she was in his line of sight through it all. She didn’t care what he made of it. She just wanted to do something instead of sitting and waiting. Her phone rang. She closed the tap she had turned on to make it easier to wash off the grim on the plate that also seemed to have fungus! She wished she had her gloves. She wiped her hand in the apron and went to her bag on the table.

She looked at him.

“It’s your mother.” he didn’t say a word still. She took a deep breath and …

“Hi, Aunty?” he almost expected to call her ma or something. He was just so angry. He knew he would just explode at her if he spoke even a word. He hated himself so much. She never wanted to get married to him. He had done this to himself. What made him believe she would suddenly just magically love him. He was more mad at himself but there was nothing he could do about it felt more sane to be mad at her for some reason. She was absolutely innocent and not in love with him.

“Yes, my trip was a little hectic and very long, but I’m glad I’m back...” there was a word she didn’t use. He could feel it instinctively, home. She did sound tired. “Yes, we will come some other day. Maybe you can visit... the house sometime. It’s a very beautiful home.” there was a note of wistfulness. As though it wasn’t her home.

“Yes, we’ll eat sometime soon I suppose, he is busy painting at the moment…”

“Ha ha… Sure aunty I’ll be sure to remind him a minute.” She looked at him and caught him looking at her.

“Oh aunty, that means a lot. But I don’t think I’m ready to call you Ma just yet...“ she was so flustered she turned away. She cut the call and stood still with a stinking heart for a moment at the table. She had tears in her eyes. She didn’t look at him again. Just went back to cleaning the utensils. She was going to finish this and leave. He can stay rotten all by himself. She was not going to starve herself just cause he was a stupid mood. It felt good to cry but her head got heavy with the silence of her pain. What an idiot!? She really hoped she had done her homework on why he wanted to marry her. He had seemed so genuine. She was a fool to have agreed to this charade.

He came softly by her side. “I said, you don’t have to do it.” She was holding a knife that he tried to carelessly take from her hand and nicked her and it didn’t even register. She knew it was there. She could just put a bandaid on it when she got back to the apartment.

He put the knife on the slab and said briskly, “You don’t need to do this.”

He looked at her shocked at the tears in her eyes she refused to let go.

She immediately looked away and walked away from him. She took off the apron, wiped her hand and kept it on the table. She had enough she was leaving, she should have just stayed at her apartment, read a book and ordered a thali.

“Aadya wait.” she didn’t want to do this. It was humiliating. She had been such a fool. She was looking forward to coming home and seeing him. She tried hard to not be awkward and enjoy a little company he was willing to share with her for however long it lasted. Stupid foolish woman, she was already a mess. She was digging blindly in her bag for her car keys and opening the door when he caught up. “Wait! You are bleeding.” She didn’t look at him as he pulled her hand to look at the damage of the little mindless knife pulling stunt he had pulled.

He was worried, “Oh no...” She wiped her tears using her pallu and finally looked at her palm. It was not a small nick, there was just too much blood. It looked deep. Maybe she would get it checked by the doctor. Or maybe the Savalon at home might do the trick. She didn’t want to ruin her saree but she picked up her pallu to use it to absorb the blood and staunch the flow at least, but before she could Aduit put his black checked hanky on it. She finally looked at him and pulled at her hand. Held her hand hard, “Quit fidgeting.” He removed the handkerchief to assess the damage. She narrowed her eyes at him. Oh she had enough, she didn’t care how handsome he looked in his black shirt and white mund.

She was going to chew him up and spit him out. He was gearing up for it all day, “Let go, I’ll fix it when I get back to the apartment. Don’t worry I won’t file a domestic abuse report.”

He smiled savagely and looked at her hand; it didn’t look as bad. He could clean it up, put disinfected cotton and bandage it in from his first-aid kit. He pulled her along slamming the door shut behind them.

“Maybe you should, might help reduce the damages you’d have to pay me for the infidelity.” She dug her heels in and said, “What the heck?!?” He just easily pulled her to his bedroom space and deposited her on the unmade bed. She was furious and her beautiful black eyes were positively murderous. She didn’t seem to trust herself to speak.

“Why do you care?” He kneeled down in front of her. That hurt and he wanted to hurt her just as bad. “If not me, you could have at least thought of my parents, how’d they feel having a cheating daughter-in-law. That’s how you repay them for their love?” She shrank, defeated. He knew it was a low blow. He had even pressed the wound a bit too hard. He didn’t want this, he wanted her to fight him, exchange words with him, engage him in an argument… Not feel alone and undeserving and worthy of every single mean thing he could think about her. Even fighting with her felt…exhilarating!

He held her chin to look at him. She did have tears in her eyes again. It was a painful beauty. It broke his heart. She closed her eyes and they fell. He deflated too. Sitting down on his shins. She wiped her tears on her pallu, “Ha… I thought I married you, not your parents… Too late, I told you I already had a reputation.”

