The Bollywood Breakup Agency

by Naina Gupta

  Searching for a local florist, Neela simultaneously texted Jai for Rupali’s address.

  Why?

  Came the immediate response.

  Why? Hmm. What could she say?

  Need to know basis, babes. Nothing that affects you.

  Moments later, Neela knew where Rupali lived, and had sent her a bunch of roses with the message: ‘My heart bleeds for you. He shouldn’t have left one as beautiful as you’. It was soppy enough to indicate love, but not, she hoped, too stalkerish.

  There. Her day’s work was well and truly done. Smiling, Neela then clicked onto her ‘favourites’ and decided to check out ASOS. This business idea of V’s might actually take off, in which case, a few more purchases this week wouldn’t hurt. Especially as she had Rishi’s credit to play with too. At least until Sunday, when Kiran broke up with her.

  *

  Rupali was inconsolable, and the fact that her immediate family seemed to be wondering whether or not there was truth in the rumours made things worse. The only thing that cheered her was the possibility of tracing the person responsible for her shame.

  When Jai’s family had first left, after the dreadful day of accusations, her mother insisted that the DVD cover must be kept a secret so the family’s name would not be defiled further.

  ‘But it’s not true,’ she kept saying, to anyone who would listen, which, in terms of her family, was no one at all.

  Finally, Rupali stopped objecting and set about getting even.

  That evening, she had sat in the small box room that housed her bed and tiny closet, and thought about the situation. She wasn’t stupid, and quickly worked out there was a reason behind that DVD cover. It couldn’t be a simple joke. Who would go to all that trouble for a joke? Particularly one that, obviously, would have such massive consequences.

  Her closest friend Khushi called once again to offer commiserations.

  ‘Come out with us. Have shisha, drink. Relax.’

  ‘How can I? Everybody knows now.’

  ‘We’ll go somewhere different.’

  Allowing herself to be picked up in her friend’s brother’s pimped up Kia, the girls made their way loudly to the next suburb, where a dark, almost empty bar, awaited them.

  ‘See, there’s no one here.’

  Until, almost as if planned, Disha, the girl who was a friend of a friend, and that ex of Jai’s, popped up as the waitress.

  ‘Hey, I know you. You’re that engaged girl. You ditch Jai yet?’

  Their mutual friend Khushi put an arm around Rupali. ‘Someone set Rupali up, and Jai ditched her.’

  When the horrible story was revealed Disha put a finger to her cheek. ‘You know, I saw Jai with two girls here a while back.’

  Not more girls, Rupali groaned.

  ‘Listen,’ Disha had taken up a seat, despite the boss of the shisha place staring daggers at her from behind the bar. ‘They were talking business. And it was the second time I saw them all together. Plus he handed them money. It could have something to do with you, couldn’t it?’

  ‘Unless they were, well, you know, hookers. Did they look like hookers?’ Rupali suggested.

  Disha shook her head. ‘No, one was dressed in a suit, for work. And they didn’t seem like friends either. Didn’t kiss or anything.’

  ‘Anyway to find out who they were?’ Khushi asked.

  ‘No, but leave me your mobile number and I’ll text if I see them again. Maybe I can get them to enter our free giveaway, and discover their names.’

  ‘Okay.’ Rupali called out her number.

  Disha patted her shoulder. ‘Listen I’m really sorry about everything. He’s scum and I try my best to never serve him in here after what he did to me. If some skanky girls go home with him then fine, but you seemed so nice. I had to warn you what you were letting yourself in for.’

  ‘Thanks, I guess.’ Rupali said. It didn’t help, she was more miserable than ever.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  IN PREPARATION FOR KIRAN’S family, Neela began drinking while she got dressed. No point in leaving anything to chance, including trusting Kiran to call off the arrangement. She had bought a bottle of red wine to keep her company as she considered how to make a really bad impression. It was a sad moment. She saw people who drank alone as lonely, sad drunks. Consuming enough to get tipsy but not paralytic – she did have some dignity – Neela considered the final product in the antique gold mirror. Kicking off the high Karen Millen stilettos, she stumbled slightly as she tried to put on a pair of ballet flats. Seeing someone looking so unsteady on the streets of London would have Neela murmuring that they should go home and sleep it off. But if getting pissed was what she had to do for revenge, then so be it.

