by Rohan Dahiya
“Gayatri?”
Another knock.
“Did you die on the way here?”
Sunaina ran into Sohrab’s chest. Their eyes met for a moment and then slid down to her loosely tied robe, both of them slowly realizing that his hands were still around her arms.
“Oh.”
She pulled the robe tight but not before he had a peek at her nude underwear.
“Jesus I’m sorry, I thought you were ready to go.”
Sohrab didn’t know whether to rush forward or back off and stood there stupidly trying to look anywhere except directly at her and failing miserably in his attempts. She slammed the door mid-apology.
“Just leave me here to die please,” Sunaina pressed herself against the door. Her stomach coiled in on itself.
His breath shuddered through the door like it was more air than wood, she wondered if he might force himself in and kiss her right then, maybe a part of her did want him to, but there were other things to consider. He was a friend of the family. He’d been married once. He was older. He was also still muttering some apology but she couldn’t find it in her to speak, worried that were she to open her mouth her heart might jump right out of it.
She was playing with fire.
There was a certain self destruction that came with falling for Sohrab Neruda would gladly approve of – but this was not the night to be caught up in the poetry of bad decisions.
But wasn’t that why the nights were made? To make all the bad decisions. He was just a winter fling, he was just a winter fling and she-
A deep sigh echoed both inside and out.
The door vibrated as a fist rapped twice.
“Yes?” she called out meekly.
“It’s me ya, why’s you door locked?” Gayatri demanded from the other side.
She grabbed her by the arm and yanked her in. “Fuck my fucking life. Did you see Sohrab?”
“Yeah, he’s downstairs with your dad. Listen what is it about men in a black kurta … like oof!” she laughed. “Okay let’s get you sorted I don’t wanna be late.”
“Dude it’s not even about the kurta it’s just him …” Sunaina sighed. “I can’t stop thinking about him.”
Gayatri considered the mood before speaking. “Well the point is does he think about you?” she walked over to the bed. “Also there’s no question here you should just fuckin wear the sari and stop being so sombre.”
Sunaina shrugged. “I mean I already threw myself at him in my fucking underwear so I don’t see how this night can get any worse. I’m kinda bloated though, I just wanna stay home and be comfy in my fluffy ass pajamas, chin-fucking-deep in ice cream. Why does no one eat ice cream in this weather?”
“Comfy my ass, you’re not ditching. Look, I know you’ve got this whole bougie children of the mother earth vibe going on and, okay, it was great at first but you really need to get your shit together and get dressed.”
“You’re right. Fuck this.” Sunaina ripped the robe off her skin and walked over to the pleat her sari.
Gayatri helped her accessorise and an hour later they shared a cigarette outside Surya’s house both silently acknowledging the end of an era. Separated by the perimeter wall and a row of primed shrubbery was Vir speaking in that perverse mix of Japanese and English they’d come to associate with conversations not to be overheard. From running a quick errand, shopping for clothes, while reading a book to dinnertime, the calls grew conspiratorial and frequent as the days went by. And while Geetu looked at him with murder in her eyes, the others learnt to tune them out.
They watched him pace and blather on, unperturbed by his audience as tone changed from sarcastic to loving. Both Sunaina and Gayatri knew that the pressure of finding a wife and settling down was the worst for him. Sunaina thought of the elbow jabs and wiggled brows as aunties asked her if she’d jump the gun and announce her marriage plans before anyone else. Gayatri wondered how to talk about Ankit and Neil and everything that came in between because she needed something that had nothing to do with work to make sense.
Sunaina broke the silence first.
“What ever happened to the Dewans?”
“Who?”
“You know, Lakshman Dewan and his family …?”
“Oh,” she tried not to let the surprise show on her face. “Well actually I don’t know the full story myself but basically his dad was caught up in some embezzlement scene.”
“I thought he pulled strings and kept that from public records?”
“I don’t know about that but since then things were shit for them, especially for that older son – what was his name?”
