A Perfect Mismatch (2 page)

“Mom, I really don’t have the time or the patience for
this.” Armaan shuffled the papers, gulping down the last few sips of tea hurriedly.

“Don’t you want to know who it is?”

“N-O!” He cut in a tad bit harsher than he intended.

“I had a chat with Sudha yesterday,” continued his mother calmly.

Aparna squealed in excitement. “Bani? Not a bad idea at all!”

“A very bad idea!” Armaan cut in with a foreboding edge. “I told you I am not interested. The least you could have done is ask me before venturing into something that is not going to happen.”

“It is not Bani! I would not want to see my son married to a witless, selfish, shallow woman. I’d rather you remain single,” Vini spoke emphatically.

“Good! That’s settled,” said Armaan relieved. He agreed wholeheartedly with his mother’s description of Bani.

“She is not that bad! At least bhai has known her since we were kids,” Aparna said cheerily.

“I was talking about Zara,” Vini said quietly.

There was a sputter and a wheeze as Aparna choked on her tea while Armaan simply sat stumped in disbelief.

“I know that this is a surprise.” Vini saw her children stare at her as if she had lost her mind.

“A surprise?” Armaan exploded, “Mom, what were you thinking? Were you
thinking
at all?”

Aparna was less dignified as she burst out laughing and coughing together. “Mom, the last time I saw her she was dressed like a brinjal or was it a tent? I mean any of
bhai’s
silly, nude models would be more suitable.” She chortled
with mirth again before being suitably tamed by a lancing glare from her brother who could not see the humour in this punishing moment of trial!

“You are right, she has no dressing sense but she has a compassionate heart!” said Vini.

“Ohhhh Mom!” The siblings chorused in unison.

Taking a deep breath Armaan said with a tortured air, “She is just about as compassionate as a poisonous weed and has the temperament of a cactus!”

Aparna burst into gales of laughter.

“This discussion is over as far as I am concerned.” He was about to rise from the chair.

“Sit down, Armaan!”

Even though it was uttered softly, Vini’s voice cut through the room like a whip. Mother and son glared at each other.

It took a silent simmering pause for them to start the conversation again. “I don’t know why you disapprove of Zara. I have never understood your animosity towards her even when you were children. Yes, she is illegitimate. That’s not her fault. Yes, she is outwardly temperamental and her dressing sense needs work. But haven’t I taught you to overlook such superficial flaws? Zara is intelligent and ambitious and has done very well for herself professionally.”

Armaan was drumming his fingers on the table restlessly.

Vini continued quietly, “Zara has an inner strength and resilience … and wisdom that many women of her age lack. Don’t let that hard exterior cloud your judgment.”

“Are you sure we are talking about the same person? Armaan was derisive.

“Sometimes I see too many similarities between you!” Vini smiled indulgently at her son. “Zara is the kind of person who reveals true grit and loyalty when the going gets tough. Isn’t that what we all look for in a marriage … someone to trust in the long run?”

“I don’t think …” Armaan began, only to be cut short by his mother.

“There is another thing …” She paused to retrieve an envelope from the side table and read from it. “After your father’s death last month I was contacted by his lawyer yesterday concerning his will. There has been a scramble among the relatives, for the immense wealth he has left behind.”

Armaan grew exasperated. He was not interested in whatever his dead father had to say, having dismissed him from even the periphery of his conscience a long time ago.

Vini continued, “He left a lot of money for his children, grandchildren and spouses from both his marriages. He has bequeathed several crores worth of land, property and business ventures to various family members.”

“So?” Armaan sat back with a bored air. His father had always been given to playing God!

“So, your father has set the condition that Aparna will get her share if she goes back to her husband and Armaan should be married within a stipulated period of time, which is exactly two months from the opening of the will, failing which, all the money would be transferred to a charitable
fund. The trustees of that fund are, as you can guess, his sons from his second marriage and his wife’s relatives. You can draw the conclusion from that as to where the money would disappear if not claimed at the right time.”

“And you want me married for that money?” Armaan was incredulous. He gave in to the urge to chuckle. It was a hard, cynical, joyless sound.

