The Wedding Photographer

by Sakshama Puri Dhariwal

  He opened his eyes reluctantly and saw a male flight attendant hovering over him. The cabin lights had been switched back on and he could hear the distant murmur of the crew in the background.

  ‘Sir, we are about to land. For your safety, I request you to fasten your seat belt and bring your seat back to a full upright pos—’

  ‘Yes, thanks.’ Arjun knew the drill.

  The flight attendant gave Risha an appreciative look before walking away.

  Arjun sat up in his seat and glanced at Risha. She gave him a sleepy smile. ‘Good morning.’

  ‘Hey,’ he said groggily. ‘Did you get any sleep?’

  ‘Not much,’ she said.

  ‘Do you have to work tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes, but I can sleep in.’

  Arjun nodded, then stared out the window in silence. He was a morning person in the sense that he woke up at 5 a.m. every day and ran ten kilometres, but he wasn’t particularly talkative this time of day. He was a little relieved that Risha didn’t try to initiate conversation because he didn’t want to come across as grumpy.

  Hour 18

  By the time they finished immigration and arrived at the baggage carousel, Arjun was fully awake. Which is why he didn’t fall over in shock when a little boy poked him in the stomach. ‘Oye, so you are her boyfriend?’

  With her hands on her hips, Risha gave the boy an admonishing look. ‘Bunty, that’s enough.’

  A lady, who Arjun presumed was Bunty’s mother, strolled her luggage cart towards them, screeching at her son, ‘Bunty, tu Amritsar toh chal[17]! I will tell to your Daddy what you are doing to strangers.’

  Bunty’s hands flew to his crotch and he shifted uncomfortably. ‘Mummy, I want to toilet.’

  Bunty’s mother threw Arjun an apologetic look. ‘Raylee sorry, bhai saab. He is very naughty boy.’

  Arjun was flummoxed. ‘Uh, it’s all right.’

  She started after Bunty in the direction of the restrooms, wheeling her trolley like a race cart. Hoping for an explanation, Arjun turned to Risha, but she was running to catch up with Bunty’s mother. From a distance, he saw Risha fish something out of her purse and hand it to Bunty’s mother. The lady broke into a wide-toothed grin and gathered Risha in a hug. Risha hugged her back warmly before walking back to a puzzled Arjun.

  ‘What was that?’ Arjun asked, catching the satisfied smile on her face.

  ‘That’s the little boy I was sitting next to in economy. I have a feeling he has irritable bowel syndrome, what with him visiting the bathroom so frequently. I think it gets triggered by anxiety,’ she said, speaking more to herself than to Arjun.

  ‘What did you give to his mother?’

  ‘Oh, that. I gave her my dad’s card—he’s a gastroenterologist in Amritsar—she can take Bunty to his clinic,’ Risha explained.

  Arjun stared at her.

  ‘What?’ she asked.

  ‘That was a nice thing to do.’

  Risha waved her hand dismissively. ‘It’s no big deal. I felt bad for the kid.’

  ‘You just carry around your dad’s visiting card?’

  ‘Cards,’ she said wryly. ‘My parents are a little paranoid about me living alone in Delhi, so carrying Papa’s card is on the list of things I had to agree to before they let me move here.’

  ‘What else is on the list?’ he asked, warm amusement filling his eyes.

  She started counting on her fingers. ‘No public transportation after 8 p.m., no watching late night movies, no boys in the house, no drinking and driving, no—’

  ‘How many of these rules do you actually follow?’

  ‘All of them,’ she said, like that was the most obvious thing.

  Arjun gave her an incredulous look.

  She shrugged. ‘There was no other way they would let their only child move to the big bad city all by herself. It’s a small price to pay.’ Then she pointed to something. ‘Oh, there’s my suitcase!’

  Arjun grimaced at the pink Samsonite suitcase that crawled its way to them on the conveyor belt. ‘I’ll get it.’

  ‘No, I can manage,’ Risha said, taking a step forward.

  Arjun had no doubt that she could, but he’d be damned if he let a woman pick up luggage in his presence. ‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘I will.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Risha said politely. She wasn’t one of those women who had a point to prove by picking up suitcases or opening her own doors or whatever. So she decided to indulge in this rare display of male chivalry. Arjun lifted the suitcase like it weighed nothing and placed it on her luggage cart.

