by Rohan Dahiya
She shrugged in response. “I have no clue, I confiscated it from Ria’s room.”
“That’s some stellar parenting,” Hassan said as Kama left them to fetch some munchies.
“As for you”, Geetu turned to Hassan so ferociously he had the urge to stand and click his heels in attention. “I need to talk to you.”
She leaned in. “It isn’t just this wedding and dad stuff, I heard some crap from the gossip grapevine and if it’s true I will fucking stab you.”
“Huh?” Hassan yelped as his sister smacked him on the head.
The scene of the crime, as it always was, had been the Delhi Social Club. A members-only affair with the best cocktails in town, it also served as the weekly meeting place for Priya Sodhi and her friends. When she had declared it the new venue, it had everyone who was anyone clamoring to sign up for fingerprint and retinal scans, cutting cheques without a thought.
The Delhi Social Club’s menu claimed to be completely gluten-pesticide-dairy-free, and non-GMO of course, but the ladies went for the gin and discreet service. They were the daughters of the armed forces, each of them equipped with a sharp tongue and memories of boarding schools that had anointed them with inimitable grace and etiquette. And so among the chatter of a particularly warm Saturday afternoon, everyone had forgotten to compliment Priya’s new ensemble.
“Can we order drinks ladies, or should I just go ahead and call for a round of whatever I want?”
Silence had descended on the table like a cold fog.
“Quick, someone exorcise her with coke before she kills us all,” Parmeet leaned in and whispered to Geetu.
It was pitifully obvious that Priya hadn’t slept well for many nights. Her blouse was sheer Chanel but it did nothing to the pallor that came from crying too much, the dryness around the mouth from guzzling vodka. Farida, who was sitting closest to her didn’t point out the fact that her nail polish was chipped in exactly three different places. None of them addressed the signs because every woman at that table had known them all too well.
Things had taken a turn for the worse as Ritika tried to lighten the mood.
“So Priya, I wanted to ask you ya –”
“Is everyone fine with gin?” she flipped the menu so hard her hair fluttered with it.
“My daughter-in-law seems like she might enjoy some company and all –”
“I’m ordering gin and tonics for now ya, you guys decide whatever you want for after that.”
“I mean I was thinking why don’t we –”
“Ritika, when I need your suggestions I will ask for them. As of now you can bring whomever you like, pick a bitch off the street if you want, as long as they can afford to get in here.”
She looked around the silent table. “If you’re gloating about having a daughter-in-law or whatever I think it’s just stupid. You realize that it actually makes you seem older than the rest of us right? Except for Farida I don’t think anyone’s child is married here. If you want to bring her, do it. I don’t care.”
Everyone shifted uncomfortably like birds in a menagerie but nobody had the gall to stand up in defense. Much to Geetika’s chagrin that was the point Param had changed the topic to Hassan. She’d seen him working out shirtless in his backyard, she had a bee sting to prove it. And while everyone tittered, Priya looked as though she might vomit all over the table. There was a reason she couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes, a reason why she cleared her throat and spoke at Param’s last season Michael Kors sunglasses.
“Serves you right for looking into someone else’s home.”
Geetu took her leave then, having bridged gaps she shouldn’t have. They stared at her retreating back with mild humour, debating the importance of keeping up an appointment with a designer – no matter how exclusive an atelier. No sooner had she left the club, Geetu had called Pranab’s office to validate her suspicions.
If anything, the look on Hassan’s face had confirmed it all.
“Okay look” he raised his hands defensively “she came on to me.”
“Of course she did. I knew she was trash from the moment I laid eyes on her.” She smacked him on the head again. “And you, you must be out of your mind to drive the rebound train between her legs. She’s in a bloody open marriage for god’s sake.”
“Hello? Who said I was on the rebound?”
She crossed her arms and stared at him with disgust dripping off her eyes. “So planning to settle down with the twelve year old who thinks you look like Clint Eastwood?”