Sunaina remembered but shrugged anyway.
“That guy just spelled trouble from the start, he had it coming sooner or later. Anyway after that I guess things were still relatively okay but Lakshman just vanished. Now obviously everyone and their mother has a theory about where he went but who knows for sure, right?”
“So then?”
Gayatri shrugged. “That’s all I know. Promise me, if I get caught up in controversy – promise me you won’t just abandon me.”
“Oh you better not,” Gayatri’s publicist-assistant walked up the driveway. “Sorry we’re late but OMG the traffic was insane.”
Sunaina smiled politely and looked over to where Vir was finishing his phone call.
“It’s mad in there,” he walked over to where they stood.
“This outfit is div-vine honey!” The tiny publicist – whose name might’ve been Zoya except Sunaina had forgotten it as soon as they’d met – walked around Gayatri checking for any creases or snags. “Fabulous. Now, we’re gonna take some amazing but tasteful photos and put them up. I want this night to be about what you’re wearing and your flawless hair and who you talk to, everything.”
“Let’s not get carried away, tonight’s about Dhiraj and Surya.”
“Oh of course of course we’ll get her a little shoutout or something too. But sweetie you should see yourself right now, you’re ready to launch a thousand ships.”
Sunaina rolled her eyes and turned back to Vir. “What’s going on inside?”
Her answer came in the sound of glass crashing against a wall. They rushed into the house to find the usual congregation of relatives tinted red with rage. Geetu, Hassan, and Kama were possibly the source of the resounding crash, Sunaina looked around and saw the erstwhile vase of fresh flowers not too far from where they stood. The wallpaper was soaked through with water but no one seemed to notice it as they continued their row. Asim had taken to a wing-backed armchair as his throne, the perfect spot to bellow his disappointments at the family with the intensity of a bookie at a wrestling match.
“Who told you that you have the right to make this into a fucking marketing campaign?”
Kama turned around agahast and teary eyed. “This has absolutely nothing to do with marketing, how can you be so cruel?”
“I don’t see what’s so wrong about it,” Dev muttered. Kama simpered at him.
“Dev do not even think about getting involved in this.” Geetu turned back. “For a change Hassan’s absolutely right you have no idea of the mess you’re making.”
“That is so not fair Geetu ya how can you say that. It’s my first foray into fiction and you two are just ruining it for everyone.” She held up the crushed handkerchief to her nose.
Hassan clapped theatrically, forehead vein ready to pop. “Oh really! And out of everything, every possibility under the sun you could have written about, you chose to write about a murder?”
“WHY DO YOU CARE NOW, YOU USELESS PIG!” Asim sputtered.
“It’s a murder mystery set in Doon valley,” she squealed, “and it’s obviously not a real story how stupid do you think I am dammit?”
“What I can’t understand is why you chose tonight of all nights to talk about it, a night that’s not even yours to ruin.”
As Kama dove face-first into a meltdown, Sid Sood’s voice stole the show.
“You thi
nk just because we’re separated you’re allowed to go out and sign up for speed dating or something?”
Gayatri tried to control her laughter but the out of place American accent was too much for her.
“I’m not!” Sunita screamed back at him. “Should I remind you that you’re the reason we separated–”
He theatrically clapped in her face. “Wow! I knew you were self-centered but I had no idea you were so delusional. You think I’m the reason our marriage ended and not the twenty-something barista across your office?”
“Okay he was thirty two and you know that.”
“He was a fucking chaiwallah!”
“Fuck you Siddie, how convenient for you to forget your bartender from last year?”
“She’s getting married to Greg! I’m going for their wedding, you stupid cow –”
He spluttered the end of his sentence as Sunita Sood splashed all the wine from her glass into his face.
Sunaina watched the merlot soak its way through the ikat print of his white kurta. Asim craned his neck to watch as Siddhant threw his own glass at his ex-wife’s feet who stumbled right into the side table. On her way down she made the unfortunate decision to grab at the runner, pulling with it the serving dish of Geetika’s famous seven layer dip.