  As they strolled towards the exit, he asked, ‘Since it’s past 8 p.m., can I give you a ride home?’

  ‘Thanks, but I have a friend picking me up.’

  Arjun frowned. ‘Delhi is unsafe at this hour, especially for two girls.’

  She bit back a smile, imagining how Rishabh would react to being called a ‘girl’. He would surely throw a mini tantrum. ‘Yes, but it’s safe for a girl and a guy, which my friend is. In fact, we can give you a ride if you want.’

  Arjun stiffened a little. ‘No, that’s okay. My car is parked in the lot.’

  ‘You left it here the entire weekend?’

  Five days, actually. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Spoilt rich kid,’ she teased.

  ‘It was nice meeting you, Ms Kohli,’ Arjun said, holding out his hand.

  ‘Likewise, Mr Khanna,’ she replied, mimicking his formal tone. She was about to take his hand, but her phone rang and she answered it without looking. ‘Are you here? Okay, same spot. See you in a minute.’ She hung up and started reaching out her hand, but Arjun had already withdrawn his.

  Risha felt an irrational stab of disappointment. She wanted to shake his hand.

  Only because it was the polite thing to do—not because she wanted an excuse to touch him or anything.

  ‘Guess I’ll see you around,’ he said, staring into her eyes.

  Why was he looking at her like that? ‘Yes, on Thursday.’

  ‘Thursday?’

  ‘Nitisha’s mehndi[18].’

  ‘Yes, of course. See you on Thursday.’

  Risha saw Arjun walk away in the opposite direction, and she exhaled. She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath.

  Hour 19

  Arjun turned off the music in his car. He needed silence to process the events of the last few hours. He was surprised, and a little unsettled, by how Risha and he had just... clicked. Since moving back to India, Arjun had spent too much time around ‘perfect’ girls. Perfectly painted nails, perfectly painted face and a perfectly painted smile. The vapid conversation starters had left him jaded with the dating scene. ‘Real estate is really booming in NCR, isn’t it?’ or ‘Can you guess what brand I’m wearing? Khudai!’ or the more direct ones, ‘I’m up for a night of fun, no strings attached.’ Just thinking about them made him nauseated.

  Risha, on the other hand, seemed real. For one thing, she had no idea just how beautiful she was. In the short walk from the luggage carousel to the exit, she had turned a dozen male heads without the slightest clue to their admiring glances.

  She was beautiful with those big brown eyes, smooth skin, and hair piled artlessly atop her head. And, he thought with a grin, those chocolate-coated lips. Obviously he was attracted to her, but he also liked the fact that she was talented, independent, and nice. How many girls did he know that he could call ‘nice’?

  Arjun was amazed by how drawn he was to her. And a little annoyed, because right before Risha had answered her phone, he had glanced at the caller’s name on the screen. ‘Rishabh ICE’. Arjun knew ICE meant ‘in case of emergency’. So if this guy was her emergency contact, they had to be more than just friends. Who the hell was Rishabh and why hadn’t Risha mentioned him? She had no business flirting with Arjun if she had a goddamn boyfriend.

  Although, he thought with a twinge of disappointment as he pulled into his parking spot in Khanna Heights, she hadn’t been flirting with him. Sure, she’d been fri
endly throughout the flight, but maybe that’s all it was, a pleasant conversation with a stranger on a plane. It was also likely that she was being nice because he was the brother of a client.

  Arjun remembered Risha’s response when he’d asked her if she found him hot. She had denied it with such fervour that Arjun was almost offended. But now he attributed her reaction to this Rishabh guy. She could’ve at least mentioned the asshole was her boyfriend, instead of calling him a ‘friend’.

  What the hell is the matter with you, Khanna? You just met the girl. And how transparent was the ‘Delhi is unsafe for two girls’ comment?

  With a sigh, Arjun turned off the ignition and grabbed his suitcase. Striding into the elevator, he whipped out his phone to catch up on email.

  ‘Who was the hottie you were standing with, Kohli?’ Rishabh demanded.

  Risha rolled her eyes. ‘Hello to you too, Rishabh. I’m doing fine, how about yourself?’

  ‘I’m great! I’ve been told the Ranveer Singh moustache really suits me.’

