When Tara Met Farah Read online

  So maybe grumpy math geniuses could be attracted to hot mess food vloggers then? Maybe you should find out if she's into girls first, a sensible voice pinged inside my head.

  "Tara? Tara, so what do I–"

  "What do you what?" I asked, more than a little taken aback by the urgency in her tone.

  "I would like to meet her." Hands clasped behind her, Farah walked circles around me. "It would be sooo awesome to meet Nalini Menon. I mean, the number of movies Mama and I watched of hers…” She looked as she was lost in the past. “I could recite Maha Rani dialogue by dialogue. Maybe this is a sign. And I almost didn't come..." she continued muttering away to herself.

  "Hey, Farah!" I raised my voice to cut through her soliloquy.

  "Yes? Sorry. You have no idea how excited I am about this. I never look for or believe in signs, you know. But this has to be one. Of all the places where I decide to go in the world, and then to discover Nalini Menon lives in the same place. And then I meet the girl who calls her Akka!" Feverish excitement made her usually solemn brown eyes dance. "When can I meet her?"

  I shook my head. "You can't. I told you. Nalini Akka is very particular about privacy, almost obsessive. I can't just bring a stranger to one of our meetings."

  Farah stilled, the excitement fast receding from her eyes. "What meeting?"

  "The Bollywood Dance & Drama Society meeting. It's kind of a club for people who are interested in Bollywood-related dance and drama. We put on an annual show. We also do paid performances for birthday parties, anniversaries, weddings etc. It’s all the rage now.”

  "Okay, so I'll join the society. Is there an entrance fee? You do not need to worry if I can pay. I have money. Whatever the fee is, I will pay for the admission."

  "She's not a display, Farah," I said, frustrated that I wasn't getting through. Also frustrated because of course Farah wasn't going to share why it was so important to her to meet Nalini, even if I probed.

  I wanted to think this was the usual bizarre fascination people had with celebrities. But it wasn’t. Even the little I knew of Farah told me she wasn’t some average rabid fan who cyber stalked celebrities. Or put them on pedestals with an unhealthy obsession.

  "Of course, she isn't,” Farah replied, looking shocked. She took a deep breath as if realizing how strong and strange she’d been coming across. “I am saying I can do whatever is required to join the society. I can even make a donation. Societies like that need money, don’t they? I have money, Tara."

  "It doesn't work like that. The only newcomers that are allowed into the club are friends of friends and so on."

  "What does that mean?" Farah demanded, the usual placidity of her temperament missing.

  "Meaning the only new people we allow in are people members can really vouch for, you know,” I replied slowly. “It’s not just a normal club but a safe space for people to be themselves.”

  "You think I'm a dangerous person?"

  "No. I just don't know you well enough," I said lightly, trying to make it sound like a joke.

  It was a poor one. Farah's expression went from urgent to a combination of hard and thoughtful.

  "Nalini Akka doesn't even do any of the shows,” I added. “She choregraphs the numbers and teaches eight of the main dancers. She rarely appears in public, especially with Desi crowds where she might be recognized." I’d just made the connection about how we’d always meet at her home but once the choreography was done, we’d meet at community center attached to the temple for further practice. "I can't simply bring you to a meeting. No one is allowed to.”

  "There has to be something I can do, Tara. Please, this is important to me. I will not even speak to her, if you prefer. I just want to meet her, once. Maybe if she doesn't mind it, get a photo with her. But even that is up to her."

  "Farah, you're not–"

  She came closer and my heart started pumping in overdrive. "I'm not on any social media platform. I'm not a sharing, gushing kind of person. I have very few trusted friends – two, to be honest. And those two are really angry with me right now because I have been a very bad friend for fourteen months. I will not tell anyone that I met her or that she lives here. Please, tell me what I can do to show you that I really need this."

  I believed her. Because the first thing I had done after she'd shut me down had been to Google the shit out of her. I had found nothing. Nada.

