The Bitter Pill Social Club

by Rohan Dahiya

  “Oh okay.” Sunaina wondered if there was anything else she could say. “Well, as long as he’s happy I guess it’s all good.”

  Gayatri pulled her downstairs to the bar before Karishma could reply. “What does she know, her boyfriend only drinks rosé. Bitch.”

  “Hey guys,” Surya walked over to where they stood, leading a tall leggy girl behind her. “This is Elina, she’s Farida aunty’s daughter. She’s literally the person you wanna call if you’re buying art.”

  They turned to the newcomer who may as well have been a runway model for her overall gazelle-like appearance. Sunaina groaned on the inside.

  “So, Gayatri is in the movie biz she’s like just gotten herself a place in Khar.”

  “Hill Road,” she interjected but Surya carried on. “And Sunaina is like the Little Miss Wanderlust these days. When she’s not fabulously flaunting her Gucci shoes,” she giggled. Elina clinked her glass to Sunaina’s appreciatively.

  “Have either of you seen Sohrab? I’ve been meaning to introduce him to everyone as well.”

  “Oh I think he’s with Dhiraj smoking outside.” Sunaina tried to keep her voice even.

  “Perfect, do you mind if I just see you there, Surya? I just gotta hit the bathroom real quick to powder my nose.” Elina beamed.

  As soon as Surya left though her regal smile twisted into something darker. “D’you want some Charlie girls, I swear cannot go through another intro sesh without a hit.”

  “Oh. Erm I’ll uh catch you in the next round.”

  “Sure I’ll find you.” She turned to Sunaina expectantly. “And you?”

  “Oh, right. Same. Next round.”

  Gayatri turned to her as soon as Elina was out of earshot. “Why the fuck would we want her coke? Do we look too poor to get our own stash? Bitch.”

  “She seems… nice-ish.” Sunaina reasoned.

  Surya hovered back to them for a refill. “Why were you looking for Sohrab by the way?”

  “Oh okay so here’s the goss. So she’s basically recently divorced but she won like a ton of money because there was this tiny loophole in her prenup agreement and she’s got like a summer home in the French fucking Riviera now and anyway mumma heard that Sohrab is single as well so that’s basically why she invited him over. She like literally threatened Sid uncle if he didn’t bring him he didn’t need to come for my wedding.”

  “What?” Sunaina was sure she didn’t hear it right.

  “Yeah so you see why he’s been stiff and all he’s probably expecting some awkward arrangement to come up. And like how gorg would their kids be, amiright? Like, did you see her cheekbones you could cut glass off of them. Bitch.”

  Gayatri looked at Sunaina who held her glass with whitened knuckles, not in least because of the girl walking back with a thousand watt smile and the legs for days but because through curtain of tea lights and pink dusted roses appeared Lakshman Dewan.

  There were three things Sunaina knew for certain – that Sohrab Sood had been imported to be married off to Elina Jones, they disappeared into the smokescreen of the pool deck without a glance her way, that Lakshman was at once exactly and nothing like he once was. His hair though pulled back was wildly outgrown matching a beard that was three shades lighter; his eyes still had that undiminished spark he used to cut through the bullshit. That the grip tightening around her wrist was Gayatri’s whose own ghost had shown up behind Lakshman.

  “Oh my god.” Sunaina spoke with a shivered voice. They looked as Ankit Kalra walked over to Laksh and struck up a conversation followed by a back thumping hug the way men do to ease into social ways.

  As if on cue or perhaps signaled by the brilliance of her dress, they turned to the granite top bar where the girls had somehow joined the tail end of a conversation dominated by the other Kalra sibling.

  “Yeah so basically Freya no. 1 died because we like didn’t know how sensitive huskies are to like weather or food I mean I didn’t even know you gotta make their food like separately and carefully or whatever ya. Freya 2 died as a pup only poor soul, she had epileptic attacks. And we were only giving her like packet food cuz we were so stressed.” There were consolatory headshakes as Varsha continued.

