by Rohan Dahiya
“SURYA!” he yelled from the other end of the apartment. “Pick up the phone ya, who’s calling?”
She stared at Gayatri’s name.
Even though she had her mouth open to speak, Surya’s throat tightened uncomfortably like she’d swallowed sand. The radio silence over the past few weeks from both her sisters was as bitter as the after oil of coffee on her tongue. Their Save-The-Date mailers were opened but not RSVP-ed to, and Geetu’s assurances were growing weary. She winced as water hit the cut, pushing the tiniest sliver of flesh in the wrong direction so for a moment the cut deepened. She watched the blood wash away with the water stream but everything inside was clenched tight like she could heal her wound with willpower. Looking up at the sight of her trembling lower lip opened the floodgates to all she’d been keeping to herself and Surya dissolved into hiccupped hysterics. She missed her. She missed Sana. She had nobody to fall back on. And yet, there were no tears, just a strange gargled noise like someone was strangling a monkey in their bathroom.
Dhiraj knocked roughly and asked if she was okay. She stared at his silhouette on the other side of the frosted glass, noting that it was inappropriate to have a glass door for a bathroom, and sniffed an ‘I’m okay’ back at him.
Cut mended and warm cheeks now cooling, Surya straightened up.
“Oh,” she said aloud, surprising herself. “I guess I actually am upset.”
Dhiraj was waiting on the other side of the door for her. She launched herself at him, unbothered by his surprise or the sound of seams ripping.
She pushed him onto his bare back and sat on his chest so their warm skin fused together. He smiled into the drapery of her locks, she slid down his abdomen till the familiar fuzz of his happy trail tickled the insides of her thighs. Now when they kissed it wasn’t the welcome home honey peck of pastel people but the untamed passion of two lovers.
“No dinner for you till you’re drunk,” she reached into his boxers. “I’m taking baby boy out for drinks and then we’re gonna fuck in the car like it’s 2003.”
He let out a gasp as she planted another firm kiss on his lips. Neil regarded her with curiosity. “Why’re you so jittery tonight? The speech was perfect. You were perfect.”
“It’d help if you could maintain eye contact and not look at my boobs while saying that.” She jabbed at her phone and tucked it back into the hardbox clutch. “I was trying to get in touch with my sister.”
“Okay but how are you even fitting inside that? I didn’t mean to stare,” he chuckled, “but really what keeps you from spilling out of that dress?”
Gayatri stared down the scalloped lace that plummeted halfway down her torso. “Lots and lots of boob tape, it’s magic. Can we get back to my problem please?”
“Wait, when did you have a sister?” he shifted away from her and she ignored the fact that he was also blatantly checking her out. “We’ve been working together for so long and now it’s like I don’t even know who you are.”
“Don’t be a dick, it’s my step sister. She’s getting married, apparently there was a full invite and box of trinkets they sent over to my house and Shashi literally like intentionally didn’t tell me about it because she was worried that it’d distract me from the gala and the press tour and now we’ve got this fucking premiere and I-I can’t wait for this to get over so I can just ...” She exhaled loudly. “She’s lost her fucking marbles, Shashi has. You know how many edits she’d made in my notes? She added in random pop culture references like 13 Reasons Why and fucking people coming out of the mental illness closet like I’m up there giving an acceptance speech for Most Popular Crazy.”
They eyed the champagne canister and shifted closer to each other.
“She was like ‘omg think of all the coverage we’ll get if you shout out to homegirl Mallika Dua and that AIB guy’, it’s mental. She’s just talking trash in my ear the whole day.”
Neil couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He reached out and cradled her hand in his. She wove their fingers together moving with unmitigated magneticism. A long night of being aware of every mildly congratulatory nod and smile later they were on their way to an after party and sitting in the back of the private car with those tinted windows and her hand in his, Gayatri could settle down.
“Wait but didn’t you take a photo with Tanmay Bhatt afterward?” Neil questioned.
“Yes but” she sighed, that’s irrelevant now. “I just can’t trust Shashi anymore ya. My whole family is ignoring my calls like dad has literally never cut my call and he was just so cold. It sucks.”
Gayatri was aware of every micro graze of their palms against each other. Every second of friction sent shockwaves through her heart. She was on the verge of losing track of her thoughts.
“So, what now?” he offered.
The fact that Neil could sit there and still speak so coolly made her want to grab him by the shoulders and shake him up. Every offhanded shrug made her skin crawl, his casual stroke of her wrist made her teeth grind.
She shrugged simply, suddenly too disconnected from him.
“I don’t know, I fire her I guess.” A part of him waited for her to say more, although he knew there wasn’t much to say after that. He stared at the planes of her face delineated by the weaving beams of the sea link, like the moment the sun breaks through from behind an eclipsing moon. All he wanted to do was lean in and kiss her lips, just so he could feel whole again.
He looked down at their entwined hand and ever so gently grazed her wrist with his thumb. Gayatri seemed to not have noticed at all. The stretching silence made his teeth grind, it made his skin crawl.
Her phone vibrated with an ugly drumming noise that broke the spell and she peeled her hand off.
