The Bollywood Breakup Agency

by Naina Gupta

  Obediently, Neela started to roll out the dough into circles, about half the size of chapattis, ready to be deep fried. How could she tell her mum that she did not want to marry Kiran? It was time to do what she had been doing for the past few months, lie to her mum’s face. Again.

  She mustered up a hang dog expression. ‘Mum I think Kiran is cheating on me.’

  ‘What?!’

  ‘I found some other girl’s phone number on his phone, and she was calling him a lot.’

  Soorbhi frowned. ‘Well that’s what happens when you choose your own husband and don’t listen to your parents.’

  ‘Mum I can’t marry him now.’

  ‘Are you mad! You have no choice and you will do what we tell you. First you insult a number of very nice and rich suitors, including Mr Trivedi’s son, and then you start up’ her mother said the words with distaste, ‘with a boy we don’t know. I can’t have you dragging my name through the mud again and break off yet another engagement. How will I ever walk out of the house?’

  ’Neela looked Soorbhi in the eyes. ‘Do you want me to be unhappy?’

  ‘I will talk to Kiran and we will see what he has to say for himself, see if we can change his mind and get him to behave. That’s all I will do. And you,’ a bony finger pointed at Neela, ‘will act nicely in front of his family. Or else.’

  Damn. Neela stormed upstairs to get dressed. How could it be so difficult to get unhitched? After all, she was supposed to be a professional, wasn’t she?

  V and her predicament surfaced at the thought. Some professional. She couldn’t even say for certain whether her plan with Rupali and Girish was working or not. And she couldn’t risk finding out, either.

  She certainly wasn’t looking forward to Saturday’s engagement ceremony. V might well try to throttle her. And as for tonight, well, she might dunk Kiran’s head in a particular spicy curry and hold it there until he drowns in it.

  At least there was still Navin.

  Gorgeous, wonderful Navin.

  And although she was supposed to be making herself look respectable, Neela rushed through her grooming routine, threw on a blue dress and leggings, then raced downstairs and spent what little time there was left before Kiran’s family arrived watching PAL.

  Navin was still groaning in pain. Lohit still had a very menacing look on his face. ‘You destroyed my life and now you will pay!’ He lifted up his leg for the final time and Navin, a tiny bruise on his otherwise perfect face, coiffured hair still intact, cried out: ‘Nooooooo!’

  Lohit was just about to kick him in the head, when at the last second Navin rolled out from underneath him and stood up, miraculously gaining enough strength to punch Lohit full in the face, and give him a bloody nose and mouth.

  Are you watching this rubbish again? Rishi asked them, coming into the kitchen and picking at the food.

  ‘Well, they are late, what do you expect us to do.’ His wife made excuses for her addiction, as usual.

  ‘I hate these fight scenes,’ Daadi-ji commented. ‘Too real.’

  ‘See, they are like those characters in PAL, untrustworthy,’ Neela murmured quietly, for Soorbhi’s benefit.

  Daadi-ji’s ears pricked up. ‘What, who is untrustworthy?’

  Her son looked at his daughter queryingly. ‘Yes, who?’

  Soorbhi quickly covered Neela’s second try that day at obstructing her impending marriage. ‘Nothing, Neela is just being Neela. Ignore her.’

  Chapter T hirty-four

  TRYING TO DITCH KIRAN WAS more difficult than extracting money from Rishi when he was in a bad mood – near on impossible. When her mother asked Kiran about treating Neela well, Kiran insisted that if Soorbhi desired it, he would install cameras in their house so that she could see how well her daughter would be treated. ‘He’s lying,’ Neela had cried, when she heard, but no matter what she said, either to Kiran or her parents, no one would consider calling off marriage. She even suggested that she might run away if her parents made her marry him, but Rishi shook his head and told her that if she did that, he would have her locked up and put in a loony bin. ‘You chose this one. This one you will marry.’

  Worse, Neela was running out of time to extricate Kiran from her life, because Neela and Navin could definitely be called an item now. He had called the morning after their coffee, and instead of waiting until Monday, they’d gone for a shisha and some drinks for the last two nights in a row.