  Kiran didn’t love her, not properly, and she wanted his parents to say that there was no way in hell that she could marry their son. And if they didn’t, Neela would spell out what drinking in pregnancy could do to grandchildren, to say nothing of the fact that she would insinuate a drinking problem could be hereditary. It would ensure they run screaming from the Harrow on the Hill house. If they were searching for a picture perfect daughter-in-law, it wasn’t her.

  ‘Neela beti!’ Daadi-ji shouted in her shaky voice from the bottom of the stairs, ‘Come down, Kiran and his family are waiting for you.’

  ‘Coming Daadi-ji!’ she shouted back, burping for good measure. After one more look in the mirror, she hiked the Topshop skirt a little higher so that, from the back, her panties were almost showing. She then put another coat of almond oil on her hair for good measure.

  Leaving her face devoid of makeup, and as a last thought adding black circles under her eyes with a kohl pencil, Neela stumbled downstairs. She tripped over the final three treads and one of her shoes fell off and rolled across the hardwood floor into the doorway of the good room. The loud accompanying thump had everyone standing up to check if she was okay.

  ‘I’m fiiine!’ she shouted, this time hiccupping as a full stop to her sentence. Walking to the oak door where her dad was waiting – in the familiar pose of a farmer showing his available cattle for slaughter – Neela pulled her skirt up a little more, and ignored Rishi’s horrified gaze. Suddenly feeling woozy, she grabbed hold of the door frame, and saw Kiran and his dad sitting on one sofa, Daadi-ji sitting in her orthopaedic chair, and Soorbhi, and Kiran’s mum sitting on another sofa.

  Everyone was silent and staring, except Daadi-ji who shrieked in shock.

  ‘Woub anyone lide some chai?’ Neela asked, offering to make tea.

  Soorbhi bolted up from the sofa and dragged Neela upstairs by her arm. By the end of journey, Neela was worried she might be sick on the new Ralph Lauren bedspread she had bought with Rishi’s credit card last week.

  ‘What the hell do you think you are doing?’ Soorbhi shouted. ‘This is how you dress up when someone’s parents are here, I could almost see your chuddies your skirt was that short. And what is that smell?’

  ‘Green Tea Body Butter!’ Neela said, knowing that her mum still wouldn’t recognise the smell of excess alcohol after all these years.

  ‘I don’t care what it is, you look disgusting. Put your head underneath that shower and wash your hair before I do it for you.’

  Neela sank onto the bed. God, alcohol made you sleepy. And she’d only had one bottle of red.

  ‘Why aren’t you in the bath yet? Hurry up.’ Soorbhi said clapping at her, ‘Then I want you to wear one of these outfits.’ She pulled out three sets of salwar kameez and laid them out. Giving her daughter a face that showed that she meant business, her mother stormed out, and Neela had no choice but to obey.

  *

  Rupali sat at home and waited for that fateful phone call or text.

  If she could discover who the culprit was, and why, she might be able to reclaim Jai.

  He was the love of her life, and she wasn’t prepared to give up without a fight.

  The doorbell sounded and she heard her mother exclaim ‘How nice’. What was nice?

/>   Before Rupali had even reached her bedroom door, her mother was walking in, holding a large bunch of flowers.

  ‘Perhaps it is from Jai?’ her mother cried, ever hopeful.

  Tearing open the small envelope, Rupali read the message, and then passed it to her mother.

  ‘What does that mean, Rupa?’

  ‘I don’t know Mum, but it doesn’t look as if it’s from Jai.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you have other men, Rupa?’

  ‘I have no one, and thanks to that horrible DVD cover, I never will.’ And once again, Rupali burst into heaving sobs.

  *

  Soorbhi walked back downstairs, praying silently that her daughter hadn’t done too much damage. What was going on? It was almost as if Neela didn’t want to be married – even after choosing Kiran herself. Rushing back into the good room in time to see Kiran getting angry looks from his mother, Soorbhi set about making tea and warming the dinner.