  She gave him an ‘oh, please’ look. ‘If Ranveer Singh found out, the first thing he would do is reach for his razor.’

  He gave her a wicked grin. ‘Oh, I’d let him shave me any time he wants.’

  ‘Ewww!’ she cried.

  ‘Don’t be such a vestal virgin, Kohli. Now spit it out, who was the hottie?’

  So much for avoiding the topic. ‘Um, just this guy who was sitting next to me on the plane. We just, um, walked out together,’ she said evasively.

  ‘Let’s hope he at least walked out with your number.’

  ‘Please! Like I would ever give my number to a guy I just met,’ she snorted.

  ‘This is why you haven’t gotten laid in the last, oh I don’t know, ever! I’m all about giving my number to guys I just met—a little meaningless sex is good for health.’

  ‘I don’t believe in—’

  ‘—meaningless sex, yes, I know. Or plastic surgery, or pizza. Basically anything that’s good for your health.’

  Her jaw dropped. ‘Plastic surgery? Please tell me you’re not considering it.’

  He shrugged. ‘It’s an occupational hazard, babe. All the other models are doing it, I can’t be the only one without ass implants.’

  ‘Your ass is just fine, Rishabh. Now get this ridiculous plastic surgery idea out of your head or I’ll call your parents and tell on you.’

  ‘Fine, then I’ll call your parents and tell them you broke the cardinal “no boys in the apartment” rule.’

  She cocked her head. ‘Who are you talking about?’

  ‘Me.’

  Risha laughed. ‘You don’t count.’

  He shot her a look.

  ‘Because they trust you,’ she added quickly.

  ‘Or because they know I prefer dicks to chicks,’ he said dryly.

  ‘Well, that too,’ she confessed.

  ‘While I’m enjoying your attempts at circumvention, you’ve never been good at keeping secrets, Kohli. Now tell me about the hot guy before we reach your building and I have to get into another session with my nemesis.’

  Rishabh’s ‘nemesis’ was Tyagiji, the barrel-chested Haryanvi[19] security guard at Risha’s building. Thanks to her mother’s besan laddoos and her father’s generous tips each time they visited, Tyagiji watched over Risha like a beefeater guarding the queen. Aside from grunting at Rishabh once when he had reversed his car too close to a pillar, and sneering at him another time when he showed up wearing women’s clothing for a costume party, Tyagiji refused to acknowledge his existence. Rishabh was constantly trying out new ways to befriend Tyagiji, but so far he had not succeeded in breaking the guard’s steely resolve.

  Risha responded to Rishabh’s question. ‘Arjun Khanna.’

  ‘The name sounds familiar.’

  ‘He was on the NT business page today.’

  He gagged. ‘Like I would ever read the business page. I only read Page 3.’

  ‘Why do people keep saying that? You do know I’m no longer on the Page 3 beat?’

  ‘No wonder their quality has gone up.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said dryly.

  ‘It’s true. Although, I really loved your last article on healthy food.’

  ‘It was good, right?’ Risha beamed.

  ‘Absolutely,’ he assured her, even though he had no clue. All he knew was that Risha wrote about health and lifestyle, and most of her articles were either about healthy eating or fitness. Since the odds were fifty-fifty, he’d gone with food. ‘Arjun Khanna. I’ve definitely heard that name before.’

  ‘He’s the CEO of Khanna Developers.’

  ‘Nope, doesn’t ring a bell.’

  ‘He’s Nitisha Khanna’s brother,’ she said, dreading the turn she knew the conversation would take at the mention of Nitisha.

  ‘I might’ve read about him in the society pages.’

  Having recently learnt about Arjun’s aversion to society events, Risha doubted it. But because she wanted to change the topic from Nitisha and her brother, she nodded and opened her mouth to comment on the weather. ‘Delhi is really—’

  ‘So he’s hot and rich. No wonder you didn’t give him your number.’

  Only because he didn’t ask.

  Risha frowned at the direction of her thoughts. Arjun was a virtual stranger, and had he asked, she would’ve given him a fake number.

  Right?

  ‘Earth to Risha!’

  ‘Sorry, I’m a little tired. What did you say?’

  ‘Did you check with Nitisha if I can be your plus-one to the wedding?’

