Falling into Place Read online

  Tara ripped open her container of curd and spooned some on to her rice. The chillies were usually pretty deadly, and it helped to have something to neutralize them with.

  “So,” Barkha began, “Sameen still staying with you?”

  “Mmhm,” mumbled Tara, her mouth full.

  One of the other writers on their team, Mike, popped his head over the cubicle. “Hey, Tara, what are the chances you’ll swap my Bengal Football League coverage with the T20 tournament in January?”

  “Zero,” replied Tara amiably.

  “Can I bribe you?”

  “Sure. Buy me a Merc?”

  “Aww.” He made a sad face and sat back down.

  “So,” Barkha said when he was gone, “I have to ask, is there anything going on between you and Sameen?”

  Some of her food went down the wrong way and Tara coughed. Barkha patted her on the back and pushed a bottle of water towards her. Tara waved it away and swallowed.

  “Are you insane?” she asked.

  Barkha sliced a small piece off her boiled egg and carefully placed it on top of a mound of rice, then spooned the whole thing into her mouth. As she chewed, she looked up at Tara. She swallowed her mouthful and said, “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure,” Tara said. “Whatever makes you think… Oh god, you’re so impossible!”

  “She’s in a relationship, Tara,” Barkha warned.

  “You’re not listening to me,” Tara said through gritted teeth. “There’s nothing going on. And anyway, she’s straight. With a boyfriend, and it’s serious.”

  Barkha played around with her food. “Just that…that night, at the party, the way she was looking at you…”

  “What do you mean looking at me?” Tara demanded. Outraged though she was, Barkha’s statement intrigued her. “Looking at me how?”

  “All intense and…I don’t know. It just seemed…”

  “Seemed what?”

  “I don’t know. That night, you two had eyes only for each other.”

  “She didn’t know anyone there. Of course I had to hang around with her.”

  Barkha pursed her lips. “Look, I don’t know about her, but you… I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “I’m not going to get hurt. Because there’s nothing happening, okay?”

  “Maybe you’re too close to her and you can’t see it, but please be careful.”

  “Will you stop it?” Tara snapped. “Nothing will happen. I won’t let it. You know I haven’t since Radhika.”

  “Yeah, about that. Sometimes we fall for people. We can’t help it. It’s not always in our control.”

  “Yes, it is. It’s in mine. Everyone is not flaky like you.” Tara’s face was hot with anger. She picked up her plate and curd container, shoved back her chair, and stalked off to her own cubicle. Only once she got there did she realize that her chair was back at Barkha’s desk.

  Tara left her food and went to the bathroom. She locked herself in a stall and stood before the toilet, staring down with unseeing eyes. She was shaking. She stood there for a long time. The blood was ringing in her head.

  What if Barkha is right?

  Being around Sameen made her happy. It made her feel good, uplifted. It made her feel that the world was a better place. It made her want to make other people happy. Was that a bad thing? Yes, she could admit she was attracted to Sameen. But that didn’t mean she was falling for her, did it?

  Did it? she asked herself.

  A door squeaked open, and voices and laughter filled the room as someone talked about their new iPhone.

  No, it didn’t. I’m not going to let it happen. All other complications aside, she’s straight.

  Her resolve back in place, Tara left the stall and went to the sink. She splashed some water on her face before checking herself in the mirror and walking out.

  Her half-eaten lunch was cold and the sight of it nauseated her. Her chair was back in its place and a small Dairy Milk chocolate lay next to her computer.

  “What’s wrong? You’ve been aloof all weekend,” Rohan said. “Don’t you like my parents?”

  “Your parents are great,” Sameen replied, staring at the pile of old travel magazines on the table in front of them. Tara had been betting that either travel or bringing out a magazine about it would be her mother’s upcoming fad. “It’s you I have a problem with.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m waiting for an apology.”

  “What am I supposed to have done?”

  “Supposed to have done? You were a complete ass that evening, Rohan. You knew I’d be at the party with Tara.”

