Inconvenient Relations

Inconvenient Relations
© 2014 by Simi K. Rao.

Inconvenient Relations
© 2014 by Simi K. Rao. All Rights Reserved.

Copyright © 2014 Kando Books.

Ruhi's Piping Hot Gobhi Parathas © 2014 by Subha, printed by permission.

This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and events are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual places or businesses, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher, Kando Books.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Editor: Brittiany Koren/Written Dreams

Cover design and layout: Ed Vincent/ENC Graphic Services

Category: Mainstream Fiction/Romance

Printed in the United States of America

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Dear Reader,

Namaste!

I hope you enjoy reading Book 1 of the Arranged Match Series,
Inconvenient Relations
. I use some words and phrases from Hindi and other languages, so I thought a glossary might be helpful. You’ll find the
glossary
in the back of the book. I’ve also included a
recipe
for one of my favorite comfort foods and an excerpt from my next novel,
An Accidental Wife
.

I love to hear from my readers. You may contact me on my Facebook page or website at www.simikrao.com.

Enjoy!

Simi K. Rao

Dedication

To my father who gave me my first real book.

“Love: A temporary insanity curable by marriage.”

—Ambrose Bierce

This tale is an attempt to prove the reverse or at least give it a chance.

Prologue

H
er heart fluttered as she heard the key turn in the lock. She quickly adjusted her maroon silk sari with the yellow border, the one that had caught his eye, and waited for his footsteps.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven… Yes, exactly seven steps before he stopped, hesitated for a few moments, then removed his shoes one by one and arranged them neatly side-by-side on the shoe rack.

She smiled. He had been mindful of taking his shoes off every day. “I am not used to it, but I will if you want me to. It’s probably a good thing to do anyway,” he had said after she made her request.

He walked into the hall toward his favorite chair; he never sat on the settee beside her. As he settled down, he’d pick up the TV remote and, without looking at her, would speak in his smooth baritone, “So how did you spend your day, anything interesting?”

She’d shake her head, still looking down, though out of the corner of her eye she’d steal glances at his feet—they were nice to look at, clean with well-manicured nails—then realizing he was not looking at her, she would vocalize in the negative.

Her soft “no” would drown easily in the raucous loud blast from the game on TV. He probably didn’t hear her; he probably didn’t care.

Disillusion

R
uhi Sharma was a blushing bride, practically a newlywed, locked up in a glittering cage for almost a month, twenty-nine days to be exact; an object of envy of all her friends and family.

Twenty-nine days ago, she had signed her name beside his on the marriage certificate. She had gone through all the miscellaneous ceremonies associated with the typical grand Indian wedding—the engagement, the
Mehendi
, the
Sangeet
, the
Haldi
, and the grand finale—her father had spared no expense—until finally her betrothed had staked his claim by placing the
Sindoor
on her forehead and tying the
Mangalsutra
around her neck.She had quietly and blissfully followed her new husband around the sacred fire, carefully listening to and reciting the
Saath Pheras
in her mind.

Ruhi was the very beautiful and accomplished daughter of Amrit and Devyani Sharma, the apple of their eye, and they had left no stone unturned in raising her the best way they possibly could.

Friends and family were surprised, for not only had Ruhi been provided with a good education, she held an MBA from a leading institution, but her parents had also made sure she was adept in other skills, which a well-bred traditional Indian girl is desired to be proficient in. Therefore, nobody marveled when marriage proposals came pouring in from all directions.

But the Sharmas were choosy; they wanted only the best for their golden child, and they did get it, or so her parents surmised.

The idea of giving their daughter’s hand in marriage to the well-accomplished son of the most well-known family in Chandigarh was beyond their wildest imagination. It was wilder because they hadn’t gone in search of it, rather it had come and landed in their lap.

Shaan, the youngest and most eligible of the Ahuja clan, was twenty-seven, a fresh aerospace masters grad from a premier engineering institute located in the Los Angeles county of California in the United States. He had already bagged a plum job in a leading aeronautics and space exploration company in sunny LA.

“My son makes interplanetary spacecraft. He’s the man of the future—” had become the proud and frequent rant of Mr. Shiv Ahuja, who seemed to be trying to paint his son in the most rosy of tones, even though he didn’t need to. For as soon as Ruhi saw her future husband’s likeness, she lost her heart, and there was no question of a retrieval.

***

“Chai?”

“Huh? Yes please, with a pinch of sugar. Thanks!” He took the cup from her hands, careful not to touch her fingers.

Ruhi closed her eyes; she could now repeat every movement, every word by rote. He was a creature of habit…and she was bored.

What was supposed to be the most exciting time in every young woman’s life had turned out to be the worst… Well, not really the worst. He wasn’t mean, or rather he was the perfect gentleman. Too perfect!

Oh how she wished he would scream, or be mean and nasty. At least that would bring some excitement into her not-so-happening life.

Ruhi laughed, pausing as she brushed her long black hair, rather hysterically.

The bombshell had dropped on their wedding night.

