The Bollywood Breakup Agency

by Naina Gupta

  ‘Neela! Look girls, it’s my saviour!’

  ‘What is she talking about?’ asked V of her friend.

  Neela was looking all hot and bothered again.

  A tiny girl with a short skirt and wide smile bounced up to them. ‘She’s getting rid of Hiten, my fiancé for me. And so far, she’s doing really well. Had a brilliant idea.’

  ‘Did she now?’ V couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Neela knew that V’s own engagement party was perilously close, yet she was spending precious time they didn’t have courting new clients.

  Neela saw V was angry. ‘It’s not how it looks.’

  ‘I think the ₤1500 you charge is a bargain,’ the girl burbled. ‘I’ve got about two new clients for you. After you’re done with me, of course. Don’t want you distracted, do I?’

  Neela, realising how bad it looked, tried to grab V’s hand, but she was having none of it: ‘No, it wouldn’t do to be distracted. You might end up like me – on course for a lifetime of unhappiness.’

  And with that V stood abruptly, knocking over her gin and tonic, and walked away.

  ‘V, wait! Let me explain.’

  Turning around, V stared down her best friend. ‘I want my money back. Immediately.’

  ‘Listen, I am working on your plan, I promise, I–‘

  ‘You are a liar, Neela Solanki, and I never want to see you again.’

  By the time V was sitting in her car, the tears had started and she couldn’t stop them.

  How could Neela be working for someone else? First Jai, now this girl? When would her supposed best friend help her?

  Starting the engine, V slammed the car into first.

  If she had to marry Girish, she would never forgive Neela. Never.

  *

  Another bunch of flowers arrived, but, as with the first, Rupali didn’t give them a second glance. The accompanying message: ‘Apologies for the intrusion, but someone as beautiful as you deserves beautiful things’ was as cryptic as before, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, not when she had lost Jai.

  Her mother told her not to worry; that they could always find her a good match somewhere else, back home in India maybe, but it didn’t help. Rupali was really depressed. She called in sick at work – a week after her parents begged her boss at the insurance company to take her back. She gorged herself on chocolates, cake, Hobnobs and whatever Indian sweets were available – and she didn’t even like sweets. She didn’t wash her hair, or get out of her pyjamas for days. She just sat on the sofa watching TV, and when finally forced to go to work, she wore simple, unsexy clothes and didn’t even have the inclination to apply lipstick, let alone a full face of makeup.

  Rupali was a totally different girl to the one Jai had proposed to, and with the exception of exacting revenge on whomever it was that created that DVD cover, she’d had lost all interest in everything.

  So when yet another bunch of flowers, out of season tulips, arrived, she hardly looked at them, and didn’t even bother reading the message.

  But her mother did.

  Are you alright? I know I have no right, but I worry for you. Such beauty should be revered.

  Looking over at her once animated daughter, Rupali’s mother thought enough was enough, and decided to find out where the flowers were coming from.

  She picked up the phone, and carefully dialled the number listed on the florist’s card.

  *

  Girish and V sat silently on the plastic-covered sofa in V’s living room as their respective families made the final arrangements for the pre-engagement ceremony.

  ‘I can’t wait,’ Girish told her, winking suggestively, and V felt the now familiar punch in her gut at the horrifying thought of being with such a revolting man. The toenail saga, burping, and his general disgustingness would never be forgotten, and V had begun to wonder if faking a mental illness might be the only way to extract herself from the horror of her impending nuptials. Being locked in a loony bin was preferable to marriage with Girish.

  V was so angry at Neela that she couldn’t even verbalise the fact that Neela was no longer part of her wedding to her mother. Why bother? If Neela dared to turn up at any of the celebrations, V would deal with it then. Right now, she couldn’t do anything but watch her life fall apart. It was like watching a car crash in slow motion, and being unable to move out of the way of an oncoming vehicle, despite the fact there was plenty of time to do so. V could simply tell her mother she wouldn’t marry Girish, but if she did, she was, in reality, saying she would never marry, and that she had so little respect for her parents that she would cause them to become outcasts in their community.

