Luv (Un)Arranged (Luv Shuv #3)

Chapter 5

5

Song: Tu Hi Hai

- Ali Zafar, Arijit Singh, Amit Trivedi

Kriti

T he loud murmurs and laughter echoed down the hallway of the school in the early morning. I walked quickly to my class, thankful for my low-heel sandals that complemented my pink-and-green salwar kameez, and greeted the teachers I passed.

The moment I stepped into my ninth-grade classroom, the entire class stood and greeted me with a good morning in the same tune that seemed to be passed down through generations. It sounded cute when the kids were in first grade, but they looked completely ridiculous when they crossed seventh grade. Yet nobody ever tried saying good morning in a different way. The same singsong tune always made me want to sway my head in its rhythm.

I greeted them with my normal good morning and quickly took their attendance before the prayer bell rang. I was just done noting all the present students when a short bell rang, and everyone stood. Every school decided their own prayers, but every school in the country had at least a fifteen-minute prayer time. A crackle came over the overhead speaker in the class, and soon, the prayers began.

I walked between the rows of benches, occasionally glaring at the students who thought that closing their eyes and joining their hands in prayer wasn’t cool anymore. Once the prayers were done and the bell for the first period rang, everybody pulled out their science textbook to the chapter “Reflection of Light.” I pointed at a random student and asked her to start reading the chapter out loud.

I always made my students read the chapters because I would be the only one paying attention if I started reading. As the student read each paragraph, I explained the concept of reflection of light, how an image is formed on a mirror, and how light travels. I drew diagrams on the blackboard, and the students noted everything in their notebooks.

This was what I loved—teaching something new to my kids every single day. People often forgot how important the job of a teacher was. We shaped our students. They spent six to eight hours every day for over ten years in these rooms. Their minds, their knowledge, and their behavior developed in these rooms. It was a teacher’s job to teach something new, something valuable to their students every single day.

And they did it not because they couldn’t find any other job but because they chose to be teachers. It brought us joy to watch the kids grow and learn. I put every bit of my energy into engaging the students, getting them to ask questions, and making them laugh.

By the time my first period was over, I was ready for the next class with the eighth graders and the one after that with the mature tenth graders.

The recess bell rang after the third period, and finally, I had time to breathe. I walked to the staff room and dropped beside Meera, who was busy texting on her phone. As soon as I sat on my chair, she turned to me.

Her eyes widened, and she clutched my hand, looked around, bent closer to me, and whispered, “Are we not going to talk about how you and Aakar met? You have to tell me everything.”

“First, how come you never talked about Aakar with me?”

She shook her head, wondering the same thing. “I don’t know. After Pappa passed away, Aakar’s dad mostly came to help us. And then, Aakar would occasionally check in. Only after Luke came to live with me did Aakar show up a little more. And I was barely able to accept his help, let alone talk about it.”

I squeezed her shoulder. Meera hated accepting help from anyone. You just had to start helping her and force her to deal with it. “It’s okay. I’m just glad that you know him. I need all the details.”

Since Meera already knew Aakar, I needed to know whether talking to him behind my parents’ backs was safe. We picked up our tiffin boxes and stepped out into the little courtyard outside the staff room. We sat in a cozy alcove in the corner and laid out our lunch between us. Since my mother was hell-bent on sending me salads, I was on a mission to feed half of it to Meera while I ate half of her lunch. Today, she’d brought pulao, while my lunch was a salad of cabbage, carrots, beets, cucumbers, tomatoes, and a half-cut lemon to squeeze over it. Well, it did complement the pulao.

We only had twenty minutes for the break. While it wasn’t enough for a word-by-word explanation, it was plenty to give Meera the basics.

“So you guys have been chatting for a week now? Every day?” she asked as I ate a spoonful of her delicious pulao.

I nodded and, after swallowing the bite, said, “Yeah. Some days, we chat a lot, and some days, it’s just a few words. But pretty much the whole week.”

Meera’s smile widened, and her eyes had this teasing glint that every best friend gets when talking about men. “So,” she stretched out the word, waggling her eyebrows, “are you having fun?”

Just the thought of Aakar had a stupid smile spreading across my face. “I’ll be honest. He is one of the best men I’ve ever met through these arranged meetings. He’s smart, handsome, and hardworking, and so far, very forward-minded.”