  Farah Ahmed didn't exist on the web. Not an Internet ghost like my computer hacker BFF Zen who erased his trail. No, Farah just didn't have a presence at all. Her reaction to my YouTube channel news had made so much more sense then. It had been a bleak moment because it felt hopeless to crush on a girl who was my absolute, complete opposite.

  “I believe you.” I felt compelled to say, and she shut her mouth with an audible click.

  “You do?”

  “That you’re not a person who will shout to the world that Nalini Akka lives here? Yes.”

  Whatever the reason this was important to her, I wanted to do it for her. Damn my mushy heart. "There's something you have to do for me," I said, my gears turning and grinding in my head. “In return for me trying to talk to Peehu and Veer. They decide if new members can be allowed.”

  "What? What do I have to do?" Farah demanded, her beautiful face so close to my own that I could see the light ring of brown around her pupils. She smelled like rose and something else. I inhaled roughly.

  "You can tutor me in math,” I blurted out, before I lost my nerve. Because she wasn't going to like it. She was so not going to like it. “I have a test in three weeks that I really have to ace if I want to pass the course. Help me pass it and I’ll take you to meet Nalini Akka. Of course, on the condition that in the meantime, I don’t discover that you're a pyscho fan who wants to hurt her."

  Her gaze held mine and then moved over my nose, my lips, my neck and then back up again. As if she was taking me in afresh. Then she stepped back with a jerky movement.

  I raised my arm under the guise of pushing my hair back and sniffed myself. For a girl who’d been busting moves to a fast beat, I smelled pretty good. So her frog-leap away was because she was allergic to me as a person? Or because she was just as aware of the energy that built up when we were within touching distance?

  I desperately hoped it was the latter. I was almost 90% sure it was the later. No, more like 85% maybe. God, I hated math.

  "Tutor you?"

  "Yes," I said, even more resolved now. I had to pass the damn test and here was a certifiable genius who wanted something from me. Why not take advantage? “You help me study and pass this course,” I said, enunciating the words.

  The confused look faded from Farah's face, giving way to that wariness I hated so much. Another very calculated step separated us. It felt like a slap. I made a mental note to stop binge watching vampy soap operas – both the Mexican ones and Indian ones.

  "I don't think that's a good idea," she finally said, her arms wound around her midriff.

  I went from wanting to help remove that desperation from her eyes to thoroughly frustrated. "That's the only deal you have." I turned away, trembling with how angry and hurt I felt.

  "Tara–"

  I started re-doing my messy bun and cut her off, without turning to look at her. "That's the only way you get to meet her, Farah. You can tutor me every day for an hour in the evenings for three weeks. That way, I can reassure them all that you aren't some kind of stalker I'm unleashing on Nalini Akka." Now, I turned around and faced her, just so that she could see my ‘I too can drive a hard deal’ face.

  "I'll even spin a little tale to Nalini Akka about what a delightful person you are and that you helped me study out of the pure goodness of your heart. She's a sucker for kind people."

  Releasing the tight grip she had around her midriff, Farah sighed. “Okay, I will help you study for the test. But you have to promise that you will not change the conditions on me again if you...”

  "No. I won't hold it against you if I fail despite
your genius tutoring. Fine?" I kept my voice steady despite the sting of her quick reply.

  She slammed the heel of her palm to her forehead. “I always say the worst things to you, don’t I? I’m not usually this bad, Tara.”

  “If you say so,” I said with a shrug.

  “Please believe me. But you understand that, without any prior knowledge of your skill set, whether I think you will pass or fail at this point has no logical basis to it, right?”

  “Does it?” I said doubtfully.

  “Yes. I got carried away because meeting Ms. Menon is very important to me. The most important thing in a year and half.”

  “I got that,” I said, liking her for explaining herself.

  She clapped her hands together, that energy back in her movements again. “When do you want to start?"

  "Tomorrow. No day after, actually," I said, feeling suddenly cheerful that I had a plan. Farah was going to tutor me and I was going to study my ass off.

