The Wedding Photographer

by Sakshama Puri Dhariwal

  After being on her feet for six hours non-stop, Risha finally found a quiet corner under a tree and sat down, exhausted. She leaned against the trunk and folded up her legs, resting her chin on her knees. She spent several minutes flipping through the images, mentally critiquing each one along the way.

  A photograph of Nitisha stepping onto the sun-dappled mandap.

  Rohan winking at Nitisha—a moment no one saw—following Panditji’s[60] interpretation of the holy decree of ‘preserving wealth’: that Nitisha ought to use her credit cards only with permission from Rohan.

  Nitisha rolling her eyes immediately after that—a moment everyone saw and laughed at heartily.

  Arjun hugging his sister after the ceremony, his lips pressed to her forehead. Risha paused at that photograph and her heart gave a little lurch.

  ‘Hey.’

  Risha looked up and saw Arjun standing in front of her, looking dapper in a grey linen bandhgala[61]. The man seriously looked less like a CEO and more like a model.

  ‘What are you looking at so intently?’ he asked, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of her screen.

  ‘Nothing!’ she said, hastily pressing the camera screen into her knees.

  He crouched down next to her and handed her a plate. ‘I thought you could use this.’

  Risha looked at the plate and then back at Arjun. Her face filled with awe as she plucked the dessert plate from his hand and whispered reverently, ‘You are a god.’

  Arjun laughed, fully expecting that reaction. He pressed his back into the tree trunk and sat next to her in silence as she gorged on the chocolate cappuccino cheesecake. After a few minutes, Risha found Arjun looking at her expectantly. Had he asked her a question?

  ‘What?’ she asked.

  ‘I asked if you’re sticking around for a bit.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘I’m accompanying Chinky to her new home and I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Will you still be here?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, I wanted to get in a few hours of post-processing today since I go back to work tomorrow,’ she said, licking the back of her spoon. ‘So I think I’ll head home after the vidaai.’

  Arjun nodded. ‘Of course.’ He took out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the corner of her mouth.

  Oh God, did she have chocolate on her face again? Why couldn’t she just eat like a grown-up? Risha reached for her phone, turned on the selfie camera and scrubbed the sticky chocolate off her face.

  Arjun took the phone from her, tilted his head just so it was grazing hers and took a selfie.

  Handing her phone back, he asked softly, ‘Can I take you to dinner tomorrow?’

  ‘I’d like that.’

  ‘Last one,’ Nani said.

  Arjun looked at the blurry figure in front of him and slurred, ‘I can’t.’

  He had spent the last few hours getting sloshed with Nani and Angad. To be fair, only Arjun and Angad were drunk. Nani looked like she had been sipping on nimbu pani the entire night.

  ‘I am leaving for Patiala tomorrow. And thee next time you see me I will be lying flat on a funeral pyre,’ Nani said.

  Why did old people always use that scenario to get their way?

  ‘You’ve been saying that for the last ten years, Nani,’ Arjun said dryly.

  Nani ignored him and turned to his friend. ‘Angad, refill.’

  Angad swayed his way to the bar, knocking over a small wooden stool and sending it crashing to its fate.

  Arjun looked blankly in the direction of the noise. ‘That was loud.’

  ‘Nani,’ Angad called out to her. ‘I will drop you to Patiala on my way to Ludhiana. It’s on my way, Nani, on my way.’

  Nani shook her head. ‘No, I will go by train. It is thee most best way to travel.’

  ‘Just “best”,’ Arjun said.

  ‘Crect,’ Nani agreed. ‘Just most best.’

  ‘But driving is more better,’ Angad slurred, handing Arjun his drink.

  ‘I have to work tomorrow, Nani,’ Arjun groaned, reluctantly taking the glass from Angad and accidentally sloshing some whisky on the table.

  ‘Why you jawaan[62] people are always saying that? I have to work, I have to work. You have to relax,’ Nani said.

  ‘Patiala is on my way, Nani,’ Angad reminded her, looking ready to pass out.

  ‘I need to fix the strike,’ Arjun mumbled.

  ‘You need to fix your life,’ Nani retorted.

  If he hadn’t consumed an illegal amount of alcohol, Arjun would have given a facetious response. But he was in no mood for levity, so he nodded in agreement. ‘I do.’