Shaan had walked into the room late as she sat there, a shy bride in all her wedding finery waiting, nervous yet excited at the same time, to meet the man she had hardly spoken to or looked at. What would he say, talk about, or do? She had heard a lot of stories about what to expect, some factual and some fabricated—her friends had prepared her well—but she wanted her own wedding night to be special, unique, and it was…

Sitting down on the bed in front of her, he had taken her hand in his and said very gently, as if to atone down the trauma, “I bet you are one of the most beautiful brides in the world, but I’m sorry I cannot make love to you. There is someone else.”

Not sure if she’d heard right, Ruhi had watched, puzzled as he lay down on the mattress and turned his back to her.

Was that it? A plain and blunt dismissal of her dreams, her life? Was that all? There was someone else, so…what did that mean for her?

She had lain awake all night, quite unable to digest the shock. Was this really happening to her, Ruhi Sharma, for whom receiving love notes from potential suitors had become as routine and sundry as brushing her teeth? Could a man really reject her? Her own husband at that?

It was hard to absorb.

Compromise

T
he following morning, Shaan found Ruhi sitting in the same position he had left her in the night before. Feeling sorry, he made an offer, “You can opt out right now. I expect you would want to do so. Don’t worry. I will take care of everything.”

Turning to him, with an unusually serene expression in her tired eyes, she said, “No, that is not an option. I can’t be the cause of distress to my parents. I’m willing to carry on with this charade, that is, if it’s all right with you.”

Shaan wasn’t just disappointed, he was taken aback. This was highly unexpected. It was meant to be only a small complication, but now all his plans had gone awry. He had clearly informed his father about his ongoing affair, but Shiv Ahuja, being who he was, had dismissed it.

“Ohh! So, you are playing around with a white woman? Well, that happens, my son, and it doesn’t matter.”

“But it matters to me, Dad. I love her!”

“And does she love you?”

“I think so. Yes, I’m pretty sure about it,” he’d replied, albeit a little doubtfully.

“Then is she willing to marry you and be my
bahu,
my daughter-in-law?”

Looking down embarrassed, Shaan had said, “She can’t, she’s already married. It’s…it’s complicated.”

“So that is the case.” Shiv beamed. “And here I was straining my brains wondering why my son hadn’t hooked up with a girl yet.”

Shaan was by no means lacking in looks. He was unusually handsome, of good build, and above average height. He liked to maintain an athletic physique with regular exercise. But despite being inundated with innumerable suitable matches, each woman’s family willing to part with unbelievable amounts in dowry, he had steadfastly declined. He had even refused to pay a visit to his hometown until now. His hand finally being forced by the news of his
dadaji’s
terminal illness, whose final wish was to see his youngest grandson married and settled in life.

But what Shaan lacked in moral makeup, he made up with his integrity. “I don’t want to live under false pretenses. I do not want to be instrumental in ruining an innocent life!”

“Then are you willing to let
Papaji
go to his deathbed with his final wish unfulfilled? Do you want the shadow of his regret to cloud the rest of our family’s future?” his father had asked him.

Shaan wasn’t too pleased, but his father was leaving him with no real options.

“Just get married to this nice girl, bid farewell to your
Dadaji
, then you can do whatever you wish. Get a divorce or, if you are a real man, carry on at both ends, neither party need know!” Shiv winked conspiratorially while giving Shaan a sound thump on his back.

His son wasn’t surprised. For a long time, he had suspected that his father ran more than one household, and his long-suffering mother probably knew but was too tired to fight it. He went through with the farce, and no one raised a finger.

Fortunately for Shaan, it appeared his grandfather had been holding on to his last breath for this particular event before he gave up and was declared free from this world. But undoubtedly the extent of his alarm was immeasurable when Ruhi refused his offer of an amicable separation. He was flummoxed!

Why did he have to carry on living a pained existence with this girl until she made up her mind to set him free? She was being unreasonable. “But, but I can’t—”

“Carry out the duties of a normal husband?” she asked without hesitation.

Shaan was surprised. “Yes.”

“I don’t expect you to, especially after what you told me last night. But can we…maybe give us a chance?” There was a desperate note of a plea in her voice.

Not exactly enjoying the exchange with Ruhi he retorted, “No, that’s impossible. I was forced into this.” The words were out before he could take them back.

“But
I
wasn’t. What about me? Where is my fault in all this?”

Shaan glared at the ceiling. Why was he being made to feel guilty?

“Well, that was the reason for my offer. We can end this now, and you will be free to start a new life again.” He looked eagerly at her; this was the opportune time to get his way.

She laughed. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re a man! But in this society, a woman rejected after marriage is like a pariah. All the men who used to flock around me would not even consider looking at me again—thanks to your
rejection
.”

Smiling wryly Ruhi continued, “Besides, what about my parents, their dreams? What about all my father had to go through to get the best possible match for his only daughter?”

Shaan closed his eyes… He hadn’t realized; things were much more complicated than he had imagined.

Then she said in a much calmer tone, “I request you to think this over because it doesn’t affect just the two of us, it does a lot of others—those whom I love and care for above and beyond myself. Perhaps if we give it a month or two we could develop differences? I could tell my father I can’t stay with you, that we don’t get along, and he’d understand. It won’t be as harsh, and you would be free to do as you please.”

Looking at her, Shaan wondered. Did she really mean what she said?

“It’s just a request,” she said again.

He nodded, but was silent. He needed some time to think.