“What – Clint Eastwood, really? That’s not even close. First of all it’s Ben Affleck and second she’s not twelve what is wrong with you.”
“What is wrong with you?” Kama placed the heavy plate of entrees on the table. “She’s practically the same age as Sana.”
Hassan pinched the bridge of his nose, unable to rehash that argument. “How do you even know about my girlfriend by the way?”
“How typical of you to forget,” Geetu clapped loudly. “Pranab told me and I obviously told her. When have we ever had secrets, him and I? He helped me back when we played hide and seek, when the two of you’d gang up against me, and he helps me now too.”
Kama drained her glass of wine too fast and refilled unsteadily.
“That doesn’t change what she’s trying to say, Hassan. You should know better than to get into bed with Priya Sodhi. That woman just spells trouble everywhere she nests.”
“Okay she’s not so bad you know –”
“She’s mad as a fucking snake” Kama threw back the wine, already slurring. “Get your shit together.”
As the sky faded to the lightest lilac and Kama swapped the merlot for an icy vodka, Geetu felt the seeds of an evil plan germinate.
Chapter THIRTEEN
NOBODY’S BUSINESS
As consciousness dawned on Kama, she became aware of three terrible things. She was no longer on the patio, in fact she didn’t know where she was. That her dehydrated tongue had swollen stiff, so when she screamed it came out a garbled moan. That they were moving, in a car, uphill.
Inertia hit her with the force of a brick wall and she viciously vomited out the open window.
The fear of waking up in unfamiliar surroundings, with no memory of how you got there, it sends your soul into free fall. That weightlessness is usually followed by a burn of bile rising up your throat, while your heart echoes emptily inside you. Kama closed her eyes and tried to remember the last time she had been inside a moving car – fifteen years ago, for Geetu’s birthday. She had spent a week locked in her room to recover from the shock, no food no water, and the betrayal was still fresh as if it were yesterday.
She opened her eyes when the hands groped her, ready to attack her molestor but it was Geetu. She looked around the cavernous vehicle and put names to faces – her brother, Geetu’s new husband and Pranab Sahay who for some reason had his head out the window. The smell of bile hit her and she vomited again this time directly into Geetu’s hands who then abandoned hope of cleaning her up. Pranab retched in reaction, now half outside the window himself. They stopped at the next restaurant-guest house and ordered tea while the ladies rushed to the bathroom.
The toilet was filthy but Kama thought nothing of it and sat down, head swirling and heavy in her hands. She had read countless experiences that described an out-of-body experience and the feeling of your soul drifting in the cosmic unknown as you sleep, it all seemed like hyperbolic trash compared to the cold sweat waterfalling down her face. The smell of drying vomit was intoxicating, sweet and sour at the same time considering she’d been drinking red wine for three days straight – three whole days from whatever words perforated the cloud between Geetu and her. Now it all felt like vinegar, like her insides had pickled. She stared at the tiled floor, once upon a time white but now crusty with dirt and other grime. Her insides were gravitationally unbound, revolving around a different point altogether, trying to push themselves out of her flesh prison. Once she had thrown up a third time, Kama
stood despondently as Geetu scrubbed the stains off of her kurta.
The plain cotton shift was thin but fresh, it smelled of lavender detergent evoking the memory of home, of mixing store bought soap with her own ingenious mix. She remembered Ria and was overwhelmed with the need to sit and cry for an hour or so because in that completely foreign setting she could understand the depth of her devotion. Of her family, who sat around the table tense and ready to swoop in at the first sign of hysteria. She saw the pill bottles poking out of Geetu’s handbag, the way Hassan monitored her tea, even offering to taste it for her to see if it was how she liked it. When she excused herself everyone asked if she needed help, she turned down an offer to be accompanied to the bathroom twice. She stood in front of the tiny basin shared by the men and women’s toilets, though the dank smell only came if you stood at a specific angle. She washed her face and dabbed at it with the back of her hand. With the sky clear and the wind low, the sun was a warm cloak bathing the open meadow in bright light very unlike her idea of a winter afternoon. A body of water split the land in two, sometimes an odd ripple would catch and shatter the sunlight drawing her attention. In the distance the hills rolled into higher mountains. It should’ve been more overwhelming from what she knew of her agoraphobia, the technicolour assault on her senses would have sent her into a panic attack, she braced herself against it but it never came. Her knuckles whitened against the dirty railing when the wind picked up, she wondered how far it could lift and take her – whether it could take her back home.
