#CharanxTarak

[veteran-fanperson]

Jeelakarra Bellam

Continuing my bodyguard!Charak saga. This goes to the point where our two first meet.

Read on AO3 here.

Read the previous work here.

If you want to be on a taglist for this series, just let me know!

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“How about this one?” His assistant Raju slides another profile at him across the teak coffee table. “Nandamuri Taraka Rama Rao. 32 years old and Ex-Indian Army. Actually won the Vishisht Seva Medal before his release from the army five years ago. He was working with Pranav’s security detail previously, so great references too.” Raju continued. 

Charan picked it up, scanning the document. Two years older than him, yet such a different life. 

“Do you want to try him out for a while?” Raju persisted. “I asked around, he doesn’t have a creepy vibe. We could always go back to the agency after a month if you guys aren’t gelling well.” 

Sudhakar, Charan’s last bodyguard had been organised, quick and fun to hang out with and Charan would have been happy to hold on to him forever until he caught the man groping one of the young volunteers assigned to their entourage at a music release function. The sight of the girl’s tearful expression had prompted an instant dismissal from Charan, along with a change of their usual security agency. After their lacklustre reaction to his reason for breaking Sudhakar’s contract, Charan was sure of one thing at least - he did not want to hire any more of their people. 

“Why is the emergency contact section blank?” Charan asked him. 

Raju grimaced. “Yeah that threw me off too, and I called them up to ask if they’d just forgotten to put the information in. But no, turns out his father was absent. He was raised by his mother and she died five years ago. No siblings. I guess he’s a bit of a lone wolf, but the agency did make extensive enquiries. He showed incredible bravery saving civilians and fellow Jawans in a terrorist attack in Kashmir, hence the award. I interviewed him too and he was perfectly candid about things, just said he had a difficult couple of years and was still adjusting to life after. ”

“I guess it’s not a crime to have no close connections… but still, to not even list an old colleague or a neighbour?” Charan wondered, looking down at the page again, wondering what it was like to be this man. To be alone, day after day, month after month. What did he do after work? What did his phone look like? He looked at the picture, at the unsmiling face of a young man with short clipped hair and precise moustache. The eyes were blank, telling him nothing. 

“Let’s try him out,” he said finally. “But at the first sign of anything strange, he goes.”    

“Absolutely.” 

*****

A sharp knock sounded at his office door the next Monday morning and Charan looked up from the script with a start. 

“Come in,” he called out, and the door swung open.

“Hi there, I’m Tarak.” 

Charan gaped. The man who entered was only about as tall as Charan, but he walked with an energy and force that naturally drew the eye to him. He was simply dressed in a grey shirt and jeans, with plain sneakers on his feet. His hair was much longer than Charan anticipated, a mess of wild curls that stood around his head like a halo. His beard looked just as unruly as his hair. His shoulders were very broad, and he had thick muscly arms that were barely concealed by his shirt. The hand he extended out to Charan was large as well, a simple bracelet made with wooden beads adorning his wrist.  

“Hello?” prompted Tarak. “I was told you were expecting me.”

Charan continued to gape, registering with a shiver Tarak’s low, deep voice. His eyes were large and intensely dark, and Charan found it hard to look away from their hypnotising depths. “You don’t look anything like your picture.” He blurted out at last, mentally kicking himself a moment later because that was definitely not what he wanted to say. 

“Does your contract involve me being clean shaven, cutting my hair and keeping it regulation length?” Tarak asked him, withdrawing his hand. His voice was bland, but his eyes were not amused. 

Charan flushed. “Sorry I just - I don’t need anything like that - you don’t need to look a certain way - I mean unless you want to. It’s up to you.” he mumbled, looking down at his desk and quickly holding out his own hand. He felt the other man take it in a firm grip, shaking it quickly before letting go. There was a long, awkward pause as Charan studied the wavy lines of the wood in his desk. 

“May I sit down while we go over your schedule and general expectations or do you want me to come back later?” Tarak asked him finally. 

“Oh, no. Now is - now is fine. Just great. And yes, let me draw you a chair - hang on -” Charan babbled as he pushed his own chair back and stood up. He grabbed a chair and dragged it to the opposite side of the desk before returning to his own. He pushed the script pages aside, opening his desk drawers to find a copy of his schedule for the next month. 

