The Wedding Photographer

by Sakshama Puri Dhariwal

  ‘Shoot.’

  ‘How did you end up working at Khanna Developers?’

  ‘Dad had a heart attack, so I decided to leave my job and move back home.’

  ‘Did you resent that?’ she asked bluntly.

  ‘Maybe in the beginning, but not any more,’ he said honestly. ‘I actually really love my job. It’s just a bit overwhelming at times because I’m unable to disconnect from work.’

  This was more than Arjun had shared with Ali on their boys’ trip. He shifted uncomfortably, but Risha gave him an understanding nod.

  ‘Are strikes in the private sector a common thing? I mean, I’ve never heard of anything like this.’

  ‘They’re fairly uncommon, but not unheard of. Most companies work really hard at keeping labour strikes under wraps because it makes for bad PR.’

  ‘Do you think there’s more to the story than just rates?’ Risha asked.

  Arjun thought about that. ‘Not to my knowledge.’

  ‘I think there could be,’ she said tentatively. ‘I don’t know much about the real estate sector, and I have no experience dealing with unions, but I think sometimes people just want to feel like... people. They don’t want to hear about project delays and dents in the bottom line. They want to feel like they are more than just cogs in the wheel. They want to believe that, in the large scheme of things, they matter.’ She paused, feeling a bit silly. ‘I don’t know if that makes sense.’

  Arjun shook his head. ‘Actually, that makes a lot of sense. It’s just that I’m better with numbers than I am with people. Ever since I’ve taken over, I haven’t been able to invest time in labour relations. That was Dad’s forte.’

  ‘Maybe the contractor and his team find you...’ Risha paused, looking for the right word.

  ‘Unapproachable?’ he suggested.

  ‘It’s possible,’ she said.

  ‘It’s probable,’ he admitted reluctantly. ‘I got similar feedback from my PR team about the press. Journalists just don’t seem to like me,’ Arjun said, as he gathered their empty plates and set them on his nightstand.

  ‘Not all journalists,’ she pointed out.

  His face broke into a boyish smile at her implication. ‘Well, you’re unlike any journalist I’ve ever met.’

  Hell, she was unlike any girl he’d ever met.

  ‘I get that a lot,’ she smirked.

  ‘By the way,’ he said randomly, ‘did I see you punch your number into that blond flight attendant’s phone?’

  Risha looked surprised. ‘You don’t miss anything, do you?’

  ‘Why did you give him your number?’

  She gave him a guilty look. ‘He only agreed to upgrade me in exchange for my phone number.’

  ‘That son of a bitch!’ Arjun bit out furiously. ‘What the hell was his name? I’m going to call the airline’s CEO and—’

  ‘Chill! It’s not like I gave him my real number.’

  ‘You’re kidding.’

  Risha snorted. ‘You think I just give out my real number to every guy who asks for it?’

  ‘That depends on how often guys ask for your number,’ Arjun said dryly.

  ‘Every now and then,’ Risha shrugged. ‘Mostly at weddings.’

  ‘Has it happened at this wedding?’

  Risha saw the possessive glint in his eye and gave him an irrepressible smile.

  ‘Has it?’ Arjun demanded.

  Three times, actually. But Risha didn’t want to dampen the mood, and since she did not advocate lying, she went with evasion instead. ‘Guys who really want my number don’t ask me for it.’

  Arjun saw through her attempt to change the subject, but humoured her nevertheless. ‘Really? Who do they ask?’

  ‘The wedding planner,’ Risha teased, since that was how Arjun had procured her number.

  She pulled up the blanket over their legs and slid closer to Arjun. Where her teasing didn’t distract him, her nearness did.

  ‘I guess the fake phone number exchange was worth it,’ Arjun murmured, lacing his fingers with hers.

  ‘Why's that?’ Risha asked, resting her head on his shoulder.

  ‘Because if you hadn’t been upgraded to business class, you wouldn’t have met me,’ he smirked.

  ‘I would’ve met you at the wedding,’ she pointed out.

  ‘Yes, but then I would be just another guy at a wedding.’

  ‘Not true,’ she said.

  ‘No?’

  She gave him a disarming smile. ‘No, you would be just another guy at a wedding, but with a lame tattoo.’

