The Bollywood Breakup Agency

by Naina Gupta

  Neela was silent. Kiran was a conniving, evil, lying little . . .

  ‘Neela!’

  ‘Sorry, what?’

  ‘I have to go. Now stop worrying and go and plan a wonderful wedding.’

  And with that, Rishi was gone, leaving Neela still entrenched in her engagement. It didn’t bode well for a future with a man she might truly love. Especially if that man discovered she was engaged to another.

  *

  When Disha called with the information, Rupali got herself dressed in something other than a tracksuit and jumped in her car for a drink, shisha and a meeting. In her mind, Jai would be hers again when he realised that someone had set his wife-to-be up, and that she was a good girl, and not a porn star as purported. This meant she had better get herself back to the old Rupali as soon as possible. Squidging about in her skirt and blouse combination, however, it was obvious it would take some work. How much weight can you put on it a few weeks?

  ‘You won’t like this.’ Disha was wearing a skirt so short that at first, Rupali wondered if she’d forgotten to dress herself properly.

  Noticing her staring at the low cut top as they sat down, Disha pointed to her friend Kajal, dressed in an even shorter skirt, and explained that they were involved in a business enterprise and that Kajal had a job to do. That appalled Rupali more than the length of the skirts.

  ‘Not that sort of job. She has to deliver some stuff, and pretend to like this loser guy. 150 quid for ten minutes work, not bad.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘But listen, that’s how I know what‘s going on.’

  ‘What?’ Rupali was confused, which wasn’t unusual.

  ‘This girl has a business breaking up marriages. She needs Kajal for a breakup.’

  ‘I don’t get it.’

  Trying to put it as gently as possible, Disha grabbed Rupali’s hand. ‘Jai told Kajal and Kajal told me. Said he had used her himself. To break off his engagement.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Rupali, as you are the only person Jai has ever been engaged to, he must mean you?’

  ‘Jai? Jai did it, but why?’

  ‘Look,’ said Disha. ‘I think the way it works is he paid this girl to break you guys up.’

  Rupali’s brain worked feverously. ‘That means that she must have prepared that DVD.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Drinking the beer in front of her in one go, Rupali stood up. ‘Who is she, then? This marriage wrecker?’

  Disha smiled. ‘Some rich girl from Harrow on the Hill called Neela. Neela Solanki.’

  *

  The real Payal was still pointing. She had removed her hooded cloak and was now wearing an expensive yellow sari. ‘MUMMY-JI, YOUR NEPHEW NAVIN AND HIS WIFE ISHIKA HAVE BEEN PLOTTING TO KILL YOU!’

  She pointed again at the guilty pair. ‘AND THE EVIL DUO TRIED TO BLAME IT ON THE FAKE PAYAL SO THAT YOU CUT LOHIT OUT OF YOUR WILL, LEAVING THEM TO INHERIT THE FAMILY BUSINESS.’

  The camera cut to the individual faces of the cast, slowly panning across the identical ‘O’s that formed on each carefully made-up mouth.

  The real Payal continued to screech her monologue. ‘BUT IT WAS THEM. THEY HAVE BEEN CAUSING YOUR FAINTING SPELLS. THEY POISONED YOU AND THEN PAID THE DOCTOR TO BLAME IT ON LOHIT’S NEW WIFE!’

  Thunder and lightning featured heavily again, darkening the room, even though it had stopped raining outside.

  Lohit began hyperventilating with anger and all eyes turned to him. Mummy-ji continued to clutch her heart, to the attention of no-one.

  ‘NEELA, TIME TO MAKE chapattis.’ Soorbhi dragged her eyes from PAL and walked to the kitchen bench to clean the marble surface. Neela looked at her watch. Still a couple of hours before the slut was due at Hiten’s house.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Kiran’s family will expect you to cook for them, you know.’

  Kiran! Neela wanted to yell that there was no way she was marrying that loser, but she had to bide her time. After all, she was finally having some success in her business, if she couldn’t get rid of her own stupid, revengeful fiancé, what did it say about her skills as a marriage de-arranger?

