Book Excerpt | 'Tara: The Dream Chaser' By Nelofar Currimbhoy

Nelofar Currimbhoy's Tara follows a modern-day Rajput princess who learns early that privilege can be its own kind of prison. A father too distant, a mother too exacting, and a heart that keeps reaching for something more. Lasting love and a sense of selfhood always felt just out of reach. Breaking free from aristocratic expectations and a loveless marriage, Tara rediscovers herself in Mumbai. 

She meets Kabir, a photographer, who helps her heal. Then comes Vivan Mehta, Bollywood’s golden boy, who tempts her into a world she never wanted. As old shadows resurface, Tara must decide between love and desire, duty and freedom, and who she truly wants to be. In Tara, Nelofar Currimbhoy brings her signature lyricism and emotional depth to this modern tale of resilience, identity, and the price of freedom. 

Extract from Tara: The Dream Chaser

She felt the roof sway as her head began to spin. She steadied herself, while her mind raced. Why? she wondered. Why is Vivan Mehta trailing me? His presence bothered her. She wanted to turn back again but resisted—she knew his eyes were still on her. She could feel them piercing her back, and a strange shudder ran down her spine.

The lights in the room suddenly brightened. Tara hadn’t paid attention to the rest of the proceedings. Restless to leave the place, she stood up and casually glanced back, but the chair where Vivan Mehta had sat was empty. He had vanished.

She was not quite sure if all this was a coincidence. His bid for the earrings she had instinctively pushed her hand up for played on her mind, unsettling her. Tara skipped the elevator and rushed down the carpeted stairway of the hotel, anxious and confused. The lobby teemed with people, and her eyes darted around until they found the person she had been looking for. Kabir sat lounging on a chair, examining the shots he had captured. He broke into a smile seeing her. Home, she thought, could just as well be a person. Kabir had become her home for now.

As they drove along Marine Drive, the cool monsoon breeze filled the car. Tara closed her eyes, letting it wash over her, as if it could cleanse her of the evening’s memories. She wanted to blow away the memories of the auction—the past that came back to haunt her. ‘Can we stop by the sea for a while?’ she asked, staring out at the vast, dark ocean.

‘The lady’s wish shall come true,’ Kabir replied, instructing the cab driver to pull over.

In the distance, tiny little lights flickered as the skyscrapers lit up for the night. Tara looked at Kabir. Only a week had passed since her traumatic days in Jaivangarh, yet she felt as though she had known him for a lifetime.

‘What are you thinking?’ he asked softly.

‘That I feel as if I have known you forever. Perhaps, from another life.’

His expression grew tense. ‘You don’t know the truth about me.’

‘Shh,’ she said, raising her finger to his lips. ‘Right now, I don’t need to. Please. This moment is the only truth I want.’

Gingerly, she rested her head on the edge of his shoulder and closed her eyes. She wanted to ask no questions, so she wouldn’t get answers that hurt. That moment was her idea of perfection, and nothing could spoil it, not even the truth.

Later that night, as he slept, Tara lay awake, her mind raining thoughts. She walked to her desk and opened her blue diary, penning her feelings.

What are we? Friends? Lovers? Perhaps both. Or maybe neither. Is it possible to find friendship—or even love—in such a short span of time? I don’t know how to define my relationship with Kabir, or if it even needs a name. Yet, there is something liberating about that—that it has no specific, definable name. Whatever it is, whatever we are, it is enough. It’s bliss.

I am not seeking a label—a wife, a mistress, a girlfriend. It’s the intensity between the two of us that is sacred, almost spiritual. He was my saviour, and I his destiny. How did I fall for a man who reached out to me with a Nikon Camera? And how could he love a woman with nothing but her name?

Our love is like a tuft of cotton floating in the sky—directionless, essentially formless, forever moving, innocent of its future and oblivious to the storms that may lie ahead. It doesn’t know if the winds will carry it to a distant shore or guide it home. I am that tuft of cotton, and I surrender to the winds. 

She shut her diary and went back to bed. Slipping in gingerly beside Kabir, she placed her hand on his arm; he turned over in his sleep and murmured her name. She had given him her body before, but that night, she also gave away her soul.

Kabir was gentle; he didn’t push her. He sensed that she needed warmth and security more than anything else at that moment. In the turquoise room of Rustom Mansion, curled up beside him, Tara found the love that had eluded her for years.

Kabir’s arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer to him. Tara nestled against his chest, her face buried in his neck. He pressed soft kisses on the crown of her head, and they lay like that till sleep enveloped her.

Eternity. This was eternity. She felt it even as she slept.

Extracted from Tara: The Dream Chaser by Nelofar Currimbhoy. Published by Rupa Publications India.