  “Freya 3, well the maid’s been fired but it’s unforgivable ya she was locked out of the house for a few hours I mean that’s just inhuman ya in 46 degrees of the summer! I swear I’d have a mental break if I think too much about it but dad’s already bought home a new adorable puppy,” she beamed. “We’re calling her Freya 4. She’s a purebred husky of course, and her insta already has 5k likes.”

  Sunaina leaned in and whispered, “I’m going to be sick.”

  “Let’s hide in the bathroom for sometime.” She steered them away just as Laksh and Ankit reached the dais.

  “Hi Gayatri.”

  “Go choke on a bag of dicks, Ankit.” She stormed off. He scrambled after her leaving them in their vacuum. Time stretched into nothingness with the inertia of a Dali painting and then he opened his mouth to speak.

  “Hi Lakshman! Oh my god it’s been forever,” Elina glided over from behind and embraced him.

  Sohrab looked between them in confusion. He turned to her, searching for something in her eyes but Sunaina was still reeling. She could feel his protective energy and it only worsened the situation, while Elina introduced everyone explained that she met Lakshman briefly in Nasik at the Sula Fest where he’d been doing something no one paid attention to. Her heart had swollen two sizes too much and ached in her chest. She turned down the drink refill and watched with horror as Sohrab and Elina shared private jokes and clinked their glasses. Lakshman stood beside her with all the charms of a scarecrow.

  “So, how are you Dumpling Kochhar?” His voice strained with the effort it took to keep conversation light.

  She huffed. “Super. Yeah. Everything’s just great. My parents are getting divorced, pretty sure Surya doesn’t want me here.” She wanted to slap the pained look off his face.

  “And you … you’ve just made me so sad.” The words were out before she knew it.

  Sunaina wanted him to speak and for a moment it looked like he might – to say anything even as lame as ‘I’m Sorry’ – but he didn’t and that was worse.

  “Excuse me I need to go to the bathroom.”

  He followed her and people were beginning to look. “Where are you going?”

  “Yeah I didn’t eat much before that last drink, I just need to sit down for a minute.”

  “In the bathroom?”

  “Why not?”

  “No no, just asking” he raised his hands defensively. “I was gonna get you a chair but I guess that’s not appropriate right now is it?”

  She smiled against her better instincts. “When were you ever appropriate Laskhman?”

  His eyes softened. When he spoke next he sounded like different, his voice thick and smooth. “I understand that there’s not much I can say to make it better. There are times I really wish that that night never even happened. Like we woke up and found that it was the day after and I could find my way to you again.”

  She sipped her drink in silence, now impervious to the bitter aftertaste.

  “Anyway, I want you to know that I’m sorry. I’m really sorry Sunaina, I never wanted to hurt you.” The corner of his lips turned up in a rueful smile.

  She wanted to tell him it was okay, that it hadn’t hurt so much that he should still want to torture himself over it. But it had been worse for her. “Let’s not talk about it anymore tonight.”

  This time his smirk had a tenderness to it, an acknowledgment of her mercy. She knew in a different time she might’ve raked him across the coals for a much longer time, the look in his eyes confirmed the same.

  “How long does it take for you to walk out from under your own shadow, do you think? Like I stand here and I’m sure that nobody sees me as who I am but rather just the way they remember me, you know what I mean?”

  “You’re not the you I remember, are you?”<
br />
  “You’re not you and I’m not me, and nothing’s what it seems to be.”

  His breath ran away from him. “Did you write that or is that the wine talking?”

  She found no sign of sarcasm in his eyes and considered a moment before replying. “Just something stupid I was writing a while back,” she shook her head.

  “Don’t do that.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t dismiss yourself. You’re too brilliant for that, Sunaina.”