“This month is mostly empty,” he said, pushing the schedule across to Tarak. “I just finished shooting the previous movie, it’s in post production now. Couple of dubbing bits left though. But I haven’t got - I don’t know exactly when. There are a few parties next month that I need to make an appearance at but this month is just - wardrobe fittings for the next movie starting up in six weeks time. Just got the script for it. I hope this one goes well because the last one - I don’t think it was very good, I think it’s going to bomb in the theatres - I did think it wasn’t a good idea but -” Stop talking. Stop talking. Stop talking.

“When would you like me to report each morning?” Tarak asked him, thankfully cutting off Charan’s rambling speech. “I’ll need a copy of this sent through to my phone.”

“I’ll ask Raju to do that. And I go to the gym early five mornings a week, like about four thirty. Two mornings I go riding. When I’m in town that is. Is that okay?”

“You make the hours.” Tarak said quietly. 

“I do have a small home gym but I enjoy working out with other people and my gym is fantastic. You can join me if you want, it’s a lot of fun.” Charan said, feeling a slight pang. Sudhakar was a fantastic gym buddy, he kept Charan motivated and kept unwanted company away. 

“Okay, and afterwards?” Tarak asked him, after another long pause filled with Charan brooding. 

“Oh.” Charan shook himself. “Afterwards I go home and have breakfast. Then a quick shower and I start for wherever I’m supposed to go by seven. To this office or shooting or whatever is on the schedule. I generally work till five unless it’s a shoot which can go on till ten. Most evenings I get off, I try to stay at home but there are sometimes functions I have to attend or people I have to have dinner with. Sometimes I meet my family or friends. That’s pretty much it.” He finished rather lamely, realising it did not sound very clear at all.

“Alright, sounds pretty straightforward.” Tarak said crisply, folding the schedule up and pulling out his phone. “I can start today if you want. Here’s my number, I already have yours. Just call or text me ten minutes before you need to leave and I’ll join you in the lobby. Is there anything you’d like to ask me?”  

“No. I mean, okay.” Charan said, grabbing his own phone.

“Yes?” Tarak asked politely.

“What?”

“You wanted to ask me something?”

“Oh.” Charan fumbled with his phone and it slipped out of his hands. “No, I mean. Not really. Sorry.”  

“That’s great then. See you later sir.” Tarak said, standing up and pushing his chair back.

“Just Charan is fine.” Charan replied, blushing slightly as he held out his hand. “And it is nice having you here - onboard I mean.”

“Likewise.” Tarak said, smiling slightly as he shook Charan’s hand again. His hand was warm and calloused. Charan shivered involuntarily at the touch, his heart picking up. His own hand felt clammy and cold. He wished he had wiped it before he shook Tarak’s hand. The tips of his fingers touched the cool wood of the beaded bracelet on Tarak’s hand, and he wondered if some girlfriend had given it to him. The thought of Tarak having a girlfriend suddenly made him feel a little sick. 

“I’ll let you get on with your reading?” Tarak’s voice broke through again and Charan dropped his hand like he’d had an electric shock. 

“Yes of course, let me see you out.” He pushed his chair aside hastily and headed to the door, catching his foot on his laptop cable. Charan made an undignified squeak as he pitched forward, straight into Tarak’s chest as the other man leaped forward to catch him. Charan’s laptop thudded on to the carpeted floor behind him. 

“Easy, easy.” Tarak’s low voice whispered to him, like he was trying to soothe a nervous horse. He smelled like sandalwood and starch and sunlight, a woodsy, earthy smell that reminded Charan of the countryside surrounding their Bangalore estate. He felt his face flame up in embarrassment - he was a dancer, an equestrian, a runner - all things that needed excellent hand-eye coordination. Ten minutes with this magnificent man and he had turned into a ditzy feather headed idiot. 

“They’re hard to see, these cables.” Tarak said, tugging Charan back into his seat and picking up his laptop. “I’ve tripped over them so many times myself.” He plugged it back in and smiled at Charan, his eyes lighting up for the first time since he had entered the room. His tone was kind and easy, and Charan found himself smiling back despite his embarrassment. “I’ll see myself out, don’t worry. Need to catch up with Ravi anyway.”

He walked to the door and glanced back. “See you later Charan.”

“Bye.” Charan whispered, and when the door clicked shut buried his face in his hands. 