  When she returned, Mr Acharya and Rishi were awkwardly talking to each other about cars and Daadi-ji was counting through the prayer beads. It was definitely bad, but the Solankis had to ride it out and pretend that nothing had happened. Apologising for Neela’s behaviour, Soorbhi revealed her daughter had not been feeling well lately, but did not want to cancel the dinner at late notice. Then she beckoned them into the dining room, where she’d put the food out on the table, hoping that the quicker they ate, the quicker they could leave.

  ‘Mummy I’m back now,’ a voice said. Neela was wearing a yellow salwar kameez outfit and her hair was a towel dried mess. Soorbhi looked at her up and down and gave her a nod, and then the plate of parathas to put out onto the table.

  The dinner was awkward and silent, with Neela seemingly trying hard to stay awake. At one point she did drift off, snoring gently until Rishi bashed a spoon against a serving dish. The only conversation was between Daadi-ji and Kiran’s mum, who were commenting on how well cooked the cauliflower curry was. When they left there was no 20 minute goodbye by the doorway. The Acharyas just left as if the house was on fire. Neela stayed half-sitting, half-lying on the sofa.

  Rishi woke her with the slam of the front door. ‘Do you have any idea of what an embarrassment you were today?’ he shouted. It was a familiar rant.

  ‘You made such a big deal about being in love with this boy, and now it looks like you don’t even want him. What kind of person are you?’ Soorbhi said, sounding angrier than ever before.

  ‘Oh Bhagwan,’ Daadi-ji called, clutching at her head, and declaring she was suffering from yet another Neela-induced migraine.

  ‘I think he is cheating on me. I wanted him to break off the marriage so he would look like the bad person. That’s what you have always said.’ Neela was using her own parents’ words on them and Soorbhi had to stop herself from slapping her daughter. ‘The one who breaks up an arrangement is the bad person.’

  ‘And you think what you did tonight was good? You nearly spilled burning hot tea in Kiran’s lap!’ Rishi shouted. ‘It seems that you will never leave my house. What will people say?’

  ‘If you break up with Kiran, Mr Trivedi will hear all about it.’ Soorbhi said, clutching at her heart. ‘Then people really will talk.’

  ‘Oh Bhagwan,’ moaned Daadi-ji.

  ‘What? Why?’ Neela was confused.

  ‘He was expecting an invite to your wedding with Kiran; that’s the way it is if, in your eyes, Kiran was more important than his son.’ Soorbhi explained. Neela rolled her eyes, and Soorbhi once again resisted the temptation to lash out. ‘Now I have to tell him that you won’t be marrying that Kiran boy either. How will that look?’

  ‘That’s just stupid, what does it have to do with that oil head?‘

  ‘DON’T TALK TO YOUR MOTHER LIKE THAT!’ Rishi boomed.

  In response, Neela just got up and with a surprising show of agility, given her state, raced upstairs like a melodramatic teenager.

  The Solankis stared at one another in horror.

  ‘She will bring down our reputation,’ Soorbhi warned them all.

  And, to the strains of Daadi-ji chanting, everyone went about their business with heavy hearts.

  *

  The next day, Neela answered the phone on the eighth ring – she was in Selfridges trying on shoes and really couldn’t be bothered – but business was business and seeing the call was from her latest client, she picked up. She’d fully expected Kiran to ring about the disastrous dinner, but so far, all was silent on that front.

  ‘What’s happening. Are you doing something?’

  Ah. That girl Priya and her fiancé Hiten. ‘Of course, but these things take time.’ Despite the twinge of uneasiness she still felt, Neela already mentally (and partly, literally) spent the money from Priya, so it wouldn’t do to upset her.

  ‘Do you have any ideas then?’

  Gosh the girl was pushy. Neela thought quickly. The pornography angle had worked quite well for Jai, perhaps it was worth using it again?

  ‘How about this? Why not order up some x-rated stuff online and have it delivered to his house.’

  There was silence as Priya considered the suggestion. ‘How will delivering it to his house work?’

  ‘Because if we can time the delivery just right, you can turn up with your parents, and see it.’