“Relax it’s not the end of the world dammit!” Neil retreated from her. She scowled at him, biting back the sharp words edging off her tongue.
“It could be Surya, what’s wrong with you?”
“Jeez whatever,” the car turned a corner and he vanished into the shadows.
Gayatri stared at the combination of numbers wondering if any part of them was familiar. She wondered if Surya’s phone had run out of battery and she was returning the call from her fiancé’s phone. It could also be an absolute psychopath trying to track her down.
“I need your phone,” she reached for Neil who hoped against hope that they wouldn’t touch again.
He fished it from the pocket and held it out to her. She fed in the number and waited for the swiveling search results to show up. Curiosity got the better of him and Neil leaned in close enough that Gayatri could smell the cigarette and mint on his breath.
“Faisal Bakr-what? Who the hell is Faisal and why’s he calling you?”
Shoulders slumped; Gayatri cancelled the call and blocked the number. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter now does it?”
She rested her head on his shoulder.
“Don’t go sleepy on me, we’re almost there now.” His cool breath fanned her forehead. “Go back to bitching about Shashi, at least that keeps you energized.”
She chuckled. “She’s such a piece of trash, like actually genuine trash. She’s been pushing me to sign up for this TV commercial for these random ass things like one is a fucking fairness cream like oh my god stop. How they still make those I don’t even get.”
“Well to be fair those offers are better than not having any work at all right?”
She pushed herself upright, visibly perturbed. “What does that mean?”
“I mean think about it logically, you say no to these things and soon the offers stop coming in altogether – what happens then? You leave things as a one-hit wonder person, an actress who failed to launch before she reached for the stars.”
“What if I find out that they’re testing their shit on animals? Should I be aligning myself with just about anyone simply because I should be seen everywhere? That’s such a myopic view, Neil, what is the matter with you?”
“Look it’s not like I haven’t re
ceived shitty offers, it’s just that mine are diff–”
She threw her hands up. “Oh of course, silly fucking me, who’d ever think to offer an advertisement for fairness creams and products to a man?! You’re a serious actor after all, right? Can’t do something which won’t involve at least one dramatic monologue.”
“Wait, that’s not what I meant. Why’re you taking all this the wrong way?”
“Because that’s exactly the kind of B-grade shit someone once told me I’d do in life.”
Gayatri huffed and walked out as soon as the car rolled to a stop.
Sunaina blinked away her tears with a bitter smile. “Honestly I knew she wouldn’t pick up.”
“And that’s enough Old Monk I think,” Faisal reached across the table to hold her hand and retrieved her glass with the other. He asked a passing server to bring their meal.
Sunaina dipped her head onto their hands and let the tears spill over. Faisal watched the warm salty tears soak into the skin of his hand and jerked it away from her. She straightened up as her hair came undone, falling softly around her. The bowl of dark mutton curry came over and she immediately drained half of it over her bowl of rice.
“Easy begum, you’re gonna choke if you don’t chew properly.”
She wiped the corner of her mouth and blushed. “Sorry, I’m just feeling a little overwhelmed I guess. It’s literally the first time I’ve seen my friend and like here of all places.”
“She was really rude,” he ignored her dismissive shrug, “I’m always surprised at how you can smile so politely and talk such crap to each other.”
“You – as in us women? Oh bhaisaab come with me to Delhi I’ll show you grown ass men who can put little bitches like that Varsha Kalra to shame with half the effort.” She shook her head, “I mean she’s not a friend as such but it’s a pity because her brother is actually such a sweetheart. He was dating one of my closest friends for some time but I’m guessing they’re not together anymore either.”
He pulled the glass away from her outstretched hand and finished the remainder of the drink, immediately regretting the pungent rum on his curry coated palate.
She smiled without mirth. “I was so horrible to her the last time we spoke which obviously explains why she wants nothing to do with me.”
Faisal burped through moist lips into the back of his hand, stomach steadily gurgling now. “Sunaina –”
“To be honest though I was horrible to most people. And there was just so much negativity just festering in me.” She threw him a dirty look and paid for the meal. “Let’s get moving –”
“Let’s walk slow, I need to” Faisal dreaded the worst with every hiccup, “that curry’s asking to settle down.”
“You’re such a little bitch boy, just walk slow and you’ll be fine.” She pulled down the arms of her oversized sweater. “I swear you’re such a disgrace when it comes to drinking na, you’re just like my sister Surya.”
They began the walk uphill, the scenic route back to the old town as Sunaina blathered on about her family while Faisal fought the cold sweats. Somewhere between the circles of streetlights and rainwater, he collapsed onto his knees.
“I… I can’t breathe.” He heaved even as Sunaian rubbed his back.
“Just keep your eyes open and try to breathe through your nose, I’m calling for help.” She took her phone out to dial Jatin but the incoming call drained the last reserves of battery. She screamed at the lifeless mobile and shrugged off her backpack.
“Begum,” he reached out for her. “I think I’m going to black out.”
She fished out the strange amber bottle and shoved it under his nose. “Breathe through your nose, just stay for now and focus on breathing.”
