"Oh-ho, Jaya, forgive your sister. She is sorry!" Their mother chased after them, attempting to make peace.
Rishi Uncle, the bearer of the car keys, also disappeared.
"Too bad I can't at least try," Daly said wistfully. She ignored the dramatic procession, studying the bold pillar instead.
"Of course you can try!" Kashi insisted. "Are you going to let a little gate stand in your way?"
"What about the security guards? Couldn't we get into big trouble?"
"No one is paying any attention to us. They are all watching the scene over there." He motioned with his chin toward his quarreling siblings. "Just quickly go try. And don't forget to make a wish."
"It seems you are always getting me into trouble!" Daly teased. Still, she didn't want to waste her chance with the mysterious pillar.
She jerked her head from side to side, searching for oncoming security personnel. The coast was clear, so she stepped over the short gate and met the pillar head-on.
Wasting no time, she pressed her back tightly against the cool iron and stood on the tips of her toes, then pulled her spine up straight. She bit her tongue and reached her arms around back—first the left, then the right. Her fingertips just brushed against one another. She stretched and strained until the top joint of her left index finger was able to reach out and hook the right. They pulled on each other, bringing her arms full circle.
After a mere second, Daly's muscles began to ache, and her shoulders stung as if they'd been dislocated. She needed to figure out what she wanted to wish for, and fast. It seemed silly she hadn't thought this out beforehand. Wishing should be such an easy thing, but she didn't want to wish for something unimportant, something she could achieve on her own.
What if the magic is real?
Possibilities flashed through her mind. Might she wish for her and Kashi to live happily ever after? That would probably happen, anyway. What about acceptance from his family? That seemed like a sure thing, too; Mishti already adored her, and same with Auntie and Uncle. At last, she settled on the one wish that seemed the hardest to achieve—finally forming a real relationship with her mother.
She clinched her eyes shut and prayed the pillar would grant her wish.
Chapter 13
I've never been strong or brave or beautiful, but all that's beginning to change.
The ten-and-a-half-hour time difference kept Daly wide awake as everyone else settled in for the night. But she still fell asleep en route to visit old family friends and various tourist attractions. Fortunately, Kashi shared her peculiar schedule, which gave them plenty of alone time.
At five in the morning, Daly and Kashi sat together on the rooftop terrace. Kashi dangled one leg over the side of the building. They had started the day by kissing amidst the blooms of his garden—a pleasant tribute to their first encounter. Now they were content to cuddle and chat until the rest of the family awoke.
Daly stroked Kashi's cheek and smiled. "You liking it here?"
Sigh.
"Oh, so you're giving me the silent treatment?"
She nodded.
"Why? What did I do?"
She cocked her head and shot him a you-should-already-know-why scowl.
He stared back and playfully imitated her movements.
"Ugh. Don't play innocent."
He continued to stare, adorably helpless.
Part of her wanted to reach over and give him a giant hug, but her frustration won out and she pushed his leg. "I'm serious!"
He flailed his arms and pretended to lose balance. A muted shout escaped his lips, and he clamped a hand down over his mouth.
"Shh," she scolded in a whisper. Do you want to wake the household?"
“Maybe.” He shot her an impish smile.
"Really?" She sighed. "When are you going to tell your parents about us? Haven't we pretended long enough?"
"It's only been a few days!"
"Only? We've been with them constantly. They've had more than enough time to decide whether or not they like me. Don’t you think?"
"Of course they like you. That's not what this is about." He exhaled sharply. "It takes time to do things properly, that's all."
"I wish I understood the rules. I feel so stupid sometimes for agreeing to this."
"You need to have more confidence. You doubt yourself too much."
She cast her eyes to the ground. Four stories was a long way down. "It's hard not to...."
Kashi grabbed Daly's shoulders. "Why do you talk like that about yourself? You're such a great person. I don't know why you're the only one to think otherwise."
Well, I’m not the only one. Laine hardly approved of her.
