Arranged Love (20 page)

A gleam of hope sprang in Di’s eyes again as she expectantly browsed over Piya’s profile details. There it was, etched in grey coloured, 11px, Ariel font— ‘Relationship status: Unmarried.’

‘Let’s go find your Rohan sir. I need to rewrite the ending of my book on IIT girls,’ she said calmly, but I could see a smile slowly spreading across her face.

It took us multiple phone calls including a call to the company’s CEO (we said we had an urgent message for Rohan sir) to locate Rohan sir, half an hour of persuading, pleading, cajoling and seducing the hotel bellboy to tell us Rohan Khanna’s room number (we later realized that a couple of 500-rupee notes
would have saved us the effort), and finger cramps from incessantly ringing a doorbell to finally locating a bleary-eyed, jetlagged and confused Champ.

‘Are you married to Piya?’ Tanu di demanded the moment Rohan sir opened the door.

‘No,’ he replied and then asked, ‘Are you married to Vikram?’

‘No,’ she answered and in turn queried, ‘Are you Piya’s son’s father?’

He shook his head and asked, ‘Why did you stop taking my phone calls?’

‘Piya told me she was getting engaged to you.’

‘How come you never bothered to check with me?’

‘I asked Puja and she confirmed the news.’

‘Piya was pregnant with a baby from her previous boyfriend who ditched her and ran away as soon as he saw the two red lines appear in the home pregnancy test. She didn’t want to abort and her parents didn’t want Piya’s situation to impact Puja’s engagement. So she asked me if I would pretend to be her beau till Puja’s wedding.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I had no way of telepathically telling you and you never answered my calls or read my emails.’

‘Why did Puja lie to me? I was her best friend. Didn’t she have faith in me?’

‘I think both Puja and Piya got a little carried away, hoping that I would actually end up marrying Piya if you stopped loving me.’

‘But I never did stop loving you.’

‘And I never did end up marrying anyone else.’

‘I love you.’

‘I love you more.’

‘Are you ready to be my Horcrux?’

‘You already implanted a part of your soul within me years ago.’

Jesus fucking Christ! I couldn’t believe that Rohan sir was also
a Harry Potter fan. Now this is what you call a match made in Hogwarts!

I saw him take out a thin, beaten band of gold from his wallet. From the starry-eyed look in Tanu di’s eyes, it seemed like this was the same ring that he had proposed with a lifetime ago. She promptly offered her hand and he speedily slipped the ring into her finger. I am sure you can all guess what happened afterwards. She grabbed his wand and he entered her chamber of secrets and they made some magic together. Well, your mind is as one-tracked as mine because they closed the door behind them, leaving me guessing and standing outside the hotel room.

It was Tanu di’s wedding reception. I was standing next to the chaat stall with my cousins, gulping down spicy golgappas and wishing that Jay was around to stop me. I never thought that I would ever miss his constant, watchful reminder of the calories I had consumed. Okay, I admit it, I also missed his luscious lips and his perfectly chiselled body. Fuck it. What I really, really regretted was having given away his nude painting to Denise. I mean, it was my hard work after all.

It had been two months since I parted ways with Jay and I had had a lot of time to reason why it ended the way it did. I had realized that Jay was largely a homesickness pill, a temporary anti-depressant, which I had misunderstood to be my mood elevator for life. Yet, when I had snooped on Jay’s FB status last month, and it said, ‘These days I am always on the Deniscovery channel,’ I had been so denisgusted and denisturbed, that I had consumed a whole box of kaju katli that week. So while Jay was busy ensuring that Denise got a balanced sex diet, I had gained five kilos in the last two months. Now I was hoping that Sharmaji had been truthful when he said that Indian men loved well-endowed women.

I saw Tanu di and Rohan walk around lovingly, hand-in-hand, basking in the glow of newly wed bliss and mingle around with each other’s relatives. They were a living proof of the existence and
endurance of true love, and yet I wondered if in today’s adulterated world where Diwali sweets were made with toilet paper, milk and white paint, love was anything but 95 per cent lust and 5 per cent pure affection.

Standing, in the covered patio, I heard the pitter patter of the raindrops on the paved path leading from the air-conditioned party hall to the open lawns. I saw an old peepal tree behind the building, its trunk and branches covered with uncountable rounds of puja thread. I remembered my dadi once telling me how women tied cotton thread around the sacred tree 108 times to strengthen their marriage. She had explained that the thread represented the fragile nature of life, love, trust, faith and all things that went on to make up a relationship. A single thread might be weak, but when it was wound many times around the trunk, it became strong. ‘Oh, God! You are so kind-hearted and loving. You look after everyone. You must have made a soulmate for me too. Please help me find my kiss-patible life partner,’ I prayed.