  Perhaps Jai knew a male slut as well? No way would Rishi allow her to marry a gay man. For some reason, criminals didn’t worry him, but a man who might scupper his chances of a grandchild. No way.

  Wondering how she could achieve this great feat without Kiran outsmarting her again, Neela was in her own little world when her mum asked about V.

  ‘Neela!’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Vidya. How is she? Excited about her marriage.’

  ‘Excited is not the word.’ Repulsed, horrified, disgusted maybe. They were far better words to describe how V felt. Once again, Neela re-lived the fight, her friend’s face looking like black thunder clouds. How could she assume Neela had given up on her? Well, if Girish had eyes, and Rupali was, true to form, a moron, then pretty soon V would be free and all would be forgiven.

  Then her phone beeped and Soorbhi gave up on conversation, turning to the Plus 1 channel to watch PAL again.

  Who was it now? It could be one of any number of people; Neela had so many schemes on the go. The Bazaar date between Rupali and Girish was set up for later tonight. Why Neela hadn’t arranged for Priya to catch Hiten with the porno delivery slut on another night was beyond her. Perhaps she should spend some of her dad’s hard-earned cash on a diary from Rymans, before she ditched Kiran and the funding source was cut off? Stock up on all sorts of pretty stationery items, too. Thanks to her dad’s money, she was getting together a nice little stash in her bank account – for when that day came. This time, Rishi wouldn’t catch her unawares.

  She clicked open the text message.

  What did you do to my husband, you bitch? Do you want to be disowned by your family? I’ll get you!!!

  For a moment, Neela felt a spark of fear, but then decided that she’d hadn’t been involved with any ‘husbands’, so the message must be a mistake.

  Or a prank – there were loads of crazies about. Some of them engaged to clients of hers.

  Re-reading it, Neela decided it just didn’t make sense.

  Nothing to worry about.

  *

  V was trying on her wedding outfit. Her mother and a couple of aunties stood in the Ealing Road shop next to her, peering at the mirror, observing.

  ‘You are losing weight, beti, it must be the excitement.’

  ‘More likely food poisoning from eating at Girish’s.’

  ‘Now, now, be nice. You will be part of that family soon enough. And then you will be able to cook for them, show them how you like the food.’

  Did her mum have to keep reminding her? It was just cruel. As usual, V nodded and said nothing. She had asked for this, V reminded herself for the millionth time. Too late to upset her parents now.

  ‘Hello!’ The familiar form of Jai Sharma appeared next to her in the mirror. The aunties cooed at the sight of the handsome young man.

  ‘Who might you be?’ V’s mum asked, hands on wide hips.

  ‘Are you V’s mum? I’m Jai. Pleased to meet you.’

  ‘How do you know my daughter?’

  ‘Well, Neela–‘

  No further comment was necessary. The older women quickly put Jai together with Neela’s wayward reputation and thought the worst. Because V was so annoyed with her friend, she didn’t bother correcting the assumption.

  ‘What are you doing in a sari shop in Wembley?’ V asked Jai, who looked about as comfortable as a fish in a cat’s bowl in the tiny, stifling hot store.

  ‘Oh, um, nothing. I was passing and saw you in here.’

  V, her mum and the aunties looked towards the grubby front windows, covered from top to bottom in window displays.

  ‘Really? You must have good eyesight.’

  Jai blushed. ‘You look nice.’

  The aunties tittered. And not in a good way.

  V’s blood slowly reached boiling point. ‘Look, Jai, if you don
’t mind, we are busy. Why don’t you go and meet one of your nasty, slutty little girlfriends?’

  The aunties tittered again, but the words seemed to wind Jai up, who stood gaping at her as if she’d just tried to shoot a hole in his slicked-back, full head of hair. Good. V was sick of him, of Neela, of the whole stupid business.

  ‘Fine, well, nice to see you.’

  ‘Bye Jai.’ V turned back to the mirror, and they carried on as if the interruption had never occurred.

  ‘Did you ask Girish for chai at ours tomorrow night?’

  ‘He said he had something on.’

  ‘Really? What?’

  V hadn’t thought to ask, because she didn’t care. Bull running? A parachute jump?

  One could only hope.

