3 A Messy Affair
A Messy Affair
A loud noise woke me , and I almost fell off the bed. Karan’s bed. When I turned my head, I found him staring at me in his morning daze, as if he was trying to figure out who I was and how I’d gotten there.
‘Wake up, you fool.’ A man’s voice came from outside the room, followed by a few thumps on the door.
Karan clutched his head and rubbed his eyes.
‘What happened last night?’ he asked me, groaning.
‘Um, you passed out,’ I said, getting on all fours to retrieve my heels from under his bed. ‘And I guess I did too.’
He groaned again, and I heard him fall backwards onto his pillow.
The thumping on the door continued. ‘You’re going to make us late!’
Okay, so this was going to be awkward. It looked like this guy’s brother would witness my walk of shame without knowing that there wasn’t much to be ashamed about.
‘What time is it?’ Karan asked.
I checked my phone. 10:00 a.m. And five missed calls from home. Shit .
Mom would’ve wanted me at home and freshly bathed by now. I did a mental calculation of my ETA – it would take me at least fifty minutes from the South Delhi hub of Hauz Khas, where Karan’s apartment was, to the foreign lands of Noida, where I lived.
The Delhi NCR region included various districts like Faridabad, Gurgaon, Noida and Sonepat, but somehow, the least liked area was the place I called home. In school, kids often teased me by saying only gundas lived on the other side of the Yamuna, Jamuna paar.
My phone rang again, reminding me that I needed to get out of here right now. ASAP. Yesterday.
As I was popping up from the floor, heels in hand, the door to Karan’s room was thrown open.
‘Karan, wake the hell—’
The man in front of us stopped mid-yell when his eyes found me. He took one look at me in my creased dress and frizzy hair and whipped his head in his brother’s direction.
‘Seriously, man?’ he demanded, pointing a rude finger at me.
I yanked my bag off the bed and threw it around my shoulders, eagerly waiting for my cue to leave. Karan, however, seemed to be in no such hurry. He ignored his brother (and me) and stretched his gorgeous body lazily.
His brother picked up something tiny and black from the wooden cabinet next to the door and threw it at him.
‘Hey!’ he shouted, ‘Don’t touch my action figures.’
The tiny black thing, I realised, was a miniature Batman.
‘When the hell are you going to grow up?’ his brother asked, his annoyance growing.
He couldn’t have been that much older, but it looked like he had assumed the role of a parent.
There was definitely some resemblance between the two brothers, especially in their general build and height, but I was in too much of a hurry to stay and observe.
Karan, I realised, wasn’t going to make this easier for me. I’d have to take the emergency exit.
I kept my eyes on the floor as I made my way towards the door, and the stranger who was blocking it.
‘Ananya, you can stay for breakfast if you like,’ Karan said just as I was about to slip outside.
I saw the look his brother threw at him. Homicidal.
Shuffling my feet to face him, I waved him off, saying, ‘Nah, I’ve got a thing.’
By a ‘thing’, I meant an arranged marriage meeting.
He walked over to me, pulling a light green T-shirt over his head. I caught myself yearning to say a proper goodbye to his abs, which had now disappeared under the fabric. Not that I’d ever gotten to say hello.
What a shame.
‘All right, I’ll walk you out,’ he said, touching my shoulder.
I sighed internally. Yes, please.
Except Karan’s brother didn’t move from the doorway. I was suddenly very aware of how tiny I must’ve looked, sandwiched between two freakishly tall men. Instead of throwing another insult at Karan, his brother directed his attention to me. I found myself squirming under his frowning gaze.
‘What’d you say your name was again?’ he asked, furrowing his brows together.
Now that I was looking at him up closely, I could see that his features were softer than Karan’s. His nose wasn’t as long and his jawline was less in-your-face. His eyes were the lightest shade of brown, sheltered under thick, dark eyebrows.
‘Ananya,’ I said, wondering why on Earth he had developed an interest in me at this inopportune moment.
As soon as I said that, he dug his hand into his denims and started looking for something on his phone.
‘What the fuck are you doing, Aadar? Move,’ Karan said, and I was grateful for the newfound urgency in his voice.
But Aadar didn’t seem to have heard him. His eyes went wide as he finished studying something on his screen.
‘Dude, quit being a creep.’ Karan went past me and smacked his brother on his chest.