  Lakshman knew it was unfair to say those things, he saw it in her eyes and he couldn’t break away from them. But he no longer knew how to behave around her, maybe she was right. He wasn’t himself and whoever this new rendition was, it was beginning to feel alien to him. He knew he was saying the wrong things. He shouldn’t have been there. He dragged a hand through his hair, certain that people considered him an indulgent asshole who couldn’t even bother to clean up for a party that came with its own camera crew. He excused himself.

  Ankit, who was by then mindlessly drunk, intercepted Gayatri’s short walk back to the couch apologizing profusely with the same adages. He’d been an idiot. She was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Being apart was like having tiny holes drilled very slowly into his heart. She didn’t need to listen to him for too long because had Vir not intervened just then, he would’ve left with a broken nose at least.

  He wedged himself between them but not before Gayatri smacked Ankit on the side of his head with her bag. He volunteered to take him upstairs to the guest suite and the last anyone saw of them that night was Vir carrying Ankit, with his head nestled into his neck. Gayatri declared her need for a drink but there was no one to hear her. The families had entered the party and it was time for a cake to be cut and a birthday song slurred.

  Sohrab appeared out of nowhere at her side and Sunaina considered ditching the party for a moment of peace. He allowed her to pull him out to the back lawn.

  “I’ve been looking for you,” he lit her cigarette.

  “You were a little preoccupied.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Umm I mean what the fuck are you doing with Elina?”

  “I could ask you the same about Mr. Man Bun ya know.”

  She massaged her forehead, needing a stiffer drink. When she reached for his whiskey he pulled it out of reach and raised his eyebrows demanding an answer.

  “I don’t think I should’ve come back I mean, I think it’s actually possible that this place, that these people are worse than what I’d left behind. It’s just complicated as fuck.”

  “Let me simplify things for you.”

  He pulled her in by the waist and kissed her with a force that tipped her backwards but his hand was already at her back. In her mind she knew how tacky it was to make out in the dark but it didn’t matter then. His lips injected sunshine through her bones. The lawn was dimly lit even though it was a Diwali party so neither of them, even as they pulled apart to catch their breath, could have seen Hassan watching them from a dark corner.

  Chapter NINETEEN

  DREAMING IN A

  TECHNICOLOR BEAT

  There was a nip in the morning air signaling a change in season. The sky had only just begun to lighten in the distance and the morning looked like it might be a clear one. The trees and hedges hummed with a thousand birdsongs as Sunaina snuggled into her coffee. A lot had changed in two weeks, largely for the better. Surya and Geetu had taken to hour long Buddhism prayers and hot yoga to manage their stress. Gayatri, Ria, and Sunaina were living at their house for the remainder of the wedding which now seemed to be on a fast track as they raced against days to learn choreographed dance moves and how to play the dhol and help pack up an ever expanding trousseau.

  Sohrab had taken to nightly walks on account of indigestion but really it was an excuse to see Sunaina in the safety of the unlit back porch. They’d share a joint under the canopy swing hidden from view by the first floor balcony. He’d tell her that she was the best thing that ever happened to him. She’d cradle him to her chest till the danger of falling asleep would separate them and he’d have to go home – where Hassan was growing suspicious every day. For the past three nights he’d insisted on accompanying Sohrab on his walks, expertly pushing Geetu’s agenda on the possibility of marriage to Elina. Elina who knew about his feelings for Sunaina because he’d told her the minute they were alone at the party but wouldn’t mind marrying him anyway because it could put an end to her mother’s impatience.

  Unaware of these covert games, Sunaina smiled into her cup and watched the sun break through the clouds when a cough disturbed her.

  “Hey kiddo, what’s up?”

  “Good morning.” She replied groggily.

  “Morning. Can’t sleep?”

  Ria walked over to the edge of the balcony and sighed heavily.

  “Hey are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “You think so? You’re either okay or you’re not.” Hypocritical as it was, the prospect of sounding that rational in front of her younger sister made Sunaina feel important, intelligent even.

  “What’s with these cameras man? I feel like we can’t find one moment alone. Just,” she scratched at the sleeves of her hoodie, “just to talk.”