  Rohan groaned. “Oh, that again. Come on, I forgot, I told you. It’s no big deal.”

  “It is a big deal. You can’t assume I’m just going to hang around waiting for an invitation from you.”

  “My parents had just arrived that morning. They wanted to meet you. What was I supposed to do?”

  “Tell them I had plans?”

  “I told you, I forgot. They’re here for the first time. When have I ever asked you for something like this?”

  “Doesn’t matter. You can’t do this to me. Assume I can drop everything and come running.”

  “All right, all right. Can we let it go? Will you come with us to the Sound and Light Show at the Red Fort tomorrow night?”

  “I’ll come if you apologize.”

  “Okay, yaar, I’m sorry,” Rohan said, placing a hand on Sameen’s thigh. “I shouldn’t have assumed you’re sitting around, twiddling your thumbs, waiting for me to call.”

  There was a click and creak of the door opening. Sameen shifted her leg away from Rohan. Tara walked in a moment later, and her eyebrows rose when she saw them. “Oh, hello.”

  She dropped her bag on the dining table and went into the kitchen. Sameen heard water running, and pots and pans banging around. Rohan got up.

  “I should go,” he said. “I told them I was out for a walk.”

  “Okay, see you tomorrow, then.”

  “We’re okay?”

  “Yeah, we’re fine.” She gave him a friendly shove. “Off you go now.”

  After he left, Sameen went looking for Tara. She was still in the kitchen, chopping vegetables with undue violence.

  “Can I help?” asked Sameen.

  “You could wash some rice,” Tara replied without looking up. “It’s in that cupboard.”

  Sameen measured some out into a pan. There was something about Tara—a sort of warning signal coming off her in waves. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” Tara said shortly.

  Sameen stared at the back of her head as Tara slammed the lid on the pressure cooker and turned on the burner.

  “Are you upset about Rohan hanging out here?” she asked.

  She looked up. “What? Of course not.”

  Then she went into the bathroom, banging the door shut.

  Sameen bit her lip, wondering what was wrong. She set the rice to cook on the other burner and turned the flame down. Then she went out into the living room and sat before the TV, surfing aimlessly.

  Tara came out ten minutes later in a pair of track pants and an oversized sweatshirt, hair wet from a shower. “I’m sorry I was grumpy,” she said. “Had a really bad day at work.”

  Sameen grimaced in sympathy. “Rohan and I sort of had a fight. But I think we made up.”

  Tara came and sat next to her. Her towel was spread across her shoulders and there was a damp patch where water from her hair had dripped.

  “Want to talk about it?” Sameen asked.

  “Nah, not really. You?”

  “Nope. It’s sorted.”

  Tara nodded. “What are you watching?”

  “Nothing. Channel-surfing. There’s nothing to watch, as usual.” />
  “We could stream something.”

  “I guess.” Sameen grinned. “Unless…”

  “What?” Tara narrowed her eyes.

  “Want to binge-watch one of my all-time favourite TV series? It’s about two women, a mother-and-daughter pair. Gilmore Girls.”

  “Oh yeah, I’ve heard about it. Used to come on TV when I was a kid.”

  “It’s got the cutest romance between Lorelai, the mother, and the town’s diner owner, Luke, who—”

  Tara interrupted her with a raised hand. “Hang on, do you want me to watch it or are you going to tell me the whole story right now?”

  Sameen beamed. “I have it on my laptop. Do you have an HDMI cable?”

  “In my room.”

  “Good, good. Hey, I forgot to ask, did Chhaya call? Has she reached—”

  “Oh, yes she has. She said hello and instructed me to feed you properly.”

  On cue, the pressure cooker whistled. “Damn, I’d forgotten about that.” Tara got up again and padded to the kitchen. “Oh good, you did the rice,” she called to Sameen.

  Sameen followed Tara and watched her turn off the burner and drain the excess water from the rice into the sink.

  “It’s sort of unfair that you have to cook,” she said. “Maybe I can make something tomorrow.”