  Girish’s mobile phone made a horrible alien sound. It sounded like the kind of ring tone that an eleven year old would have on their first mobile, because it sounded funny.

  ‘Voicemail, missed call,’ he told V, and rose to go outside and retrieve the message.

  Relaxing a little, V leaned back into the sofa and pretended that she was anywhere but there.

  Later, when Girish was gone, V slumped down on her bed and pretended to go to sleep. Her mum walked in and asked what was wrong with her.

  ‘You’ve been in a funny mood for days?’

  ‘I dunno, Mum, maybe it’s that time of the month.’

  ‘In my day we didn’t have . . . all that.’

  ‘It’s a naturally occurring hormonal imbalance; it’s just what happens.’

  ‘Not when I was your age. We just had to get on with it.’

  V sighed. Getting on with it. It was the story of her life! She rolled over and pretended to go to sleep,

  Then her ever-optimistic mother said, ‘Well, it’s a good thing it’s happening now, otherwise we wouldn’t be able to do the ceremony.’ Menstruating women were not allowed to take part in religious ceremonies, because they were thought to be unclean. The irony was that the monthly annoyance could have been her ticket to delaying the whole marriage. Even that was against her.

  A few minutes later, her mother backed out of the room and clicked off the light.

  Chapter Twenty- four

  KIRAN SENT NEELA a text to say how brilliant her performance was the other night. His parents thought she was crazy, and couldn’t see why he’d want to marry someone who couldn’t brush their hair for guests.

  God, he was so infuriating. Neela’s hands shook as she responded.

  Good. That’s that, then.

  Hardly. We are seeing you again Thursday.

  No way. You tell my dad it’s over, or I’ll tell him what I know.

  It took an hour for him to reply to that, and he merely said:

  After Thursday.

  What the hell did that mean? Neela vowed that if Kiran didn’t start behaving, she would send some of the treatment she was dishing out to Priya’s Hiten his way.

  Things were going to get nasty if Kiran Achyara didn’t start accepting the fact that she didn’t love him.

  *

  Over the weekend, Vidya Patel’s pre-engagement ceremony was held in her home. It was supposed to be the first step to married life. Not everyone had the ceremony, but V was an only child and her parents wanted to do everything properly.

  The pre-wedding ceremony was the families’ way of saying ‘our children want to get married to each other’. It took place before the engagement ceremony and was more a nod to the notion that she had been reserved for marriage – that two people had finally decided to be in a steady and exclusive relationship. Sure, there was still a ‘get out’ option, but to say no at this stage, a very good reason would be required. V hadn’t been forced into the marriage to Girish – she had just run out of choices. A spectacular reason would be required to break off the arrangement now.

  V, dressed in a new green lengha, made up of a long green and silver skirt and matching blouse, sat on the makeshift platform next to Girish who was wearing a shiny grey suit and white tie. She thought about Neela and her empty promises to de-arrange her union with the repulsive toenail
man.

  Before she knew it she had a coconut in one hand and her future mother-in-law was putting a red dot on her forehead. Instead of reacting, V stared at the portrait of Ganesh in the good room, where the ceremony was being held. She couldn’t think past the moment, despite the fact that the many actions taking place around her all represented an impending marriage she didn’t want. She heard Neela’s voice in her head: Just say no! But she couldn’t. V had always been the polite, ‘good’ girl. It was inconceivable she could humiliate her parents by walking away.

  But the congratulations she received; the money being put in her hands; the sweets being put in her mouth – all served to depress her further. V didn’t dare to look at the man sitting next to her. As ceremony dictated, his shoes were off and she tried not to think about the bite marks that were inevitably on his toenails, inside the socks.

