Fear and Lovely

Chapter 4

Arnav: Just a kiss

1975–1976

As he drove back home after the veranda-drama featuring Mrs Mittal and her son, it was finally obvious to Arnav that Mallika had acted on her first impulse after seeing that b****y Chotu kicking the puppy. Later, she’d made up that ridiculous story about taking the puppy to Gauri. Why on earth hadn’t she simply told him what she’d done instead of giving him all those tortured, long-winded explanations? While he and Madhu Aunty had thrown themselves into their roles with zest on the veranda, Mallika had been trying to hide her fear of the consequences. Just as she tried to hide her shyness. He attempted to push it out of his mind, this strange feeling that all these years he’d wounded her. How could he have? He’d been unfailingly polite to her.

Sure. And in his mind, he’d dismissed her as not worth knowing. He found himself cringing.

He also knew what would happen when he reached home. Ma would ask him about Mallika and ask, why didn’t he find someone like her? Meaning instead of someone like Radha, who had been wearing his t-shirt (and nothing else) and eating a guava on his bed in his hostel when Ma had landed up there. He’d been in bed too, sated and sleepy, when he heard the knock on his door. He got out of bed, shirtless, and opened it, and there was Ma, holding a steel utensil and smiling. Then she looked beyond him, and her smile faded.

‘Hullo, Aunty,’ Radha had said chirpily, her mouth full of the guava.

His mother collected herself and said icily, ‘Good afternoon, Radha.’

Ma entered and gave him the biryani that she had cooked without another glance at Radha.

Radha got out of bed and pulled his t-shirt down so that it now reached mid-thigh. She exclaimed, ‘Biryani! Oh, it smells so good, Aunty!’

Ma gave her a look and left the room without saying another word. He ran after her.

‘Ma, don’t rush off like that.’

‘And don’t say she’s just a friend, shameless creature.’

‘Ma, don’t talk like that about her.’

‘You’re also shameless.’

‘For heaven’s sake, Ma, I’m not a kid,’ he hissed as they walked down the hostel corridor to her car parked outside.

Just before she drove off, she burst out, ‘And she says “hullo, Aunty” in your t-shirt and those bare thighs, “hullo, Aunty” – oh, my, that girl has gall.’

He returned to his room and shut the door. ‘Shit.’

Radha laughed. ‘No chance of my ever winning her approval.’

‘Why should you care about her approval?’ He helped himself to a slice of guava.

Her laughter faded. ‘You’re so b****y oblivious.’

He looked at her, shocked. She’d never spoken to him like this.

‘We’ve been going around for almost a year.’

‘So?’ He was bewildered.

‘So? So? You’ve got no brains, or what?’ Her voice was getting higher.

What was she talking about?

‘Don’t you want to be with me?’

‘I am with you.’

‘I mean, after you finish IIT?’

He couldn’t even think about things one week down the road, and she was asking him about what was two years down the road?

‘I’m asking about after you get a job,’ she said.

Horror began filling him.

‘Don’t you see a future together for us?’

Shit, s**t, s**t.

‘Don’t you want us to get married one day?’

He was aghast.

She burst into tears and scrambled out of bed. ‘You’re just having fun with me.’

‘Aren’t you having fun with me too?’ he said, trying to lighten the mood.

‘That’s not what I meant. Don’t be stupid! You’re not serious about me even after a year.’ Tears were streaming down her eyes. ‘Don’t you love me?’

Love? It was the last thing on his mind. He liked her. He thoroughly enjoyed being with her. He wasn’t interested in anyone else. He –

‘Well, obviously not,’ she said. ‘I’m done with you.’

She put on her clothes. Before she left, she asked, ‘If you don’t love me, even after a year, then why were you with me?’

He had no idea what to say to that. So stunned was he that he didn’t even ask her not to leave.

Later, he had told Randhir. ‘It just came out of the blue. I’m twenty-one. I’m not thinking of marriage!’

‘Listen, you i***t, you were with her for a year,’ Randhir said in exasperation.

‘So?’

‘If it came out of the blue, it means she’s been brooding about it for ages. Didn’t you ever notice?’

He shook his head.

‘You’re so b****y oblivious,’ Randhir sighed.

‘Look who’s talking! What about you, ditching Mallika for Charu? That’s not oblivion?’

Randhir’s face became dark, and Arnav shut up.

He had never told Ma it was over with Radha. But of course, she guessed. You could hear it in the way she began humming Rabindra Sangeet again.

When he reached home, he told his mother not to mention the puppy to Madhu Aunty. ‘Mallika stole it from a neighbour who was kicking it and ran with it.’

‘Oh, my goodness! Ran to you?’

‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘Not to me. She just ran. I happened to be nearby.’