She chuckled at that. “I’m not surprised he didn’t bat an eye at your three conditions.”

“You’re not?”

Meera shook her head. “He was born and brought up in a big city. His sister studies in America and has an American boyfriend. He helped his sister run away from home when their parents were being difficult. And time and again, he has helped me. He is a pretty stand-up guy.”

My heart warmed at the thought of Aakar helping his sister run away from home. Of course, he wanted a love like that. Listening to everything Meera said about Aakar, I couldn’t help but feel a small ray of hope. Maybe being married to a man who believed in love, who helped two people get together, wouldn’t be the worst idea after all.

The bell rang, indicating the end of recess, and we rushed into the staff room, picked up our respective books and purses, and left for our classes. The rest of the day flew by as I spent a lot of time laughing and shouting at my students, and even more time waiting for the school day to be over so I could text Aakar.

The moment I stepped inside the house, with Rati and Kartik two steps ahead of me, I knew something was up with Maa. The three of us exchanged glances, not wanting to get roped into her rants, so we tiptoed to our rooms while Maa kept talking loudly. I was pretty sure she was on the phone with her sister. By the time we’d all freshened up and made our way to the dining area for lunch, Maa had already set the table and was still on the phone.

I sat at the opposite end of the table from my mother, with Rati and Kartik seated along the sides. When she met my eyes, I raised my eyebrows in question. She mouthed her sister’s name, confirming my suspicion. We waited for a few minutes for Pappa. As soon as we heard his scooter pull into the gate, Kartik started stacking rotlis on his plate. By the time Pappa had washed his hands and taken a seat on my right, Maa bid goodbye to Sunita Masi—Masi being a term of respect for the aunt who is the mother’s sister—and gave me a hard look.

My hand stopped midway as I was about to take a bite of rotli and tindora sabji. “What?” I asked, quickly eating the bite.

“How was your meeting with Aakar?” she asked.

Maa had cornered me with this exact question the moment I returned home from Meera’s place on the day of the meeting. I’d told her it was good. I didn’t know what prompted her to ask me the same question again. My hand slightly shook as I ate another bite and tried to act nonchalant as I chewed my food. My conversation with Aakar flashed through my mind, especially when I had told him that I would just say yes for him while he would be the one to delay. And he had agreed.

I took a deep breath and said, “I told you that day. It was good. He was smart and respectful. Why?”

“Did you say anything rude or inappropriate to him?”

I gasped, feigning innocence. “Inappropriate? Me?”

Rati and Kartik laughed, and even Pappa couldn't help but smile before quickly wiping it off at Maa’s glare. “Kriti,” she warned.

Relenting, I answered, “No. I was my usual self. I don’t know if that’s inappropriate for you.”

Maa simply huffed. She turned to Pappa, then back to me, and said, “Then why haven’t they called? It’s been a week.”

I looked helplessly at Pappa. He sighed and patted Maa’s hand. “Things might happen differently in the city. What do we know? Maybe they will call in a few days.”

Maa nodded, a hopeful spark back in her eyes. “You don’t think I should just give them a call myself?”

“We’re not that desperate, Maa,” I snapped.

Maa snapped back at me. “You are twenty-eight. I’d say we are desperate.”

There was no point arguing with her when she brought up my age. I shook my head and got back to eating. I had no idea why she was so desperate to marry me off. I wasn’t living off their money; in fact, I contributed to the household income and bought my own things. Even though I lived with my parents, I liked to believe I was completely independent. And I would gladly move out like people do in other countries if it weren’t for the “what will society say” drama that Maa would bring up.

Once everyone finished lunch, Pappa left for work, Maa went into the living room for her afternoon TV serials, Rati and Kartik went upstairs to study, and I cleaned up the dining area and the kitchen. After all the dishes were done and everything was spotless, I was sweating and tired.

I went to the living room and sat on the unoccupied sofa across from Maa, turning my attention to the TV serial she was watching. Her eyes were glued to the screen, nodding and shaking her head at the actors, and I couldn’t help but smile at her. She wasn’t all bad, my mother.

I was lost in the drama unfolding on the television when my phone beeped.

Aakar: Hey.

My heart began to race, and a tingling feeling grew in the pit of my stomach. Anticipation. Excitement. After our last conversation and hearing all the good things about Aakar from Meera, I was thrilled to receive his message.

