‘Have you got some water?’ I asked, as Emily dabbed powder on my face.
An amber mist had enveloped the fort, refracting the sun’s rays and casting a hazy, ethereal glow as if the entire city was aflame.
I took a slug from the bottle Emily handed me and shook my head when she picked up the hairbrush. There was no need.
We were shooting the opening shot last. George liked to work the same way that I did with my essays – middle and end first and then the introduction. It’s a subtle trick many new travel writers overlook.
Once we had wrapped up the shoot, we decided to walk back, zigzagging through the labyrinth of streets that connect the fort to the city centre, sampling some street food on our way. The pungent smell of laal maas and mirchibadas permeated the air thick with sweat and dust.
We stopped when we got to the crossroads.
‘Emily, are you flying out tomorrow as well?’ Mia asked, looping her arm through mine as George looked for taxis.
‘No, there was a mix-up with our flights so I’m here for another two days,’ Emily said, leaning over to add in a stage whisper, ‘though I think George orchestrated it so he wouldn’t have to fly economy with me.’
Mia laughed. ‘No, come on, Georgie would never do that.’
‘Taxi’s here, Mia,’ I interrupted.
‘Okay, sweetie,’ Mia replied. She turned to kiss Emily. ‘Why don’t you come along to the wedding? I bet you’d enjoy it.’
‘I’d love to but I really wouldn’t want to impose. The guest list must be drawn up already.’
‘Don’t be silly. It’s an Indian wedding, everyone and their neighbour’s invited. It’s settled then, we’ll see you and George tomorrow afternoon.’
ROY
Wednesday, 9th September
The morning went by in a blur. Mia woke me up at an insanely early hour, her slight frame pressing into me with uninhibited urgency.
‘Roy,’ she whispered, her voice hoarse.
More asleep than awake, I turned and kissed her. ‘Mmm?’
‘What’s the time?’ She quivered as my fingers found her under the duvet.
‘Four – four fifteen? We have time,’ I murmured, letting my words tickle her ear before they travelled further.
‘Oh sweetie,’ she said, her breath hot against my skin. I pulled her to me in one easy motion, the contours of her body fitting perfectly into mine, our hips rising and falling together in a familiar rhythm.
‘We didn’t have time,’ Mia remarked with a laugh later as we rushed down, glowing and still a bit dazed. The first set of guests had arrived with the unseasonal rain at five a.m., straggling in with muddy shoes, shadows under their eyes, and a queer assortment of luggage that was ill at ease in the lavish hotel lobby. The lack of an airport in Jaisalmer meant most guests had had to travel on overnight trains from various parts of the country. As the hosts, Mia and I had the lovely task of welcoming them all with big hugs and even bigger smiles, looking past their dishevelled clothes and pretending their morning breath smelled of fresh lilies, all the while nodding sympathetically as they attempted to regale us with stories of survival amidst the wailing babies and snoring men they all invariably had in their carriages. Mia’s mother and Addi had arrived late last night and while, as the bride, Addi got to sleep in, Mia’s mother had come down before us, fresh faced and dressed characteristically in a silk sari, the pallu draped freely over her shoulder.
Before I had the chance to go over to greet her, I felt a sharp tug on my jeans. I looked down at a sleepy-faced toddler.
‘Can’t find Mummy,’ he said.
Shit, what was I to do with him? ‘What’s your name?’ I asked the boy.
‘Can’t find Mummy,’ he wailed, more urgently this time.
I picked him up and looked around, trying to match his weepy face and distinctly wet bottom with the face of an adult who could be held responsible for him. I barely knew these people. I spotted Mia talking to a young, overeager couple and decided to turn him in to her.
‘He’s lost,’ I said, interrupting Mia mid-sentence. ‘And wet,’ I added after I had safely passed the boy on.
‘Thanks for the warning,’ Mia said with a laugh. ‘Roy, have you met Raj and Geeta? They’re Aditi’s friends from school. Geeta was just saying they’re moving to London later this year – Anerley.’
‘That’s wonderful. Anerley’s great, you’ll love it,’ I said as we shook hands. ‘And it’s just around the corner from us, so you’ll have to let us show you around.’
