Glitter and Gloss

by Vibha Batra

  I fling the door open and die all over again! It’s not Poulomi, it’s Didi and Jeejoo!

  I gape at them, slack jawed.

  ‘Hi, Misha, how are you?’ Jeejoo beams at me. Like it’s a social call, like he always drops in on me at hotel rooms.

  ‘May we come in?’ Didi asks, poker faced as always.

  ‘I … of course.’

  I step back and let them enter.

  ‘Didi, Jeejoo!’ Akshay exclaims, bounding up to them. ‘You’re late.’

  ‘Bad traffic,’ Jeejoo says.

  Akshay was expecting them! What’s going on? I look at Akshay, but all he gives away is a mysterious smile.

  Didi and Jeejoo slip into the chairs by the glass window. Akshay and I remain standing. My eyes go to the horribly crumpled bedsheet and I cringe. Instead of adjusting our clothes, I wish we’d taken time to adjust the frickin’ sheet. Instead of patting our hair into place, maybe we should have concentrated on patting the bed.

  ‘Akshay!’ Didi gasps. ‘Is that blood on your mouth?’

  Crap!

  Akshay excuses himself and disappears inside the washroom. He emerges seconds later, dabbing cotton wool at his lower lip with one hand, holding the cushion at his crotch with the other.

  ‘Misha, I owe you an apology.’ Didi comes straight to the point. ‘I can never thank you enough for what you’ve done for our family.’

  I look at Jeejoo. He nods beatifically. ‘I told her everything. I wish I’d told her sooner. But I was in Dubai when it happened … I didn’t know the whole story … I found out only when I got back two weeks later … and then, I had to rush to Delhi because…’

  ‘Your father passed away,’ I say gently. ‘I know. I’m sorry, Jeejoo.’

  ‘No, Misha, I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘Imagine how I felt when I found out you’d called off the engagement all because of me—’

  ‘Jeejoo,’ I protest.

  ‘It’s true, Misha,’ Jeejoo goes on. ‘You kept your word, you kept my secret. You were willing to pay such a high price for something that wasn’t even your fault. You gave me the courage to own up to my mistake. I hope you can forgive me—’

  ‘Please, don’t say that, Jeejoo.’ I’m really, really uncomfortable now.

  ‘I just want to say that Akshay's very lucky to have you,’ Jeejoo smiles. ‘And so are we.’

  Gosh!

  I turn to look at Akshay and he grins from ear to ear.

  Didi clears her throat. ‘I’d like to speak to Misha. Alone, if you don’t mind,’ she tells Jeejoo and Akshay. ‘Why don’t you both go down to the bar? We’ll join you in a couple of minutes.’

  Akshay hesitates. I wonder if he’s concerned about the ‘cushion region’, but things appear to have ‘settled down’, and he shoots me a “Will you be okay” look.

  I nod reassuringly and go up to the chair Jeejoo’s just vacated.

  ‘I’m sorry, Misha,’ Didi says when we’re alone.

  ‘It’s okay, Didi, I—’

  ‘I should have never hired that Private Investigator, I was wrong—’

  ‘I was wrong too, Didi,’ I interject. ‘I shouldn’t have kept things from you. My unorthodox living arangement, for instance.’

  She snorts. ‘As if the living arrangements at our house are any less unorthodox. Jeejoo lives with us, you know.’

  I nod.

  ‘We got married at twenty one. It was my mother’s wish to see me married before she—’

  ‘I know, Didi. Akshay told me.’

  ‘—she passed away a month later,’ she sniffs. ‘Akshay’s always been my baby. I’ve always been extremely protective about him.’

  I look at her rapidly reddening face and am instantly alarmed. She’s not going to cry, is she?

  ‘You don’t need to explain, Didi.’

  But obvio, she thinks otherwise.

  ‘I was so caught up in my worries and my fears … I forgot that he was an adult—a very sensible adult—capable of making the right decisions.’ She heaves a sigh. ‘But now, I don’t need to worry, because, I know he’s in safe hands. I know you’ll keep him very happy.’

  She reaches into her bag, brings something out. A pouch. A ring. The same ring Akshay had given me and I’d returned!

  ‘So, Misha, will you do me the honour of being my bahu?’ she asks, holding it up.

  ‘Yes!’ I tear up. ‘Yes, I will!’

  Didi’s proposing, but I’m the one going down on my knees. I touch her feet, take her blessings. She pats me on the shoulder like a benevolent boss giving a deserving employee a plum promotion.

  ‘So, how soon can your parents be in town? To discuss the wedding?’

  I squeeze my eyes shut and try not to groan out loud.

  About the Author

  Vibha Batra is the author of The Activist and The Capitalist, Sweet Sixteen (Yeah, Right!), Seventeen and Done (You Bet!), Eighteen and Wiser (Not Quite!), Ishaavaasya Upanishad (a translation), Tongue-in-cheek (a collection of poetry), A Twist of Lime and Family Crossword (short story collections).