“Who was it?” He just asked. He needed to know for some sadistic reason. It would hurt.

“Who was, who?” He just wrapped her hand as gently as he could.

“Who was the man you were drinking with this time?”

“In the photo...? He’s a client. Prospective. But I think he’ll get on board soon enough.” She seemed dazed. Staring at her hand that he was caressing. Her stomach growled loudly. She looked sheepishly at him and started nervously giggling. He couldn’t help but laugh too.

“Let’s go eat food.” He took her hand and didn’t let go.

They were sitting at a posh restaurant neither had ever been to. He was nervous, was it a date? Did it still count as a date if they were married? She ordered a lot of food and to be honest he was hungry too. She seemed a little uncomfortable. How come you haven’t been here before? I thought you’d come out often with clients.

“My client meetings are usually at tea time. I avoid lunch and dinner. And I actually don’t eat out much. I like cooking my own meals.” He stared at her.

“Really? Why don’t you cook me something sometime?” He was leaning towards her.

“I’ll think about it, if you don’t act like a child again. Honestly you were so irritating. Canceling on perfect plans with your parents. If you don’t want them to meet me you should just have never made them in the first place.” She was hurt? He looked at her. She was sitting right in front of him and yet she was not with him. She didn’t even look at him. He felt so stupid. He looked at her and observed her playing with her ring. He opened the phone, checking the photograph out of a whim. There she was wearing the ring he had given her. She had not cheated on him. She was not at all the person people called her to be. How could he forget that? Didn’t he know better. He smiled, here she was having dinner with him. He realized she was watching him, he wondered if she could sense the contentment in his smile.

He raised an eyebrow. She shook her head. They ate in silence. He paid for the dinner she laughed at his flourish of paying. He took her hand as they got up and said, “Wait, I think I know a really good ice-cream parlor around her, come on my treat for hurting your hand.”

“Ouch” She winced. Damn.

She said in a small voice, “I want to go back to my apartment, Aduit.” He felt like a juvenile for thinking for a minute that words he said could ever be taken back. “Yes, ok sure.”

She followed him to the car. As they drove the silence was stifling. They were sitting in the car, in front of her apartment. “Do you want it... a divorce?” He asked her with a heavy heart.

She gave a short bitter laugh, “So soon? My god, you Nitesh’d faster than I could have predicted… Well, I guess I should have known. May I ask to what end have you succeeded in being married to me in the first place?”

So much and nothing. He had wanted to have her by his side but he didn't. He couldn't ever have her by his side till it was through her own volition. She didn’t love him. What was he going to tell her? The truth felt like it meant too little and too much at the same time. “What does Nitesh’d mean? After an ex-boyfriend?” She crossed her arms and sulked, “It's after the chief minister of Bihar who switched alliances in a blink of an eye.” A laugh escaped him. He loved her, and nerdy looked good on her.

He was feeling so silly, he smiled sadly. “I’ll tell you if you invite me to your apartment.”

She was surprised, but she frowned, “Wow, the thought of a divorce seems to finally encourage a smile at least. Fine, you can come to my home. It would anyway belong to you if you do push for a divorce on grounds of infidelity… I won’t be able to fight it. Your parents made sure of that in the pre-nuptials.” He stared at her. He had no idea about it. She shrugged. “Well, your parents knew of my reputation and while they love me for getting you ready to ‘be’ married and settle down they don’t want you to be disenchanted by the idea when things go as well as you imagined they would.” How could anyone feel a part of home after having that kind of a conversation before formally becoming a part of the family.

He was strangely excited about seeing where she lived by herself. His excitement for it helped him deal with the impending divorce. He’d tell her the truth. She looked on at him, leaning against the elevator wall. It was on the 5th floor of a 7 floor building. She opened the door, walked in the place smelt of books, wood and pine cones. She kicked off her shoes and put on a pair of slippers. She looked at his feet and said, “I’m sorry I don’t have spare slippers. But you need to remove your shoes by the door and close it behind yourself.” he did. It was a well built house and there was a window behind the door. He entered the main room of the house and there was suddenly a beautiful gray coat cat by his feet. She said, “I hope you are not allergic to cats.” evidently she was crazy about cats. He didn’t know this woman at all. He stared at her as another cat jumped on her shoulder. It was a fluffy orange tom. He scooped up the one rubbing herself all over his calf. Smiled thinking that these kinds of surprising sides of her were exactly the reason why he had wanted to marry her.

“Do you want a tour?” he nodded. He enjoyed the cool calmness of her home. The walls of the cozy home were spartan, there were lamps around solo sofas, table sets mats on the floor and what looked like a cat toy corner. There were three wall covering bookshelves. He spotted a glass vase on one of the stools with tuberose flower stems on the same table, a huge fish bowl covered with a lid and the mats were so pretty. It was giving him inordinate pleasure to know that he was probably the only person to visit her home. Also, she had a good reason to find excuses to come back to her apartment. It was so tasteful and minimalistic...