‘Oh, we’d love that. We should exchange numbers,’ Raj began, nodding enthusiastically.
‘Of course. I’ll let you both get some rest just now, but let’s catch up again later,’ I said, before turning to Mia who was busy fussing with the toddler in her arms. ‘I can see Sarita Aunty looking a bit lost there, darling. Do you want me to see if I can get her settled in?’
‘Thank you,’ Mia mouthed to me a couple of minutes later as I shuffled past, hand in hand with her great-aunt.
‘Move over, lazybones. I need a nap before brunch,’ Mia said as she climbed into bed later that morning.
‘Hmmm,’ I mumbled, still half asleep. ‘How was it?’
‘Tiring. Everyone was asking for you.’
‘What did you tell them?’
‘Just that you’re a lazy old man,’ she teased.
I tickled her lightly. ‘Didn’t hear you complaining this morning, Mrs Kapoor.’
‘And . . .’ She hesitated.
‘Hmmm?’
‘A few of my aunties were asking about our plans. You know how—’
‘For?’
‘A baby, Roy.’
There was exasperation in her voice. I didn’t say anything.
‘It wouldn’t be such a bad idea, would it? We’re settled now, we can aff—’
‘Maybe. But first, sleep.’
The mehendi ceremony that afternoon was spectacular. In true Mia fashion, the affair was a riot of colours, scents, patterns and activity, every element coming together effortlessly in unlikely amalgamation. Every detail had been planned and executed to perfection. The arched pathway leading into the hotel courtyard was covered in crawling vines of yellow and orange marigolds and speckled with tiny glass lamps in a myriad of colours. Dhol-wallahs in identical hot-pink turbans and bright vests were lined up along both sides of the pathway, their faces animated, sticks perfectly in sync, drumming up an easy beat as people walked in. Brass bells were suspended from strings of flowers snaking through the trellises above them, offering glimpses of the clear autumn sky through the gaps between the blossoms. Guests clad in brightly coloured clothes and oversized sunglasses lounged on sofas scattered across the courtyard, moving to the enthusiastic beat of the dhol while sipping on Indian-themed cocktails. A small queue had formed along one side where the mehendi artists sat painting intricate scenes depicting all manner of exotic tales with henna. Though this was technically Addi’s mehendi ceremony, Addi, Mia and my mother-in-law had all had their hands painted earlier that morning so they were free to dance and mingle with the guests.
The dhol-wallahs’ excitement was contagious and even the most somber guests burst into a jig as they walked in. We spotted George, and Addi, James, Mia and I danced our way towards the entrance, our bodies mirroring the ever-increasing tempo of the drums, challenging them, and each other, to go wilder, faster. The closer we got, the more hypnotic the beats sounded, building us up into a frenzy, faster and faster, shoulders shimmying, heads thrown back, arms and shoulders moving in powerful jerks, faster, faster, faster, till all five of us collapsed into a hysterical heap of laughter.
‘Oh my God. That. Was. Amazing,’ Mia and Addi shrieked in unison, their arms held up, palms facing forward to protect the still damp henna.
‘George, I never knew you could move like that, man,’ James said, slapping George on the back.
‘Don’t forget I grew up with these two crazies, dude. Dancing was not optional,’ George said,
laughing.
James and I looked at each other in mock despair. ‘We know,’ we said, laughing as well.
‘Oh, shut up, you two. I need water. Georgie, you’ve got some serious explaining to do. Why the hell aren’t you staying for the wedding?’ Addi reeled off, dragging George and James towards the bar.
Mia and I were alone at last. She had been so engrossed in her work and planning the wedding, it felt like I had barely seen her in months. Her hair had tumbled down to her shoulders. The delicate clips holding it back were clearly not strong enough to withstand such frantic dancing.
‘You’re gorgeous,’ I said and tucked her soft brown hair behind her ears. There was a hint of sadness on her face.
‘You okay?’ I asked her. She nodded, her eyes focused on something behind me.
I glanced around, trying to look at everything through her eyes. The flurry of activity, the smattering of vibrantly dressed guests, the madcap decor – it was all one hundred per cent Mia. She had strived to create for her older sister the perfect wedding that she had herself been denied.