I looked away from the tree, went inside, and there he was, standing across the hall from me, at the gaily decorated City Club entrance. Dressed in a cream, lightly embroidered kurta pyjama, holding a bouquet of dazzling red roses, stood Deep. For the brief moment that our eyes met, I felt like I was the most beautiful girl in this world. And then, he looked away and wandered off towards the other office folks whom Rohan had invited.

Ever since I said no to him, there had been so many instances when I had felt like going up to Deep and telling him all about Jay. How I was confused about this whole soulmate deal and perhaps even though I was unsure, I actually loved him. However, Deep had sort of enclosed himself in a cocoon and even though we talked and laughed at work, his eyes didn’t have the same playful smile or the mischievousness. Today, for a few unguarded moments when his eyes
had bared his soul, I felt the same spark of destined togetherness that I had experienced on the treehouse in Chakrata. It made me feel alive and complete. Alas! It was over before it began. The flow of feelings from my soul encountered a ‘No Entry’ barrier on reaching Deep’s. I stood there like a statue, wishing I was as invisible as he was making me feel. MD who was gorging on boondi laddoos while Sanjeev dutifully held the plate for her, gave me a wicked, teasing smile and started crooning, ‘
Ho gaya hai tujko to pyaar sajna, lakh karle tu inkar sajna … ye hai pyaar sajna.’

‘What rubbish?’ I challenged defiantly.

‘I don’t understand why you are denying a fact?’ asked Madhuri.

‘Because I don’t want a one-sided love story. You can see that Deep clearly is not interested in me.’

‘Maybe Deep sir doesn’t want a one-sided story either. Remember, you said no to him?’

‘But you know girls never mean no as no,’ I defended.

‘But don’t you know that guys take no as no?’ she countered calmly.

‘Champ didn’t. He waited for Tanu di all these years despite her no.’ I persisted, yearning for a love like Di’s.

‘C’mon, you don’t find that kind of
mohabbat
these days,’ remarked MD. ‘
Arz kiya hai,’
she said, replaying SRK’s dialogue from
Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna
.

Mohabbaton ke jamaane gujar gaye janaab

Ab chhote mote pyar se hi kaam chalaa leejiye aap.

‘You mean to say you don’t truly love Sanjeev?’ I asked, surprised. She had barely been married a few months. She couldn’t possibly be already disillusioned with love.

‘Of course I love him, but if I say that I would have waited a decade, or even a few years, for him, I would be lying,’ replied Madhuri without any sham.

Her frank declaration startled me, but I sort of figured that this was a reality of the instant age we lived in. I mean why would you waste a decade to find out that your love is still waiting for you when you could just ping on FB and ask? In our instant world, magical
mohabbat
had been replaced by a more practical
pyaar
.

‘Are you saying that you married Sanjeev because you thought it would be better to marry a friend than a stranger?’ I asked, just as an afterthought.

‘Partially yes, and partially because I believe that one size doesn’t fit all. For me it was enough that Sanjeev loved me while for him it was enough that I was not a naashpati,’ MD explained jokingly, and got distracted by the assorted kabab platter Sanjeev had just brought.

Gosh! I never knew she had such a huge appetite. Madhuri was getting tired of standing and eating so Sanjeev got her a chair from the nearby table. Did I not tell you that they were expecting a baby? Oh, yeah, Sharmaji was sticking to his schedule for the timely project delivery. I watched them contentedly enjoy a comfortable companionship. I had seen the same glow on my mom’s face every time Dad appreciated her cooking and the same satisfaction on my dad’s face every time he got mom’s car serviced or the cooker valve repaired. Was this true love or just marriage?

People who derive their definition of love from Bollywood might not realize this but the magic of eternal mohabbat was actually in the everyday expression of practical pyaar.

I saw Neha walk in through the main entrance in an exquisite green and yellow Rohit Bal spring collection creation and decided to leave the two food-lovers alone. She was carrying a Louis Vuitton handbag and 5-inch sexy stilettos.

‘Hi! You look like the home page of
Fashionandyou.com
,’ I remarked jovially, hesitant to hug her lest I cause a hundred-dollar stain on her outfit.

Neha ignored my wisecrack and hugged me chirpily like in the good old school days.

‘I never thought this day would come in Tanu di’s life,’ she squealed happily. ‘I am so glad she is finally getting some real hands-on experience.’

She was not alone in feeling that sentiment. None of the 500 people present in the room could have imagined this day would come and were all happy for the couple. I filled her in on all that had transpired since our office ASM and how the two lovers separated for more than a decade were at last united.

‘But you look sad, honey. Are you feeling lonely on the singles’ platform?’ she teased as both Di and she had moved on to the couple’s bogey.

‘I miss our girls’ night outs but I am okay,’ I said truthfully, for Neha had seen me in worse mess.

‘Is your boss engaging you in overtime and night duties?’ she slyly smiled.

‘Deep and I…’ I almost choked with emotions taking our names together like that in a sentence. ‘He has been avoiding me ever since I said no to him.’