  ‘And I think you know how,’ Nani said.

  Arjun lifted a brow in inquiry.

  ‘Onmyway,’ Angad mumbled, half asleep.

  Arjun’s phone beeped and he reached for it. A photo popped up on his screen—the selfie he had taken with Risha that afternoon. Arjun chuckled at the caption she had given it: ‘Pretty girl with average-looking boy’. His expression in the photo took him by surprise—he looked... happy.

  ‘That’s how,’ Nani said, tipping her head in the direction of his phone.

  Arjun narrowed his eyes, partly to gauge her meaning, but mostly so he could focus on her. After a brief staredown, Arjun finally looked away.

  ‘She is good for you,’ Nani said.

  Arjun remained silent.

  ‘And if you don’t snatch her up,’ Nani went on, ‘that idiot Pinku will.’

  Arjun was astounded. ‘Pinku? As in Pinku Sabhar-baal[63]?’

  Nani ignored the rude, albeit accurate, sobriquet. ‘Crect. Pinku will marry her, and your mother will continue to parade hazaaron[64] circus girls in front of you, until one fine day Priye Ma will become your mother-in-law.’

  The thought almost made his alcohol come back up.

  Arjun took a deep breath. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined saying these words, especially not to his grandmother.

  ‘I think I’m falling in love with her.’

  Nani took a small sip of her drink. A few seconds passed and the silence in the room became heavy, punctuated only by the sound of Angad’s soft snoring. In the quiet of the room, Arjun processed the words he had just spoken. He had never said that about anyone, not even thought it. But now that the words were out, he was certain that he had never meant anything more.

  When Nani finally spoke, her words brimmed with confidence. ‘A Patiala man always gets his girl.’

  With that, she clinked her glass with her grandson's and guzzled down the rest of her drink.

  PART THREE

  THE SCANDAL

  Scandal Day 1

  8.48 a.m.

  Risha woke up in a good mood.

  She had stayed up late sorting through nearly half the images from the shoot, and was optimistic about sending the first set of thumbnails to Nitisha and Rohan by the end of the week. Risha had a head start on her photography work, no backlog on her NT work and she had a date with Arjun tonight.

  It was only after stepping out of the auto that Risha realized she hadn’t haggled with the auto wala. Not even getting ripped off by twenty bucks could dampen her spirits today.

  So it was only natural that she dismissed Nidhi’s ‘SOS’ text as hyperbole. Nidhi was probably just freaking out over Starbucks no longer serving their festive specials. Sure, they were delicious, but how many toffee nut lattes could a person drink?

  It was only when the second text came that Risha began to wonder if Nidhi’s anxiety was driven by something other than caffeine withdrawal.

  Do NOT panic. I’ll finish my morning meeting and see you in fifteen minutes. We’ll figure this out.

  Risha replied:

  Figure what out?

  Nidhi wrote back:

  You haven’t seen the paper???

  What in the world had Nidhi so riled up? Had Salman Khan had another run-in with the law? Risha responded:

  Nope, was running late this morning. Let me grab a copy.

&
nbsp; Nidhi’s reply was instant:

  I’ll meet you at the chai wala in ten. Hang in there, Rish.

  Risha reached for the newspaper and sank into her chair, going through the front page. Something about the prime minister’s latest international trip to Nicaragua.

  She skimmed her way to the sports page, wondering if there was some news about Vikram. Nothing there either.

  She flipped opened Delhi Today. The front page had pictures of Kareena and Saif holding hands, walking down Rodeo Drive in LA. Which meant that if Risha had been in LA this week instead of last, she might’ve spotted them! But that seemed more worthy of a ‘WTF’ text than an ‘SOS’ text.

  Which could only mean one thing. Page 3.

  Risha flipped the page and stared at it in horror.

  The top of Page 3 shouted ‘Delhi Today Exclusive!’ in bold red letters followed by a full-page photo essay of the Khanna–Singhal wedding.