‘I’m so sorry we couldn’t have this, darling,’ I said and, in that moment, I truly meant it.
‘Oh Roy, no. I was just thinking about Daddy, that’s all,’ she said with a small smile, her sadness even more pronounced against the dizzying gaiety surrounding us. I reached over to squeeze her shoulder. It was incredibly frustrating that in India you were expected to hug virtual strangers but touching your wife outside the bedroom was still frowned upon. I settled for the next best alternative.
‘Come on, let’s get you a drink. I hear the margaritas are deadly,’ I said and steered her towards the bar.
As dusk fell, hotel staff lit up little lanterns, bathing the vibrant colours from the afternoon in a soft yellow glow. Guests had started trickling back in, refreshed after a late afternoon siesta. The men hung back, dressed in smart suits and nursing drinks, whilst their wives flitted around air-kissing each other, heavy lehengas rustling and swishing around their ankles as they moved. Elaborately applied make-up and opulent jewellery had replaced the sunglasses from earlier. The excitement from the afternoon lingered and people congregated in little groups, waiting for Addi and James to arrive and the dancing to begin.
Something about a woman standing a few paces from me caught my eye. Perhaps it was the way her sari was pleated and pinned neatly. Or maybe the way she cocked her head to the left every time the man across from her spoke. I felt a flash of recognition and spun around, walking straight into my mother-in-law.
‘Roy, beta, will you fetch Aditi and Mia? James is already here so we should start the sangeet soon.’
‘Of course, Mummy. I’ll go now,’ I said. My mother-in-law had unwittingly provided me with the perfect excuse to walk away.
I hurried back to the main building, passing Emily on my way. Tall, blonde and dressed in a tight dress, she cut a striking figure amongst the conservatively dressed Indian women around her. George had left for Delhi earlier that evening and Emily was on her own tonight. I made a mental note to come back and find her later. Neither Mia nor I had spent much time with her at the mehendi. I didn’t want her to feel left out.
I found Mia standing outside Addi’s suite, checking her hair in the hallway mirror. She twirled when she saw me.
‘Gorgeous,’ I said automatically.
‘You don’t look too bad yourself,’ Mia said, eying up my reflection as I went to stand next to her. Even with heels on, Mia was a few inches shorter than me. I flicked off an imaginary speck from my collar. I was wearing a deep blue kurta with a black vest. The high collar of the vest highlighted my jaw, making it look sharper than it was. At nearly thirty-one, I could still pass for a twenty-five-year-old.
My blue-grey eyes caught Mia’s in the mirror and I smiled. We looked perfect together. ‘Your mum sent me to fetch you and Addi. Is she ready?’
‘Should be. They were finishing her make-up when I last checked,’ Mia said to me and then knocked on the door. ‘Addi?’
‘Coming,’ Addi yelled back.
The rest of the evening was spent drinking and socializing. After the performances wound down, James began a drawn-out speech thanking the guests for coming and Mia and me for arranging it all. I caught Mia’s eye and smiled. He had had too much to drink and went on for quite some time about finding love in a foreign land and striving for perfection in an imperfect world, some of it philosophical but most of it incoherent rambling. He began an analogy about snake charmers and lovers and I decided Mia and I needed another round if we were to get through this night.
When I got back with our drinks, James had moved on to dreams and ideals and Mia had disappeared. I scanned the crowd, trying to spot her bright orange outfit amidst the blur of colours. My eye finally rested on her petite frame but when I realized whom she was talking to, I decided to go a different way. Mia was meddling again and I wasn’t in the mood for another argument.
I spotted Emily and walked over to her instead. The shifting light from the lanterns was bouncing off her silver dress, which made keeping my eyes on her face difficult. I wondered if she had been wearing this earlier.
‘Is that for me?’ Emily asked, nodding towards Mia’s wine.
‘Sure,’ I smiled.
‘Thanks. How are you holding up?’ she asked, taking the glass. ‘I’ve been watching Mia. She keeps getting pulled into conversations. I don’t think I’ve seen her sit down for a minute. She must have a lot of patience.’