Me: Hi…How are you?

Aakar: Same old. Work. It’s my lunch break. Thought I’d message you.

Me: What are you having for lunch?

I cringed at my message. I wish I had something interesting to talk about. But how was I supposed to come up with exciting topics out of thin air?

Aakar: Ugh. Lukewarm rotli, reheated aloo gobi sabji, and cucumber carrot salad.

A chuckle escaped me, and without looking at me, Maa chided me with a swish of her hand. I hummed at her and got back to texting.

Me: What’s the ugh for? Salad? Aloo gobi?

Aakar: All of it.

Me: Haha. You don’t like rotli sabji?

A few seconds passed before his reply came. And instead of watching the TV serial drama, my eyes were glued to the phone while he typed.

Aakar: I like it just fine. But I hate eating out of a tiffin. Everything tastes awful from a tiffin.

Me: Oh. That’s too bad.

Aakar: What else is up with you?

I looked at Maa, who was busy nodding along with the drama, her lips slightly parted. I thought back to the conversation during lunch. Should I mention it to Aakar? It certainly wouldn’t hurt him. And maybe it would be good if he knew what was going on.

Me: Maa asked me if I was inappropriate during our meeting.

Within two seconds, Aakar’s reply popped up. I loved his fast replies.

Aakar: What? Why?

Me: Lol. She’s worried because she hasn’t heard back from you or your family.

Aakar: Ohh…

Me: Yeahh…What’s up on your end? Any questions? Pressure?

I saw some typing. Then it stopped. It started again. My eyes couldn’t keep up with the disappearing dots. Finally, after five whole minutes of staring and trying to turn the dots into an actual text, I got a reply.

Aakar: Can I call you?

And my heart stopped.

Aakar

My hands shook as I held the phone, waiting for her response. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked her. What if she thought I was too forward? Maybe she only wanted to know me through messaging. But I wanted to talk to her, listen to her voice. And, honestly, it’s really difficult to eat rotli sabji with one hand while texting with the other.

With great difficulty, I put the phone on my desk beside my half-eaten lunch. Our office had a small dining area where my father, uncles, and other employees ate lunch. Sometimes, I joined them. But other days, I liked to take the hour for myself. So I sat in my office on the second floor of our two-story building, looking at the bustling city outside during the lunch hour as the noise of traffic filtered through the closed window.

What if I ruined everything?

That thought caught me by surprise. I didn’t want to mess up whatever was going on between us. It had been a while since I had a friend, a woman, to talk to. And it was so easy to chat with her. For some reason, she seemed to understand me.

The idea that my message might have made her uncomfortable bothered me deeply.

I tried to take a few bites of my food, my eyes glued to the unresponsive phone. I unlocked it and stared at my last message. The two blue check marks at the bottom of the message taunted me. If someone walked in and asked me what I was eating, I wouldn’t be able to answer them. I tasted nothing. God, this was ridiculous.

I quickly locked the phone again and looked at my laptop screen. I ate a few more bites, pretending not to care about the lack of response. I willed myself not to check it again when I heard the notification.

I dropped the bite in my hand, quickly wiped my fingers with a paper towel, and picked up my phone.

Kriti: Yes.

A sigh of relief escaped me. One word. Just one word had me smiling like a fool.

Before she could change her mind, I plugged in my earphones—so I could eat while we talked—and pressed the call button. After two rings, she picked up.

For a moment, there was nothing. I stopped breathing, and it seemed like the world around me paused. Then I heard her soft voice. “Hello?”

I finally took a breath. “Kriti.”

A soft exhale, and she said, “Aakar. Hi.”

“What took you so long?” The question slipped out before I could stop it.

She chuckled. “It wasn’t that long.”

I couldn’t help but scoff. “Believe me, it was.”

A breathy laugh came from the other end, and I saw the reflection of my big smile on the black screen of my laptop. “So?” I asked again.

“Well, when you messaged me, I was sitting with Maa in the living room. I had to go to my room upstairs, and I found Rati and Kartik studying there. So I am on my roof right now.”

I could imagine her walking through the house, looking for a spot. To talk to me . “Wow. You’ve had quite a journey.”