  *

  To top it all off, hot Navin called and asked Neela out – for that very night. Without thinking, because there was nothing to think about, Neela immediately said yes. Then she remembered she was due at Hiten’s at 6:00 p.m., and at Bazaar at 9:00 p.m. to watch Girish clap eyes on Rupali for the first time. There was only one option. Navin would have to come to Bazaar as well. She’d fill him in on her plan, and they could watch it unfold successfully, together. He’d be proud she was well on the way to being self-made. Showing off her business skills, which of course she would ditch the instant she was engaged to him, was no bad thing.

  Wandering to her room to consider the perfect outfit for the date, Neela felt that finally it was all coming together. The perfect man. The perfect job. V’s friendship soon to be restored. Okay, there was the small matter of Kiran to deal with, but Neela was sure she could handle that with least embarrassment to herself.

  Chapter Twe nty-nine

  NEELA CARRIED HER X-RATED parcels to the meeting point with Jai’s slutty friend Kajal, at the rather conspicuous corner of Hiten’s street near Harrow town centre. Priya had already been in touch to say her family had arrived 30 minutes earlier, and Kajal could make her delivery at any time.

  Kajal was living up to her name by wearing as much eyeliner as was humanly possible. She was also looking very much like a slapper, with a tiny skirt, low cut top, and tights with holes in them.

  ‘Were the holes really necessary?’ Neela asked, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

  ‘They didn’t have holes before I got on the bus. The public transport around here leaves a lot to be desired.’

  It wasn’t worth commenting on the fact that Kajal had no problem getting on the number 186 dressed like a hooker. She was perfect for this job, why complain?

  ‘Right, now, here is the stuff. Lingerie, wax products, and other stuff too. Just make sure you pull it all out at the front door, and say that you need Hiten to check his order this time, because last time he claimed things were missing. And then ask for the other items he is returning. Priya is sure they must be in his room. While he is denying everything at the front door, she is going to insist someone go up and find them.’

  Considering the contents of Neela’s boxes with interest, Kajal merely pointed out that the lingerie wasn’t even in her size; she was hoping to keep some of the stuff from the box as part of her payment. Well, that was up to Priya, Neela told her.

  Neela’s BlackBerry buzzed. Speak of the devil.

  Priya spoke sotto voce. ‘They’re moving back into the living room now. If she knocks now, they will all be standing in the hall.’

  Hanging up, she pointed down the road. ‘Right, go, and remember to act as if you and Hiten are real close.’ Neela shoved the obscenely dressed girl towards Hiten’s at number 59. ‘And hurry.’

  *

  The families of Priya and Hiten got together for lunch that Saturday afternoon at Hiten’s house. They lived in a nice area of Harrow that, on sighting it once again, made Priya question why the fool Hiten would want to steal her money in the first place.

  They sat around the glass dining table eating Indian snack foods – yellow savoury Dhokla cakes and green chutney, samosas, spring rolls, and spicy kachori balls. As they ate, and picked out wedding halls from brochures, there was a knock at the door.

  ‘Who’s that,’ Priya’s mum asked. ‘Are you expecting someone else today?’

  ‘No,’ came the reply from Hiten’s mum. ‘But you know how it is. You never expect anyone, they just come over and visit.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘We have an open house. We love guests.’ It sounded like she was still trying to sell her family to Priya’s mum. ‘I’ll answer the door.’

  Excusing herself from the table, it was a few moments before the door opened, and everyone else stayed silent to see if there was a voice they recognised. But all was quiet, which made the high-pitched scream, when it came, more difficult to bear.

  ‘HITEN! GET YOURSELF OUT HERE NOW!’

  Priya had to put a hand over her face to keep from smiling, the delivery had arrived. When Hiten got up, everyone else got up. When someone was about to get yelled at, it was important to watch it play out.

  Unable to resist, Neela crept forward and watched the action through a bush in front of the house, careful not to ruin the newly dry-cleaned Karen Millen trousers and shirt she had worn for the date with Navin. The street was quiet, so it was possible to hear everything clearly.

  ‘I am a friend of Hiten’s. With a delivery.’

  Another woman, with a more aristocratic air, pushed the first woman aside. ‘And who are you?’

