Falling into Place Read online

  Tara’s head and heart rebelled, tearing at each other. Her resolve to keep her distance, built up and hardened over the past fortnight, started to buckle.

  “Ye…yes, I’m all right, just…”

  “Busy, I know, you keep saying, but Tara, you look terrible. You’ll fall sick at this rate.”

  Tara gripped the glass of water in her lap. If only Sameen knew how messed up she’d been feeling. But given the way she was leaning towards her, her face contorted in a worried frown, Tara couldn’t help feeling that maybe she had been making a big deal out of nothing.

  Tara wanted to catch her by the shoulders and drink her in. Fill that void that the past fortnight had been.

  Stop it!

  Sameen let go of Tara’s arm and sank back into the sofa. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “It’s been worrying me for a while,” Sameen said slowly, “the way…you left so suddenly. I…it wasn’t me, was it? Did I say something stupid when I was high on painkillers or something?”

  Tara let out a guffaw. She couldn’t help herself—a consequence perhaps of the pent-up tension of fighting with herself these past couple of weeks. She knocked her head back against the chair and laughed till she ached.

  She wiped her eyes and looked at Sameen, who had a quizzical, half-amused look about her.

  “What?” Sameen asked.

  “Just…the thought of you, high on painkillers, babbling nonsense. Too much.” She’d been worrying for no reason at all. And her outburst had left her so much lighter. “But don’t worry, you were a perfect lady. It wasn’t you, it was me. I…sort of freaked out. Things were getting a bit…you know?”

  Not lies, exactly, but obscure enough.

  “No, I don’t know, not really. You never talk, Tara. You’re such a clam. Look at this lovely house. Why have you never invited me here? And Chhaya, she’s a riot.”

  Tara raised an eyebrow. “First-name basis already? Well, yeah, she’s a riot all right.” She shook her head. Suddenly, nothing seemed like a big deal anymore. She stood. “Come on, I’ll show you why I’ve never invited you here.”

  Tara led Sameen to the study that was down the passage. She usually kept the door shut because the sight of the mess inside irritated her. She pushed it open and felt for the light switch on the left.

  It was a spare room that doubled as a store and a study. Half the room was taken up with two Godrej cupboards that held their winter clothes, and an assortment of boxes and suitcases. The other half held a writing desk and chair, aluminium office shelves filled with files and other rubbish, and a large cloth-covered bulletin board.

  Sameen glanced around at the untidy piles of printouts and the notebooks marked with Post-it notes on the desk. There was an assortment of stationery—pens, markers, pencils, thumbtacks, paper clips, files. On the bulletin board were small pieces of paper with scribbled notes accompanying an array of photographs—some rough printouts, some on photo-quality paper—mostly with Post-its stuck on them.

  “Er…your mother is a private eye?” asked Sameen.

  “Close. Remember those guys she keeps fixing me up with? It’s much bigger than that. She’s been on an intensive, long-term mission to find me a husband.”

  “What!”

  “You heard right. And Chhaya Dixit never does anything half-heartedly. Usually, all this stuff is littered around the house, and it creeps me out. I don’t know why she’s tidied up. I hope it means she’s found a new project. About time she did.”

  “What sort of project?” Sameen asked, looking dazed.

  “Well, let’s see.” Tara closed her eyes and screwed up her forehead in an effort to recall her mother’s obsessions. “There was that time she took up beekeeping, till the neighbours complained. Then there was the hairdresser phase, which was quite tame actually, which is probably why it didn’t last too long. She was into ham radio when I was a kid, and weather monitoring. She’s done a course in Lavani dancing. Oh, and you were almost right—she did an online private detective course. And how can I forget? She is a certified bungee-jumping instructor.”

  “What?”

  “Yep. I think that was when Papa had his first heart attack.” Tara shook her head. “Ever since he passed on, it’s been her mission to find me a man. She’s got this network of uncles and aunts reporting to her, she’s on Shaadi.com, various online forums, goodness knows what else. It’s been her thing for ages.”

  “Wow,” said Sameen, blowing out her cheeks and exhaling loudly. “So…she…you mean, er, arranged marriage.”

  “Not exactly,” said Tara. “It’s just her theory that if she finds me the right guy, I’ll get interested and then, who knows, maybe get married.”

  “Basically, she’s trying to get you a boyfriend?”

  Tara nodded. “Because I don’t seem to be doing anything to get one myself.”

  Sameen stared back at Tara, her mouth open. Then she turned away and seemed to stumble. Her shoulders shook. She put her hand out to support herself on the wall.

  “Sameen! Are you…”

  Tears were running down Sameen’s face as she waved Tara away. She was incoherent with laughter. Tara smiled with relief and then, because it was so infectious, she couldn’t help cackling herself.

  They laughed till their jaws and sides ached.

  “Oh dear,” said Sameen, wiping her eyes. “What a pity you’re…not interested.”

  “It’s a tragedy,” said Tara, trying to look serious and failing.

  Rohan was snoring. Usually, Sameen gave him a push and he rolled over to his side obediently and the snoring stopped. But tonight she was so lost in her own thoughts that she hardly even heard him.