  ‘For the tenth time, I’m working. There’s no way I can bring a plus-one. And as for your ambition of “becoming the face of Khudai for men”, I told you I’ll speak to her once she returns from the honeymoon. Give it a rest, Rishabh.’

  ‘Fine,’ he sulked.

  Risha sighed, then remembered something that would definitely get a reaction from him.

  ‘Arjun Khanna thought I was a model!’ she smirked.

  His expression deadpan, Rishabh said, ‘Oh, now I understand why you were walking him out. The poor guy is blind.’

  ‘Just like you were blind when you asked me to our school’s farewell dance?’ she countered.

  ‘I only asked you because my mother had started suspecting the reason for my collection of shirtless Salman Khan photos was not my interest in bodybuilding,’ he said dryly. ‘Also, you were the only girl in DPS Amritsar who didn’t wear her hair in two braids.’

  ‘That’s because I had a “boy cut” until I was eighteen—my mom’s version of the male repellent. It sure worked, because the only boy I dated in school turned out to be gay.’

  ‘I was on the fence, but the hair helped me decide,’ he teased. ‘It's true, Kohli. You turned me gay!’

  Risha flicked his ear playfully. It was good to be back home.

  PART TWO

  THE WEDDING

  Five days to the wedding

  Amrita Khanna placed her Birkin bag in the crook of her arm and gave her reflection a satisfied nod. She turned to her husband and pouted dramatically. ‘How do I look?’

  ‘Lovely,’ he grunted, without looking up from his putt.

  ‘Arvind, please! This is the most important event in the wedding.’

  Arvind reluctantly drew his attention away from his indoor golf range and gave her a sardonic smile. ‘Not the actual ceremony itself?’

  She waved away his comment. ‘Oho, you know what I mean.’

  ‘Yes, the circus is fairly important,’ he muttered.

  ‘Stop calling it that!’ Amrita complained. ‘It’s a satsang[20].’

  Arvind gave her a thorough once-over, from the blonde streaks in her chin-length hair, her bright red lips, her animal-print kaftan, down to her unnecessarily high heels. ‘You look more appropriately attired for a kitty party than a satsang.’

  Amrita looked pleased with his assessment. That’s exactly what she’d been aiming for. ‘Aside from Priye Ma’s
Harmony Hex pooja, there’s another reason today’s satsang is important.’

  The instant the question flew out of his mouth, Arvind regretted it. ‘What in the world is a “harmony hex”?’

  Amrita seemed surprised by his unprecedented interest. ‘The Harmony Hexagon,’ she explained with gusto, ‘represents the six key pillars of a harmonious marriage: faith, understanding, compassion, insight, trust and honesty. I’ve created an acronym to remember all the pillars: FUCITH.’

  Arvind fought to keep a straight face. ‘Sounds fitting.’

  ‘Anyway,’ she continued, ‘the other reason today is very important is because Priye Ma’s niece, Divya, is coming to the satsang and she is just puh-fect!’

  Arvind frowned for two reasons. First, the more Amrita associated with Priye Ma and her cronies, the more pronounced her south Delhi accent became. And second, he knew exactly where this conversation was going. Eager to return to his golf game, he pre-empted her thoughts. ‘For Arjun.’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What do you mean, dahling?’

  ‘You know exactly what I mean. Leave Arjun alone,’ he said firmly.

  ‘But, Arvind, I’ve met her before and she—’

  ‘Have you forgotten the last time you tried to interfere in our son’s life?’ Arvind said, his voice going up an octave.

  Amrita flushed. ‘How was I supposed to know that Karishma would turn out to be a slimy little gold-digger?’

  Arvind took a deep breath. ‘She was a model in the early stages of her career. How did you not know?’ he said sarcastically. ‘I don’t stop you from this Science of Living mumbo jumbo because it keeps you occupied. So raise funds, visit yoga camps, do whatever, but I’m not going to stand for this matchmaking rubbish. Arjun is an adult and we have no right to interfere in his life.’

  Amrita raised her chin adamantly. ‘But all his friends are getting married! First that Pakistani boy, then Karan, I’m sure even that motu[21] Angad will find someone. But all Arjun does is work, work and more work. And it doesn’t help that he’s turning thirty next year—he won’t be able to find anyone on his own!’