Instead of hitting him back, Aadar held up his phone to Karan, whose expression changed when he saw whatever was on there. A few seconds later, he burst out laughing.
‘What the hell is happening?’ I demanded from the two men standing in front of me – one bent over laughing and the other looking like someone had punched him in the balls.
When neither of them responded to me, I snatched the phone from Karan. There, smiling behind a rangoli, was my face. It was the photo from Garima’s Diwali party.
‘Oh my God,’ I said, feeling the blood rush to my face.
No way. No fucking way.
I tried to remember what my parents had told me about the guy I’d be meeting today.
Marketing guy. Seven-figure salary. Looked like a movie star.
None of these things were great identifiers.
Apart from the movie star bit … which I was on the fence about.
Aadar was a good-looking guy, but he was not his brother.
I mean, he could’ve been a movie star, although probably not in Bollywood.
Just how is this relevant, Annie? I gave myself a mental kick. Focus.
Wait, Mom had used the family surname at some point.
And then, an image from last night flooded my brain. The nameplate outside their apartment – Chauhans.
I had never understood why food was so important in arranged marriage setups.
I’d always seen it in movies – heaps and heaps of savoury snacks, pakwans and mouth-watering desserts were laid out in front of the other party.
And yet, no one ever ate anything. It felt too strange to enjoy dhoklas with smiling strangers who were no doubt judging everything about you and your entire home with every bite.
But today, as I found myself in the single most awkward situation of my entire life, I understood.
‘Please try the ladoos, Mrs Chauhan. We got them specially from Sadar Bazaar,’ my mom said, breaking the silence with the aid of yet another food item.
Mrs Chauhan, who was wearing a blue and gold silk sari with intricate zari work, reluctantly accepted the dessert plate that was handed to her.
My mom, too, was dressed in a sari, even though she hated wearing them.
Even at weddings, she almost always wore an anarkali suit.
But today was a special occasion, she’d explained. Her daughter was now a woman.
‘You said that when I got my period, like, twelve years ago,’ I’d argued.
She had shushed me, pinched my chin as an expression of her maternal love and asked me to put on the light pink angrakha suit she had picked out for the day.
I’d happily obliged, humming as I took the pain to straighten my wavy hair.
Mom had been suspicious about my chirpiness, but she didn’t say anything.
In a way, I’d realised on my way back from Karan’s place, this had worked out really well for me. Aadar, my to-be suitor, had practically thrown me out of the house when I had joined Karan’s laughter riot. There was no way he would show up to propose a rishta the same afternoon.
And yet, here he was, sitting in front of me on my coffee-brown leather couch.
Dressed in a dark-grey blazer over a white T-shirt and black trousers, he looked nothing like the dude from this morning.
His dad sat on his right, wearing an off-white kurta almost identical to the one my father was wearing.
To my horror, Karan had also shown up. He was the most relaxed person in the room, and I saw him stifling a laugh on more than one uncomfortable occasion.
He clearly harboured no leftover guilt about costing his brother a match.
I didn’t blame him. I envied him. What I wouldn’t have given to be in his position instead of sitting here in clothes that itched me and jewellery that didn’t belong to me.
‘So tell us something about your work, Aadar?’ My dad took the reins in his hands after my mom nudged him to break the silence.
The tension in the living room eased a little as Aadar began talking about his role as a marketing manager at a popular liquor brand. I was only half-listening, busy as I was trying to think of how to get out of this situation quickly.
‘Does that mean you can get us free alcohol?’ Dad laughed at his own dad joke, and the others joined in.
Feeling some of the intensity drain from my shoulders, I got up from the sofa to place my glass of water on the table.
Aadar copied my movement, and our eyes locked as we hung there for a moment, holding on to our glasses.
The room went silent. I had no doubt that everyone, or at least our parents, was holding their breath, mistaking this little moment for the first sign of attraction.
‘Beta, why don’t you and Aadar talk in private? Get to know each other a little?’ his mom asked me, placing a hand on my shoulder as I resumed my place next to her.
The adults, minus Karan, nodded in unison. He was the only person less than pleased with this idea. His entertainment was leaving, and he’d have to endure the rest of this afternoon by himself. I led Aadar out of our three-bedroom apartment and into the little garden my mother so dearly loved.