looking at Tara. ‘The trip to Pench is going to be pretty tiring.’
‘I’ll go and get ready, then,’ Tara replied, and then, tentatively, ‘Vikram … why was your mum so upset?’
‘I’m sorry. I should have told you,’ Vikram said, his voice stiff. ‘I had a younger brother who died in an accident three years ago. My mother’s not over it fully yet.’
He turned towards her, and Tara’s instinctively sympathetic response died in her throat when she saw the rigid expression on his face. It was as if the Vikram she thought she knew had suddenly been whisked away, to be replaced by an emotionless stranger.
‘I’ll carry the cases out,’ he was saying, his voice perfectly controlled. ‘Maybe you could just check in the room that there’s nothing you’ve left behind?’
Tara nodded, her head in a whirl. Granted, they’d not spent too much time together—but a brother she didn’t even know about? Shouldn’t Vikram have mentioned him at some point? His parents obviously talked about him quite freely, but she’d spent even less time with themthan she had with Vikram. She’d even said something to him once about both of them being only children, and he hadn’t bothered to contradict her.
Vikram watched her leave the room and his jaw tightened. He’d been stupid, not telling her about Vijay, but the topic wasn’t one you could bring up easily in a regular conversation. She’d have questions now, and they’d be even more difficult to answer than if he’d just told her about Vijay earlier.
It was late evening before they reached the tiger reserve in Pench, and Tara was exhausted. They’d crossed half the country—first driving from Jamshedpur to Kolkata, catching a flight to Nagpur, and then driving for another three hours to reach Pench. Vikram had been silent for most of the journey, other than checking with her at regular intervals to make sure she was comfortable. Tara had been uncharacteristically quiet as well. Everything she’d tried to say had come out sounding either overly self-conscious or overly formal, and she’d soon stopped trying, burying herself in a book.
Halfway between Nagpur and Pench Tara had drifted off to sleep, the book slipping fromher fingers. Vikram had picked it up and put it into her handbag. She’d looked adorable as she slept, her long eyelashes fanning out against her smooth pink cheeks. The road had been bumpy, and he’d put an arm around her to steady her, his heart quickening a little at the trustful way she snuggled up to him.
He was acutely aware of the barrier that had come up between them ever since she’d found out about Vijay, but he couldn’t see what he could do about it. His brother’s death was like a raw, open wound, and he couldn’t bear talking about it—not to anyone. Tara must have sensed his discomfort because she hadn’t asked any questions after his terse explanation of his mother’s breakdown. The incident had cast a shadow on both of them, though, and a wariness had crept into Tara’s conversation that hadn’t been there before.
Tara had woken up a few seconds before they reached Pench, sitting up straight and stretching herself like a little cat.
‘Dinner first,’ she said now, when the receptionist at the luxury jungle lodge asked her if they wanted to be shown to their bungalow. ‘I’m starving.’
Vikram nodded, and after asking for their luggage to be delivered to their room, he followedher into the small dining room. There was a buffet dinner laid out, and he filled his plate before joining her at the table. She frowned at it as he sat down.
‘You eat meat?’ she asked.
Vikram looked down at his plate. ‘Yes, I believe I do,’ he said slowly. ‘Is that a problem?’
Tara put down her soup spoon. ‘Of course not!’ she said. ‘Don’t be so prickly. I assumed you’d be vegetarian because your parents are, that’s all. And you ordered vegetarian food the night we went out for dinner in
‘I’ll go and get ready, then,’ Tara replied, and then, tentatively, ‘Vikram … why was your mum so upset?’
‘I’m sorry. I should have told you,’ Vikram said, his voice stiff. ‘I had a younger brother who died in an accident three years ago. My mother’s not over it fully yet.’
He turned towards her, and Tara’s instinctively sympathetic response died in her throat when she saw the rigid expression on his face. It was as if the Vikram she thought she knew had suddenly been whisked away, to be replaced by an emotionless stranger.
‘I’ll carry the cases out,’ he was saying, his voice perfectly controlled. ‘Maybe you could just check in the room that there’s nothing you’ve left behind?’
Tara nodded, her head in a whirl. Granted, they’d not spent too much time together—but a brother she didn’t even know about? Shouldn’t Vikram have mentioned him at some point? His parents obviously talked about him quite freely, but she’d spent even less time with themthan she had with Vikram. She’d even said something to him once about both of them being only children, and he hadn’t bothered to contradict her.
Vikram watched her leave the room and his jaw tightened. He’d been stupid, not telling her about Vijay, but the topic wasn’t one you could bring up easily in a regular conversation. She’d have questions now, and they’d be even more difficult to answer than if he’d just told her about Vijay earlier.
It was late evening before they reached the tiger reserve in Pench, and Tara was exhausted. They’d crossed half the country—first driving from Jamshedpur to Kolkata, catching a flight to Nagpur, and then driving for another three hours to reach Pench. Vikram had been silent for most of the journey, other than checking with her at regular intervals to make sure she was comfortable. Tara had been uncharacteristically quiet as well. Everything she’d tried to say had come out sounding either overly self-conscious or overly formal, and she’d soon stopped trying, burying herself in a book.
Halfway between Nagpur and Pench Tara had drifted off to sleep, the book slipping fromher fingers. Vikram had picked it up and put it into her handbag. She’d looked adorable as she slept, her long eyelashes fanning out against her smooth pink cheeks. The road had been bumpy, and he’d put an arm around her to steady her, his heart quickening a little at the trustful way she snuggled up to him.
He was acutely aware of the barrier that had come up between them ever since she’d found out about Vijay, but he couldn’t see what he could do about it. His brother’s death was like a raw, open wound, and he couldn’t bear talking about it—not to anyone. Tara must have sensed his discomfort because she hadn’t asked any questions after his terse explanation of his mother’s breakdown. The incident had cast a shadow on both of them, though, and a wariness had crept into Tara’s conversation that hadn’t been there before.
Tara had woken up a few seconds before they reached Pench, sitting up straight and stretching herself like a little cat.
‘Dinner first,’ she said now, when the receptionist at the luxury jungle lodge asked her if they wanted to be shown to their bungalow. ‘I’m starving.’
Vikram nodded, and after asking for their luggage to be delivered to their room, he followedher into the small dining room. There was a buffet dinner laid out, and he filled his plate before joining her at the table. She frowned at it as he sat down.
‘You eat meat?’ she asked.
Vikram looked down at his plate. ‘Yes, I believe I do,’ he said slowly. ‘Is that a problem?’
Tara put down her soup spoon. ‘Of course not!’ she said. ‘Don’t be so prickly. I assumed you’d be vegetarian because your parents are, that’s all. And you ordered vegetarian food the night we went out for dinner in
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