The Wedding Photographer

by Sakshama Puri Dhariwal

  Arjun glanced at the backpack resting in Risha’s lap. ‘Do you carry all your photography equipment in there?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What kind of camera do you use?’

  ‘A Canon 5D.’

  ‘That’s a great camera.’

  She looked at him in surprise. ‘Are you familiar with it?’

  Of course he wasn’t. ‘Of course I am.’

  ‘It was a gift from my parents. I couldn’t afford it on my NT salary!’ she said with such a winsome smile that Arjun wanted to stop the car in the middle of the road and kiss her senseless.

  ‘That was nice of them,’ he said, trying not to think about her soft, full lips.

  ‘They spoil me,’ she admitted sheepishly.

  I want to spoil you.

  The thought had come unbidden to Arjun, and he expelled a breath of annoyed confusion.

  ‘Take a left here,’ Risha said, pointing to the gate of her apartment complex. She rolled down the window and nodded to the guard at the entrance, who gave Arjun a suspicious look before releasing the boom barrier.

  Arjun parked the car and walked around to open Risha’s door, but she was already standing outside the car, holding her hand out formally. ‘Goodnight, Mr Khanna,’ she said loudly.

  Arjun shook her hand with a quizzical look. ‘Goodnight, Ms Kohli.’

  ‘Okay, bye,’ she said, turning around hurriedly.

  ‘Risha, what’s wrong?’ he frowned.

  The guard walked up to them and handed her a package. ‘Thank you, Tyagiji,’ she said, clutching it to her chest.

  ‘What’s that?’ Arjun asked, watching her tight grip on the envelope.

  ‘Spam,’ she blurted. Since the package presumably contained more matrimonial ads from her parents, that wasn’t exactly a lie.

  Tyagiji towered over them with his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed. Arjun returned his stare, unimpressed by the guard’s attempt at intimidation and irritated by his nosy attitude. Arjun wanted to talk to Risha and he couldn’t do that with this pehalwan of a man breathing down his neck.

  ‘Can I come up?’ Arjun asked Risha softly.

  Tyagiji grunted and Risha rolled her eyes. Arjun turned to the guard with a frosty glare. ‘I’m going to walk her to her door.’

  Tyagiji stood still for a moment. Then he gave a brief nod and returned to his station.

  Risha stared after him, slack-jawed.

  In so many years, the man had never allowed Rishabh up to her apartment, let alone any other guy. Even the Shopcart delivery man complained about Tyagiji’s unreasonable obstinacy and needless ferocity. And here he was, in the wee hours of the morning, letting a virtual stranger go up to her apartment.

  Risha felt a sudden flutter in her stomach. Was she nervous? So what if Arjun was coming up? And so what if he had carried her suitcase and driven her home at night and said they were ‘friends’? He had a girlfriend.

  He had a girlfriend!

  ‘Risha?’

  Risha jumped at the sound of his voice and he watched her curiously. ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ he asked, striding into the elevator behind her. She swallowed and nodded forcefully. They got off the elevator and he followed her to her door. He watched her fumble with her keys and frowned. ‘What’s wrong?’

  Risha dropped the keys.

  Arjun bent down and picked them up. ‘Will you please calm down and tell me what’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she said, taking the keys from him.

  ‘I drove you home because I wanted to, not because Rohan asked me to,’ Arjun said.

  She gave him an indifferent shrug. ‘I don’t care.’

  ‘Sure you don't,’ Arjun said dryly. ‘You’ve been giving me the silent treatment since I mentioned that Rohan asked me to drop you home.’

  Oops.

  Risha suddenly felt like a petulant child. Arjun had inconvenienced himself by driving her 15 kilometres out of his way at this hour, and she had shown her gratitude by not speaking to him the entire time.

  ‘Thank you for driving me home,’ she said sincerely. ‘And sorry for acting like a jerk.’

  ‘You’re welcome. And it’s okay,’ Arjun said with an approving smile.

  Risha would later tell herself that what she said next was only a courtesy to make up for her earlier rudeness. But the truth was that the sudden dazzle of Arjun’s smile had momentarily caused her brain to stop functioning. And before she knew it, she found herself saying, ‘Would you like to come in?’