‘You’ll like him, Charan. There’s something about him.’ Ravi had said. Well there certainly was something about Tarak. Just his luck that he had to end up with the hottest man he had ever seen in his life as his fucking bodyguard. Someone he had to talk to and travel with every single day. Someone he needed to see in the gym. He wondered what Tarak looked like under his shirt. He had certainly felt like a brickhouse when Charan had laid against his chest.  

Charan groaned and pulled at his hair. He was screwed.    

[veteran-fanperson]

The Prince and his Tiger

Charak inspired AU. Here Charan is still a movie star, and Tarak is his bodyguard. Involves some smutty content, Protective!Tarak, Shy!Charan. Any names of NPCs are coincidental.

Not beta-read, please excuse grammatical errors. This is RPF, so if you don't like the idea of that, this is not for you.

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Tarak opened the door roughly, striding in with Charan’s little suitcase, his eyes rapidly scanning the hotel room anything suspicious. A bland room, like a hundred other rooms in a hundred other cities, its walls a pale oatmeal colour, decorated with muted paintings of sunflowers and pastures. He placed the suitcase carefully in a corner, switching on all the lights, checking the air conditioner, examining the walls more carefully for any signs of hidden cameras or microphones. It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to spy on the young movie star he was in charge of. And considering the inefficient, useless organisers of this publicity leg, it wouldn’t be a big surprise if someone did slip past them. 

“Tarak?” a soft voice interrupted him as he checked the bathroom, turning the faucets on and off. Tarak whipped his head around to look at Charan, struggling to school his features into something pleasant and bland like the tiles in the bathroom. It didn’t work. Charan bit his lip and moved closer, his backpack slipping from his shoulders. “Are you very angry?”

“I am not.” Tarak replied shortly, pushing past Charan, eager to leave now that his job was technically done. He couldn’t bear to look at the other man’s eyes, eyes filled with apprehension and a little hurt. “It all looks fine. I’ll check at 7 am tomorrow so we can leave for breakfast before your morning interviews. Most of them are within a two kilometre radius of this hotel. I’ll check in with Ravi and ask if there are any changes in the schedule and get the name and contact details of the chauffeur. Good night.”

“Please, Tarak.” 

He never could resist the appeal in that voice. Sighing, he turned back around to walk upto the younger man, his anger melting at the lost expression in Charan’s face. 

“Charan,” he said, raising his hand to stroke at the other man’s cheek, “Don’t look at me like that baby, I can’t bear it.”

The other man huffed as he slumped against Tarak, his backpack falling with a thud. “Then don’t leave me,” he murmured against Tarak’s collarbone, slipping his arms around the older man’s shoulders. 

Tarak sighed, a great weariness coming across him as he looked down at the man clinging to him like a creeper. He patted Charan’s back lightly, stroking the long hair tickling his chin with his other hand. Five years ago if someone had told him he would one day be holding one of the country’s upcoming movie stars in his arms, Tarak would have told them to put down the booze. Five years ago he was in the bitter cold, blood in his mouth, one of his fellow soldiers dead beside him as a hail of bullets sounded outside their shack. 

A small gasp emerged from Charan as Tarak instinctively drew him in tight, causing the older man to pull back in surprise. 

“What’s wrong?” Tarak asked, his eyes scanning the other man’s face, concerned at the grimace of pain he noticed.

“Nothing,” Charan attempted to cover up, stepping back slightly and rubbing his arm. He winced again when Tarak grabbed his right hand and pulled up his sleeve, the older man’s eyes narrowing dangerously when he saw the red scratches around Charan’s forearm. Tarak’s fingers trembled slightly as he led Charan to sit on the edge of the bed, fumbling in his own bag for the emergency first aid kit he always had on him. Charan was quiet as he worked carefully on cleaning the scratches, not even hissing when the burn of the peroxide hit his skin. Tarak focused on breathing slowly and deep as he gently applied a bit of the antiseptic cream, noting with relief that none of the wounds were very deep. 

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asked, more gruffly than he intended to. 

“They were just over excited,” Charan answered gently, leaning forward to kiss Tarak lightly on the forehead. 

“They tried to fucking rip you apart. Don’t tell me it didn’t hurt when those morons pulled out actual strands of your hair.” hissed Tarak, “The fuckers who arranged this shitshow didn’t even bother to arrange for a cheap railing never mind an actually competent security team. Look at this!” he ran his fingers over the scratches again. “Any deeper and I’d be taking you to get a tetanus shot. I’m still debating if I should.”