  Arjun laughed and tugged her ear playfully. ‘Brat.’

  Risha raised her head from his shoulder and looked at him. ‘Can I ask you something?’

  ‘Sure,’ he said, a little perturbed by how his shoulder suddenly felt... bereft.

  ‘How did you convince Bitchi—uh, Kritika on the flight to let me stay in my seat?’

  ‘I told her she can’t downgrade an upgraded passenger,’ he said, yearning for the feel of her cheek on his shoulder.

  ‘That’s it?’

  He grinned at her sceptical look. ‘Broadly.’

  ‘Then why didn’t she come back to business class for the rest of the flight?’ Risha asked suspiciously.

  ‘Because,’ Arjun said, firmly tucking her head into the crook between his neck and shoulder, ‘I can be very persuasive when I want something.’

  ‘Brat,’ Risha muttered.

  Arjun chuckled into her hair. Her long, brown waves grazed his arm and he took a strand between his fingers. It was soft, just like the rest of her. He sat there in comfortable silence, breathing in her citrus scent and playing with her hair for a long time, until the weight on his shoulder got heavy. Contrary to her claim, Risha had obviously been quite sleepy.

  He gently moved her beneath the covers and placed a pillow under her head. Her long hair adorned the pillow in careless disarray and her thick lashes rested softly on her cheeks. She looked so vulnerable as she slept, with nothing to hide behind—no camera and no snarky remarks. Arjun felt a strange surge of protectiveness tide over him as he tucked her in.

  The gentlemanly thing would be to go sleep in her room, or at least move to the couch. Arjun laid down next to her and closed his eyes.

  He could postpone being a gentleman for one night.

  The Wedding Day

  Risha awoke the next morning with the soft buzzing of her cell phone alarm. She stretched her arm to the nightstand and turned it off.

  The first event this morning was the choora ceremony. The bride’s maternal family would perform a short ritual and make Nitisha wear the traditional red and ivory bridal bangles. The wedding was an afternoon affair and Risha wanted to get some extra time at the venue before the guests started meandering in.

  Risha tried getting out of bed but was held back by something. She looked down to see Arjun’s arm wrapped around her waist. Unconsciously, his grip tightened in his sleep and Risha smiled to herself. She gently lifted his arm, and not wanting to wake him up, tiptoed out of his room.

  Inside her own room, Risha fished out the day’s outfit from her overnight bag—a yellow churidar and silk kurta with a silver border stitched on to an uneven hemline. She removed the camera charger from the socket and plugged in her phone charger instead. The memory card of her camera was placed neatly on the table next to her camera and the rest of her photography gear. She felt a twinge of uneasiness because she couldn’t remember taking the memory card out of her camera last night. But then last night seemed so long ago, that perhaps it had just slipped her mind.

  A few minutes later, showered and dressed, Risha stood in front of the mirror wondering what to do with her hair. She pulled it up in a banana clip, then remembering how Arjun had watched her hair last night, wore it down instead.

  ‘Dahling, now do Divya!’ Amrita squealed in excitement.

  ‘No thanks, Amy Aunty. I think I’ll pass.’ Divya grimaced.

  ‘I insist! You’re the only one le
ft,’ Amrita said.

  Seated on the large sofa of the bridal suite, Nitisha turned to Divya with a polite smile and gestured for her to come squat next to the sofa.

  As per custom, the bride would shake her hands over the head of each single girl. If a metallic kaleera[57] from her wrist fell on the bachelorette’s head, the latter would be married within a year.

  Divya sat on the floor next to Nitisha, looking quite blasé about the whole thing. Amrita Khanna clapped her hands. ‘Come on, Divya!’ Then she gave Nitisha a wink.

  Apparently, Amrita was quite set on making Divya her daughter-in-law within the year, Risha thought wryly from her position on the floor opposite the couch.

  After a few seconds, when no kaleera fell atop Divya’s head, Nitisha withdrew her hands and the crowd, consisting mostly of SoL aunties, groaned, ‘Oho!’

  Amrita’s shoulders sagged.

  ‘What did I miss?’ a deep voice asked.

  Risha turned around and saw Arjun stride into the suite.

  If Risha was writing an article for Delhi Today, the word she would use to describe the colour of Arjun’s kurta would be ‘jonquil’. Or ‘amber’. Or even ‘mustard’.

