“Sor -” The words and her smile died down as her soulful brown eyes met mine. She looked exactly the same, or maybe even a tad more beautiful--if that were possible. Her dark, straight hair framed her face, accentuating her delicately arched nose and full lips. Her skin felt as silky as her lehenga and I felt a powerful jolt of deja-vu. She was completely familiar, but at the same time, she wasn’t. Her pursed lips were set disapprovingly, and I quickly withdrew my hands, stuffing them into the pockets of my jeans.
She stepped back, adjusting her golden dupatta over her reddish- gold blouse, which was adorned with small golden flowers. The blouse matched the design of the lehenga, ending right at her midriff and exposing her navel. I noticed the golden band around her waist, from which her long skirt flowed down to the ground, kissing her feet. She cleared her throat and my head snapped up to look at her face. Her eyes were stern, silently judging me for checking her out. I shrugged and gave her a smile.
“You look gorgeous.”
“And you are not dressed for a wedding,” she blurted out. Flustered, she stepped around me towards the elevator and I followed her.
“Arav has my suit.” She nodded, feigning disinterest. She crossed her arms and stood tapping her foot. “You do remember me, right?” I asked. “From the engagement party? Ryan Penn?”
“Yes,” she whispered and looked away. Forehead scrunched, she bit her lip. Then she took a deep breath and turned towards me. Her eyes had softened. “So...yes, I do remember you.” She looked around me and asked, “Are you here with someone?”
Before I could reply, the elevator pinged and the door opened. We walked in together, and she pressed the third-floor button. “I am here to meet Arav too. Checking on the groom and family.” She must have seen the confusion on my face, as she added, “Tradition. Bride’s family regularly checks on the groom's family to ensure they have everything they need.”
I nodded sagely. I don’t claim to know everything about Indian wedding customs, but having spent half my childhood at Arav’s house, I suspected checking on the groom had something to do with guests being equivalent to God, and since the groom and his family are visiting the bride’s house for the wedding, the are technically the esteemed guests.
The silence in the elevator felt like needles, and clanged against the soft chime of her bangles.
“How are you doing?” I asked. I figured it was a safe question.
“Good. I moved back to the city a month ago.”
“Oh, where were you before?” She looked at me with uncertainty. I swore I saw a flash of a shadow on her face.
She plastered on a smile and said, “Nowhere exciting.”
I wanted to ask more, convinced that the answer was a code to something deep and important to her, but the elevator managed to interrupt us again with a ping. This time, as soon as the doors opened, two men with a huge wicker basket of marigold flowers stood outside waiting for us to exit. The coveted shoe box sat right on top of it and Anshi stared at it with particular interest. Arav’s warning about the bridesmaid stealing it rang in my head, and by reflex, I quickly blocked her view of the box as I joined her side.
She looked up, annoyed, further convincing me the shoe box needed protection from her. And probably the other bridesmaids. But I still wasn’t clear on why. I smiled sweetly at her and she took off, walking quickly towards what I presumed was Arav’s room.
I had hardly uttered another word when we reached Arav’s room and she rang the bell. I noticed the tattoo running up from her fingers to her arm and I smirked.
“What?”
“You look like the rebel in the family - the tattoo and the lehenga.” I pointed at the tattoo and her whole traditional attire.
“Most call me the trouble child.” She shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but I felt a kick to my gut. The slight droop in her shoulders meant something more than her words let on.
The door opened and I saw Arav in a dark-blue velvet sherwani, the long traditional suit, looking utterly uncomfortable.
“I can’t make it in this thing,” he said to me, unbuttoning the collar. “It’s too hot. Like a sauna suit.”
“You look so handsome,” Anshi said excitedly, following him inside. “Nisha can’t wait to see you!”
That seemed to mollify Arav a bit. “You only have to wear this for a few hours. The wedding is indoors, and I will make sure the air conditioner is cranked up. And…,” she drawled as she fished something from her bag, “Nisha sent this for you.” She handed him a note with a sweet smile.
Anshi really seemed to have polished her customer service skills to perform her bridesmaid role. Arav shook his head in resignation and turned to look at me. He pointed to the far end of the suite.
“Your sauna suit is over there,” he said to me, a mischievous smile lighting his face.
“Do I have to?” I replied, eyeing the thick layer of clothing he had on. “Today is your day, bro. I don’t want to steal your thunder. I I heard Anshi snort. “You don’t believe me?” I challenged her and she shook her head, a teasing smile brightening her up.
“Your reputation precedes you, Ryan. I don’t believe you at all.” Two things hit me at the same time. One, she knew of my past with women. I felt a strong urge to relive my thirty-two years on Earth so that I could eliminate any mention of the women in my past. Two, no one and I mean no one, could say my name better than Anshi Jain. I couldn’t help but try and think of ways to make her say it again and again.
I eyed the dark green sherwani. It was made of fine silk with extensive beaded handiwork, and I looked up with panic at Arav. He pushed me towards the suit in response. Arav and Anshi had settled on the couch, exchanging notes on the wedding schedule. I picked up my clothes, eyeing the big golden buttons on the long suit. The smooth fabric was deceiving, and so were the buttery smooth pants. I would be sweating in no time. I resigned myself to my fate and closed the bathroom door to change.