  Farah shook her head. "No. Finish your practice, and your video shooting and whatever else you have on the agenda today. I will meet you here at nine. We will look at your text book, your class assignments, and your tests so far and there will be a quiz."

  My belly swooped, fast and hard. "A quiz? But I–"

  "I need to know where you are in the course material, Tara. For that, a quick quiz is the best idea.”

  “But–”

  “Which course is this? I know you aren’t enrolled at UW.”

  “How do you know that?” I demanded, trying to sidestep answering her question.

  “Because I checked the student roster.” She hurriedly looked away.

  She had looked me up.

  Which meant she was curious about me. My mind made a warp-level jump from that curiosity to a Happily Ever After worthy of a Bollywood movie.

  I pictured a deliciously romantic scenario where she tutored me for hours, fell madly in love with the wonderful weirdo I was and begged me to love her back.

  Sadly, I was too much of a realist to hope that scenario could turn into reality. She was only doing this to meet her favorite actress. I needed to remember that.

  Farah walked back into the living room with a notebook and two pens. “Is it at the community college?”

  I sighed and let the inevitable ball of failure roll towards me again. “I’m not at college.”

  She looked up. Simply waited for me to elaborate.

  “It’s a...” I swallowed, hating the words that were coming. Hating how I felt cold and hot again. “A high school math course. I didn’t graduate high school this past spring because I failed a required math class. Which is why I’m languishing in my parents’ basement while the rest of the world moves on.”

  Six

  Farah

  If she didn’t know better, Farah would have thought Tara was intentionally putting her through a Process-Your-Grief program, specifically designed to drag her kicking and screaming back into the land of living. The coffee shop attached to the bookstore they were both sitting at right now could have been step three.

  But since Tara did not know that Farah’s mother had owned and run a bookstore/coffee shop where she had spent the best moments of her life, this was not possible. Farah hadn’t gotten a chance to share that.

  Because Tara had stopped probing Farah about her life. Or staring at her lips. Or raising that brow and calling out Farah’s uptight attitude. Or any of the hundred things that Farah was already used to and needed from Tara.

  This professional conduct, instead of giving her the security of emotional distance, was having the opposite effect.

  She missed the bubbly, generous, outspoken Tara. She wanted that girl back.

  They had now spent eleven hours and twenty-six minutes around the dining table in the basement. She had a database of entries tagged Sunshine Tara in her head.

  How Tara looked when she was concentrating – which didn’t last more than two and a half minutes at a time.

  How Tara tried to shrink herself when she got the answer wrong to a question.

  How soft and curvy she felt plastered against Farah’s body.

  Farah was in possession of the last bit only because Tara had thrown herself against Farah when her marks had improved to 62% in the second quiz Farah had given her.

  Instead of more entries in that database, all she’d been getting from Tara had been blank, silent stares since they had started the math tuition sessions. Farah found an empty table tucked away at the back of the coffee shop, her gaze tracing Tara through the order line.

  Two cups of coffee in hand – black for Farah and some kind of frothy concoction for herself, Tara reached their table. Farah tried to look away when Tara licked the foamy swirl at the top and then licked her full lips, but couldn’t. As if she had a chip programmed under her skin, her lower belly twinged in response to that.

  “Thank you,” Farah said, pushing her chair back.

  As had been the case for the last week, Tara shrugged. No response. No comeback. No teasing. It was like seeing a colorful printing with all the bright colors suddenly leached away.

  Farah was suddenly glad she had suggested that they leave the basement for today’s study session. Whatever it was that was bothering the other girl, she was determined to sort it out before they returned to the house. “I would like to pay for the coffee, Tara,” she said as they both settled down. “You have made a hundred meals for me already.”

  Tara hung her backpack around the chair and looked around. “NBD.”

  “Huh?”

  Tara sighed. “No big deal,” she muttered, without raising her gaze from the laptop and notebook in front of her.

  Farah had had enough. She pushed the laptop closed with the heel of her palm.

  Her round eyes wide in her face, Tara stared back. “What?”

  “What is wrong?”

  “No idea what you mean.”