  Private photos of the bride, groom and their respective families adorned the page. An intimate image of Nitisha and Rohan kissing captioned ‘NitRo explosion’. A photo of Vikram and Rohan doing jaeger bombs together titled ‘What a shot!’. An image of Vikram with Pinku titled ‘Vikram Walia with Patiala-based entrepreneur Pankaj Sabharwal’. A photo of Vikram playing pinball captioned ‘Bowled over!’. One too many photos of Vikram. A close-up of Arjun and Divya smiling at each other titled ‘Arjun Khanna’s latest conquest’. A shot of a teary-eyed Arvind Khanna hugging his daughter. A mini collage of Priye Ma and her clan. Clear, high-resolution photos. Dozens and dozens of photos. Photos undoubtedly taken by Risha.

  She looked through the page and found a near-invisible footnote: ‘The above images have been printed with permission from the Khanna family.

  And next to the picture of Arjun and Divya, written sideways in microscopic but legible font, were the words ‘Photo credit: Candy’.

  Suddenly the air in Risha’s cubicle felt thick and muggy. She stepped out into the corridor, clutching the newspaper in her hands, and ran straight into Kabir.

  ‘Hello, stranger,’ he smiled. ‘Hope you’re impressed by my coup d’état!’

  Risha looked at him, struggling to compose herself.

  ‘Frankly,’ Kabir continued, ‘I was getting sick of Sukhi’s pomposity and audacity. We’ll just see how Sports beats DT after today’s Page 3!’

  ‘How did you get all these images?’ Risha asked in a feeble voice.

  ‘A good reporter never discloses his sources,’ Kabir winked.

  ‘Do you know who Candy is?’ Risha croaked.

  ‘Don’t know, don’t care,’ Kabir shrugged.

  ‘Then how did you get the images?’ she asked again, her tone pleading.

  ‘Hey, hey. Are you okay? You look distressed. Have you eaten breakfast? Do you want to step out for chai?’ Kabir asked, placing a hand on her arm.

  Risha winced at his touch, not wanting to be in his presence another moment. She took a deep breath and pulled herself together. ‘No, I’m fine. I need to run down for something. I’ll see you later.’

  ‘Yes, let’s do our weekly one-on-one around eleven?’

  She nodded and scampered out of the building, desperate for some air. She sat on the cracked plastic stool outside the chai stall and stared at the newspaper in her hand. A moment later, she spotted Nidhi and jumped up. ‘I didn’t do this!’

  Nidhi nodded. ‘I know.’

  ‘I promise it wasn’t me, Nidhi!’ Risha cried, her hands shaking.

  ‘I believe you, Rish,’ Nidhi said gently.

  ‘I don’t know how Kabir—how I—I mean where he—’

  ‘Calm down,’ Nidhi said, helping her sit back down on the stool.

  ‘You don’t understand. He won’t be okay with this,’ Risha said, taking the bottle of water Nidhi was handing her.

  ‘Who cares what Kabir thinks?’ Nidhi asked.

  ‘Not Kabir! Arjun. He’s a very private person and he won’t be okay with his personal life being showcased like common gossip. This whole thing makes me look like an unprofessional, gold-digging, fame-hungry—’

  ‘Stop talking,’ Nidhi said firmly.

  ‘I have no credibility left as a photographer. No one will ever trust me again. It’s over, Nidhi,’ Risha said, looking defeated.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Nidhi said with more conviction than she felt. ‘It’s a stupid misunderstanding and Arjun will understand that. As for your professional integrity, anyone with—’

  ‘I was supposed to meet him today, but he’ll think I did this. But I didn’t, Nidhi. I swear!’ Risha said emphatically.

  ‘Risha, I’m going to say this for the last time, so listen carefully. I know you didn’t do it. I don’t know who did, but I’m going to find out. And as far as Arjun is concerned, call him and tell him the truth. I’m sure he’s a reasonable guy and he’ll hear you out. It will be okay,’ Nidhi promised.

  Risha nodded, sipping her water. After a few moments, when she had visibly calmed down, Nidhi spoke. ‘At any point during the wedding, did you give your camera to anyone?’

  Risha shook her head to say ‘no’.

  ‘Did you leave your camera lying around?’

  ‘I would never leave my equipment...’ Risha trailed off, remembering. ‘After the cocktail party, I... I spent the night in Arjun’s room.’

  Nidhi raised a brow but didn’t say anything.