When I emerged from the room, Anshi stopped mid-sentence, openly gawking at me. Arav had a similar expression, and let out a low whistle.
“I am officially worried. You’ll have your pick of women at the wedding--just not the bride.” He was half joking about the first part, and fully serious about Nisha. Anshi let out a nervous chuckle and avoided my eyes. She looked flushed and I suspected it had something to do with me. The sherwani didn’t feel half as hot anymore. “Wait here.” Arav said to Anshi. He rushed to the bedroom to retrieve something, and Anshi and I were left alone.
“Sherwani suits you.” Anshi broke the awkward silence, but quickly averted her eyes from me.
“I hoped you would like it. I have to make sure I have a particular bridesmaid’s attention.” Her eyes widened slightly and the little spark that I had noticed in the engagement party flicked in her eyes. My heart skipped a beat . I wondered what would happen when Anshi would let go off whatever reason she was caging that smile in. She would look like a goddess.
Arav returned with an envelope and handed it to Anshi. “Give this to Nisha.” She nodded as if she had done this several times already. We both escorted her to the door when Arav’s phone rang.
“Can you take her to the elevator please?” Arav asked. “I have to take this call.”
I opened the door for her, and we walked in silence. I could feel the movement of my every step through the unfamiliar pull of my silk pants. But my mind was occupied by the soft whooshing of Anshi’s skirt, the way her long scarf shimmered over her arm and the soft jingle of her bangles. It felt too soon to say goodbye, even temporarily. My mind was unable to let her go.
“So, I will see you at the wedding?” Before she could respond, the elevator door opened with a ping. I gaped at Rita in layers of bright pink clothing. She squealed, throwing herself at me. Stepping back a little, I balanced both of us before we fell in a heap. Someone had convinced her to peel off her figure-hugging dress and embrace the traditional outfit with a blouse that hardly covered much. While Rita hugged me, Anshi took the elevator
. She turned to look at me with a slight shake of her head. As the doors of the elevator closed, I recognized the familiar darkness of disappointment on her face.
2
Anshi
Challenge yourself. The soothing voice from the audiobook urged me on. The humdrum of the wedding was silenced as I locked myself with the bride in her room. I scribbled in my notebook slowly and deliberately, mouthing each letter as I wrote it. I had been doing exactly that for the whole month since I moved to New York. One small accomplishment each day.
I started challenging myself by making the decision to move to the city. That was the biggest challenge of all, and I passed “with flying colors,” as Nisha puts it. After spending two years in Chicago at my aunt’s place and then at a rehab , away from the overt luxuries, the limelight and my uber-rich father, coming home was a big deal indeed.
Home. I thought coming back home would make me happier; more centered. And it did, in some ways. My old cozy room in the corner was left untouched after I moved out, and I loved settling back into it, though the memories there weren’t all that sweet.
The slow, heartbreaking rebellion I had I engaged in over the last few years I was living there had left an ugly stain on my memories. I had lost myself after mom’s death, and I was miserable. I dragged myself deep into an abyss I thought had no hope of ever coming out of.
But after months at rehab, I did emerge from that deep hole in my soul, and Gramma made up for the unpleasant memories with her constant pampering. She often lamented not having done enough for me, but I don’t blame her at all. She wouldn’t have known what I was longing for.
But living under the same roof as my father again was very stressful, even in a mansion like ours. The first day he saw me at home, he practically stormed out of the room. But Gramma followed him and stopped just short of dragging him back in like an insolent child. I don’t know what she told him, but when he returned to the room, he asked me how I was and told me he was glad I decided to grow up and take responsibility. My ears had turned hot at the hint of the constant disappointment I had grown up seeing in his eyes. And even though that was the first time he had spoken to me in two years, the bitterness remained, and it stung as painfully as it had the very first time. And from that day on, whenever we would accidently find ourselves in the same room, we would quietly and steadily move out of each other’s way without a word.
Push your boundaries, the audio-book narrator continued with mild urgency, his voice an octave higher than before. I did push my boundaries recently. In fact, I had accepted a challenge my father gave me on my first family dinner after I returned home . After enduring a long monologue by my Dad on successful daughters, I had stood up abruptly and declared I was going to get my own place, with my money - not his. Great negotiator that he was, he had to turn it into a challenge. I had to leave the house in six months - either by getting my own place, or agreeing to an arranged marriage. Either way, I was moving out in six months. He loved making that decision for me.
Anger licked my skin as the memory of that dinner assaulted me. Instead, I tried focusing on Nisha, my stunningly beautiful younger sister and the bride.
Draped in floor length lehenga, Nisha seemed to float through the room as she got decked out for her wedding, while about a dozen women hovered around her. We had decided that I would lay low during the wedding and stick close to her to avoid the media. All she wanted was to have me close, and I was happy to oblige. She was a calming force in my life, and even though I spent my time listening to “this is how ordinary people become extraordinary” throughout the hours of bridal makeup that she endured, it worked for us. The day I returned home, she said, I almost lost you, and I am never going to let you out of my sight again.