For once Aparna was silent. Her own marriage had soured and she had not been able to clear the misunderstandings with her husband. In a moment of hurt pride, she had walked out on him and the separation had lengthened into two years.

“Whatever you might think about your father, he did love you both and wanted you to be happy. Last year when I visited him at the hospital, he begged for my forgiveness. He did provide for your education. I never took a penny from him after we separated but he insisted on being a part of your life despite your obvious rejection. He did not abandon you, contrary to what you may believe.”

“Are you telling me that money is more important to a child than a parent’s time, affection and loyalty?” Armaan asked, with a black frown.

“All I am saying is that he felt that he had made several mistakes. He did not want you to be so embittered as to lead a solitary life. He knew that you had cut him away but did not want you to be cynical about marriage! He wanted Aparna to be happy and not make the same mistakes he did.”

The siblings stared at her in silence. Vini spoke more emphatically this time. “You are fortunate that you will
not need that money. You are both successful and wealthy enough. His legacy is rightfully yours because you deserve it, not because you need it!”

Vini felt breathless. Her chest was beginning to ache. Armaan knew that she had been neglecting her health of late.

After a long silence Armaan said evenly, “Fix up that appointment with the doctor for tomorrow.” As he turned to leave, his mother probed softly, “What about Zara?”

His eyes were uncompromising when he spoke, “You are right Mom, I don’t need my father’s money. I don’t need a wife either. I have my reservations about both.”

With that, Armaan strode firmly out of the door without seeing his mother’s face, which was as determined as his own countenance.

A similar scene was unraveling in the Seth household albeit with more drama than a tearjerker matinee. Sudha had just revealed Vini’s proposal and the reactions from both her niece Zara and her daughter Bani were most dramatic.

“Mom! It cannot be true! Armaan cannot do this to me!” shrieked Bani, in tears.

Zara sat stunned. She would have laughed outright if it had not been for the seriousness of the matter. The sight of Bani’s hysterical reaction did bring a twitch to her lips though.

“How dare you laugh?” Bani accused.

“I am not laughing! I don’t think there is any need for hysterics. I am not going to accept. You can have him for all I care. You deserve each other,” she said sweetly.

“Why you arrogant bas …”

“Careful about what you say, Bani.” A flinty glance from Zara stopped Bani mid-word.

“How dare you threaten me? You aren’t worthy of …”

“I am worth two of his kind!”

Her aunt intervened quickly. “Look, Zara! Even if the situation is not very pleasant, Vini is my best friend and I cannot turn her down.”

“Mom, how can you be on her side?” Bani wailed pitifully.

Sudha ignored her daughter. “I had expected Vini to consider Bani. Why she should choose you, I have no idea. But you must think about this. In spite of knowing everything about you, she is ready to accept you,” sighed her aunt with a self-righteousness that brought an angry glint in Zara’s eyes.

“My answer is still negative,” Zara replied stonily. “Please thank her on my behalf. I am sure she will understand.” Then after a pause, she continued. “I will go back home today. Thank you
masi
, for a most entertaining weekend.”

She could still hear the argument between her aunt and cousin as she rushed out of the gates. As the day progressed at her workplace, a strange contradictory mixture of emotions assaulted her senses.

Armaan!

Did Armaan know about his mother’s plans? Or was it his? A hysterical laugh bubbled up as she discarded the unbelievable idea. He had not spared her a second glance
since he had known her. Naturally, with her unparalleled lack of beauty and grace, she could not even hope for crumbs from the likes of him.

For a fleeting second, Zara imagined herself as his bride. It would be a match made in hell. Her mood soured. She was not desperate enough to marry a heartless man. He was everything that a woman could want: handsome, talented, wealthy and successful. However, she thought otherwise. She could not marry a man who did not have warmth or kindness. For all his talent and perfection, she did not care for what Armaan had to offer her.

So what if she wanted … felt …
Zara sucked in a thick breath. No! She would not dwell on unnecessary thoughts. Yes, there was a time when she had thought foolishly that Armaan might notice her. The infatuation had swept her away in her teenage years when they had met after a long gap.

