A Perfect Mismatch (3 page)

Zara cut the call with a satisfaction that bordered on
sheer glee. On that triumphant note, sleep claimed her quickly for the night.

Armaan could not figure out whether he ought to be happy that she had refused the proposal or irked that she had turned it down with such acidic disdain. Anger won over relief. Zara had called him arrogant when she was nothing but!

What had she called him? A gaseous dirigible! A reluctant smile lit those melting dark brown eyes. Well, he had to hand it to her, she was never short of a witty retort. However, it did irk him that it was always aimed at him, sometimes even unfairly. He did not believe he deserved her contempt. Every time he had a conversation with her, it ended in barbed comments and he wondered why it had to be that way.

Armaan set his palette, squeezed out the various colours he needed and began to work at the background. Unfortunately, he was really short of time and would have to get the project done without any more delay. Yesterday’s incident in the garden had only helped in cementing his dislike for the woman. The war of wills after that with his mother had only aggravated the problem. He worked steadily through the afternoon and was undisturbed until Aparna came in with large mugs of coffee and sat down on a stool.

She looked around the studio and found several finished nudes by the corner. “Mom is rather upset after yesterday’s argument.”

“There was no need for an argument. She’ll get over it.” The frown was back on his brow as he applied a thick
layer of impasto on the canvas. The rich, wet purple paint gleamed in the afternoon sunshine that slanted through the windows. Steadily, he merged a shade of cobalt blue and lead white and the sky burst into life above the emerald landscape.

Aparna was silent for a while, glumly watching him apply another layer of paint with a palette knife. Armaan had always been reserved. They hardly spoke about their parents’ divorce but she knew that he had been more affected by it as a child.

“You are unusually quiet?” Armaan said without looking at her. “Still thinking about the will?”

“Yeah,” Aparna was not surprised. Her brother always knew what she was thinking. It was sad that he had never wanted to find love, though there was a string of girlfriends who were forgotten promptly like daily newspaper.

“You know, you should consider going back home,” he said, quietly wiping the paint from his hands.

“Why? For the money? How am I different from you? And I thought you didn’t believe in marriage!” Aparna asked scathingly.

“Not everyone is cut out for marriage. But you have to agree that you and Shiva had something real. He has come to take you home twice. He still cares. If you have something good going for you, why spoil it? You might regret it later, especially when the kids grow up.” He put down his brushes and packed up his things as the natural light from the overhead glass ceiling began to diminish in his studio.

Aparna was quiet, thinking about what Armaan had said.

Brother and sister sat beside each other, sipping coffee, each deep in their own thoughts.

“And you?” she asked.

He looked at her with wicked brown eyes and said, “I shall paint till death takes me away, avoiding all species of cacti as long as I live!”

They laughed together at that. The door opened with a swish as the cook came running in, “
Madamji faint ho gayi
!”

Armaan was the first to race ahead, tearing through the door followed by Aparna. They dashed into the house to find the housekeeping staff fanning Vini as she lay on the floor, her face deathly pale.

“Mom, this is blackmail!” He did not want to sound callous but he was being backed into a corner. He bit down on an angry retort, turning to stare out of the sealed window of the ward. He did not want to see how ill his mother looked and kept his eyes focused on the distant tops of the buildings and the hot blazing sun outside the hospital.

A week had passed since Vini had suffered the stroke and she was still under medical care. She had been flitting in and out of consciousness ever since and the doctors had forbidden turbulent emotional reactions.

However, the first thing that she said to her son after she regained a bit of strength was that he should plan for a wedding as soon as possible.

If Armaan had not known how ill his mother really was, it would have appeared like a staged melodrama. He was genuinely concerned by how weak she looked.

“Armaan,” she spoke, resting her head weakly on the raised pillow. “Come and sit with me.” He could hardly avoid such a gentle plea and sat down stiffly.

“I cannot force you to do this. It is a request. I just want to see you happy before I die!”

“Mom! You are not going to die!” he drawled casually. But he was deeply worried by the thought. “What makes you think I would be happier than I am now? And, why the insistence on this particular girl?”

“Zara is very different from the way you perceive her. She understands the value of relationships.” Armaan scowled down at her thinking that his mother was probably so desperate that she was imagining things. Vini caught his hand. He clasped it warmly, the gesture completely in contrast with his scowl.