She looked down at her tunic and felt naked in the plain sheath of cotton, her version of Victorian underclothes. The wind cooled so she walked back to the restaurant and finished her tea. Every passing car made her jump, she could feel the sweet milky tea roiling around in her gut. Pranab helped her pull out a cardigan from the back but the chill had already set in. She sat in the front seat of the car and rested her head on the dashboard.
They were deep in the valley chasing the last shred of daylight and still a few kilometers from the house while Kama sat sucking on lemons like candy trying to settle her insides. Geetu had abandoned her pollyanna notions of a truce; the tension was heavy even when they passed familiar landmarks from another era. If Sunaina had answered any of Hassan’s calls they would’ve been surprised to find her camping with Faisal just a few hundred metres to their north, off the trail that lead to the reserve. He drove with reckless precision, swerving sharply around bends and driving over rubble as though they were in a monster truck than a humble Scuba Blue Q5. Their heads spun at every bend and swoop of the road but no one complained anymore.
At long last the familiar bridge gave way to the unkempt road leading up to the house, they thought of stopping for tea at the little café but once past the village it was only a few minutes away. Kama turned and stared at the little café door, wondering why it felt familiar but the excitable blabber broke her thoughts.
They drove past the gate and the watchman hurried to shut it behind them, the colonial style house rose up in front of them surrounded by deep blue mountains, the sky now a darkened canvas. With the last turn up the driveway the lawn chairs came into view and they realized that the Commander wasn’t alone.
Kama felt the blood drain from her face. “Fuck.”
Hassan leaned forward, eyes squinting.
“Who the fuck is that? Why is she sitting so close to papa?”
Geetu leapt forward and laughed once. “It looks like they’re – are they drinking?”
Kama turned around and launched into a quick version of what she knew about Leela, how Asim had been helping her run the tea stall which had now obviously expanded into a full café and they had grown close. She’d been helping him to return the favour, but Kama didn’t know too much about that.
Asim had walked up to the car by then; Hassan noted how ridiculous his uniform of polo shirts looked in that particular blood orange tone.
“What’s the matter? Are you planning on spending the entire weekend in your car?” Hassan noted that the Commander still spoke with militant authority, like they were children up to no good.
“Why, are you embarrassed of us already?”
“Don’t worry Hassan, with you there’s nothing new about it.”
He slammed both hands on the wheel. “See I told you this was a stupid fucking idea!”
“Arey Papa don’t rile him up we’ve just arrived ya.”
“Geetu please, it’s not like he is going to listen to you right now.”
“I’m just joking why does he have to take everything so seriously?” Asim let his arms drop in faux disappointment.
“Dad because you always do this – I’m not an idiot young boy dammit!”
“Watch your tone you –” He leaned in, wide eyed. “Kama is that you?!”
They’d never heard him make the sound before but it sounded like a mother bird cooing.
Pranab and Dev sat back and observed.
Kama ran out of the car and hugged Asim, while the others made their exit somberly.
“Arey Pranab my boy it’s been ages since I’ve seen you”, he poked his gut, “looks like the missus is keeping you well fed eh?”
He shook Dev’s hand firmly, “Ahha Mr. Shroff, I’m glad you’re here ya, finally good to have you on the estate.”
They shared a quick hug, the kind that men reserved for each other. It ended with a firm pat on the back.