‘She enjoys it,’ I said.
‘Really? I couldn’t stand it. Too many people.’ She paused and sipped on her wine. Mia’s wine. ‘Is your family here too?’
‘Did you enjoy the performances?’ I asked, the alcohol making me stumble over my words so they came out rushed, all tangled up in each other.
She regarded me for a minute before answering.
‘Yes, yes, I did. I am shattered, though. I should head back,’ she said. ‘Do you need to stay till everyone leaves?’
I looked at Mia from the corner of my eye. She was still deep in conversation. ‘No, I’ll walk you to a taxi and then head up myself,’ I said. I was done for the night.
There was a queue for taxis at the front porch so we decided to walk to the back of the hotel and poach a taxi before it entered the premises. It was a lot darker there than it was in the courtyard and my eyes took a few seconds to adjust.
Emily pulled out a cheap plastic lighter and a pack of Marlboro Lights from her bag and offered me one. I don’t know what surprised me more: the fact that she smoked or that after almost ten years, I was aching for a fag. I had quit smoking when Mia and I got engaged, a step towards the changed man I had every intention of becoming. I lit up and held the flame for Emily. She shook her head and leaned in. It took me a minute to comprehend what she was doing. I lowered my head towards her and our cigarettes met, the spark from mine igniting hers.
Over the last two weeks, I had seen Emily as little more than a naive, vaguely interesting and somewhat pretty intern. In an instant, my perception transgressed into something more. I saw her now.
‘We might have been better off joining the queue,’ I said.
She shrugged, inhaling deeply.
‘I’ve really enjoyed myself over the past few weeks. It’s been nice working with you,’ Emily said, looking straight at me.
The uneasiness I had felt at the shoot returned in an instant. I wondered how much longer we would have to wait for a taxi.
‘Your work is amazing,’ she said.
‘I’m married,’ I said, stupidly, even as my heart hammered on, the alcohol and the adrenaline melding together into one deadly combination.
She smiled.
‘You’re amazing,’ she said.
She didn’t look away. I held her gaze. It was all too tempting. Mia and I had settled into such a predictable, everyday love, this sudden wave of candid admiration felt liberating. Emily had the same devil-may-care spirit that I had cherished in myself years a
go. I found myself wondering when I went from being fun and adventurous to sensible and boring. We stood there for what felt like hours, unmoving. The distance between us remained the same yet we were infinitely closer. Even the air between us felt electric. It was as though a barrier had been removed. I wanted to reach out and see if the girl standing in front of me was real. I knew I needed to leave but I couldn’t. I was frozen to that spot, braver, bolder under her gaze. Where earlier I had struggled to keep my attention focused on her, I was now struggling to take my eyes off her.
A stray curl had escaped her pinned-back hair. I lifted my hand and brushed it away from her face, letting my fingertips graze her cheek as I tucked it behind her ear. That simple act turned into something else and, before I knew it, my lips were over hers in reckless abandon.
MIA
Wednesday, 9th September
Drunk James is hilarious. You’re REALLY missing something.
‘. . . and, you know, love can be strange. It’s like, one day you’re fine and the next day . . . it’s like . . . the next day . . . you’re . . . you’re . . . beyond fine. You’re awesome . . . you’re . . . like a ninja . . . and you’re getting married in this magical land . . . and it’s exotic, like Arabian Nights . . . and then . . .’
Wish I could’ve stayed!! Must get together when everyone’s in Londres. Boarding now. Look after E for me, will you?
I stared at George’s text, certain that Emily was the latest in his string of naive girlfriends. I thought back to the mehendi lunch, and how Emily had been looking on as George and Roy discussed camera angles and narrative structures, her eyes wide with awe and wonder, and just a sliver of rebellion; how George had alternated between ignoring her and pulling her into the conversation. I groaned inwardly. Why couldn’t he find someone his own age for once? I sent George a quick reply and walked over to Addi. She covered her face in mock shame when she saw me.
‘Come on! You do realize you have blackmail material for the next decade, don’t you?’ I said, linking my arm with hers.
Your Truth or Mine? Page 2