I suppressed a sigh as I watched the wedding shenanigans around me. I was happy for Nisha, but I wished I could go back to my room. Crowds bothered me and usually left me exhausted. The only upside to this whole wedding was the possibility of leaving with some serious money in my pocket.
I had attended many Indian weddings, but I had never participated in the fun but overly-competitive tradition of joota chupai. It was ridiculous how much planning goes into stealing the groom’s shoes as he enters the sacred wedding tent. But then, the price tag usually made everything worth it.
The groom’s shoes are heavily guarded by the groomsmen throughout the whole wedding. However, if a bridesmaids gets her hands on them, the groom has to pay up to get them back, or go barefoot throughout the wedding. The bantering, teasing, negotiations and laughter from the game gets families together and makes the wedding memorable. I had always enjoyed watching the drama unfold from afar, but I had never been part of the craziness, even at my oldest sister Sara’s wedding. This time, things were different.
The payout for joota chupai was always handsome, and I had already informed Arav of my price. Ten thousand dollars. I immediately regretted my offer when Arav agreed to the deal with no hesitation. I probably should have asked for more. He was so sure I would be unable to steal his shoes. He had too much faith in his groomsmen--especially his best friend Ryan.
The smirk had left his face the moment Nisha jumped to my side. She said she would pay me ten thousand more for finding them, and that he had no idea what a devilish genius I was. I wanted to disagree, but it didn’t matter. The deal was made, and I could be twenty thousand dollars richer if I stole the shoes on time.
Twenty thousand dollars would go a long way to provide security while I got my design agency off the ground. So, I shut my mouth and started planning for the big theft. I knew where to hide the shoes, but I had to first get my hands on them.
I tried to keep one particular annoyingly handsome face out of my mind while I went over the plan, but it was useless. Ryan Penn was all I could think of. I had met him almost a year ago at Nisha’s engagement party. That night, his gaze had pierced my soul and read me like an open book. I blurted out my innermost fears as if I always knew him. It felt so right to be sitting next to him as petals of hope tentatively dared to bloom in my heart.
Or so I thought, until that sexy girlfriend of his claimed him with that kiss. My stomach twisted in jealousy. Anger flared under my skin as I watched her hands on him and her mouth on his, but I hadn’t known or cared enough about him to feel that strong a reaction. It disturbed me that I was so easily undone by the sight of a pretty face. So, I had turned to my usual aloof self, sealing myself from his piercing stare as he left.
He had left a note for me, one I still carried around in my purse. Dream, he had written. And despite how disappointed I was with how things turned between us at the engagement party, I did dare to dream. It took me a while to admit, but the few minutes with him that day had stoked a little fire in me. A wish to change my life, a hope to accomplish something independent of my father’s overbearing expectations, a promise to make a difference in someone else’s life.
Nisha waved at me from the other end of the room, and I grudgingly paused my podcast and removed my headphones.
“Do you hear the dhokaks? I think the procession is here!” Nisha glowed radiantly in her red bridal lehenga as she moved to the window to get a glimpse of the procession. Her hair was braided and tied into a bun. A silk, netted red veil flowed down to her feet. Her makeup was flawless, highlighting her doe-like eyes, which twinkled with happiness as she watched the groom’s party dance their way toward us.They moved slowly towards the entrance of our hotel, which was just a small walk from the hotel where Arav and his family were staying. Considering the slow-moving wedding crowd, we decided it was the least disruptive thing to do for New York’s traffic.
“I’d better get going. We need all hands on deck with the huge party Arav has brought with him.” I was about to leave when Nisha stopped me by grabbing my wrists. When I turned to her, her chin wobbled and she struggled to contain her misty eyes.
“It’s really happening,” she whispered as she threw herself at me. I felt her shake a little and panic seized me. I
pulled her back urgently.
“You are happy, right?” I asked. I looked all over her face as if the answer were hidden in some shade of her makeup. She nodded and sniffed.
“I just...I didn’t get enough time with you after you moved back. I haven’t been able to help you much with your move or your job search. I feel so guilty about never being there for you when you needed me...when you went through all that -”
“Hush. It’s your wedding. Of course you were busy. You're also running two companies. So, cut yourself some slack. And Gramma rarely leaves me alone. I had all the help I needed.” I rubbed her arms, hoping to calm her. She was only a couple of years younger than me and yet she was so much more responsible than I had ever been. And definitely a lot smarter.
“I promise to make it up to you. Once I am back from the honeymoon, I will help you find a gig.” When I started shaking my head, she stopped me with a stern look. “That’s the least I can do. There’s nothing wrong with referrals.”
“We’ll see about that once you return. First, get married and put a stop to the whole note-exchange lovey-dovey drama between you two. I am not a carrier pigeon, and for God’s sake, you both developed note-taking apps! Use technology to communicate!” The distraction worked like a charm, and Nisha broke into a huge smile.
“We wanted to make it special, so we decided to go the old-fashioned letter-writing mode,” she added shyly.
I rolled my eyes and moved towards the door. It was crazy what happened to able-minded people when they were in love.
Love by Surprise Page 2