  Continuing to ignore the ceremony, V tried to rationalise the worse case scenario in her head. If she did end up with Girish, it might not be so bad. Marriage was just two people co-existing with each other, she just needed to forget about all those chick-flicks and romantic novels she indulged in for years. Maybe life wasn’t like that? Love at first sight – who needed it?

  Her mother came up and felt her forehead. ‘What’s wrong, are you ill?’

  Not wanting to cause upset, V said she had a slight headache and smiled weakly.

  Her mother left, and she went back to staring at the wall, as a roomful of Patels – both from her side and Girish’s, performed their traditional duties.

  *

  Rupali’s mother told her that they were going to at least meet the nice man who was sending the flowers.

  ‘No,’ Rupali said. ‘No way.’

  ‘Why not, beti? He could be very nice.’

  ‘I don’t want very nice, I want Jai.’

  ‘But Jai doesn’t want you, and this man, well, maybe he does.’ It was time to be firm with her daughter.

  But Rupali was adamant.

  ‘Sorry, Mummy, but no!’

  *

  Without the hood, the girl’s face was revealed. It was Payal - the real Payal. Quickly, the camera zoomed in on Lohit, whose shocked face had changed to one of total confusion. Again.

  The real Payal walked slowly across the room and laid her lookalike onto the sofa. Numerous sets of eyes from across the room followed her – Ishika, Navin, Mummy-ji, and Lohit, who was wearing his look of perpetual confusion.

  To a crescendo of loud music, the real Payal slowly took off her cloak. The camera cut from angle to angle as the true identity of the hooded woman was revealed.

  Mummy-ji clutched at her heart but this time no one paid her any attention, despite her recent health scares. The camera panned the faces of the individuals: Lohit, confusion mixed with love; Navin, evil mixed with confusion; and Ishika, evil and confusion mixed with pain as she suddenly placed a hand on her flat but pregnant stomach.

  Is it possible to become addicted to soaps? Neela had run out of the house, just after PAL had finished, and was waiting for Priya at a café, where she told her to bring her laptop. They were due to place the final order, using Hiten’s credit card, for the unsavoury items that would free the girl from her marriage to a man she didn’t trust.

  Unfortunately for Neela, the first three dirty parcels she’d ordered had passed unnoticed. Somehow, Hiten didn’t know or care about the various bits and pieces of paraphernalia that were being delivered on a regular basis. Neela was wondering if she’d lost her touch – the same thing was happening with her plan for Girish and Rupali. She’d sent sexy messages to Girish from a free sim card that she had ordered online, and loving notes and flowers to Rupali, but neither had responded to the email address Neela had created to accept incoming correspondence.

  Then, as arranged, Priya, on the preceding Friday, had turned up with her parents at Hiten’s home in time for the third delivery, a series of ‘Busty Blonde’ DVDs, but the stupid delivery company somehow managed to deliver a toaster instead, and Priya looked like a nutter when she insisted on opening the parcel, only to find one of Breville’s finest.

  Her parents, embarrassed by both Priya’s strange behaviour and the realisation that they were actually uninvited, had then had to pay for both families to have dinner in a local restaurant to save face.

  ‘Don’t worry, Neela had told her. ‘I have a Plan B.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘We arrange for a tarty girl to deliver the stupid stuff herself, when you and your family have been invited. It’s going to be pretty difficult to deny knowledge when there is a half-naked girl insisting that Hiten had requested her services. And, it will be difficult for him to hide the porn.’

  The girls contemplated the fact that so far, Hiten had taken and obviously hidden the three deliveries Neela had already arranged. And in all probability, was enjoying them. ‘You need to go to his room and find them,’ Neela told her. ‘After the delivery girl has been. That should do it.’

  ‘But why couldn’t we go to an internet cafe or something? Priya asked, wondering why she had been made to bring her laptop.

  ‘This way we can also accuse him of hacking into your computer.’ Neela was getting better at her job, utilising every seedy angle.