“No, I get hurt more just by scraping my arm when I bump into a wall.” Charan said, his lips ghosting alongside Tarak’s ear, his arms draping themselves over the other’s shoulders. “I love you” he added irrelevantly, now pulling at Tarak’s arms, forcing the other man to sit beside him on the bed. “Don’t worry so much.” 

“It’s my job to worry, bangaram.” Tarak said, capitulating enough to capture the other man’s lips in a gentle kiss. If only the man in his arms would care as much about himself as Tarak did. Charan sighed deeply as he parted his mouth, his lashes fluttering shut. 

***

If someone had told Tarak on his first day as Charan’s bodyguard that in a year’s time he’d be insanely, terrifyingly, overwhelmingly in love with the hottest star in a decade - and what was somehow worse, have the star be just as desperately in love with him, he would’ve - once again, told them to put down the booze. Celebrity security was a gig he got into after his release from the army, a way to make good money with much lower stakes, the only con being babysitting a bunch of egotistic entitled ‘stars’ who treated him either like furniture or an indentured slave. 

Tarak had been apprehensive on his first day working with Charan, expecting to have to protect another spoiled rich prince whose reputation preceded him. “What’s the guy like?” he remembered asking the contractor, a thin balding man in his forties, his temper permanently frayed. 

“The Konidela Prince? Rude, arrogant brat.” the man had snapped. “Wouldn’t even be in the business if he wasn’t daddy’s precious boy. His films have been a success for sure, and I guess he’s a good dancer, but his attitude ugh! Won’t even bother to look people in the eye when they’re talking to him. His press tries to put out that he’s this happy go lucky party boy but he’s really just a dull dud. Doesn’t have a word to say most of the time. That does make the job a little easier for you though, he stays at home unless there are industry events he has to make an appearance in.”

But Charan had been... different. He did have difficulty meeting Tarak’s eyes when he had introduced himself, and he had stammered when talking about his general schedule, but overall his demeanour was one of painful shyness rather than arrogance. As the days went by and Tarak got more used to the young man, he had felt his initial hostility being replaced by a warm protectiveness. And more than a little lust. 

Charan was unfailingly polite and kind to doormen, hospitality staff, retail workers and his fans. It was only with his fellow industry people that he transformed into a deer in headlights, barely answering questions or indulging in small talk. 

“I loved your trailer Ram Charan garu,” an upcoming actress had gushed at a pre-release party one month into Tarak’s employment, her hand lightly on Charan’s arm. “You look like you’re going to set the screen on fire for sure, I’m so nervous about my own film after your track record! Head to head Sankranti releases after all!” She had thrown her head back and laughed artificially as she continued stroking his arm, and Tarak had watched Charan’s hand clench into a fist as he attempted to laugh as well. 

He did not succeed. “I need to get a drink,” Charan had blurted out instead, striding away from the astonished girl, Tarak hurrying up to follow him. Charan had blindly groped at a side door and rushed out into what was thankfully a deserted corridor, and Tarak remembered closing it carefully behind him before turning to the other man. Charan had collapsed onto the floor, his head between his knees. 

“Deflect back the next time,” he found himself saying, “She was just expecting you to praise her back.” 

Charan had snapped his head up to look at him, his face forlorn.

“My last two films bombed.” Charan had whispered, “I don’t think she was actually praising me, she was making fun of me.”

“Deflection still works.” Tarak had said, sitting on the floor beside him. “If someone is trying to throw a poisoned bouquet at you, the only polite thing is to throw it back. What you should’ve said was ‘Oh Archana garu, why should you be nervous? You always give such fantastic, refreshingly different performances and such memorable roles! I’m looking forward to watching your movie!’ It certainly would have shut her mouth, considering she literally plays the same ditzy college girl role in every movie.”

Charan had snorted out an astonished laugh and Tarak had felt his heart leap unexpectedly. “As if I could say half of that without stumbling over my words.” He looked broody again, “You’re so confident Tarak, I wish I had half your courage.”  

And Tarak... he had felt sorry. So sorry as he looked at this poor boy, so awkward yet so sweet. He remembered putting a tentative arm around Charan’s shoulders, remembered the pleased surprise he had felt when Charan melted into his side. They had remained like that for a while, till Charan’s frenzied breathing had steadied. 