She snorted. “And now you better have something really interesting to talk about after making me climb up on the roof.”

I laughed. “I’m really sorry for that. Next time, I’ll warn you and give you enough time to find a spot before calling.”

“Please do.” Her voice sounded amused.

I looked at my half-eaten food and realized I wasn’t even hungry anymore. I cleared my throat and said, “Well, about what you asked me earlier. Maa kept asking me about you the day we came to meet you. The entire way, and the following morning, she was relentless.”

Kriti laughed at that, and it made me smile.

“It wasn’t funny then. I told her to give me some time to think. And every day for the past week, I’ve been leaving home early and returning home late. So, to answer your question, I haven’t given Maa much chance to ask me anything about you.”

“Must be nice,” Kriti said.

“Only during the first few days. She’ll soon remember I’m single and will go and organize three more meetings with women.”

She went silent after that. “Kriti?” I asked.

“Sorry. I was just thinking. What are we going to do? Maa keeps worrying as to why she hasn’t heard from your parents. And I can only hold her off for so long before she just calls your mother. I just had to warn you.”

Right then, the door to my office burst open. I almost dropped my phone, but it was just Abhi.

With no care in the world, he entered my office, noticed the air conditioner was on, and quickly closed the door behind him. He raised an eyebrow at the phone in my hand and dropped into the chair across from me.

“Aakar?” I heard Kriti’s voice in my ear.

“Ah. Sorry. My brother just walked in. And yes, I heard you,” I said, trying to keep my words vague so Abhi wouldn’t know who I was talking to.

Kriti chuckled. “Got it. So we’re going to make our mothers wait as long as possible. Is that correct?”

I did my best to keep a straight face. “Yes, that is correct, Mr. Kirit.”

She roared with laughter. “Kirit, huh? Is your brother still in front of you?”

I looked at Abhi, who was staring at his phone while he waited. “Yes.”

“Okay then, I’ll let you get back to work. Talk to you later.”

Before she could hang up, I asked, “What would be the best time to call you?”

Kriti hummed. “I usually have to wait for half an hour for Rati and Kartik after I’m done with school. Since they’re in a higher grade, they are dismissed half an hour later than me. So how about 12:30? Would you be able to get away from work then?”

I usually had my lunch around two, like right now. But maybe I could take a little break. I tried not to let my desperation show on my face. Abhi might appear clueless, but his ears would be glued to my conversation. “I think I can make it work.”

“Great.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kirit. Talk soon.”

She ended the call with a laugh, and my heart burst with joy.

Abhi raised his brows. “Who was that? And what are you smiling about?”

I shook my head and, to divert the topic, I said, “Nothing, just work. What’re you doing here?”

He straightened in his chair and frowned. “Didn’t you say I should come to the office for a few hours and get some experience?”

Honestly, I never thought he would take me up on my offer. Abhi was, to put it mildly, a laid-back person. I rarely saw him angry, upset, or in a rush. So when he showed up at the office, I just assumed he needed something from me.

I straightened in my chair and put away my tiffin. “Well, welcome to the office.”

He gave me a wide grin. “So put me to work.”

I got up and raised a finger, asking for a moment. I took my dirty plate to the office kitchen, washed it, and put it on the drying rack beside the sink. After drying my hands, I grabbed two packs of masala chaas, or buttermilk, from the fridge and headed back to my office. I handed one to Abhi and inserted the mini-straw into my container.

“Thanks,” Abhi mumbled, gulping down his buttermilk while I pulled up a few accounting files on my computer.

“You’ve brought your laptop?” I asked.

When he nodded, I motioned for him to pull up his chair beside me so I could get him started on something small.

“Let’s get to work,” I said, beyond excited to have my little brother with me.

The day passed by in a blur, with Abhi’s nonstop questions, catching up on all the shipments and deliveries, and getting updates on clients from Dad and my uncles.

That night, when I went to bed, I saw an unread message waiting for me in the inbox.

Kriti: I was actually nervous to talk to you on the phone. I’ve never had a man call me just to talk. But I’m glad you did.

My heart warmed at that, and I wanted to call her again. Right then. Listen to her voice. Her laughter. Her verbal jabs and quick wit. Her amused chuckles.

Me: I’m glad you said yes.

And I pushed a pillow over my face just to stop my stupid smile at the thought of her.