One whiff and he emptied his belly on the wall of the Legom Himalayan Lodge at the mouth of the old town. Sunaina sighed in relief and helped him to his feet, grateful that she hadn’t driven them to the Commander’s house in that state.
“Hassan babe”, Eisha stood at the bedroom door swaying in her heavily fringed sweater. “I need a little pick me up, gimme some sugar daddy!”
She threw her hands up in the air like a witch in ritual and that was the tipping point for Hassan. After having spent the whole evening sitting on their laps and pouring out champagne with giggles, reveling at being the center of attention no matter which room she was in, Eisha had returned to him when she needed her hit. His knuckles whitened around the phone where the monotone voice continued its song of the cancelled call.
“No.” he growled.
She clutched at an invisible pearl necklace on her chest, “Oh what do you mean no? What’s the matter with you?”
Her breathy gasps once recklessly arousing now cut across his skin because it was like Hassan could finally hear all their words of caution – his friends and sisters now made sense. Eisha was a fucked up version of his daughter.
“Just get the fuck out of my house, you’re making me sick.”
Her airs washed off. “Babe, really what’s going on? Why’re you being mean to me?”
“Are you fucking stupid, you’ve been behaving like such trash the whole night flirting with whoever calls out to you in my house no less, and you wanna know what the matter is? You’re behaving like a fucking whore, I don’t know what your scene is Eisha. I don’t know why you’re so damaged or pretend to be so damaged but I just don’t have the patience to put up with this behaviour.”
“Okay calm down firstly, if this is because I kissed Pranab on the cheek –”
He had to control the part of himself that itched to jettison the phone at her head. “That’s really not the problem here.”
“Then what is it?” she moved close enough to grind against him. “Tell me what you want.”
His growing disdain was obvious in the way he regarded her feline caresses, when he pushed her away she seemed to enjoy it. “Get the fuck out of my house dammit!”
She turned unbothered by the way her t-shirt drooped down her bare shoulder, yet aware that it showed off her nakedness. “I thought you were different, Hassan. Turns out you’re no better than the others.”
She turned back to him at the entrance, ready to dole out one last feebly poetic line.
“Go home Eisha,” he slammed the door and dialed Sunaina again.
Chapter FIFTEEN
REJECTION, REFLECTION,
REDEMPTION
It’s an inevitable truth that in the month leading up to a wedding sees every self-important woman in attendance hit the spa, even more so the mother of the bride. A wedding tends to be the social event of every season, one that never goes out of style. It’s worse when you have to plan one and manage a Shahpur Jat atelier. Geetu sat in her robe, fresh out of a Dead Sea salt scrub with a cigarette and scowl.
“Hullo?”
“Aye haye, why do you sound like that?” Geetu’s raspy voice stabbed him through the phone.
“What do you want?”
“Listen I need a favour – wait, are you just waking up?”
Hassan rolled over to the warmer side of the bed. “Talk a little softly please I’m a mess right now…”
“How are you hungover on a Friday morning?”
“What are you calling for Geetika?”
“Well clearly there’s no point having the conversation over the phone, in your current state I doubt you’ll register a thing I have to say.” He heard the crackle of a cigarette.
“You always have some shit or the other to say can I go back to sleep now…”
“No listen I called to ask you what time the Soods are getting in, Dev just got back from the train station and he can drive you to the airport if it’s in the next hour.”
“Who?”
“Are you serious right now?! I’ll come there and break both your legs!”
“Can you stop shouting and tell me what you’re talking about you mad cow.”
“Arey yaar, Sid and Sunita Sood, are you on crack? They’re flying in today and you were meeti
ng them up at the airport.”
Hassan jerked upright and immediately regretted it.
“I know I know” he groaned, “I only offered to pick them up. I’m a fucking idiot.”
“Oh there’s no doubt about that.” She drawled.
He held his head even as it continued spinning like a spaceship. “I even made them cancel their hotel booking because I thought it’d be a good idea to have them stay here and the guest bedrooms haven’t been fixed up yet.”
“Ay it’s okay. This is Siddie we’re talking about. You know daddy would’ve killed you if he went to a hotel.” Her voice softened.
Through the onslaught of filtered sunlight and headache Hassan began to remember as well the many mornings spent racing over hilltops together, traversing the narrow roads as if they were explorers in a new world. Siddhant Sood had spent every summer vacation at their house till he and Geetika passed the tenth grade. Even from across the world, and US only seemed further away in those days, he’d always come to meet them before his own family. He would post a letter or two to the Commander though nowhere as regularly as Kama – it was in his opinion the most permanent way to be remembered by someone.
Even through the toughest of times he never let go of them, although he was heartbroken when only Geetu and Hassan showed up to his father’s funeral. Sid Sood always maintained that Kama’s phobias were curable; he had seen what a crippled life was, what it took to care after someone who’d been physically impaired – and he told them that she wasn’t. Of course Kama didn’t take it too well at the time but it was all forgotten with the first bite of her signature roast chicken. Geetu joked that it was the only way to get his attention when he was visiting, sharing those meals that always ended in heartbreak because they’d never know when they’d meet again.