“I wish we could just go home,” Charan had whispered unexpectedly, “I hate parties.”

“Go back and mingle, I’ll invent an urgent meeting for you in fifteen minutes.” Tarak had said, standing up and holding out his hand to Charan. 

“Promise?” Charan had asked him, his beautiful eyes relieved as he took Tarak’s hand. 

“Trust me.”

They had slept together that night. And nearly every night since. 

***

The memory washed over him as he pulled away, noting Charan’s dazed eyes and red swollen lips. “I really should go.” he said, “I need to kick - talk to them and make sure that what happened tonight won’t repeat itself tomorrow.” 

He attempted to stand up and then immediately fell back when Charan pounced on him. “Don’t you dare kiss me like that and then leave.” the younger man hissed, straddling Tarak. “You screamed at them plenty already and if there is a real need to, you can talk to them on the phone after, but I’m not letting you go.”

“But Charan,” Tarak had started to whine, his words cutting off abruptly when Charan attacked his mouth again. 

“You can’t leave until your job is done,” Charan said, slipping his hands underneath Tarak’s t-shirt, raking his fingernails across Tarak’s back. 

“What job?” Tarak groaned, trying to resist biting Charan’s willing neck. There were multiple photo ops tomorrow and Charan showing up with a giant hickey would get them both in a lot of trouble. “Bedding you?”

Charan huffed at that, punching at Tarak’s shoulder lightly. 

“Protecting me.” he said, nipping at Tarak’s ear. Charan liked to bite, Tarak thought, gripping Charan’s hair hard and tipping his head back to claim his lips in a bruising kiss. He must have been a cat in a previous life. 

“Protect you from what?”

“Monsters under the bed.” Charan gasped against Tarak’s mouth, his pupils blown wide. “Need you” he kissed Tarak lightly, teasingly. “I need you to guard me all night and make sure they don’t get me you know.” 

Tarak blinked at him, at the sight of the half innocent, half hungry smile on Charan’s face. Then he grinned. 

“All night huh?” he asked, pushing down Charan hard enough to make the bed bounce. “I think we can manage that.”  

[veteran-fanperson]

Jeelakarra Bellam - Chapter 2

Continuing the Jeelakarra Bellam saga. Not beta-read.

Read on AO3 here.

Read previous chapter here.

If you want to be on a taglist for this series, just let me know!

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“Cherry, dude are you okay? What happened?” His trainer Bala patted him down quickly, pausing only to shout at someone to bring him ice. Charan winced as the pain flowed from the back of his head, radiating through his body. His ears felt hot, whether from pain or embarrassment he did not know. 

“Here.” Tarak’s gruff voice sounded at his side, gentle hands rolling him over slightly to the side to press an ice pack to his head. “Is he hurt anywhere else?” Tarak asked Bala as the trainer continued his examination of Charan’s back and legs.

“Everything looks okay, but I think you should take him home,” Bala starts, still panicky,  breaking off to snarl at someone Charan couldn’t see. “Abey saala, did you let anyone else mess around with this treadmill yesterday after Sir left? You know he uses this one exclusively!” Charan heard a small, confused protest followed by more colourful swearing from Bala.

“Bala,” Charan said, and attempted to sit up. “Bala, stop.” He opened his eyes slowly, the bright glaring lights of the room disorienting him for a moment. Tarak’s arm was around him, holding him up firmly, his hands pressing the ice pack against Charan’s head. A bunch of gym employees hovered around anxiously, one poor scapegoat apologising repeatedly as the manager and Bala laid into him. “Stop it,” Charan said, his tongue thick. “It wasn’t the treadmill. I wasn’t focusing.” 

“But Cherry -” Bala began, but Charan cut him off. 

“It was entirely my fault, I was thinking of something else and fell backwards all by myself. I’m the one who should be sorry.” He said, voice still wobbly but hopefully firm. “I’m fine now, don’t be such a worrywart.” He smiled slightly at Bala as he stood up, Tarak’s arm around his waist. Bala continued to frown, rushing to Charan’s other side, hovering anxiously like a mother hen. Charan waved away the manager’s repeated apologies as they left, pausing only to smile warmly at the hapless employee who had faced the brunt of Bala’s ire. 