  Talking to Tara and clearing the air had made her feel several kilos lighter. When she’d got back home, Rohan commented about her having a spring in her step—and it was true, metaphorically, at least. Having spent two weeks wondering if Tara had been mad at her, she’d felt like skipping for joy after finding out she wasn’t.

  Yet something niggled at her. That look on Tara’s face when she had entered the room and seen Sameen—it hadn’t been surprise; it had been more like shock. Like Sameen was the last person she’d expected. And even after that, Tara had taken a good few minutes to settle down. For no reason that Sameen could figure out.

  She made a mental list of the chronology of events. One, after being in and out of her house all the time, Tara had suddenly stopped coming. Two, she’d remained out of reach for a couple of weeks. Three, when Sameen had approached her, she’d seemed freaked out. Finally, they’d had a chat and dinner, and an overall nice evening, and just as suddenly everything was back to normal.

  Really, Tara was lovely, but she could be so weird. Getting anything out of her was like squeezing blood from a stone. And Chhaya’s husband-hunting project—Sameen hadn’t known whether to laugh or be shocked at first, but it had all turned out to be quite harmless. A little snigger escaped her when she thought about it. She looked quickly at Rohan, but he snored on.

  Sameen pulled the covers up to her chin and smiled, thinking about how much she was looking forward to resuming their evening commute. Winter was setting in, which meant new seasonal goodies would appear on the snacking horizon.

  Rohan gave an exceptionally loud snore, interrupting her daydream about carrot halwa. She gave him a nudge, and he grunted and turned over.

  Chapter 13

  Sameen wasn’t the only one with a spring in her step. Tara’s mother commented some time the following week how much happier she looked. And Barkha remarked in her usual forthright way that the dark cloud of gloom Tara had been walking under lately seemed to have gone.

  “It’s like you did some serious de-stressing and detoxing,” she said, frowning at her friend and then looking her up and down. She adjusted the sleeve of Tara’s kurta, brushed her hair bac
k from her forehead, and corrected the orientation of one of her earrings.

  “Are you quite done, Mummy?” said Tara after waiting it out patiently.

  “No, seriously. You look… Hey, are these earrings new?”

  “You were with me when I bought them, two years ago, remember?”

  “Was I?”

  “Yes, now go away and let me work in peace.”

  Thanks to Sameen appearing unannounced at her house, Tara had been forced to admit that by forcibly cutting her out, she had only been punishing herself. And now that she’d made up her mind to set things right, that uneasy knot in her stomach was gone too.

  When she thought about it, her enforced two-week space from Sameen had probably been a good thing. It had set her head back properly on her shoulders. She was an adult, she told herself. No longer an impressionable, idiotic twenty-year-old. She was in control of her emotions. Even if she was attracted to Sameen, she was hardly going to jump on her.

  And in any case, the attraction had probably been a one-off thing, a momentary lapse of judgement. A dropping of boundaries after spending time in close quarters. Having spent all these years keeping her sexuality in check, she’d forgotten to acknowledge that it existed. Sure, there might have been some sparks, but Sameen was straight, so they didn’t really count. And if that wasn’t ice water being splashed on any developing embers, there was also the fact that Sameen was in a serious relationship, with a rather nice guy, to boot.

  Most importantly, these last few days of going back to their old routine of sharing cabs and impromptu outings had made her understand one more thing. That the more time she spent with Sameen, the clearer it would become that anything romantic between them was a ridiculous, impossible idea.

  After all, Tara told herself, I’m not looking for a relationship. I’m not getting into all that drama again. And nothing can happen without my consent.

  What she did need—and want, especially from Sameen—was friendship. That was a perfectly reasonable thing to want from someone you liked, and it was stupid to let it go because of the possibility of being attracted to them and contemplating where that might lead. In any case, she was sure that if she had ever felt any sparks, they were well and truly extinguished now. And the more she hung out with Sameen, the more normal things would get. They could do regular friends-type things, like talking, going out, shopping, and so on. The same kind of things she’d do with Barkha. In the unlikely event that her feelings—or rather, her madness—did resurface, she would choose not to do anything about them.

  She fingered her earring. She hadn’t bought herself something new in a while. She picked up her phone—Sameen was still on her speed dial.

  “Hey, want to come silver shopping with me on Saturday?”

  “Ooh, what’s the occasion?”

  “I just feel happy.”

  “That’s great. And the reason you’re happy is…?”

  “Just.”

  Tara could hear the tapping of a keyboard in the background. “Okay,” Sameen said.

  “I’ll buy us lunch.”

  “It’s a date.”

  Something clenched inside Tara. But just for a moment. Sameen hadn’t meant they go on date date. It was the sort of thing friends said to each other all the time.

  I can do this, Tara said to herself. “A date it is.”

  Not doing it was not an option.

  Sameen picked up the pendant and placed it on her palm. “This is so lovely.” The craftwork was stunning. It was a flower with layers of petals made of fine filigree work in silver. Thin strands were drawn out and shaped in intricate patterns inside the outline of the petals.

  “It is quite beautiful,” Tara said.

  “From Orissa, madam,” said the man behind the glass-enclosed counter. “Traditional filigree work. You want to see more?”