In the middle of this tableau of chaos Sohrab sat nursing a stiff drink like a lone ranger at the end of the world.
“Oh-kay,” Zoya whistled. “I’ll wait outside.”
“Jesus Sunaina how long does it take you to get ready?” Sohrab walked over, standing too close for comfort.
“I’m sorry,” she looked behind him as Hassan wheeled around from Geetu and Kama to land a punch right into Dev’s chin. “I-I couldn’t find the right earrings.”
“Get me out of here, please.” He looked at her with tortured eyes and she fought the urge to hug him because behind them, Vir was pulling Dev and Hassan apart while Geetu screamed at her weeping sister and Sunita locked herself up in the nearest bedroom. Gayatri was shaking the Commander by the shoulders, who seemed to have had a heart attack while no one was looking. She stood over him, one leg on each side so that the slit in her anarkali opened all the way up her thigh.
“Water, Sunaina get me a glass of water!”
She lunged instead for the jug and emptied it straight on Asim’s head, waking him up not from cardiac arrest but a nap. He roared like a beast and everyone finally stopped.
“You’re all fucking crazy!”
Vir hugged his mother tightly, who still shook with anger and muttered about the night being an utter disaster. His phone rang and she looked like she might throw up in disgust.
Hassan leaned down and gave Devendra an ice pack, apologizing for his behaviour. Kama sniffed in response but chose not to say anything. Unfortunately, she would never get to finish the manuscript she’d been drafting because tragedy waits for no one. She wouldn’t find the time to write again for many years to come.
Geetu straightened the sleeve of her brocade blouse and pulled herself together. Vir’s phone buzzed again and she’d had enough of it. He stared in horror as she flung it in a graceful arc to the far end of the living room and the following silence was like a black hole.
“Go ahead and answer your phone calls now.”
Sunaina buried her laugh in Sohrab’s shoulder.
Surya and Dhiraj descended the stairs with arms entwined to the sound of cheers and tasteful fratboy whoops. And for the first time in as long as she could remember, all eyes were on her – not Sunaina, or Gayatri, not even Lara who had a talent for seeking attention. In a sari of gold lamé she was the goddess of love blessing the event. She smirked at the squeals of joy as they walked to the center of the room and Dhiraj leaned down to kiss her cheek in a picture perfect moment fed straight into the multiverse via live video feed.
Walking past the cameras and the row of champagne bottles lined and primed to pop, in the reverent looks of their closest friends, Surya understood the glory of being the center of attention. For one night she could stand on the pedestal that her sisters had spent their whole lives on and yet, standing next to Dhiraj dulled the shine. The charm wore off as quickly as it had taken hold of her and now all that attention felt unnecessary. She turned to him and understood in the warmth of his smile that the custom made three-tier birthday cake could’ve been swapped by something they’d baked together. At home. Just the two of them. Dhiraj did not need these things. They could’ve celebrated with family than pump expensive liquor into these hyenas with their counterfeit compliments. The night was long and full of errors, her new shoes cut into her skin from every side, Dhiraj stood with watery eyes from the constant smoke of cigarettes because everyone wanted to get a word in and he was too polite to say no.
As the cocktails were poured the party begun the customary division, some seated themselves around the professional blackjack dealer, some around the deluxe roulette setup, a full team of pros in maroon vests setting the mood. Teen Patti is often regarded with the same diligence as Russian roulette, and players often drink themselves into a stupor by the end of the night. Yet there were some whose jovial anecdotes and enquiries about outfits and honeymoon destinations could not be deterred. For Surya, it was only a matter of keeping a lid on the clashing egos between families till the last round of the phéras – it was common knowledge that the Jodhpur ceremony was just a designated party. However her mood took a nosedive as Gayatri and Sunaina walked in.