“Don’t do anything strenuous today. Take the day off.” Bala barked at him as he wrangled him into the passenger seat and closed the door with a snap.  

“I’ll take care of him, don’t worry.” Tarak told him. He leaned over Charan and pulled at his seat belt, strapping him in securely. “I’ll text you later.”

They headed smoothly out of the parking lot, the early morning sunlight just about beginning to pierce the clouds. Now that he didn’t have twenty or so people falling all over themselves fussing over him, it felt awfully, awfully quiet in the car. Charan kept his eyes half closed - partially because his head still hurt a little, partially because he was a little afraid of looking at Tarak. The twenty minute ride felt forever yet not quite long enough, because eventually they would reach his house and he would actually have to face Tarak.

Only thirteen days had passed since Tarak had joined him and Charan had already fallen over three times not counting the first time at his office. Once in his own house when Tarak accepted the cup of coffee Charan had made for him with a surprised thanks. Once almost down a flight of stairs in his office when Tarak tapped at his hand. Once at the stables over his own feet when he was introducing Kajal to Tarak, because he was taken aback by how beautiful Tarak’s face was with a real smile. This was in addition to the innumerable times he had walked into walls and bumped into doors, distracted by the other man’s mere presence. Tarak ought to have come with a warning, Charan thought ruefully. He was so attractive that things seemed to warp around him, chairs and tables and open cupboard doors materialising unexpectedly around the unfortunate Charan, just waiting to trip him up. 

Today’s incident was the worst. Charan had just begun to get into a good rhythm on his treadmill, his body getting into that wonderful lightheaded energy filled phase when Tarak came into view. He was dressed in a simple black vest and blue shorts, his sweaty hair held back with a bandana. His arms and calves looked like they had been sculpted by Michelangelo, and Charan stared transfixed when Tarak gulped down some water from his bottle. Bala smiled at Tarak and started talking and Charan wondered how he could do that so effortlessly, so easily - when Charan considered it an accomplishment if he could just say good morning to Tarak without stumbling over his words. 

Charan had tried to look away, he really did. He focused on the view outside, at the dramatic sleeping cityscape. But then Tarak had actually laughed out loud. A high joyous sound that immediately snapped Charan’s attention straight back to him, to the sight of Bala and him convulsed with laughter. Charan remembered frowning at Bala, wondering what it was that was so very funny, fighting down the envy that rose when he watched Tarak beam at Bala. And then Tarak had picked up the edge of his vest and lifted it to mop his chin. Charan remembered gasping slightly at the sight, remembered the thick curly hair that narrowed into a v, remembered the hard, toned abs, remembered the sight of a clear drop of sweat trailing down Tarak’s hip. 

And after that there was just the blinding pain as he fell backwards off the treadmill. 

*****

“Feel any better?” 

Charan collapsed on the armchair. It was only six in the morning and he already felt like he had been up for three days. 

“Want me to make you some breakfast? You should eat something.” Tarak insisted. 

“I’m not hungry.” Charan muttered.

“Coffee then?”

“Yeah okay,” Charan said. Coffee did sound good. He felt a strange joy as he watched Tarak bustle about in the kitchen, picking out Charan’s favourite mug - a Mr. Muddle one his father had bought him years ago in London. “Make some for yourself too.” He called out to Tarak, who paused in his preparations to nod at Charan. 

They sat in companionable silence as they sipped the hot coffee, much easier than the awkward time in the car. Now that he knew Tarak wasn’t pissed off he felt much lighter. His kitchen had a lovely view of the garden, and Charan watched the sunbirds chatter and play in the early morning sunshine, a smile on his face. A whole day off, his head felt much better and there was no one except Tarak in his apartment. Maybe they could order some lunch later. Watch a movie. Go on a long, long drive. Actually have a conversation where Charan was the one making Tarak laugh. 

“Charan? Can I ask you something? Don’t take it the wrong way.” Tarak spoke unexpectedly, shattering the lovely peaceful web Charan had been weaving inside his head. 

I quit. You are literally the worst charge ever. You fall all over the place like a Victorian lady in need of a fainting couch and interrupt my fun conversations with other people. How on earth are you a hero at all? Who on earth casts you for anything? You’re too short. Your nose is ridiculous. Your hands are too girly. If daddy wasn’t there, nobody would even look twice at you. I’m giving you my notice so I can work with a real star.  