  Tonight, she was due at V’s engagement ceremony, so there was no chance of seeing him, but as she dressed in a new sari, and adorned herself with new jewellery, Neela couldn’t stop thinking about Navin and those kisses of his.

  After the ceremony, she promised herself. I will tell my family that there is no way I am marrying Kiran, and then I will be free to date Navin. Maybe I can lie and say he is a cross dresser, she thought, or some BS like that. It worked for Priya, after all.

  Sure, she should have done it earlier, but it wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried. She’d rejected yet another two marriage breakup jobs that very week, to concentrate on her own predicament. It wasn’t her fault her parents were so gullible, and believed every ounce of rubbish Kiran told them, and none of the mud Neela tried to throw.

  No, it would be done soon.

  She wasn’t about to lose Navin again, so somehow, someway, she would get out of her engagement.

  *

  As they headed up the low flat stairs to the venue, the Solankis were greeted by the sight of Kiran and his family.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Neela asked crossly. This was all she needed. Since when did bloody Kiran know the Patels?

  ‘We are related by marriage to Girish’s family,’ Kiran’s mother declared happily. ‘Now we can all have a nice time together.’

  Soorbhi and Daadi-ji were still annoyed at the Acharyas for turning up 30 minutes late for dinner the other night, so they shot a couple of grim smiles in their direction and mounted the stairs. Future-in-laws, or not, it made it difficult to gossip about their rude ways if they were actually in the same room.

  ‘Looks like it will be a good ceremony,’ Kiran said, falling in step beside Neela.

  ‘All these things are the same.’

  ‘So I know what to expect then.’ He smirked at her, and put his hand on her shoulder. Pushing it off, she wondered what had she ever seen in him.

  The ceremony was about to begin, so luckily, no further discussion was necessary. Neela pushed through the crowd, towards the front. V might not want to see her, but she wanted her best friend to know she was there for her, in her hour of need. V, sitting resplendent on her throne, took one look at her former friend however, and scowled, before turning quickly away.

  Neela held her breath to stop tears from falling and ruining her makeup.

  Suddenly, someone pushed past her roughly.

  ‘Hey, watch it!’ Neela exclaimed. The man turned. It was Mr Trivedi. First Kiran, now him. This must be some bad joke.

  ‘Are you stalking me or something?’ Neela asked him.

  ‘No, I prefer not to see you,’ replied the old man, oil plainly visible on his comb over.

  ‘The feeling is entirely mutual. Leave me alone or I’ll call the police.’

  That will show him, she thought, observing as he scuttled away. She turned back to V on the platform, to find Daadi-ji staring open-mouthed from a few feet away, shaking her head.

  Great, Neela groaned. Daadi-ji will tell everyone.

  And then, Soorbhi and Rishi will go mad.

  Again.

  *

  Jai knew he shouldn’t be there, but he couldn’t help it. It was one place she was guaranteed to be.

  He edged towards the front of the huge crowd and finally, he saw her. The fact that she was scowling did nothing to detract from her beauty, and once again, Jai’s breath left him.

  Determined to keep a low profile, he tried not to make eye contact with anyone. He wasn’t an invited guest and didn’t want to be humiliated by being caught o
ut.

  Watching as the guests approached the bride-to-be with their offerings, as they placed their dots and held out their tiny morsels of food, Jai felt his stomach tighten at her tight smile and sour expression.

  It wasn’t the smile of a woman who wanted to be married. And it was a situation that Jai knew all too well. Was it possible that Neela had failed her friend? Or more likely that V had decided she did, in fact, want to marry the man she was betrothed to? In any case, Jai decided it was probably better to leave now, rather than witness the whole horrible procedure. He turned to leave, but then a loud voice forced him to turn back.

  *

  Sitting alone, V idly wondered where her fiancé was. It was time for Girish to enter the room to sit next to his fiancée and take part in the ceremony, and be given offerings.

  Her mother looked up her inquisitively, but V just shrugged. Some cousins could be heard calling through the hum of the crowd, but the minutes ticked by, and Girish was still nowhere to be seen.