But Armaan had hardly glanced at her, always the centre of attention, Bani hanging like an appendage by his side. Six years elder to her, he had been the epitome of masculine beauty and her college years were spent fantasizing about him. Afraid that she would be ridiculed, she had hidden away her secret.

They had come face to face, bumping into each other at one of the family gatherings and she had spilled her orange juice on his expensive suit. Zara had stuttered unheeded apologies, hopelessly trying to help clear the mess. He had simply drawled with derision that she was blind, before racing upstairs to change.

And Zara had to admit later that it was true. She had been blind to the arrogant, callous way he brushed everyone aside.

They had met several times after that, only to clash without rhyme or reason. After the first few episodes, Zara had developed an iron armour to his lethal charms, at times striking swiftly with a caustic rebuttal before he could react. It became so unbearable that they avoided each other whenever they could and acknowledged each other’s presence, with stiff politeness, only when there was no choice.

It was ironical that she had refused his proposal without even considering its significance. But she was no more an innocent girl with starry dreams. She hoped to find love and have a family some day. Armaan was only a fantasy of her youth, which she had stashed away, just like an old postcard.

A text from her best friend, Sumana, reminded her of their coffee date in the evening. She felt relieved that her day would not stay depressing, the way it had started. Zara had a few friends she liked to go out with, although she socialized rarely. Her childhood friends from the boarding school were special, doubling as family. Sharing the dorm with the other girls had taught her independence and responsibility. Some of them moved to different spheres of life, even out of the country. Zara missed a couple of them at times and kept in touch with them.

She had never been the party-going type so most of the time she ended up declining the offers of dating. Not that there were many coming her way, she thought dismally. For
her, relationships were serious business and she could not jump in and out of them, as some of her more enterprising colleagues.

In the evening, Zara stopped for coffee with Sumana and Pari who were also her colleagues. Once, Zara had rescued Sumana from a disastrous work-related issue that could have jeopardized both their careers. Since then Sumana trusted her implicitly. They were Zara’s closest friends. They ran to her in times of relationship troubles, referring to her as the ‘wise woman’. She loved them in her own quiet way, sharing a bit of her life with them. But today Zara couldn’t say a word about the events of the previous day or the revelation of this morning. She doubted they would call her wise ever again, if she told them about the proposal she had defiantly refused!

It was good though to laugh as they discussed the next project they were working on, before Pari regaled them with jokes about her ex-boyfriend.

Back in her own apartment, Zara instantly began to relax. She was able to get into bed by ten after an oil massage to her long lustrous hair and a much deserved shower. Zara had dozed off into a pleasant state of oblivion when her phone rang. She woke up, jolted out of her hard-earned peace when she recognized the deep male voice in her ear.

“Zara?”

Armaan! “Yes?” She wished he had not called her when she was half-asleep and confused, with her defenses down!

“I wanted to discuss a serious matter with you if it is
alright.” Armaan sounded curt as usual which didn’t go down too well with her in the sleepy state she was in.

“Armaan, did you not check the time before calling? It is … uh …” she blinked, focused on the clock and said sternly, “… past twelve! Decent, hard working folks sleep by this time you know!”

“It was important, so I had to call. Calling you at work seemed rather rude,” he replied coolly.

“How kind of you! What is this urgent thing?” Zara asked, clinging to her wits that were fast slipping away.

“You heard about Mom’s proposal? I just wanted to clarify that you should not harbour any such hopes. It was not my idea and I am least interested in such a foolhardy, meaningless alliance,” said Armaan in a matter of fact tone.

It galled her to think that he had the temerity to believe that she would be waiting to tie the knot with him! Who did he think he was? How dare he presume that she wasn’t good enough for him!

Zara seethed and stewed with the perfect words to upbraid him on the subject but calmed down in time to answer with a sweet acid remark, “You know, I
might
have accepted, if it weren’t for your pompous attitude. I refused the proposal this morning. But before you gallop off on that royal steed of yours, please tone down that attitude, will you? You are beginning to sound like a gaseous dirigible. One small prick might bring it all down! Goodnight, Armaan! Unlike the rich and famous, the working class has to get up early for work.”