  Priya sucked in her breath, and for a moment Neela worried that she would say the idea was rubbish. But then the words: ‘That is a really brilliant idea’, came the response.

  ‘Great. What is a good day and time for you and your parents to turn up?’

  ‘Well, we are going on Friday because I get the afternoons off work . . .’

  Neela told her to forward Hiten’s address, and then leave the rest to her.

  This was going to be the easiest ₤1500 she’d ever earned.

  Chapter Twenty- three

  The lookalike Payal was still standing in the middle of the street, the tiny car was still coming towards her and she was still staring her impending doom in the face.

  The rain was sheeting down, and Payal’s clothes were drenched. The driver, who could have performed an emergency break at any time, drove directly into the stricken woman. A huge crashing sound could be heard, as if the car was hitting a brick wall instead of a woman.

  In an instant, the view returned to the family inside the house. The noise of the car crashing into the lookalike Payal was played again and Lohit’s look of confusion quickly changed to fear. Not his darling wife! What had happened? He made to run out of the house but stopped at the sight of the hooded woman walking back into the house, carrying the lifeless body of his wife in her arms.

  Lohit cried out her name: ‘PAYAAAAAAL! NO!’ He collapsed to his knees, crying hysterically. As the camera zoomed out, his entire family could be seen standing behind him. They all stared the drenched, slight, hooded woman holding the daughter-in-law of the house in her arms. Thunder sounded and lightning flashed again, and a whistling wind blew through the house, not affecting the perfect hairdos of the family, but throwing the hood off the head of the hooded woman.

  ‘Are you watching PAL again? Shall I begin calling you Daadi-ji?’ V arrived at the Bazaar Lounge looking flustered and was unimpressed to find Neela glued to the TV instead of spending time contemplating how to deal with Girish.

  ‘Sorry, but look at that guy.’ Neela pointed at the smouldering Navin.

  ‘Have you completely lost it? GET RID OF GIRISH! That’s what I paid you for.’ V knew she was being unreasonable, but it did seem as if her friend had taken her money and business idea and was successfully managing to break up others, but not her and Girish. ‘It’s my pre-engagement ceremony in one week. One week, Neela. Once that is over with, the possibility of a breakup is pretty much lost.’

  ‘I am working on it. Please, V, believe me. And it’s costing me a fortune, too.’

  ‘Well, now that you’ve sorted Jai. Now you can spend 100 per cent of the time on me.’

  Neela blushed.

  ‘What
’s wrong, are you hot? It’s freezing in here with the air con.’

  ‘A little,’ Neela replied. ‘I might be coming down with a cold.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘What is your great plan for me? Who is the set up? And where did you find her?’

  ‘I don’t want to say, in case you try to influence it. In case you say something to Girish.’

  ‘Why would I?’

  But Neela was adamant. ‘This girl is gorgeous and dysfunctional. Girish is disgusting and dysfunctional. Once they realise they are meant for each other, it will all be over for you. In the meantime, try to relax, will you?’

  ‘It’s a bit difficult when there is a huge wedding being planned around you, you know.’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t, but deep breaths. Girish is on the way out. Trust me,’ she said again, one eye still on the television hanging incongruously above a disused fireplace.

  ‘And what about you? Do you have any real men to talk about?’

  Neela shook her head. ‘There’s no one normal around.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’ V had been accosted by that Jai Sharma as she went to get her dry-cleaning that morning. ‘He can’t shut up talking about himself.’

  ‘Quite hot though. And self-made.’

  ‘Hot in his own mind. He is far too sleazy for me – not that he would look twice at someone like me, anyway.’

  Snapping her fingers for the waitress, Neela said that Jai wasn’t good enough for her. ‘He is planning a married life that involves a wife and numerous girlfriends. No one in their right mind should be subject to that.’

  ‘I’ll take that over Girish any day.’

  Suddenly, a bunch of girls strolled in, laughing and chatting.

  ‘Thindians!’ V and Neela said together, observing the skinny girls, all dressed in jeggings and sleeveless t-shirts, swishing their hair as they loudly debating the choice of seats available. Then one looked over in their direction.