‘Oh,’ his mother sighed.

He looked at her uneasily.

‘Oh, Arnab, you should court her and marry her,’ she said, her hands clasped.

Court her? Court her! He had to end this right now. But he was laughing so hard that he couldn’t speak. ‘She’s going to marry Randhir,’ he said finally and went to his room.

She followed him inside. ‘Randhir told you?’

‘Well…’

‘Mallika told you?’

‘Ma! Some things you just know!’

Her face lit up. ‘Oh, that means you know nothing at all.’ She patted his cheek and left his room with a light step.

Mahima’s wedding took place at the maidan just a couple of minutes from the house, where a large shamyana had been put up. He, Vineet, and Randhir were busy helping Aunty and Uncle with various last-minute things, and the girls were serving the guests snacks. Randhir was in one of his black moods, so Arnav gave him a wide berth. The girls looked lovely – Prabha laughing, Gauri full of her usual grace and warmth, but Mallika graver than usual. All three graceful, fresh, glowing in their beautiful silk sarees. Mahima looked like a typical bride: too much jewellery, too much make-up, too much everything. Packaged and ready to be presented to another family in all her finery, like his sister Niharika.

They’d had a massive wedding for his sister. No arranged marriage: Niharika had gone and fallen madly in love with her classmate. She’d known him for five years when they did their MBA in Ahmedabad; he was, by all accounts, brilliant. He went on to do his PhD in America, after which they got married. Every time she came home from New York, she declared – more and more loudly – how happy she was. He was sick of hearing it.

Now, at Mahima’s wedding, after dinner and before the pheras, he went outside the shamyana to join Randhir for a smoke. Randhir’s mood had not lifted. A few minutes later, Mallika came out, looking apprehensive. Randhir saw her and snapped, ‘For god’s sake, not now!’ Mallika flinched then went back inside. Arnav looked at Randhir in shock. Randhir, his face dark with anger, ignored his look.

Five minutes later, Mallika came out of the shamyana again and flung a bunch of keys at Randhir. ‘If you think I came to talk to you, you’re mistaken,’ she said. ‘I came because Madhu Aunty asked me to look for you. She wants two thousand rupees from her Godrej – here are her keys.’ She stormed off past them towards her house, the gajra from her bun hanging down her neck.

‘What the hell’s wrong?’ Arnav asked Randhir, flabbergasted.

Randhir picked up the keys from his feet and went towards his home.

Ten minutes later, Randhir was back. ‘Listen, Mallika’s sitting outside her house; she wouldn’t come back with me. I’ve got to give the money to Mummy. Just walk Mallika back.’

‘OK.’ So he went to Mallika’s house.

She was sitting on her steps in the darkness. Her gajra was still dangling loosely down her neck. He sat next to her.

Before he could speak, she said, ‘I can walk back on my own.’

‘It’s late.’ He was trying hard to stop himself from lifting her gajra from her neck and winding it around her bun.

They sat in silence.

After some time, he said, ‘Why is Randhir in such a foul mood?’

‘He’s angry with me.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know. Ask him. Maybe he’ll tell you.’

Tell him! About Mallika! As though!

The sound of the shehnai drifted down towards them from the shamyana.

He looked at his watch. ‘Should we go? The pheras will start soon.’

She looked at her own and got up immediately.

‘Your gajra – it’s falling off.’

She lifted the string of jasmines from her neck, wrapped it around and under her bun, but it fell out again from the side.

‘Hold on.’ He stood behind her and tucked it under her hair.

‘Thank you,’ she said, turning. She looked up at him and smiled. He couldn’t help it; he touched her cheek with his fingers. She put her hand over his, and her eyes said yes. He bent, and, breathing in the smell of jasmines, he kissed her mouth.

Her lips yielded but stayed closed. When he opened them with his own, he heard the sound in her throat, or was it his? How hungry he was for this kiss he only knew as he kissed her. Later, he couldn’t remember how long it had lasted. But he remembered how she looked at him after they stopped, those large eyes, glistening with so much emotion that it was as though they were full of tears. He wanted to look away but couldn’t, he wanted to run but didn’t. He wanted to say, I’m sorry. He wanted to do more than he had already done. He wanted it undone.

He said, softly, ‘What is it with you and Randhir?’

She blinked as though she were coming into the glare.

His palm was still cupping her cheek. He dropped it. He thought, I’ve gone mad.

Her eyes were full – he saw – with the very same thought.

They turned, almost simultaneously, and walked back to the wedding venue. It was a silent three-minute walk.

She went into shamyana. He stayed outside and lit another cigarette.

For god’s sake. It was just a kiss.

Just a kiss? If Randhir knew, he’d wring Arnav’s neck. How the hell had it happened?