  Arjun drew in a sharp breath.

  Yes, he thought.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

  ‘Oh,’ Risha said, relieved and yet... not. Of course, he shouldn’t come into her apartment at 5 a.m.; he had a girlfriend. ‘Yes, I don’t think Divya would approve.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Divya Sinha, the rockstar.’

  Arjun gave her a puzzled look. ‘What’s she got to do with it?’

  ‘Everything,’ she said stiffly.

  ‘Wait, you don’t think Divya and I—God, no!’

  ‘But you let her win on purpose!’ Risha accused.

  He looked abashed. ‘You noticed that?’

  ‘Of course. And you guys seemed so... close.’

  ‘I just met her yesterday,’ Arjun said. ‘And earlier tonight, I felt bad that she had to take all those shots, so I threw the game. The poor girl was already hammered,’ he explained.

  Risha gave him an incredulous look. Apparently there was more to Arjun Khanna than a Greek-god-like body and mad Tetris skills.

  Risha had a sudden impulse to touch his stubbled jaw. Instead, she said in a sceptical tone, ‘But your mom explicitly asked me to take “couple photos” of the two of you.’

  Arjun waved away her concern. ‘Her lame attempt at matchmaking.’

  ‘Runs in the family, doesn’t it?’ Risha said dryly.

  He chuckled. ‘Yes, although Nani is much better at it than Mom is. I do think Harinder, “pat name Harry” is quite perfect for you.’

  She laughed. ‘Maybe I will marry him.’

  He took her chin between his thumb and index finger. ‘Maybe you won’t,’ he whispered, raising her mouth to his.

  ‘Wait,’ she said, taking a step back. ‘So why did you say it’s not a good idea to come inside?’

  ‘Because you said your parents have a rule against boys inside the house.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ she said guiltily.

  Arjun broke into the lazy smile she was beginning to recognize all too well. ‘But they don’t have a rule against boys outside the house, do they?’

  She shook her head softly, looking up to meet his dark gaze as her pulse leapt in anticipation. He gathered her wrists and pinned her against the door. The light thud of her back against the wood made her giggle. Arjun looked up, a wicked glimmer in his eyes. ‘Was that funny?’

  She nodded, trying not to laugh.

  He placed one hand on the door next to her face and rested the other hand lightly on her hips. Lowering his face to hers, he whispered huskily against her lips, ‘How about this?’

  Risha gulped and shook her head, her heart beating frantically at his nearness.

  He pulled her forward by the waist, standing so close that she could feel the sexy contours of his body against her.

  ‘And this?’ he murmured, right before he claimed her mouth in a long, ravenous kiss, igniting each nerve in her body, making her very skin come alive. She parted her lips, inviting his tongue in as he continued to kiss her greedily, passionately.

  When he lifted his mouth from hers, she felt torn that their kiss had come to an end. Chuckling at the look of dismay in her eyes, he pressed a long, hot kiss under her earlobe. She arched her neck back and let out a little moan as he left a sizzling trail of kisses from her earlobe to her collarbone.

  ‘Arjun,’ she murmured, a tortured whisper of urgent longing.

  Ironically, it was the sound of his name on her lips that m
ade Arjun stop. It was the first time she had spoken his name and the sound caused a strange tightening in his chest. He dragged his lips from hers reluctantly, aware that if he didn’t stop now, no goddamn rule and no gentleman's code could keep him from entering her apartment.

  He rubbed his thumb across her bottom lip. ‘It’s been a long night and you have to work in a few hours. You should probably get some rest.’

  ‘You’re leaving?’ she said, her voice thick with disappointment.

  ‘If I stay any longer, we’re probably going to end up breaking a lot of rules,’ he said, turning around with visible reluctance.

  ‘Wait!’ Risha’s urgent tone made him whirl around. She gently raised her hand to his cheek, running her palm over his hard jaw.

  His expression softened, as though he was pleased by her voluntary touch. ‘What was that for?’

  ‘I’ve been wanting to do that for some time,’ she said shyly.