"Nobody talks bad about my Dolly." He pulled her close. "Not even you."
She sighed and gazed across the enormous city to the place where its outer edge vanished into a haze of smog. The buildings melded together, each one a different color from the next, forming a blanket of grays and browns. She relaxed into the warm embrace of the ancient city and did her best to let her frustration go.
***
Later that morning, Kashi's mother recruited Daly to help prepare breakfast. "You will make the puris," Auntie informed her.
Daly watched Meenu Auntie mix the dough, roll out a flat floury circle, and then drop the newly formed puri into a vat of hot oil. She'd never been asked to help cook before; her own mother all but refused to share the kitchen with her.
"Just like that, achha?" Meenu Auntie nodded abruptly, then scurried to the other side of the room.
Daly coated her hands with flour and grabbed a ball of dough, slowly working it with the rolling pin until she had a thick square in front of her. When she placed the flat blob of dough into the fry pan, tiny droplets of oil splashed onto her bare arm. She gasped in pain as the oversized puri sizzled and climbed toward the sides of the pan.
"All done?" Meenu Auntie looked at the mess and gasped, then flicked the puri out of the hot oil before the stove caught fire. She frowned and demonstrated the steps again, slowly this time so Daly could follow.
Daly tried her best, but both her puris fell flat during the frying process. Her heart sank, her dreams of making something traditional for Kashi deflating just like her poorly made puris. He would have been so impressed, and his mother would have liked her even more. He might even have agreed to tell her the truth about them once and for all.
"It's okay," Auntie said, removing Daly's botched attempts from the serving plate. "We can feed these to the birds."
***
During breakfast, a knock sounded at the door. Rishi Uncle shuffled into the hall and returned with a big white envelope wrapped in packing tape. "This is for you," he said, handing the package to Daly.
Daly broke a fingernail as she scraped at the excess tape and pried the contents from the envelope. A paperback copy of Rohinton Mistry's Family Matters landed with a thud on the coffee table. The interior of the cover was inscribed with Laine's signature scrawl:
~~~
Might make for an interesting read on the plane or otherwise. Hope you're having a nice trip.
~~~
Daly passed the book around the table to her eager companions. It wasn't every day a package came—especially from so far away. The book alone made the corners of Daly's mouth turn up. Laine thought enough of me to send a novel all the way to India?
As the family flipped through the pages, Daly fished out a smaller envelope that had gotten stuck in the corner of the package. This one written in a script she didn’t recognize:
~~~
Dear Daly,
I hope you're having a great time in India! I miss you, but am glad you get to do something so exciting! Could you bring me back a couple of bangles? I've always wanted my own set!
Things are fine over here. Less fun without you around though. Guess what? I got my sonograms done! I'm most excited to share them with you, and I just couldn't wait until you got back, so I had to send them, even though it cost twenty-eight doll
ars to mail this package. Can you believe that? Crazy, huh?
The baby's a boy! I had a feeling about that but am glad to know for sure now. Anyway, I miss you and I can't wait for you to come back. You should teach Kashi's family about corny-mash. I think they'd like it.
Love and Kisses (muah, muah, muah),
Meghann
P.S.—Your mom sent a book for you to read. We had to search three separate bookstores to find it, because she wanted you to have this one in particular. I'm telling you because I've heard sometimes when you mail presents to other countries, they might get "lost."
P.P.S.—Isn't my little Elijah beautiful?
~~~
Daly glanced down at the black and white blob in the photograph. The sonogram looked like a boring abstract painting, but she tried her best to drum up some enthusiasm. Meghann was most excited to show the image to her. Did she have so few people in her life that Daly meant that much to her?
"Who's Meeg-han?" Mishti stood behind Daly's chair, craning her neck to read over her shoulder.
"Oh." Daly pushed the letter back into the envelope. "A friend. My best friend, I guess."
"Really? I thought we were best friends. Her baby is so cute!" She grabbed the sonogram from Daly's hand and rushed around the table to show the other family members.
"You think so? I can't really tell."