‘You said what you deemed right at that time, babe,’ she consoled me. ‘Are you seeing any more suitors these days?’

I shook my head. As the imminent danger from Jay had receded, my parents had slowed down the groom hunt. Just then, I heard Deep walk by and greet Neha, and my face flushed with eager anticipation. But he simply ignored me and walked off.

‘Gosh! You are still attracted to him, aren’t you?’ Neha jumped excitedly at seeing my reaction to Deep’s physical proximity.

‘Yes, but how do I know if this attraction will last a lifetime of day-to-day adjustments?’ I asked.

Neha offered to give me a rapid, quick fire cum-patibility quiz.

‘Do you still cherish the special moments you shared with Deep? she asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Does he really care for what you do?’

‘Certainly,’ I had managed to earn more from my paintings sold in the last three months than my salary at iTrot because of Deep.

‘How does he make you feel about yourself?’

‘Like SUHAANI—Special, Unique, Hot, Attractive, Able, Needed and Interesting,’ I replied proudly. ‘He makes me feel comfortable in my own skin.’

‘Do you both enjoy your kisses?’

‘No doubt about it.’

‘And I know that you can talk dirty with him. Cool, then Deep it is for you!’ Neha concluded with the certainty of a weatherman.

‘What about your no car being good on LSM metrics funda?’ I asked, eager to believe her prediction and yet scared to think that it could be wrong.

‘Don’t worry. Deep is a Harley Davidson bike, not a car,’ Neha winked merrily, ‘and bikes can deliver (luxury)love, (speed)sex and (mileage)marriage all in the same model.’

My face lit up at the approving nod from Neha. She had known me since we both toddled around together in cloth diapers. I trusted her to know if the boy I was planning to share my tiffin with would be nice enough to help me with my maths homework. I wanted her to tell me what to do next, when her fiancé called from Venice and she got busy in coochicooing with him.

Just then, I heard my mausi call me. I scanned the crowd for her and found her doing
khus-phus
with my mother in a corner. As I reached the secretive duo, my mausi pulled me close to her heaving bosom and whispered, ‘If you are not interested in Deep,
can I check him out for your cousin sisters?’

Pinki, Chinki and Dinki, my mausi’s
sarvgun-sampan
heir production factories, I mean daughters, stood nearby, ogling at Deep with XXX-rated glasses.

I allowed myself a fleeting look in Deep’s direction. He was sitting on a chair, next to the
mehendiwalla
s. Rohan’s American friends were crowding around, getting the Indian traditional henna tattooed on their hands, while Deep was applying mehendi on a little girl’s hand, who possibly couldn’t catch the attention of the mehendiwalla as he was busy minting dollars. Another little princess with long, curly hair, sucking her thumb, was holding on to Deep’s sleeves, waiting for her chance. Surrounded by cute, adorable girls, Deep looked so charming, so utterly irresistible. I stared harder at him absorbing every detail of his face and then closed my eyes to conjure up his Gorilla image that Dad had emailed to me a year ago. I couldn’t and I knew why. Rather than the usual case of finding a guy attractive and hence falling in love, a reverse phenomenon had occurred. Deep had become attractive because of love. I knew now that there was no point in endlessly debating if Deep was the one for me. It was more important that I loved him enough today to commit to him forever.

If you are wondering how, in a short span of thirty minutes, it suddenly dawned on me that Deep was my powdered milk sachet, I will let you in on a big secret about women’s psychology that I have uncovered. Women love limited time offers and flash sales not because it helps them save money. In fact, they always end up spending more in sales than otherwise. Women love the excitement and frenzy of flash sales because things become unavailable very quickly and women love to long for things they can’t have. So, the realization that Deep would soon become unavailable if left unclaimed provided the missing impetus, adding fuel to my already smouldering fire. But what was I to do now? I couldn’t possibly
just walk up to him and tell him that I was in love with him. I had practically tried twice and even successfully rejecting him once. He would think I was a shopaholic who can’t help buying a product from the shop only to return it the next day, or even worse, that I was like my mom who was pleading to a full-time maid she had chucked out last month to join back.

I couldn’t seek Di’s advice for she was nestled cosily in Champ’s arms, ready to take off for her long overdue honeymoon immediately after the reception. I saw Neha was still busy on the international call with her beau. I rushed to the food stalls and was relieved to find Sanjeev and MD at the
jalebi-rabri
counter.

‘
Jab kisi ko sachhe dil se chaho to saari kayenat tumhe usse milane mein lag jaati hai
,’ reassured MD, addressing my quandary.

I gave her a sceptical ‘real life is not the same as reel life’ look.

‘Kayenat is not some Bollywood bullshit. Its quantum physics,’ she immediately retorted. ‘Once we have made it clear what we strongly desire, then the conscious energies of the universe (quantum physics) line up actual events and encouragements to lead us to what we have asked for,’ she elaborated. ‘But God only helps who helps themselves,’ she parroted the age-old saying.