‘And the Emergency?’
His face darkened. ‘I know. But I will never leave you again, no matter what. In fact, I told your father some of my plans.’
‘What plans? And why didn’t you tell me you went to speak to him?’
‘Fawad was upset about the photographs,’ Rana said, ‘but then our talk with your dad cheered us up.’
‘What talk?’
‘Of course, what would be great, the cherry on the cake, is if you could have Fawad meet Sangeeta.’
‘What are you talking about, Rana—’
‘We have exciting things to look forward to,’ he said, ‘but first, we need to watch a movie. Natty, shall we?’
Natty gave a deep bow. ‘There is no Rajesh Khanna movie, sir. And madame only watches Rajesh Khanna movies.’
Rana laughed, ‘Madame will still be watching Rajesh Khanna, Natty. I’m going with her.’
When Indu gave Rana an indignant look, he put up his hands in defence. ‘I told you I am as close to Rajesh Khanna as you’ll ever get . . .’
THE END
Acknowledgements
It might take a writer to write a book, but it takes a village to raise a writer.
I have wanted to be a writer all my life and perhaps no one knows it better than my father. Every single moment I have received nothing but encouragement, motivation and great advice. In life, you need one person to be irrationally crazy about you and your dreams, and my father has been that and, more, working so hard and inspiring me to do the same. I would have been nothing without you.
My big debt towards my mother, who took care of me in ways that only a mother can, by putting me ahead of herself, every day, and being the perfect example of resilience and indomitable spirit.
My sister Rose, who is my absolute favourite person in the entire world, and, in all honesty, the one responsible for being the cool person I am today (you were just an excuse to compliment myself, hehe). There is no one else on Earth who means more to me.
The reason why this book is dedicated to a city rather than a person is because it would never have been written if I hadn’t moved to Edinburgh. The moment I took my first steps around the city and got hit by cold blasts of wind, I knew it was something special. Over the course of the year I met wonderful people who, in the cheesiest sense, really taught me how to live again.
My professor R.A. Jamieson, who encouraged me profusely when I presented this novel as my dissertation proposal. And oh how it has changed now.
My dearest soul sister Isabel, the godmother of this book, who, living next to me, had the unfortunate duty of keeping an eye over me to making sure I keep writing and studying, giving me company on my cooking escapades and being her incredible true self, which never ceases to amaze me.
My adopted mother Martina, who might be the craziest person I have ever met; you truly are my mother Marti, and I hope I keep following your footsteps in making the world a little more fun.
Martin, who inspired me in every way a girl can be inspired; of course I knew I am an Indian spice, but you reminded me of the devilish, rascal sparkle in my eyes.
And my coolest malaka Elena; they truly don’t make girls like you any more.
A big thank you to my wonderful and super-sharp editor Roshini Dadhlani, who not only believed in my writing, but also never hesitated from telling me whenever Indu sounded too cruel, and Rana too lame.
My gratitude to Milee Ashwarya as well, who opened the doors for me that writers so often find themselves stuck behind.
Many thanks to my Juggernaut girls for their invaluable suggestions. I must be the luckiest girl in the world, for I had not one but two publishing houses taking care of me. I also owe Chiki Sarkar so much. Being the phenomenon that she is, I learn so much about publishing simply by being in the same space as her.
Saving the best bite for the end: a lifetime of thanks is not enough for Sharan, who has stood by me at every step in my life, with a pat on my back. He owns an infinite pool of patience and encouragement, supporting me blindly and unconditionally. But of course the hardest part of the journey is putting up with me. This is just the beginning.
To you, dear reader, for giving me the greatest joy of my life—the joy of being read.
And finally, gratitude for the One Who creates and runs everything, in Whose shadow we become what we are.
THE BEGINNING
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EBURY PRESS
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Ebury Press is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com.
This collection published 2019
Copyright © Srishti Chaudhary 2019
The moral right of the author has been asserted
Jacket images © by Neelima P Aryan
ISBN: 978-0-143-44596-8
This digital edition published in 2019.
e-ISBN: 978-9-353-05500-4
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Once Upon a Curfew Page 27