"That's how Ritesh looked in his pre-birth snaps as well. And he's very cute, wouldn't you say?"
Daly sniggered. "Yeah, he is pretty cute."
***
Priya came by later that day, bringing Ritesh with her. Daly and the three sisters sat on the drawing room floor, passing the baby back and forth and trying to make him giggle.
"So, Dolly, how do you like India so far?" Priya motioned for Daly to return Ritesh to her, then unbuttoned her tunic and pressed the infant to her waiting bosom.
"It's great. Well, it's different." She shifted her gaze from the nursing baby.
"How do you mean? What is the U.S. like?" Priya fished in her bag, pulled out a blanket patterned with marching cartoon elephants, and threw it over her shoulder.
"Well, it's... different. Like for instance, at home, I'd never have so many people around me. A lot of times I'm alone. And people look different, they talk different, they dress different. I'm not used to being the only one who looks like me. Usually, I can fade into the background and nobody pays much attention. But here everyone stares, like I'm some kind of alien."
A phone-free Jaya said, "People don't know not to stare. They don't have the proper education to realize it's rude."
Daly caught herself staring at Priya again, and quickly looked back to Jaya.
"The U.K. is very different, too," Jaya continued. "People are much more sophisticated. They know how to act properly. I hope my company will send me back soon. I like it so much better there."
Despite the ever-present sneer and her penchant for dressing in dark, drab clothing, Jaya was unquestionably the most beautiful of the Malhotra sisters—not that the career-oriented girl had any desire to be.
"Jaya!" Mishti gasped. "You should not say these things about your own people. Like it or not, India is your home. You should love your country and be proud."
"I never said I don't love India. I just love other places more, that's all. I think I'd like the U.S., at least from what I know after talking to Akash bhaiya, and to clients, and from watching films."
Daly shook her head. "I don't know. India has a certain romantic quality, like you're one with everyone around you. Part of something bigger. I'm used to being small and unimportant and praying nobody takes any notice of me. Now, I'm learning to almost like the attention." She traced her finger across the bumpy carpet and waited for Jaya's rebuttal.
Mishti smiled. "And so you should!"
"The U.S. doesn't sound at all nice to me," Priya said. "Sitting alone, just doing work and watching television all day long. Without my family, I would be nothing. What would be the point of living?" Priya's cheeks glowed bright, not unlike those of her nursing infant.
"Well, we don't all do that," Daly said, "But I understand your point. What do people do all day over here?"
"Gossip!" Jaya snorted. "And drink tea, study or force their kids to study, bribe others to get their way...." Her petite nose twitched in agitation.
"Jaya, you complain too much, yaar," Mishti whined, jabbing her sister in the shoulder. "We Indians do lots of very great and important things, like work long and hard hours at the office." She pointed at Jaya, who was rubbing a knot out of her shoulder. "And we raise our children with as much love and care as anyone can give." Here, she smiled at Priya. "And we become world-class businesswomen." She stuck her chin in the air. "Like I'm going to be, as soon as I finish my MBA course."
"Shabash," Jaya mumbled.
"Well, jeez," Daly said. "I'm such an odd duck surrounded by all you professional swans. Got any place for an aspiring artist in this town?"
Mishti and Priya laughed, and with an exaggerated groan, Jaya began text messaging.
Proud that her joke had been well received by two out of three Malhotra sisters, Daly took a silly, flourishing bow.
After the laughter quieted, Mishti said, "Dolly, you are neither odd nor a duck! You're also not the only artist in Delhi. We should take you to C.P. You can see the sarees, jewelry, tapestry, and statues. Many beautiful handicrafts are in C.P."
"C.P.?"
"That's Connaught Place," Priya explained. "It was built by the Britishers. It's a big marketplace with lots of shops. Always lots of foreigners around, and they seem to like it."
"I'd love to see some local art. When can we go?"
"I won't be able to come along, but perhaps Jaya and Mishti can take you."