  He turned his face into her palm and kissed it softly. Then he pressed his lips to the back of her hand, the inside of her wrist, trailing kisses up her arm before leaning in for another long kiss.

  When they parted a few minutes later, Risha sighed. ‘That was nice.’

  Arjun laughed. ‘Get some sleep, Candy. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  ‘Tomorrow,’ she promised, watching him disappear behind the elevator doors.

  One day to the wedding

  From: Kabir Bose

  To: Jay Soman

  Subject: The F Word

  Dear Jay,

  I am compelled to write an official complaint about our mutual colleague Sukhdeep Pal Singh Baweja. Today he called me a ‘fucking asshole’ in front of my entire team, including two interns. This kind of conduct is unbecoming of a senior editor.

  What is most upsetting is that Sukhi and I started our careers together as trainee journalists and have known each other for over half our lives. While I spend close to twelve hours at the office toiling away, Sukhi comes and goes as he pleases. He often shows up to work after 3 p.m., disappears for hours on end, and has even been found inebriated on several occasions.

  In the past, Sukhi has called me ‘elitist bastard’ and ‘sanctimonious son of a bitch’, but using the F word at the workplace is not only derogatory, it is also quite repugnant.

  I request you take strict action against him.

  Yours sincerely,

  Kabir Bose

  Editor, Delhi Today

  From: Jay Soman

  To: Piyali Chokroborty, EA to Editor-in-Chief

  Cc: Kabir Bose

  Subject: Re: The F Word

  Tuku,

  Please inform Prime Minister Modi’s office that I need to cancel our appointment for tomorrow. And no, it doesn’t matter that it is a News Today exclusive.

  If need be, please attach a copy of Kabir’s mail so that the Prime Minister can fully comprehend the reason for cancellation. I’m sure he will appreciate that this issue must take paramount precedence over all others.

  On an unrelated note, could you please send me last week’s reader engagement scores for Sports and Delhi Today. I think they stood at 83% and 61% respectively, but I just want to make sure I’m not being a fucking asshole.

  J

  Nidhi sat down under a large outdoor umbrella, propped her legs up on a chair, and sipped her iced tea. Usually nothing could distract her when Vikram was batting, but today there seemed to be another match going on simultaneously. The groom’s side was playing the bride’s side in a friendly game of cricket at Rohan’s farmhouse. Apparently it was a tradition in his family since his great-grandfather’s time, and looking at the arrangements today, it was fair to say that the Singhals took the tradition quite seriously. Both teams were wearing custom jerseys with team names printed in sports fonts: Super Singhals and Killer Khannas. The Singhals had set up a large electronic scoreboard and even hired a professional umpire to prevent any bias or dispute. But alas, how could a group of Punjabis competing against each other not end up fighting?

  The better part of the morning had gone by in a heated argument between both sides. Team Bride argued that having a professional cricketer on their team would give Team Groom an unfair advantage. After an hour of bickering, both teams came to the mutual consensus that it was ‘okay’ if Vikram, a right-handed batsman, played the match with his left hand.

  But even though Vikram was nearing his half-century, Nidhi’s attention was diverted by the game her best friend seemed to be playing. This was the second time since the morning that Risha had received a phone call. Risha seldom took calls while working, and almost never smiled stupidly into the phone. Add to that the frequent texting that had punctuated the photography session, and Nidhi was beginning to feel quite suspicious. She feigned a yawn and stretched her arms, leaning in Risha’s direction.

  ‘Yes, me too,’ Risha said into the phone, followed by a giggle. An actual giggle.

  Nidhi frowned. What next? A series of ‘no, you hang up first’s?

  ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Risha asked, her tone suddenly serious. ‘Okay, let’s do that. Yes, I need to get back to work, too. I’ll see you tonight.’

  ‘I’ll see you tonight’?

  Risha was shooting the cocktail party this evening, so how could she be seeing anyone tonight? She could be meeting Rishabh after the event, but if the uncharacteristic girlish giggles were any indication, that wasn’t Rishabh on the phone. Risha was a thorough professional and there was no way she would sneak out of the party to meet someone. Unless... she was meeting someone at the party. Someone who was clearly absent from the ongoing cricket match.