  But at that moment, the thought that crossed her mind was that his kurta was, unequivocally, yellow.

  ‘Bhai!’ Nitisha exclaimed. ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘I... overslept,’ Arjun said cautiously, as though doubting the accuracy of his own words.

  Nitisha’s astonishment mirrored her brother’s. ‘Wow.’

  ‘I know,’ he said, still trying to digest this unprecedented occurrence.

  ‘We just finished with all the girls,’ Nitisha explained.

  Seated on a tall wingback chair, looking very much like a queen on a throne, Nani’s voice boomed with authority. ‘Not all.’

  ‘Yes, all,’ Amrita said with certainty.

  ‘Not all,’ Nani repeated.

  Nitisha looked puzzled. ‘Who did we miss, Nani?’

  ‘Candy.’

  Risha groaned inwardly. Maybe if she remained silent, they would assume she’d left.

  Amrita laughed, as though the notion of including Risha in the ceremony was positively ludicrous. ‘But she’s the photographer!’

  Risha was tempted to hide under the coffee table.

  ‘She is photograafer, but she is also bechelor,’ Nani said.

  ‘“Single”,’ Nitisha corrected.

  ‘Crect,’ Nani agreed. ‘Single bechelor.’

  Perhaps, Risha thought, she could crawl out the door unnoticed.

  ‘Yes, where is Candy?’ Arjun asked, looking straight at her, his tone dripping with amusement.

  Risha threw him a dirty look.

  ‘Are you single?’ Arjun smirked, his question laden with meaning.

  Risha stood up, handed her camera to Nani and tossed back her long hair. ‘Let’s do this.’

  Risha crouched on the floor next to Nitisha, and Arjun gave her a smug smile. You didn’t say yes.

  She glowered at him. I didn’t say no either.

  Nani watched the exchange between them with a secret smile.

  Arjun kneeled on the floor next to Nani’s chair and pointed the camera up at Risha. Nani leaned down and whispered to him, ‘You both are a match.’

  Arjun cocked his head. ‘Because we’re wearing yellow?’

  ‘That also,’ Nani nodded.

  Arjun opened his mouth to ask what she meant by that, but was distracted by the sound of laughter. Chinky’s head was bent down conspiratorially as she whispered something to Risha. Risha broke into peals of laughter, and a few thick strands of hair framed her face as she shook her head.

  Watching the moment between the two women, Arjun felt a strong tug of emotion. The feeling was raw and unfamiliar, but so potent that it shook him up completely. So much so, that he lost his balance and fell on his butt. That drew another laugh from Risha, which kind of made it worth it. He gave her a quick wink and mouthed ‘good luck’, but she just rolled her eyes at him.

  Nitisha raised her hands above Risha’s head and shook her hands vigorously, causing a storm of kaleeras to go crashing into each other. As she yanked her wrists apart to untangle the kaleeras, a chunky piece of metal fell on Risha’s head with a loud thud.

  ‘Ow!’ Risha winced, rubbing her head just as the rest of the congregation chorused, ‘Awww!’

  Risha turned to Arjun with a challenging look. Bring it on, buddy. Let’s get the teasing remark or sarcastic comment over with. But there was none.

  Instead of an amused smile, Arjun was watching her with a strange expression on his face.

  ‘Very good!’ Nani chimed, breaking their eye contact.

  Nitisha shot her brother a knowing smile and he stood up abruptly, handing Risha her camera. ‘I hope the pictures came out fine,’ he said, looking inexplicably uneasy.

  Risha glimpsed through the last few images and nodded, but when she looked up from the camera, Arjun was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘Candy, you must save thee kaleera till thee time you get engaged,’ Nani said in a grave tone. ‘And when you get engaged, you must leave thee kaleera at a gurdwara[58] immijately.’

  ‘No, you are supposed to leave it under a peepul tree,’ said Nitisha’s chachi.

  ‘No, no, it’s a neem tree,’ her masi contradicted.

  ‘Don’t listen to them,’ Nani said dismissively. ‘You have to leave it at a gurdwara.’

  ‘Yes, Nani,’ Risha replied distractedly, wondering where Arjun had disappeared.