"Oh, yay!" Mishti bounced up from the floor, clapping her hands together. "C.P.! Let's go now! We can ride on my scooter—I need a new salwar-kameez and a set of bangles. And oh, Dolly, we can get a salwar-kameez for you, too, and some jutti and we can give you a proper Desi makeover!"
Daly shook her head and laughed. Mishti's antics were too much sometimes.
Jaya rolled her eyes. "I hate your scooter, Mishti. Why can't you get a proper vehicle?"
***
Daly could scarcely believe she, Jaya, and Mishti all fit onto the same small motorbike. Apparently, squeezing three passengers onto a single scooter was fairly common. In one extreme case, she even spied a family of six all cramped onto the same tiny seat.
Mishti's driving left Daly every bit as nauseated as the auto-rickshaw driver's had. The scooter was light and maneuverable, which seemed to delight Mishti as she cut off bulkier vehicles and plunged through narrow spaces. When they finally reached their destination, Daly leaped off the bike, breathing deeply and hoping for a moment to rest and rid herself of the motion sickness.
But no sooner had Mishti had pulled into a parking spot—a tiny sliver of vacant road—than the lively bustle of Connaught Place sucked them in. Eager salesmen swarmed, all pushing their merchandise into her face. "A statuette of Lord Ganesha! Five hundred rupees! A steal."
"They don't know how to act around tourists," Jaya explained. "To them, you're nothing more than a giant, white money bag—theirs for the cheating."
Daly blinked as a wooden snake slithered into her line of vision. The man holding the snake cried something to her, but she pushed past, ignoring him. "I'm not used to all this attention," she said.
"Well, you better get used to it. You are a spectacle here." Jaya squeezed her shoulders together to pass through a small spot in the lively crowd.
Mishti clutched Daly's hand and led her through the pulsing pedestrian traffic. "They will never give a good price to you, Dolly. If you find something you like, you will have to tell us so we can go back and fetch it later, without you."
"Is this really necessary? Seems like an awful lot of a hassle just to go shopping."
"You're probably right," Jaya huffed. "These businessmen are keen to make quick money. They wi
ll remember we were with you, and even if we go back later, they won't lower the price for us."
"It's okay. The prices are probably a lot higher back home. Besides, I don't mind paying a bit more to get something I really like."
"Well, you can't accept things at face value. We will help you haggle to get the price down as good as they will give it."
They passed the busy intersection and came to a covered walkway, which stretched from pillar to pillar over the urban horizon. Shops flanked the paths on the inside, while the outside hosted merchants squatting over ratty blankets showcasing their wares.
Daly stopped to observe an old woman stooped on the ground. She wore a yellow saree draped over her thin, square shoulders, her long white hair tied back in a taut bun. A single, black mole bulged from the corner of her wrinkled lips.
"You like?" the woman held up one of the finer handmade tapestries that lay before her: an elephant woven with gold thread, intermixed with sequins and small beads. Gold gilded the border of a deep, rich purple background.
Daly hesitated. The work was stunning.
The woman scuttled over to the left and held up another piece for Daly to examine—an Indian version of the traditional American quilt, woven in green, purple and gold, again with delicate bead and sequin work.
"That is pretty." Daly raised her voice over the bustling crowd. "Have you got anything with a peacock?"
The woman frowned. She shook her head and moved to hold up another tapestry.
"Pea-cock?" Daly shouted, gesturing broadly with her hands in the shape of a fan. The shopkeeper stopped and stared at Daly, still not understanding. She turned to Jaya and Mishti.
"Arey yaar, mor, mor-rrr!" Jaya translated with irritation.
"Achha, mor, ha, ha." The woman pumped her head and unfolded a tapestry, similar to the one of the elephant, to display an aqua bird on a jet-black background. Glittering beads shone among its sequined tail feathers. On its head sat a crown of faux sapphires and emeralds.
"Ah, yes," Daly said. "I'll take it. How much?"
A Colorful Life: Drawn in Broken Crayon Page 15