  ‘I need to get back to work too,’ Risha had said. ‘Too’.

  One person who had given the match a miss due to an ‘important work appointment’ was Arjun Khanna.

  Nidhi’s thoughts went to Arjun’s party last night. On several occasions, she had spotted him watching Risha. Even as he stood surrounded by a group of friends, nodding interestedly, his eyes had been glued to Risha as she floated around the room, taking pictures.

  Nidhi remembered the game of air hockey she had won against Arjun. They had been tied at game point, but the puck had gone whizzing past him at the last moment. Since his gaze was fixated on something behind Nidhi’s shoulder, she had turned around to determine the cause of his distraction. Standing behind Nidhi, her camera pointed at their contest, was Risha.

  ‘What?’ Risha had asked innocently when Arjun walked off, grumbling to himself. And though Nidhi wasn’t certain, it had sounded like he said, ‘That dress is too bloody short.’

  Smiling to herself, Nidhi called out to her friend. ‘Hey, Rish!’

  Risha pocketed her phone and swivelled around, a slight flush on her face as she sprinted up to Nidhi. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Please tell me you captured Vikram’s left-handed six!’ Nidhi said, hands flying to her face in the perfect imitation of a paranoid WAG, emerald-green eyes dark with dismay.

  Risha’s face fell. ‘I think I missed it.’

  There had been no six. Seven fours, yes. But no six.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ Nidhi asked.

  ‘Of course. Why do you ask?’

  ‘You’ve been on the phone a lot.’ Nidhi shrugged.

  ‘Uh, yeah, that was a work thing,’ Risha mumbled.

  Nidhi cocked her head. ‘NT work or photography work?’

  Risha flushed. ‘Photography.’

  ‘New client?’

  ‘Something like that,’ Risha evaded.

  ‘Let me know if you need help negotiating cost with him,’ Nidhi said.

  ‘I think I’ve got it,’ Risha said.

  ‘So it is a “him”?’ Nidhi asked.

  ‘Um, yes.’

  ‘How did he get your number?’

  ‘From Tanvi.’

  ‘When is he getting married?’


  ‘He’s not, his sister is.’

  Nidhi hid a smile. Trust Risha to stick to the truth. ‘Right. Tomorrow.’

  Risha looked at her. ‘What?’

  ‘Oh, please!’ Nidhi burst out. ‘You’ve been talking to Arjun Khanna the entire morning!’

  Risha blinked in surprise. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Powers of deduction,’ Nidhi said wryly.

  Risha filled her in on the events of last night—this morning—and Nidhi’s accusatory look turned excited. ‘I’m so glad! Both Vikram and I really like him.’

  Risha gave her a big smile.

  ‘Look at you, all adorable and—’

  ‘SIX!’ someone shouted in the background.

  In a span of a second, Risha turned around, arbitrarily pointed her camera at the pitch, and pushed the click button. Nidhi hooted loudly, standing up to clap for her husband. When she peered over Risha’s shoulder at the output screen, her mouth hung open in utter shock. Risha had just taken a stunning shot of Vikram watching the ball fly across the boundary, his bat pulled behind him. ‘That is plain luck,’ Nidhi said in disbelief.

  Risha nodded in agreement. She herself wondered how much of her photography was talent and how much was just good fortune.

  ‘Better get to work before my luck runs out,’ Risha grinned, jogging in the direction of the boundary, prepared to capture Vikram’s half-century.

  A few minutes later, Risha watched in amazement as Arvind Khanna ran towards the family chauffeur, Shankar, and enveloped him in a hug. Shankar had just taken Vikram’s wicket, and even though Vikram’s sixty-three runs had done enough damage, the driver had become Team Bride’s hero.

  Through her lens, Risha saw the fielding team pile up on Shankar, high-fiving and backslapping him. Shankar beamed with pride when Vikram acknowledged him with a nod before walking off the pitch. One thing Risha could never understand was how, irrespective of their station in life, cricket brought people together. Or how, despite the adulation he received, Vikram managed to stay so grounded.