  Tara looked over her shoulder at Sameen. “That means we’re having tea and toast for dinner, right?”

  “Well, I can also make boiled potatoes and jam sandwiches.”

  Tara’s horrified expression made Sameen laugh.

  “No thanks,” Tara said. “I am rather fond of my dinner, and I like real food.”

  “But I destroy any real food I try to cook.”

  Tara inclined her head and studied Sameen. “Maybe I can teach you a few things.”

  “My dear, braver souls have tried and failed to teach me to cook. I’m banned from touching Rohan’s special pressure cooker and his ceramic non-stick pan set. And I don’t even know which one that is.”

  “That’s because Rohan is a control freak in the kitchen.”

  Sameen narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, you’re right. Okay, you may have a go.”

  “Great, we shall start tomorrow.”

  “Not tomorrow. I’m going to Red Fort with his parents.”

  “Oh, okay. The day after, then. Right, dinner will be ready in about ten minutes—dal with vegetables, and rice.”

  “Super. I shall set up Gilmore Girls, then.”

  Chapter 17

  “All right,” Tara said, handing Sameen an apron, which she reluctantly pulled on. “Today, we’re going to teach you how to make egg curry and chapatis.”

  “Ooh, lovely.” Sameen rubbed her hands together. “Egg curry is my favourite and I already know how to boil eggs.”

  Tara took the lid off a pan sitting on the burner. “The eggs are already boiled.”

  Sameen pouted. “Not fair.”

  Tara smacked her hand lightly with a wooden spoon. “No talking back.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  As she turned away to the refrigerator, Sameen stuck a tongue out at her. “Hey, I saw that. Now what do you think egg curry is made of?”

  Sameen screwed up her eyes in thought. “Um…well, there’s eggs, of course. Water, salt, um, turmeric?”

  “Do you remember what we used for the chicken curry the other day?” asked Tara.

  “Yes. There were onions, tomatoes, and ginger-garlic paste. And dry spices.”

  “Yes, very good. Now, do you want to chop the onions while I do the other stuff?”

  “Okay.”

  Sameen picked up the knife and carefully started peeling an onion. “Tara?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Why are we doing this?”

  “Onions are an important ingredient in egg curries.”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  “Then what do you mean?”

  “I have a boyfriend who loves to cook for me every day, so why am I torturing myself like this?” Sameen gestured to the tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “What will happen if he’s not around to cook for you?”

  “But you will always be there, won’t you?” Sameen’s eyes had a playful gleam.

  Tara’s heart raced. She stared into the hypnotizing eyes that were waiting for a response from her. “Always,” Tara heard herself saying before the spell broke.

  “So does that mean I can stop?”

  “No! Get that finished quickly.” She pointed at the chopping board. “You still have to cut the tomatoes.”

  “Tyrant,” Sameen muttered. She sniffed as she wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “Where did you learn how to cook?”

  “From my father. He was a chef.”

  “Oh really? Rohan would’ve loved to meet him.” Sameen put the onions into a bowl and moved the tomatoes to the chopping board. “So would I. Were you close?”

  “Yeah…” Tara felt that pang in her heart that she always did whenever she thought of her father. “He used to work odd hours, so most days we wouldn’t see each other at home. Some days he would pick me up from school and take me with him to the restaurant. I would spend hours there playing with him. Cooking and food were a big part of our games. Even now, every time I enter the kitchen, I think of him.”

  “My dad can’t cook to save his life,” Sameen said.

  “Like father, like daughter?” Tara raised her eyebrow.

  “Totally.”

  They grinned at each other.

  “Done,” Sameen said finally.

  “Go wash your eyes. You’re a mess.”

  When she came back, under Tara’s guidance, Sameen set up the pan, heated the oil, and soon the spices were simmering away. Sameen suddenly had a bout of sneezing.

  “Wow. These masalas are strong.”