She started with the gleaming kitchen which had a pantry on one side and a cleaning area on the other end which doubled as a mini balcony. She had only a chair at the square dinner table, a simple kitchen which had a fridge and a microwave along with a stove. The pantry was stocked and arranged beautifully. With a separate space for the utensils that she couldn’t find space for in the tiny cupboard on one side. There was not much crockery for the only person living in the house. The cleaning space had an overhead cloth hanger and washing machine and the place had a faint smell of washing detergent. He spotted a filter coffee maker on their way back. He still had the cat he was stroking the back of and feeling the pur.

They came back to the living space. She pointed at the balcony’s sliding door with a tiny flap for the cats to come and go. He spotted three cats so far.

“What are their names?”

“Tom, Jerry and Kali… And the fish is Satre.” He laughed and she managed a smile. She went through it to the other side. She pointed at the door in the front, that's the washroom. She walked to the door on the right, “Bedroom.” He followed, possessed. It was a queen size bed with 2 windows with tasteful curtains and a wall of bookshelves again. A few posters of beautiful images. She continued, “This is the closet” He looked at her immaculate bed and pillows, a window seat and windchimes. He felt a little like a pervert, wanting to imagine her sleeping on her bed. She rushed by the closet of shoe rack, a saree rack, formal and informal clothes, an adequate vanity with 2 non parallel full length mirrors. She held his hand to pull him through the washroom that had another door that opened to a living room. She took the door to the left which had the kitten beds and study. The room just had a bookshelf, a full window, and table. She stood there in her saree and said, “This is my home. You and the installation guys are the few who have seen it.” She came out of the room. He walked to the balcony where there was a river snaking behind it in a lush form.

“It’s a lovely home.” He went and sat down on an all weather seat on the balcony. “I’d like to have some coffee.” As she looked at him, he wondered if she recognised how he was milking the moments for all they were worth. She went to the kitchen. She didn’t even have two similar mugs. He was laughing as he came to the kitchen behind her.

“I wanted to marry you, because somewhere in the time we spent together at that resort I fell in love with you.” She froze. She didn’t turn around to face him. She just stood staring at the wall in front of her. He walked to stand beside her. She raised her eyes to meet his gaze.

She spoke softly, “It's not funny to mess with me like this. Why don’t you just tell me the truth?”

He got mad. “You know for someone who is smart as hell, you definitely aren’t.”

“Coming from you I’ll take it as high praise because you wouldn’t know smart if it hit your face.” She faced him. “Never occurred to you, did it the relative ease with which I gave you the funds. Also the fact that I was at your studios never on your parents’ behest? They were never the ones who made me go to your office.”

“Actually...” He started off strong and then realized she was right, “Wait why were you at my Studio?”

“A friend suggested helping you and your low key initiatives. I had already been keeping tabs on your activities and knew exactly what you were about to use the money for, did you really think you managed to get those passports and Visas all by yourself for those trafficked women and children… and… ” she took a breath and looked away to make a cup of coffee.

“And after rejecting me at the resort, you really think I believe your claims to love me? Please!” She was so angry and her eyes were stormy. He just took her face and kissed her. She dropped the saucepan of milk when he did that. She hit his chest with a bandaged hand. He lifted her with his arms and said softly, “Tom, Jerry, and Kali can clean it up. We have loads of unfinished business.” She looked at him, her eyes still not settled.

“Why didn’t you lead with that when you had proposed?”

“Lead with what?”

He walked to the bedroom and he plucked her down on her bed. He went to latch the door. “That you wanted to marry me because you loved me. I thought there was some new project you wanted to work out. I was so angry with you...and sad.” he looked at her and smiled sadly.

“Yep, I have been a world class moron. But you could have said something too you know, you can’t just blame it on me.”

“I married you!!! I think I acted out my feelings. Wait, why do you think I married you?”

“For my parents and family of course.”

She just got mad and pushed at him as he tried to kiss her.

“You are the moron, a class of your own.” She was laughing. “I could kill you for the misery you caused me if only it would not be causing me further misery.” He was laughing. “You know your jokes are disgusting and far too morbid.”

She laughed.

The next morning when he woke the bed was empty, it was 5 in the morning. He was naked and disoriented for a minute to find the surroundings unfamiliar. Where was his wife? A smile formed his face. Assuming she was in the washroom he waited for a little while and then he put on his mund and called out her name, “Aadya?” He found her in the study. Scribbling in a diary. He guessed she was dressed in nothing more than her blue gray bed cover and she looked lovely. He just stood there looking at her, making a new memory to paint cause she would never let him photograph her.

By Shreya Dixit