There is nothing worse than walking into a room and seeing every head turn your way. Not when the talk dies down, not when the smiles falter, not when the glittering assholes retreat behind their manicured hands and talk with the stinging sweetness of a young girl with a spider in her hands about to play a mean trick on you. There were a few who seemed genuinely happy to see them, but the overall contempt dribbled down every chin. Their onyx eyes gave away the sourness behind their smiles. They said ‘it is not fair that you moved on’, ‘that you became better than us’. Sunaina and Gayatri held each other’s hands for sanity.
Vir squared his shoulders and met their awed hostility with the brightest smile. “Well I know it’s been a while but come on, I’m no celebrity guys!”
Even though the ice broke, the cold vibes didn’t completely go away.
Sunaina walked up to Surya and hugged her, whispering an apology for being late.
“Oh my god don’t even, bhai told me what was happening at home,” she rolled her eyes, “I told mumma not to wear double layered spanx dude she can’t handle it and shit just gets ugly. As for you … missy … don’t be tryna steal my thunder and all now, kay?”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Surya waved off the cameraman who was veering dangerously close. “You just up and left and didn’t even bother to let me know if you were alive or … I don’t know”
“I went because I had nothing left here Surya.”
“Seriously? What about me?”
She paused for a beat. “It looks like you’ve managed to find your happiness just fine without me Surya, why does that still make you feel like I would try to steal your thunder?”
“Because that’s just who you are.”
Gayatri cleared a throat from behind and spoke through a grit-toothed smile. “You bitches need to get your shit together, we have cameras everywhere.”
Surya looked around at the discreet photographers moving around the foyer, lounge, and the outer deck while the guests had returned to their gilded tokens and glasses. She decided that that would be the only moment of regret for having spent a fortune on the wedding film.
Sunaina leaned in and placed a hand on her sister’s arm. “Look I’m only here for you, the both of you. I don’t want to upset you so just tell me what I can do.”
“Hug it out!” Gayatri wrapped her long arms around the three of them.
“You’re right. Oh my god guys, like, good vibes only.” Surya flipped her sleek curtain of hair and pecked Dhiraj.
Sohrab had be
en lost to a conversation on Trump’s America and with every passing minute turning into an hour, Sunaina remembered the reason she’d wanted to leave the city in the first place. After having been swallowed up in a gushing chat about the movie, Gayatri wove her way back to the mezzanine where they stood with Sam Manchanda at the center gearing up to school a cocky plus-one about public health awareness.
“Look don’t get riled up, all I’m saying is that in my humble opinion there’s like nothing to teach really. You just need to like go through a certain age to know this shit. India is just backward AF.” He reveled in the few nods.
Samaira adjusted her oxidized silver maang-tika. “Excuse me sir, but your privilege is showing. How can you just sit in this like glass house or whatever and assume that everyone in this country has access to the same information that you do? There are villages where it’s still considered a matter of shame to get your period.”
“That’s exactly my point,” he stood straighter like a peacock preparing to dance. “Backward. As Eff.”
Varsha Kalra hid her embarrassment in a loud show of being bored at the seriousness of the conversation even as the others rolled their eyes and dispersed.
“And that waste of space is Varsha’s fiancé,” Karishma nudged her way between them.
“Wait, I thought she called it off with him?”
She shook her head. “That was last month. This month they’re back together. Oh and speaking of together, there’s Lara and her fiancé.”
“Lara’s engaged?” Sunaian gasped. “When did this happen? Who’s the guy?”
“Gaawsh Sana you really have been living under a rock. She got hitched to Daksh’s cousin brother – remember Adarsh Arora? You used to like make fun of him and stuff back in the day?”
“Wait but that was forever ago, why is that a valid reason to exclude us?” Gayatri demanded.
“Oh my god, you guys have like a clue in life do you? He had like serious problems growing up, like he went to therapy for a long time to get over the bullying and shit. And well there’s also the fact that Daksh was there and he’s sort of …” she lit a cigarette knowing fully that she had them hooked onto her every word, “well he’s like living with that guy now, the older dude.”