  Nodding, Priya handed over a slip of paper. ‘Okay. Here are the credit card details.’ They were ordering from the infamous joint account from which Hiten had paid for his charitable donation – Neela said that when Priya exposed him, the fact that he’d spent their money on poor little children would hardly go noticed amongst the listings of porn purchases.

  The girls logged on to a well known racy underwear shop, RazzIT!, and considered what was on offer. Neela and Priya huddled over one of the café’s computers, looking for the smuttiest underwear that they could find. So far, Neela had sent him pretty low key stuff – magazines and videos. It was time to upscale.

  ‘I’ve got it!’ Neela pointed at the screen. ‘Let’s make out he is a cross-dresser. No mother of the bride will put up with that, will she?’

  Even though Priya was desperate to be rid of her altruistic husband, the thought still shocked her. ‘Cross-dressing? Isn’t that a bit mean?’

  ‘Do you want him gone, or do you want him to make excuses?’

  ‘But why would a slutty girl deliver him cross-dressing stuff?’

  Neela frowned. ‘Is your mother or Hiten’s mother going to ask? They won’t care. Trust me, when it comes to this sort of thing, everyone concerned is eager to cover up the scandal, not sit around analysing the situation.’

  So they ordered a size 14 halter neck dress and some size 11 platform slingbacks.

  ‘Next, some bras that aren’t your size.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Make it look like he is having an affair, of course.’

  ‘What cup size? HHH?’ Priya asked, giggling.

  ‘God no!’ Neela protested. ‘You have to make it believable, one up from you? D or something. And maybe some size 14 knickers,’ she added, with a wink.

  They picked out two sets. One was a black and red lace bra which would look like it would push a woman’s boobs right up to her eyeballs, and some very small briefs with a bow on the front. The second one was a jade green balconette number, and to match – something that would make an ordinary thong look like granny pants.

  ‘That looks painful,’ Neela laughed, adding it to the online basket. They also got him a pink corseted baby-doll nightie with ruffles across the bottom. To finish it off, they added some waxing strips and hair minimising creams and self-tanning wipes.

  ‘Let’s not get carried away,’ Priya reminded Neela. ‘It’s my money in that account too, remember!’

  ‘We can return most of it, remember? He’s not going to get the chance to use it this time.’

  And with that thought in mind, and just in case the clothes didn’t work, they bought him some more porn.

  ‘Right, that’s covered every base. All parties present should be totally disgusted
when they catch sight of this lot.’

  They paid and gave the delivery address as Neela’s.

  ‘And where are you going to get this slutty girl?’ Priya asked.

  ‘Why don’t you leave that to me? I’ll wait for the stuff to be delivered and take it from there.’

  ‘I suppose.’ Suddenly, Priya stopped listening to her.

  ‘What’s wrong? Is it Hiten.’

  ‘I think that’s . . .’ the girl stopped talking, and just pointed.

  Neela looked over.

  Oh God. Her heart almost stopped.

  It was Navin.

  Sexy Navin from PAL.

  And he looked even sexier in real life.

  ‘I think I might faint,’ Priya whispered.

  And when, moments later, Navin looked over at them, and smiled, Neela agreed that she might do the same.

  As they both held their hands to their hearts, the six-foot tall star, dressed casually in a navy shirt and faded blue jeans, came over.

  ‘Hi,’ he said, staring straight at Neela. ‘You look familiar. Have we met?’

  Pretty standard pick-up line, Neela thought. ‘Um, no.’ Well, if it was a pickup line, it was working. Neela’s heart was beating so fast she felt as if she might need a brown bag to stop hyperventilating.

  Navin smiled his amazing smile. Neela was surprised to see it – on telly he just smirked and frowned.

  ‘Aren’t you on the telly?’ Priya pipped up, ‘It’s my mum’s favourite. Weren’t you dating that girl from PAL? The one who plays your pregnant wife?’

  ‘Not really. That’s just what we tell the press.’

  ‘So, you’re single?’ Priya confirmed.