“I know what loneliness means. Things are never perfect. But we must trust. Don’t base your life on your parents’ experiences. You have a right to be happy and loved. Why do you deny yourself that? I have thought long and hard about it. Zara is the best choice for you. No other woman can stand up to you anyway!” Vini smiled, closing her eyes briefly.

Armaan swallowed an angry retort. “You know that she has refused once!”

“Zara will say yes, if
you
do!”

“We can hardly see eye to eye without trying to kill each other!” He sighed deeply changing the topic, “Let’s go home, Mom. The doctor has signed the discharge papers. Stop thinking so much! It is not doing you any good. And
stop worrying about me! My happiness does not depend on my marital status!”

The topic was raised many times after Vini’s return from the hospital and the issue became such a sore one that it ignited the atmosphere with hard recriminations.

The situation deteriorated and matters came to a head when a couple of days later Vini had a relapse. Armaan was furious, blaming himself for the way he had handled it. He spent the night at the hospital, stewing his brains for a solution. He could never forgive himself if he became the cause for her illness. Slowly he came to the toughest decision of his life as Vini slept under sedation.

The next morning when he went in to see his mother, Armaan knew that he was going to curse himself for what he was about to do. But that did not diminish the relief he felt when he gave his mother the news about his change in decision. Seeing her face wreathe in a smile he hadn’t seen in years was worth it, he thought with finality.

“You will not regret it, Armaan.” His mother hugged him.

“We will see.” He replied quietly.

It did not matter in the least who his chosen bride would be as long as his mother was safe and healthy, thought Armaan, as he sat in his studio later that day brooding. He looked at the bare drawing board and cursed his luck.

Zara! He shut his eyes at the thought. He might as well wed a ten-ton truck for all he cared, he thought with grim humour. Nothing reduced the chaos in his mind. His mother had for some reason decided that it would be Zara. What other choice did he have? He didn’t know a woman whom he could tolerate for more than a day. A bunch of vapid, shallow faces arose in his mind and he shook his head in horror.

Armaan couldn’t afford to have someone
he
liked either. He could do without that complication. There was always the danger of his bride falling in love with him! It was unthinkable! His plan would work only if both the parties
were happy about the arrangement. It had to be someone who disliked him for his plan to work.

In fact, now that he had thought this through, Zara would be the perfect bride for him! She loathed him and hardly ever looked at him without that contemptuous look in her grey eyes. Funny, that in a time of crisis like this he should remember the colour of those fantastic eyes! He shook himself free of the distraction and thrashed his plan out for loopholes. After an hour, he was sure of what he wanted to do.

Armaan picked up the phone and dialed Zara’s number a second time that fortnight. This time his tone was painstakingly polite.

Zara was in absolute denial. The phone call from Armaan had been a complete shock, hitting her like a bolt of lightning! But it was even worse to have Sudha call her twice to berate her for her apparent lack of compassion and arrogance. The argument had turned ugly, ending in tears and fireworks, with her aunt claiming that she had expected Zara to be a little more dutiful. It was clearly a matter of ego for Sudha Seth, who did not want to be seen as a selfish woman, appeasing her own daughter Bani’s greedy wishes. To hurt an influential friend’s sentiments in the process was unthinkable, far more important than any genuine concern for Zara.

Strangely, Zara empathized with her aunt’s predicament. She could simply walk away from it all. But she could not! Two things became pivotal in her final decision. One, that her aunt was right in reminding her rather pointedly that
Zara was indeed lucky to have had a good life as a child. After her mother’s premature death, her aunt had taken the two-year-old Zara under her care only at the insistence of Zara’s ailing grandfather. Initially, she had presumed that her aunt was her mother. But it was drummed into her head with subtle persistence that her mother was dead and that she was illegitimate. In those innocent years, she had not understood the meaning of the word and had only craved for the same affection and attention that her cousin Bani had received from Zara’s aunt.

When Zara found that it was not forthcoming, she had receded into a shell, thicker than an armour, to defend herself from her adoptive family and the world outside. Her own stubborn resistance and her aunt’s lack of affection, combined with Bani’s selfishness had turned her into a brooding, unhappy child. Taking pity on her, Ajay Seth, her aunt’s husband had sent her off to a boarding school in Shimla.

The burden of obligation had grown heavier as the years had passed and this seemed like the perfect opportunity to pay her aunt back for all that she had done.

The second reason was a strange one, which she need not have considered. But she somehow found it difficult to ignore the ramifications that appeared vital to the whole issue.