  Arjun spent the next hour at the gym. There was some time to kill before the wedding ceremony, because, thanks to Tanvi, everything was working like a well-oiled machine. He had missed his morning run because he had—he still couldn’t believe it—slept through his alarm. But that wasn’t the only reason he was running himself into the ground.

  After watching his sister and Risha this morning, a strange lump had formed itself in Arjun’s throat. The two women really seemed to be getting along. Although, now that he thought about it, there was hardly anyone Risha didn’t get along with. But watching Chinky and Risha share a private moment had painted such a strong picture in his head that it had thrown Arjun off his game. So far he had been living in the moment, enjoying his time with Risha. But the way he had felt this morning was unlike anything he had ever felt before. And it terrified him.

  Last night, Arjun had thought Risha was more stunning than any woman he’d ever met. But it wasn’t just the sexy figure she hid behind her pyjamas that he found so irresistible. It was her innocent charm and warm humour that made Arjun’s heart clench inside his chest.

  It had taken him every shred of restraint in his body to stop at just kissing her. He remembered how nervous she’d seemed at first, but the moment his lips had touched hers, she’d clung to him like she couldn’t let go. She seemed to enjoy spending time with him and kissing him, but she hadn’t actually told him that this was anything more than a weekend flirtation. And yet, last night, when she fell asleep on his shoulder, something had stirred inside him. He had felt like she wanted to be close to him, that she even trusted him.

  Arjun had never been so diverted by a woman in his life. For the first time in years, he woke up thinking not about work, but about Risha. He wanted to look at her, touch her, talk to her, make her laugh. He just couldn’t get enough of her.

  So he ran faster.

  ‘Are you trying to break the treadmill?’ a voice called out.

  Arjun turned his head and saw Vikram Walia doing leg presses a few feet behind him.

  They had been introduced on game night and, in spite of his celebrity status, Walia was a friendly, laid-back sort of guy.

  Arjun grinned. ‘Hey, man. Just overcompensating for missing my morning run.’

  ‘Don't wear yourself out, you have a wedding to attend,’ Walia pointed out.

  ‘True.’ Arjun reduced the speed on the treadmill and eventually shut off the machine. He grabbed a towel and wiped his neck, walk
ing towards Walia. ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘Great. I just hope I don’t get kicked off the team because I ate too much at Singhal’s wedding,’ the cricketer grinned, patting his perfectly flat stomach.

  Remembering the well-publicized episode two years ago when Walia had been kicked off the team, though not for being out of shape, Arjun chuckled. ‘You could always ask Rohan to compensate you.’

  ‘Like that would ever happen,’ Walia joked.

  Arjun laughed. ‘When do you fly to Sri Lanka?’

  ‘In a couple of weeks,’ Walia responded.

  ‘What do you plan to do with your free time?’ Arjun asked, taking a long sip of water.

  ‘Give several interviews to the sports desk at News Today,’ Walia said dryly.

  ‘How come?’

  ‘It’s just an excuse to see Nidhi at work. I go say hi to the sports editor and then drag Nidhi out to lunch. Everybody wins,’ he grinned, his expression softening at the mention of Nidhi.

  The man was obviously very much in love with his wife. The lump in Arjun’s throat grew bigger and he tried to wash it down with the rest of his water.

  ‘It was good seeing you, man,’ Arjun said. ‘We should catch up while you’re here.’

  ‘I’m sure the girls will see to it,’ Walia said.

  Arjun raised a brow. ‘The girls?’

  ‘Nidhi and Risha,’ Walia replied casually.

  So Risha had been talking to her friends about him.

  Interesting.

  ‘Can’t wait,’ Arjun said, walking out of the gym with a big grin on his face.

  The wedding was beautiful. The mandap[59] had been set up in the large garden of the hotel and its modern glass facade made a picturesque background for the ceremony. The theme for the decor was marigolds—a curtain of the orange flowers hung over the mandap, long strings were suspended from the shisham trees that flanked the garden and tea lights on a bed of marigolds served as the centrepiece for each table.

  The newly married couple sat at a table for two, eating a late lunch. Unlike the huge family supper that typically followed Indian weddings, Tanvi had planned an intimate meal for Rohan and Nitisha to enjoy their first few moments as husband and wife.