  V and Girish’s parents looked around and then indicated that V should relax, before disappearing outside the hall.

  Looking down, V saw Neela looking confused, who then stood up and followed V’s mother at safe distance. Annoyed at seeing her face again, V sighed and stared at her hands instead. She felt more than a little weighed down by the sari, as if it was a metaphor for the event, and wished that Girish would hurry up and make an appearance, so that they could get this thing over and done with.

  *

  Outside, the two sets of Patel parents found Girish standing by his car, clutching his mobile phone. There was sweat on his brow, and his traditional clothing seemed to be stretched to the seams.

  ‘Son, come on. We are all waiting. Vidya is waiting.’

  His response shocked them all, and not just because it was so loud. ‘I can’t go through with the wedding.’ He yelled the words at his parents, so that it was impossible for it to go unheard.

  All four Patels screamed, ‘WHAT?’ in unison.

  ‘That is not possible,’ V’s father said. ‘Now get in that hall.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘And why not?’

  ‘I am in love with another.’

  That stunned the four parents into momentary silence. Suddenly, there was a noise behind them. Neela Solanki, obviously listening intently, had tripped on one of the badly paved steps. Thinking quickly, Girish’s father motioned them into the changing room, to continue the discussion in private. His dad had locked the door to prevent any ‘concerned relatives’ from barging in.

  The moment the door was closed, Girish’s mother cried in a high-pitched screech that would have had dogs yelping. ‘NOW? You tell us this now? Do you not care that we have two hundred people out there waiting to see you put an engagement ring on the finger of that wonderful girl we have chosen for you?’

  ‘Do you not care about me? I said I love someone else!’ Girish replied, enunciating the last few words, as if to make sure it was heard.

  ‘That doesn’t matter. You are getting engaged tonight whether you like it or not.’ Girish’s mum had that tone mothers have when they meant serious business.

  ‘You embarrass my daughter, and I swear I’ll . . .’ V’s dad didn’t finish his sentence, but every Patel in the room understood his meaning.

  Taking his arm, his wife led him out of the room, allowing Girish’s parents time alone to read him the riot act.

  Chapter T hirty-five

  V CONTINUED TO SIT alone on the stage. After everything that had gone on, she was furious. To force her into marriage was one thing, but to leave her sitting alone in public was something else. It was humiliating beyond belief, especially since, from the beginning, it was her who wanted nothing to do with that disgusting fool, Girish.

  The crowd was getting impatient. A quick glance at Neela revealed that she didn’t know what was going on, and was looking as bewildered as the rest of the cousins, friends and aunties.

  Suddenly, Girish’s dad walked on stage, looking solemn and exhausted.

  ‘I’m sorry everyone, but unfortunately, there will not be an engagement today.’

  Had she heard correctly? A reprieve? Was it possible?

  At his words, there was total silence in the hall. V suspected it was because Girish, in his chubby, ugly glory, was hardly the type of man to have options. She cast a quick glance at Neela, back in her place near the front of the crowd. Her friend nodded sagely and mouthed ‘Rupali’ at her.

  Rupali? Jai’s stalker from the DVD cover? WHAT? Rupali and Girish? Surely not? But Neela was still nodding, and smiling broadly. Oh God. Had she? Could she? Yes, still nodding. Still smiling. Neela had done it. She’d actually done it! How was another matter, and it was a lot too late, but still.

  V looked away from Neela to see Girish standing at the back of the room, arm grasped by his mother, who wanted him to witness what he had done. Shaking her off, he tried to walk away without a word to V. Not even a ‘sorry’, or ‘nice knowing you’. Charming!

  Suddenly, an auntie army rushed up to the stage and started to mass hug V, attempting to offer comfort in her horrible time of need. Thinking quickly, V forced herself to cry softly. If Neela was behind this, it was important to look humiliated and upset at the public rejection. In a small way she was, but if any of the tears were real, it was only because they were tears of sheer happiness.

  Finally it seemed V was free of Girish Patel, toenail biter extraordinaire.