  “That’s what cooking is all about, my dear. Come, we shall now knead the dough for the chapatis.” Tara told Sameen how to measure out the flour and how to get the dough’s consistency right. The doorbell rang as they were getting out the flour.

  “Back in a minute. It must be a courier.”

  When Tara came returned, she stopped at the kitchen door and watched Sameen struggle with the dough. Her fingers were coated with clumps of wholewheat flour. Rivulets of water ran along the sides of the flat dish she had been kneading in. Her hair and face were streaked with white. Sameen had never looked so endearing.

  Tara sighed, then shook her head and went to stand next to Sameen. Without thinking what she was doing, she placed her hand over Sameen’s and plunged it into the gooey mess. “You can’t be squeamish about this. You have to literally get your hands dirty,” she said quietly. “You keep pressing it together like this, gathering the loose flour from the sides. When it starts to come together, it’ll stop sticking to your hand.”

  Their fingers were intertwined as their hands moved as one. Tara noticed how soft Sameen’s hand was despite the coating of dough. Sameen turned to look at her, and Tara caught her gaze and smiled. “It’ll work, you’ll see.”

  “I think you’re nuts,” she said, but she was smiling too. Then she closed her eyes and turned her head slightly, as if thinking. “You know, I never thought gooey messes could feel kind of good.”

  The smell of Sameen’s herbal shampoo was in Tara’s nose and she felt an undeniable thrill at having her fingers laced with Sameen’s inside a soft, warm lump of dough. “It does, doesn’t it?”

  Sameen opened her eyes and smiled at Tara. Tara smiled back. Their arms crossed one another’s, and she realized with a sudden jolt that they’d stopped kneading.

  Tara’s face flamed as she pulled her hand out. The acrid smell of burning masalas filled the kitchen.

  “Shit, the spices are burnt!” Tara ran towards the burner and turned off the gas.
Right then, the key clicked in the lock and her mother’s voice filled the house. “Tara? What’s burning?”

  “Nothing, Mama.” She dumped the pan in the sink and rushed out to greet her, heart still thudding. “You’re back early. Here, let me take your bag. Are you hungry? Can I get you some water?”

  “What’s the matter? Are you okay?” Her mother asked, looking Tara up and down. She relinquished her bag and sat herself down on the chair Tara had pulled out from the dining table. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. You did know I was returning today, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, yes, of course. Just… How are you, Mama?”

  “I’m very well. I just spoke to you this morning. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Tara pushed the hair back from her forehead, blinking. Was she okay?

  “What’s that white stuff in your hair?” her mother asked.

  By the time Tara returned to the kitchen after sending her mother off to freshen up, she had collected herself. Sameen was staring desperately at a fresh pile of onions and tomatoes, knife in hand. But at least she’d managed to clean up.

  “Oh wow, Sameen Siddiqi, you are completely useless in the kitchen,” said Tara, forcing herself to sound casual.

  “Umm, sorry?” Sameen said, looking anything but. “But it’s your fault. I warned you.”

  Tara rolled her eyes. “Come on, let’s fix this.”

  They worked companionably side by side, Tara doing all the chopping, frying, roasting, and stirring, while Sameen peered over her shoulder, trying to look helpful.

  “Shall I make a salad?” she asked. “I can do that without disaster.”

  “Disaster? What disaster?” Tara said innocently. “We have been such good girls.”

  “What smells so good?” asked Tara’s mother, standing at the kitchen door. “Sameen, is she making you cook? Tara, how can you make the guest cook?”

  Tara laughed and went over to give her mother a hug. “Sameen has made her special egg curry for us, Mama,” she said as she winked at Sameen, who averted her gaze for a moment and then smiled.

  Tara poured the egg curry into a serving dish, thinking about how having Sameen to stay hadn’t been the unmitigated disaster she’d feared. In fact, it had been pleasant, fun even. She sprinkled fresh coriander leaves on the egg curry, and admitted to herself that she might even miss Sameen when she moved back, even though in some ways it would be a relief.