  “Yes, please.” Tara examined a leaf-shaped pendant with extraordinary detail worked in with silver strands. “I love this one too,” she said to Sameen. “It has matching earrings.”

  Sameen picked up one earring and set it against Tara’s ear, brushing her hair back with the other hand. “It’ll suit you. You have a long neck, and danglies look good on people with long necks.”

  Tara drew back, rearranging herself on the padded bench. “You should try it on too. I’ve never seen you wearing anything like this.”

  “Nah, not my thing.”

  “Uff, you’re like Barkha—all beads and bright colours. She looks like a fruit salad sometimes.”

  “You think I look like a fruit salad?” asked Sameen, pretending to be offended.

  “Of course not.”

  “Madam, do you want to see bracelets?”

  Without waiting for an answer, the salesperson retreated into a back room and returned with a pile of translucent plastic boxes that he set on the counter. He removed a maroon, velvet-lined tray from under the counter and placed it before the two women. Then rooted into the plastic boxes with an air of utmost secrecy and pulled out a selection of bracelets, one by one, that he arranged on the tray.

  Tara picked up a filigreed bracelet and studied it. Sameen took it from her, put it around Tara’s wrist, and pushed up her sleeve so they could study it. The detailing in the design stood out against Tara’s smooth brown skin.

  “Wow, Tara, this looks exquisite.”

  Tara pulled her hand away and took a quick look at the price tag. “Aiee, no, no, just pendants for me, thank you. Or earrings. I do like the leaves.”

  “You should get pendants and earrings,” Sameen said. “After all, you’re celebrating feeling happy. We don’t do that enough.”

  “Then you should get something too.”

  “I’m so getting this flower pendant.”

  Tara eventually decided on the leaf earrings and a silver owl pendant, while Sameen took the flower. It wasn’t really her style of jewellery, but she was enchanted with the craftsmanship. She’d probably wear it a few times and then give it to her mother.

  “I never realized you were such a silver nut,” Sameen said as they left the Cottage Emporium, in search of a restaurant.

  “Really? Barkha says sometimes that it seems I have silver poured on me.”

  “It does look good on you, though.” That was true. It went well with her dusky complexion.

  Sameen was famished. The salesperson had been a little sulky that his elaborate bracelet display hadn’t borne any results and Sameen was sure he had packed their stuff super-slowly just to annoy them. They walked down to Saravana Bhavan in Connaught Place for lunch. It was crowded, as it always was on the weekend, but they got lucky as a table for two opened up and they were pushed up the line. They’d both set out with the intention of having dosas, but ended up ordering the set meals, along with spiced butter milk.

  “I love their butter milk,” Tara said, sipping her drink.

  “Me too. And I’m glad we made up.”

  Tara looked at her for a few moments, as if mystified. “Made up?”

  “You know. When you disappeared, I thought you were angry with me or something.”

  Tara sighed. “I’m really sorry about that. Bad decision.”

  Sameen grinned. “Terrible decision. Imagine what would have happened if I hadn’t come chasing after you.”

  Tara smiled and looked away.

  “Tara?”

  “Yes?”

  “Is…was there something else?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Some other reason, I mean. Why do I feel there’s something you’re not telling me?”

  A cloud passed over Tara’s almost-black eyes. She brushed the hair away from her face and looked over Sameen’s shoulder. Then her gaze returned to hold Sameen’s.

  “Because you have a wild imagination?” she said, one eyebrow raised.

  Sameen swatt
ed her with the menu.

  Chapter 14

  “Will you please sit down? You’re making me dizzy!”

  Three long strides were all it took for Rohan to reach one side of the room from the other, and watching him go back and forth was really getting on Sameen’s nerves.

  “Sit down? Sit down?” cried Rohan. “What good will sitting down do?”

  “For heaven’s sake, they’re just your parents,” Sameen said.

  “That’s exactly the problem, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but you’re not twelve years old. You’re thirty.”

  “Well, imagine if your parents were coming to visit,” Rohan said, hands on hips.

  “That’s different.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ve only been in Delhi for three years and you’ve been here since you were eighteen.”

  “What? That doesn’t even make any sense.”

  Sameen flopped back on the sofa, knowing very well that her argument was flimsy. She crossed her arms. “Well, they do know about me, right?”

  “Of course, that’s one of the reasons they’re coming.”

  “What!”

  “Don’t worry, they’re not coming to marry us off. They just want to meet you.”

  “Yeah, right. Check out the goods, you mean?”

  Rohan smirked. “And they certainly won’t approve if the goods are living under the same roof as me.”

  Sameen threw a cushion at him.

  It was no secret that more and more young people, especially young professionals who had moved away from their home towns, were living together despite disapproval from their families. In some cases, a mutually approved, don’t ask, don’t tell policy made sure no feathers were ruffled. When she and Rohan had got together, Sameen had casually mentioned to her parents that she had a boyfriend, patiently answered all their questions about him, and adroitly steered away any leading questions about living arrangements. Though she would never dream of telling them that she and Rohan did live together, lately she’d begun to suspect they’d figured it out.