“Geetika my love”, he pulled her in, “it’s been too long. Next time I want to see the girls also. How’s Vir? I haven’t heard from him in ages.”
“Oh he’s good ya daddy, you know how he is.” She pulled out a cigarette. “Keeps to himself no matter how brilliant he is, I’m lucky if I get an update here or there.”
Hassan waited for his turn, the cursory greeting of a one armed hug and an ‘All good beta?’ which had been tradition ever since his marriage.
Once out of the car, the party stood awkwardly everyone aware of the young woman standing patiently by her wicker chair. She had a warm smile on but only Geetu noticed the tightness in her eyes, there were secrets waiting to be told. She closed her own eyes and sent out a prayer that her father would wait till breakfast the next day.
“Come come everyone, I have a very special lady to introduce you to.” Asim gestured grandly towards the garden.
Hassan sighed. “Daddy we’re all exhausted, wouldn’t it be better if we could wash up and then do – you know… whatever this is.”
Asim turned and shot daggers at him. Hassan was surprised the moustache didn’t spontaneously combust.
“Just come and say hello, it won’t bloody kill you.”
When you’re young it’s a strange thing watching a parent interact with another person lovingly. As you grow older the relations between two people tend to become easier to discern, you can tell if someone genuinely cares about another person and their wellbeing, it’s different from the person whose wellbeing and happiness is directly tied to your own. To have seen a father raise teenagers into adults, as fully functional as possible, was aggravating until they’d had to do it for themselves and still it wasn’t half as easy as Asim had made it seem – even with a spouse around. To them he had always been a pillar of strength and doting commitment.
When they were younger it was easier to see him as a whole, as if there was never a need for another half to complete him. They had observed him at the parties he hosted and the ritual Sunday lunches in the garden, alternating between spicy pork curries and rajma-chawal he cooked himself. He had an unrelenting determination to make things work, to never allow a bubble of discontentment or loneliness into their family – even when they went through their second round of growing pains.
He introduced them to Leela with every word steeped in the syrupy joy of an altogether different nature, that much was obvious. Hassan and Geetika nodded and said hello, mirroring polite smiles that indicated they would talk about her at the first chance of being alone. Pranab and Dev were met with a warm
handshake and a ‘welcome to the house’, which sounded odd from her lips because she was the stranger there, it was their house. The home of their childhood, of every high and lowest low. Kama gave her a hug simpering about how nice it was to finally meet her and then proceeded to ignore the dark looks that branded her as a traitor.
Hassan broke the spell of clinking cutlery in the otherwise silent dining hall.
“So how exactly do you two know each other?”
Pranab cleared his throat.
Leela looked downward.
“We met at her tea stall last year, it comes on my way to those yoga classes I take down by the river.” He replied through pursed lips. “In exchange for her lovely tea I’ve been teaching her English.”
“That doesn’t explain what she’s doing here daddy.”
“I wanted her to meet my family, which I hope you’re not giving me reason to reconsider.” The threat undercutting his words was unmistakable.
“Not at all, I’m just curious as to who she really is –”
“Don’t talk about her like she’s not in the room, Hassan. Show some respect.”
He glanced her way without apology. “My point is –”
“Your point is what exactly? You want to know how close we are or what?”
Geetu shifted loudly in her seat in the hopes that she could shut her brother up if only he’d look at her.
“Yes papa, please help us understand what exactly is going on here.”
“What is going my son is that Leela keeps me company here while none of you idiots can be bothered to check up on your old man.” He shot a furtive look at the rest of them as though to challenge a rebuff.
“Oh please I come and see you all the time,” he scoffed.
“Twice a year is not all the time for god’s sake this is exactly why I told you not to marry that fool from Bombay because I knew she’d turn you into a stupid man and not just lightly stupid I mean a truly blithering idiot.”
“Oh”, Hassan clapped loudly, “well congratulations daddy your predictions were all true.”