Her antagonism towards Armaan stemmed from his callous attitude towards one and all. For the first time however, she instinctively felt that he was not untouched by his mother’s condition. In the short, very polite and stilted conversation, he had clearly stated the reason for
his decision to bend to his mother’s will. He was doing this because he did not want to see Vini suffer. Somehow, it had lodged a tiny speck of respect in her heart for the man and Zara had decided to grant him his request for a meeting, rather more willingly than she would have otherwise done.

It was decided that Zara would meet Armaan for dinner at a restaurant of her choice. Zara was utterly confused about the terms and conditions, for what he politely referred to as an arrangement. Armaan had sounded courteous, chillingly so, and completely fake as she concluded later. If it had not been for his mother, he had emphasized, he would never have called her.

In theory it sounded lofty and idealistic, but to put it into practice was another matter altogether. How was she supposed to behave with him, now that he had made the first move to be courteous? She decided to play by the same rules and pulled out the most severely formal outfit in her wardrobe.

Armaan stepped out of his gleaming Mercedes, at the entrance of the restaurant Zara had chosen. He wondered if this was the worst day of his life. No, the worst day was yet to come. It would most certainly be the day of the damned wedding! He was having a hard time trying to quell the desire to bolt. The idea of marriage was not in his wildest plans for himself. He could not imagine himself playing husband to any woman, least of all to Zara.

His phone rang. Zara was already waiting for him inside. He grimaced and stepped into the dimly lit romantic setting to see her wave at him from a corner table.

Armaan could hardly see her in the black thing she wore. Clearly, the woman had a penchant for wearing gloomy drapery that covered her from the neck down. He could not ascertain its origin but it looked like a cross between a shroud and a long, loose dress. He wondered what she looked like beneath those voluminous folds of fabric and mentally kicked himself! What did it matter? The terms and conditions he was about to set for her did not include looking beneath the unflattering layers of her dress! In all probability, she was as large as a house and one block of ice from head to toe. Perfect reason for him to put his plan into action!

He looked at her and felt his eyes ensnared by that direct gaze. In the semi-dark, mood lighting, she looked like a witch with deep grey eyes.

“Nice place,” Armaan said to start a conversation hoping that it would not go wrong.

Zara shrugged, nodding politely, “It is near my house.” Her voice was huskier than usual. He noted the difference in tone. There was a challenge there. However, it was curbed as was the cold light in her shimmering eyes.

“I would like to thank you first, for accepting my proposal at such a short notice.” He kept his tone just as neutral and business-like as hers.

“Let’s discuss the terms and condition before I agree to this, shall we?” Zara said, leaning back on her chair.

It was of course a good idea to discuss it upfront and Armaan cleared his throat when Zara interrupted again. “I won’t be sleeping with you … and that is my only condition.”

He stared at her as if she had thrown icy water on him. Then anger seized him in the guts at the insult. She had the gall to throw at him bluntly what … what he had wanted to tell her!

Well, it was still an insult and fury goaded him to say with a sizzling bite, “That is the first of my terms and conditions. You need not worry about that highly unlikely possibility, considering the state of affairs between us. Also, we would be hardly meeting each other in this arrangement.”

“And how do you propose to achieve that when we have to live under the same roof with your family?” Zara sat back, locking her fingers together on the table.

He appeared as if he owned the place, looking every inch the powerful male that he was. His casual corded trousers and pristine cream shirt made him look like a model from the pages of a glossy magazine. But no model could have his charisma, a searing quality that quickened her heartbeat. If she stretched her fingers an inch, she could touch the masculine hand drumming impatiently on the table. She curled her fingers in. His hair was wildly curly and longer at the nape which now was neatly tied up to give him that usual edgy appearance that made her stomach feel hollow. She had felt this way around him for as long as she could remember.

She knew that beneath the glossy surface he was a stubborn, arrogant man, who was way beyond her reach. Anger was better than any other vulnerable display of emotion. A man like Armaan wouldn’t look twice at her
even if she wanted him to … which of course she didn’t, she told herself firmly.

Armaan was caught unawares by the flitting emotions in her eyes. There was fire in them and the silvery orbs were almost black unless you saw the reflection of the chandeliers above in their shining depths. An undercurrent in the atmosphere enveloped them. Suddenly he wanted to know what she was thinking … really thinking … especially when she was not angry. How would it sound if she laughed gaily. He had never heard her laugh. Always a stilted formal smile … but never a laugh of pure delight.