“How long has it been since you got your eyes tested?”

Charan stared blankly at him. 

“I know I haven’t worked with you for long, but I really am concerned about how many accidents you seem to have on a daily basis.” Tarak’s voice was earnest, leaning forward in his chair to touch Charan’s hand. “You can always get contacts for public appearances if you feel glasses won’t fit your image.”  

“I already have them.” Charan blurted, a red flush creeping over the back of his neck. 

“Okay, but maybe your prescription might have changed.”

“No, no it’s not my eyes. I just -” Charan had the wild urge to flee to his bedroom and hide under the covers for the rest of his life. “I just - you are - ummm - I just find you a little intimidating.” 

There was a horrible pause as Tarak took this in, stunned. “If you find my presence uncomfortable then I’m doing something wrong Charan, I’m sorry.” He lifted a hand to stroke at his beard, looking a little upset.   

“No!” Charan grabbed at Tarak’s hand with both of his own. “It’s not you, it’s me. I’m just - I just keep overthinking and - I’m actually not very good with people. But it’ll get better, really. We’re already having a conversation, see? It’s fine!” 

Tarak blinked at him, at the no doubt crazed expression on his face. “Would it help if you knew more about me? You can ask anything you want.”

“Okay.” Charan dropped Tarak’s hand. “Umm, what was your mother’s name?”

“Shalini. She died five years ago. Cancer.”

 “I’m sorry.” Charan said, but Tarak waved it away. 

“Uhh, where did you go to school? Was it here in Hyderabad?”

“Yes, I went to Vidyaranya here. My mother used to work there as a teacher. She was an unmarried woman, you know. She moved here before I was born and just stayed, I guess. We never went back to her village. I have no contact with my maternal relatives.” Tarak spoke simply, with no trace of self-pity. 

“Was it lonely, being just the two of you?” Charan asked him, wondering if he was prying too much. 

“Not really.” A small, fond smile appeared on Tarak’s face. “My mother loved me and cared for me. We played together, read together, gardened together. She taught me how to cook, she was a fantastic one herself. Every summer we’d make avakaya together. I would sit on the terrace all afternoon in the sun while she rested to keep the birds away while the mango pieces were drying. She taught me to draw muggulu, and I taught her how to ride a bike. She was my best friend. When I left for my training at Khadakwasla she wrote every day. I never felt alone till she was gone.” 

There was a gentle silence as Tarak looked away, voice breaking a little. Charan looked down at his own hands, feeling like an intruder into private grief. “What was your time with Praveen like? You worked for him before, right?” he asked the table. 

“Nice enough.” Tarak replied, his voice steady again. “I got to visit a whole lot of places I’d never been to, the hours were a little long but that’s to be expected in this business. I quit when he got moved to Mumbai because I didn’t want to move.”

“My best friend lives there, it’s a nice city.” Charan said, suddenly wishing Rana wasn’t all that far away.

“I’d rather be here.” Tarak stated simply. “Continue.” 

“I think it’s your turn to ask me a question now.”

“We made no such deal.”

“Don’t you want to get to know me too? It’s only fair.”

Tarak smiled. “What’s your favourite role among the ones you’ve already played?”

“My second movie.” Charan told him, “It was a really great role too - a double role - one set in the past and one present day -”

“Magadheera. Yes. It was a great role.”

“You watched my movie?” Charan asked him, a sudden shyness spreading over him. 

“Of course I did.” Tarak sounded amused now. “You were really good in it.”

Charan blushed. “I was very lucky to get a chance like that.”

“I thought you were perfectly well suited.” Tarak said. “You have the sort of face that suits historical cinema as well as the current day. You can enunciate your words well so the audience doesn’t have to struggle to understand you. You are a superb dancer and a wonderful equestrian, I think they were just as lucky to be able to cast you. Not everyone has all these qualities.”

Tarak’s voice was warm and sincere, like he really believed what he was saying. For the first time since he had met him, Charan felt none of his usual nervousness. A golden glow was spreading over him, a bubble of happiness in his chest. “Thank you.” he said, and he hoped those words rang as true as they were. 

They sat and smiled at each other for a little while longer until Charan’s stomach gave a sudden growl. Tarak threw his head back and laughed. He picked up both their mugs and chucked them in the sink. “Time for you to see what a good cook I am.”

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