  Sunaina straightened up. “Well we’re talking now and I don’t see no cameras around.”

  “That’s a double negative,” Ria muttered.

  She smiled, remembering how Faisal had once corrected her on the same thing. “So tell me why you’re so meh.”

  Dread washed over Sunaina in a cold wave as Ria turned around pale as a ghost, tears brimming in her eyes. “I” she took in a ragged breath, “I had an abortion last week.”

  Sunaina felt the blood drained from her face. “You what?”

  “Had an abortion, yeah. Oh god didi it was just so invasive I had no idea. The other girls I know who’ve had one they never said anything about that and I’ve just been feeling like shit, you know what I mean. It’s like something’s died inside of me.”

  She pulled her into a fierce hug, still unsure of how to process it.

  “I’m fine, I think I’m actually fine now, but I’m just worried about mumma. How do I tell mumma about this?”

  “Wait a second, how did you pay for it?”

  She went silent.

  “How did you pay for the abortion Ria?”

  “I used my credit card. The one I got for in case of an emergency.”

  “Emergency sounds about right. Wait, you paid for the whole thing by yourself? What about the asshole that did this to you?”

  “‘Kay he’s not an asshole firstly, he was there with me every day, and obv he paid for half of it, what kind of guy wouldn’t.”

  “Oh you’d be surprised!”

  “Varun’s not like that ya, he loves me.”

  “Loves you?” the skin prickled on her neck. “You’re sixteen years old what do you know about love?”

  “I’m almost seventeen Sunaina I’m not a child anymore. And Varun isn’t either, he’s been in love before.”

  “How old is he?”

  “He’s barely older than me.”

  “By how much?”

  “Four stupid years,” she ignored Sunaina’s gasp.

  “Just because you love somebody does not mean they have to love you back. You’re drugged up on your first love Ria don’t let it define who you are.”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake save the monologue for one of your Instagram disciples, Dumpling. How do I get rid of the thing showing up on my bank account?”

  “Your bank statement,” she corrected. “And it’s showing up no matter what. How do you even have the money for an abortion?”

  “I have a credit card, are you stupid? I just told you.”

  “How will you pay for it?”

  “What do you mean ‘how’ – with the credit card obviously.”

  “Who’s putting the money in your credit card” Sunaina couldn
’t believe it.

  “FUCK” she spat.

  Ria stood to leave and ran right into Dev who’d chosen the worst time to leave his bed for a glass of water. The collision loosened his grip and for a second no one moved as it bounced on the carpeted floor. Sunaina leaned over to check the source of the noise and considered how the situation could possibly have worsened – the answer was that it couldn’t’ve. Her stomach contracted and the coffee threatened to do a double take.

  “I err … I was just getting water.”

  “How much did you hear?”

  “You think he just happened to cross by at the exact moment you were leaving?” Sunaina stormed past them.

  “Wait, where are you going?” Ria called out.

  “I need a fucking cigarette!”

  Not breaking from tradition, the entire party was dressed before the bride-to-be and helping themselves to pre-party tipples and gossip behind French manicures and tastefully styled beards. Geetu busied herself with perfecting sari pleats to avoid sinking into the well of emotions because although it wasn’t the first time Surya had dressed up that much, it was overwhelming just the same. The wedding Geetu had always dreamed about was finally happening. The hair dresser gave one final cry to evacuate the room of everyone who was unnecessary and in single file with pocketed phones they left. Wreath of gold hairpins crowning her hair, Surya swallowed the dry ball of bile a final time and sipped her water through a straw. Gayatri swatted away the offer to have more bronzer smeared across her chest, regretting the low cut of her dusty rose jumpsuit, offering it instead to Ria who was whiter than her embroidered dress. Surya who’d offered to design the dress asked about the fit but she only responded in clipped words.

  Surya spoke with a detached patience. “But sweetie didn’t you want the cape over the dress when you came to me?”

  “I know what I said but capes are stupid. No one wears them anymore except tacky girls from Bombay.” Ria snapped.