  ‘We fell asleep talking, nothing else,’ Risha said. ‘But I did leave my camera in my room. And in the morning I found my memory card sitting on the table, which I found odd even at the time, because I couldn’t remember taking it out.’

  Nidhi took the newspaper from Risha and looked through the images again. ‘There are no photos of the wedding day. So clearly someone “borrowed” your memory card the previous night and returned it before you could discover it was gone.’

  Risha nodded in agreement. ‘But who? And how did they get into my room?’

  ‘They could’ve got a duplicate key card. I’m pretty sure people keep misplacing their keys during weddings,’ Nidhi said, chewing on her lip thoughtfully. ‘Will Kabir disclose his source?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Any suspects?’

  ‘It could be someone from SoL,’ Risha guessed.

  ‘Do you have photos of all the SoL members who attended the wedding?’

  ‘I took a group photo at the mehndi—that has most of them.’

  ‘Great, so that’s a start. We can look through the Page 3 archives and find all their names,’ Nidhi said, her jade eyes flashing with purpose.

  Risha gave a little smile. ‘And what will we do once we have their names, Sherlock?’

  ‘We will “accidentally” stumble upon Kabir’s email to corroborate the source,’ Nidhi said.

  Risha frowned. ‘Firstly, are you sure you’re not an investigative journalist? Secondly, what you’re suggesting is illegal. And thirdly, even if it wasn’t, how would we “accidentally stumble upon” his email?’

  Nidhi shot her a confident smile. ‘Oh, I think there’s one particular IT guy who would be happy to do you a favour.’

  Risha shook her head. ‘I’m okay with looking through the archives, but I have to put my foot down at snooping through my boss’ email.’

  Realizing it was futile to try and convince Risha to do anything even remotely unscrupulous, Nidhi said, ‘Let’s table it for now.’

  Risha stood up, feeling much better.

  ‘You okay?’ Nidhi asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Risha said. ‘Or I will be after I make a phone call.’

  ‘Arjun?’

  Risha gave a nervous nod.

  ‘I’m sure it will be fine. I’ll see you at lunch?’

  ‘Okay.’

  She watched Nidhi disappear into their office building, then took a deep breath and dialled Arjun’s number.

  Arjun stood in his office, looking out the window. He had asked Annie Aunty to hold his calls for half an hour, but that was twenty minutes ago. Since then
he’d been standing with his back to his large mahogany desk, staring at the skyline of the city his father had helped build. His cell phone buzzed and he glanced at it.

  Risha Kohli.

  For a moment he was tempted to pick up the phone and ram it against the wall with all his might. But he ignored it and continued to watch the traffic crawl on the highway. His phone rang again and he put it on silent mode before shoving it inside a drawer. Even reading her name felt like a dagger through his heart.

  This morning, Arjun had woken up light-headed—one part hangover, one part Risha. The thought of meeting her tonight, making her laugh, holding her in his arms had him wide awake at 5 a.m. The mild headache had disappeared after his morning run, but the warm feeling inside him had only augmented. He’d nearly sent her a text, but then decided against it, not wanting to wake her up. Now he was glad he hadn’t texted her, because he would’ve seemed like such a fool—back-stabbed, yet besotted.

  As per his morning routine, Arjun had read the mainline and financial newspapers during breakfast. And if it wasn’t for his mother’s text, he would’ve skipped the entertainment supplements, as usual. However, Amrita’s message at 7.30 a.m. had confused him, not only because she seldom woke up that early, but also because her message said ‘Love your pics in Delhi Today!’ It took Arjun a minute to figure out what Delhi Today was and another minute to find it under the pile of other newspapers. When he finally came across the pictures in question, he felt like someone had punched him in the stomach.

  His first reaction was shock—complete disbelief that Risha had done this to him. She couldn’t have, this was some kind of mistake. Except it wasn’t. The only person who had access to all those photographs was Risha.

  Had the last few days just been a game for her? Had she felt nothing for him in the time they had spent together? Had he really been so wrong about her?

  His shock gave way to a feeling of betrayal. He remembered the envelope the security guard had handed her the night Arjun had dropped her home. She had clasped it to her chest like it contained state secrets, but now he realized it probably contained photographs from the wedding. Had she been planning on printing those photos in the newspaper, even as she kissed him a few minutes later?