He wanted to kick himself when he realized that his train of thought had taken him miles away. He focused back on the subject of discussion. He locked his vision with hers for seconds before leaning forward to make his point. “I intend to shift to my apartment that has been lying locked up for some months; it has several spare bedrooms and a studio on the terrace. That would keep us out of each other’s hair and certainly keep things under wraps as I intend to. We will have to make an excuse to shift base after a few weeks. Mom should not know of this arrangement at any cost, do you understand?” It was a warning and they both understood it well.

Zara nodded. She would never be the one to hurt the old woman. Vini was the only one with positive reasons for this marriage.

“The next condition is that this marriage would be terminated as soon as six months are over. By then Mom would surely understand that it was a mistake and she would give up hope for a happy married life for me. You
will be rewarded with a handsome alimony, which you certainly deserve. After that we needn’t see each other at all.”

Zara thought deeply for a while, cringing at the coldblooded points that he had put in front of her. She could back out now if she wanted. But her aunt’s taunting words caught at her principles. She had a different idea about marriage. This arrangement made her shrivel up inside. But it seemed to be the only way she could wipe away the feelings of inadequacy that her aunt’s words had aroused in her all her life. Zara would never have to face her with a bowed head knowing that her life was only a result of her aunt’s charity.

“Why me?” Zara asked quietly, never taking her eyes off him. “Why not Bani? You have known her all your life.”

“For some reason, Mom is convinced that you are perfect marriage material. I have my reservations on the subject.”

Armaan saw the angry fire spark brighter in those eyes again. He continued unperturbed “For me you are the perfect candidate because we don’t really like each other!”

Zara tried not to wince.

Armaan continued, “I don’t think this arrangement would succeed if I married someone I liked and vice versa. That would defeat the purpose, as I have no intention of staying married at all. Marriage is an outdated institution and is used as a smokescreen by most people to satisfy their needs be it physical, emotional or materialistic. I am
not interested in it and do not intent to pander to the needs of another human being. I cannot reciprocate the same emotions if a woman foolishly falls in love with me in the process. The damage caused would be irreparable and that I cannot allow! You seem sensible.”

“Finally, I agree with you on something. You are right. I am sensible and I do dislike you. It is kind of you to think only of your mother and sacrifice your noteworthy principles for her!” She shrugged, smiling coldly.

“Are you being contemptuous when you seem to want the same from me?”

“I don’t want anything from you. Not even your generous offer of a much-touted alimony.” She seemed to look within for a few moments and then said, “I want to take off the burden of obligation towards my aunt. I am ready to marry you because she wants to wash her hands off me as soon as possible. I have nothing against her,” she shook her head. “At least after this I might be allowed to lead an independent life without being berated for being a burden on her.”

In a flash Armaan saw a fragile vulnerability suddenly shorn of all anger. Maybe he was imagining things! He wanted to probe further against his will but curbed the urge. It wasn’t his business anyway. And knowing her, he felt that she would probably shut him out. They were both silent for a while and then Armaan said in a matter-of-fact manner, “We might as well order something to eat.”

They ate in silence for the next half an hour. After the meal, they discussed the dates to be set for the engagement and the wedding according to the convenience of their
official calendars. They sat consulting their schedules as if it were nothing more than a dentist’s appointment. Zara felt a mixture of sadness and anger at the lack of emotional involvement in the whole process. What should have been the most important day of her life did not seem any better than an auditors’ seminar, she reflected cynically. At least he seemed courteous enough to include her need for preparation for the day.

Armaan insisted that the wedding should commence before the month was over. Zara raised her eyebrows at such inordinate haste. He replied rather moodily, that it is what his mother wished for. In the end, Zara agreed that there was no use delaying the event. She might as well get it over with as soon as possible and get on with her life.

“Well, that’s it then. I will discuss and finalize everything and inform you as soon as possible. Call me if there is any change in the plans,” he said, signing the bill as the waiter brought it over.

They rose from the table together and Armaan could not help but notice that she barely came up to his shoulders. For a moment he stood and watched her through hooded eyes as she picked up her handbag. He couldn’t put a finger on what it was that arrested his attention every time they met. There was an unconscious grace and dignity in her movements. The tilt of her head was pure haughtiness as she sailed ahead of him towards the door.