  ‘Hiten’s friend.’ Kajal said it so suggestively, with an accompanying lick of her ruby red lips, that the woman’s mouth literally fell open.

  A man in his twenties appeared. Hiten.

  ‘Who are you? I don’t know you?’

  On cue, Kajal pulled out the wax, and the babydoll nighty. ‘Come on Hiten. Of course you do. Anyway, I have these items you ordered online. A personal delivery.’ Another lick of the lips.

  The woman Neela assumed was Priya’s mother clutched her heart in the well-practised way of Mummy-ji from PAL. For a moment, Neela was worried that she might have a heart attack, but then realised the woman was only in her fifties (and that watching too much PAL was not good for her mental health). Watching Navin, though, was . . .

  ‘You disgusting boy. You dare to shame our daughter, our family, with such behaviour?’ Priya’s mother took the box of wax out of Kajal’s hands, and raised it as if she was about to smack him over the head with it. ‘What is this for?’

  ‘It must be a mistake, it must be!’ Hiten’s mother tried to calm things down, but Kajal carried on with the charade.

  ‘Look, Hiten, I need those other products back. Could you get them for me so that I can blow this scene?’ Again, the word blow was said with such emphasis that Priya had to admit Kajal was worth double what she had paid.

  ‘I have never met this girl, I swear it!’

  Everyone stood speechless.

  ‘I told her that she was at the wrong house,’ Hiten’s mum said. ‘But she showed me the credit card receipt with your name and card number on it.’ As she said that, she took the box of wax from Priya’s mum to smack her son upside the head. Everyone else in the hallway flinched at the impact.

  ‘I swear Mum, I have never seen her before in my life,’ Hiten said. ‘Someone must have stolen my identity or something. I don’t even know what’s inside that box.’

  ‘I need to put this down,’ said the girl. She turned around and then bent over to place the box back on the floor. Every person in the hall had their mouths open. ‘And, as I said, I need to take the returns.’

  ‘Let me see that receipt,’ Priya said, snapping everyone out of their daze. She took the sheet of paper and perused it, knowing exactly what she was looking for. ‘Hey!’ she called. ‘I recognise that account number. This is from our joint account!’

  It all started to heat up now.

  Priya turned and raced up the stairs. ‘I’m going to look for those other things.’

  ‘If she finds them . . .’ Priya’s dad said, not finishing his sentence. He didn’t need to.

&n
bsp; ‘So you cheat on this lovely girl we have chosen for you, with this . . . thing that is ruining my beautiful hardwood floors with her stupid high heels.’ Hiten’s mum said. ‘And then you make it worse by stealing money from her.’

  ‘Hey!’ shouted Kajal, insulted by the reference.

  ‘It was OUR money!’ Hiten shouted. Neela giggled from behind the bushes. That wasn’t going to help his cause in any way at all.

  ‘Listen,’ Kajal said, jutting out her hip and pushing out her breasts, emphasising the unique assets. ‘I need to go. Where is my stuff?’

  Suddenly, Priya stormed down the stairs with a handful of items and threw them in the large box on the floor. Kajal took out the size 14 red and black thong from the box and started to twirl it around with her finger, edging over towards Hiten. ‘If you want you can model it for me, just as you like to do.’ She winked and Priya’s mum fainted. Luckily, her husband raced forward to catch her before she hit her head on the wooden floor.

  ‘Get lost you tart. Look what you’ve done to my mother.’ Priya said, pushing Kajal out the door, being careful not to make eye contact or laugh or do anything that would raise suspicion.

  ‘No!’ Priya’s dad called from beside his ailing wife, who was now beginning to come around. ‘We will leave, and you can stay here with that disgusting girlfriend of yours! The wedding is off, there is no way I am going to allow my daughter to be wed to a thief, a liar, a cheat AND A CROSSDRESSER!’

  Neela realised the family were heading her way and she raced down the street and around the corner before she was seen.

  Priya, her mum and dad quickly left the house, got into a three-year-old Prius and drove off.

  Sitting in the back seat, Priya listened to the anger oozing out of the rest of her family. Satisfied, Priya got out her phone and sent a text to Neela.