  And then, her dad was by the exit doors, stopping the fleeing fiancé from leaving. ‘Wait just a minute! You dare to shame my daughter in public!’

  Oh no, please don’t Dad, thought V. Please don’t make him change his mind. Please. Neela rushed up from the crowd and dispersed the aunties, whispering something about being strong in V’s ear. ‘You have been disgraced. Tell your father you won’t take him back. Don’t let all the hard work go to waste!’

  But V’s dad was pushing through the crowd towards Girish, and by the look on his face, he wasn’t about to listen to anyone.

  *

  Finally, it seemed that Neela knew the answer to her questions about what had happened with Girish and Rupali. Sitting beside V, a shiver of satisfaction crept up her spine. The entire engagement party had turned to look at Girish, who was trembling with fear at the sight of V’s father storming towards him.

  ‘Wish we had some popcorn,’ Neela whispered to V. ‘This is going to be a good show.’

  But then, something horrible happened.

  Kiran sprung up and stood in front of the crowd.

  ‘Kiran?’ Neela said. What the hell was he doing now? Honestly, Neela rued the day she had clapped eyes on him.

  ‘Girish?’ V stuttered, not noticing Kiran and obviously deciding it might be best to look betrayed and worried.

  ‘I will kill you!’ exclaimed V’s father, rushing Girish and grabbing him in a headlock.

  The rather violent fisticuffs taking place at the back of the hall had little effect on Neela. What the hell was Kiran doing now? God, he was getting up on the platform now. Why?

  V stood up and ended the fight. ‘Stop it, Dad!’

  Immediately, there was silence. The bride had spoken, and the gossip mongers in the congregation – approximately 95 per cent of attendees – needed to listen to what she had to say.

  But before she could speak, Kiran began his own monologue.

  ‘I have loved Neela Solanki for years,’ he began.

  Oh no! Neela felt her stomach sink. Kiran was a maniac. It was unlikely that Rishi would save her – her father was standing with a group of his mates just inside the hall, his face like thunder. Perhaps Mr Patel might tackle Kiran to the ground for interrupting his daughter, but no such luck. It seemed that Kiran now had the floor, and the attention of the many Patels.

  ‘Shut up, Kiran,’ she warned.

  ‘I don’t care if the world knows about my fighting,’ Kiran told her loudly. ‘All I care about is marrying you. And consid
ering that we have behaved as if we are married, it is the right thing to do. For you, and for your family.’

  The predicable ‘oooooahhh’ from his captive audience still came as a shock to Neela, who knew that this was it. Next to her, even V let out a little gasp. After that revelation, there was no escaping marriage, unless Neela literally ran off to Mumbai with Navin.

  God, Navin! What if he found out about this?

  As it turned out, she didn’t have to wait long to discover the answer to that particular question.

  As Kiran made his way over to Neela, a huge grin on his smug face, Neela noticed someone else approaching the stage, too.

  It can’t be.

  But it was.

  Navin.

  What was he doing here? Why would he be at V’s engagement?

  Neela pinched herself to make sure this wasn’t some sort of horrible nightmare. No, her arm strung. Definitely real; a truly horrible reality. Deciding she couldn’t risk her parents – and the other 198 guests – hearing what she had been up to with two men, Neela told V she’d see her later, and to stay strong, then made a dash for the doors.

  Predictably, the two men followed her.

  ‘It’s not what it looks like,’ she begun to say, as they reached her in the chilly car park, but both were staring at her as if deciding whether to strangle or smother her, and Neela shut up in case one of them actually went nuts.

  ‘Are you talking to him or me?’ Navin asked, voice low but beautiful eyes looking distinctly as they had when he was flashing them at Lohit on PAL.

  ‘Navin, listen, I can explain.’

  But the soap-star was speechless, which was just as well, because Kiran was carrying on like a jilted husband-to-be.

  ‘Who the hell is he?’ Kiran cried, hands curling into fists.

  That was it. Kiran’s nasty, smug face was too much to bear. ‘I’m never going to marry you Kiran, you understand me? You have a severe mental deficiency.’