  “Ever since we started these maths tuition sessions, you have been acting like a... a dimmed bulb. I’m asking you to tell me why.”

  “What the hell’s a dimmed bulb and what’s it got to do with me?”

  “A bulb that is not shining brightly.”

  “Are you saying I’m slow like a damned bulb?”

  “Of course I am not,” Farah said hurriedly, raising her palms in a placating gesture. “I’m not great with words. And not just because English isn’t my first language. Or second for that matter.” Farah folded her arms. “Unless you tell me what is going on, I will not continue the lesson.”

  “You swore to see me through this,” Tara countered.

  “First you need to act normal,” Farah said, glad that she was getting a reaction out of Tara. Even anger and mockery were preferable to the empty slate she had been seeing lately. “Return to your default setting, Star Bells.” She didn’t even care how demanding she sounded.

  Tara reached for the cookie on the plate between them. She always ordered two, even though Farah refused it. “Who the hell’s Star Bells?”

  “You are,” Farah threw back, frustrated.

  The chocolate chip oatmeal cookie that Farah thought tasted like chewy wheat husk, paused midway to Tara’s mouth. Her mouth fell open in a small O. “You gave me a nickname.”

  The way she said it...softly, with awe, as if a miracle had occurred, whipped longing through Farah. She lifted her water glass, knowing that she was probably blushing. When she looked inside, there was no ice. Star Bells had remembered how much she hated ice in her water.

  “It is not a pet name,” she went on hurriedly, while Tara just stared at her.

  “No?” Tara said, raising a brow, her mouth twitching.

  It felt to Farah as if a tight knot in her chest was finally unraveling. “Javed and Salim – my half-brothers – play this game of calling all the family members by their names translated into English. Tara is a star, isn’t it? And Muvvalu are those small bells that are usually tied on anklets. So you’re Star Bells.”

  �
��What are you?”

  Farah eyed her warily. “What am I what?”

  “Farah – I’m thinking it’s Urdu, right?”

  “Yes. It means Joy. Happiness.”

  “That’s beautiful,” Tara said, a soft smile pulling at her lips. “Can I ask you something?”

  Farah nodded.

  “Will you tell me what happened to your joy, Farah?”

  Farah should’ve expected this. She was the one who had started this but she wasn’t still prepared for the question. For how well Tara seemed to see into her. “I will tell you if you tell me why you have become…”

  “Like a dimmed bulb?” Tara said, full of sarcasm in her tone. She pushed away the cookie, uneaten, which worried Farah a lot.

  Nothing ever came between Tara and her food. Nothing should ever come between Tara and her happiness, either. There was that thought again, almost possessive, as if Tara’s happiness was her job.

  Tara blew at that stubborn lock of hair that always fell over her forehead. “Why do you care?”

  “There is a delicate balance to the universe,” Farah said instantly. She’d given this some thought. “Grouchy, grumpy people like me will make the world a dull place if there are not sparkling, joyous people like you. So you see, if you do not return to your default setting as soon as possible, the world will become a depressing, dark place. You are like a superhero, better than those violent action heroes you watch all the time.”

  Propping her chin in her palms, Tara looked at her as if Farah had lost her mind. “For a girl who keeps saying she’s not good with words, that was…” She smiled, and Farah saw an ache in that smile. “Thank you for saying that.” She cleared her throat. “I appreciate it.”

  Farah played with the napkin in her hands, forming and discarding words. “Will you tell me what’s bothering you?”

  Tara scribbled something on the page, and drew in a long breath. “Amma’s a mathematical genius and Dad’s a linguistics researcher. I’m a queer nineteen-year-old high school failure.” She paused, looking away from Farah. A few stubborn rays of sunlight streamed in through the high window and lovingly gilded the bridge of Tara’s nose. “Family and friends have started looking at me differently ever since I came out. Of course, not graduating high school’s the icing on top. I knew you’d look at me differently the minute I told you I hadn’t graduated high school.” She sighed, broke a big chunk off the cookie and stuffed it in her mouth and chewed.