by George, MM
“Let her be here for some time,” said Dadi. “Take her up after dinner. She will feel better if she’s amidst us all.”
It was late when Mira came up to bed. She had sorted out the menu for the party to the satisfaction of both Maharaj and Tarun and arranged with Dhruv to leave the cafeteria early the next day. She was tired, but still excited about her preparations for tomorrow.
She had just fallen asleep when a slight sound woke her up. Switching on the bedside lamp, she realized that Reema was not in the bed beside her. Mira stifled a yawn. Where could Reema have gone at this hour? She didn’t have to wonder for long. Reema was soon back.
“Where on earth were you?”
“Di, Chachi needed a fresh hot compress. I thought I would check on that. It was lucky I did because Vasu, poor thing, had fallen asleep. While I was heating the water for the compress, I thought maybe I should make her a glass of hot milk with some haldi in it as well. You remember, Ma used to make us drink haldi-doodh whenever we fell or got hurt?”
Mira gazed at her little sister in amazement. “Chhoti,” she said finally, reaching out a hand to stroke Reema’s head. “You have indeed grown up!” Then, “What did Chachi say?”
“She was okay. Even said thank you.”
“So you’re finally discovering the way to your ma-in-law’s heart?” teased Mira, breaking into a grin.
“Shut up, Di! Go to sleep now!” But Reema was blushing furiously.
≈
SEVEN
It was the day of the party. Mira got up early to finish the cooking before the havan began. But when she got to the kitchen, she found Reema already there, making the halwa that would be distributed as prasad later. Maharaj was hovering anxiously around her. Chachi was sitting in an armchair Reema seemed to have coaxed Tarun into placing there, her foot propped up on a stool in front of her.
“Chachi,” Mira heard her saying as she entered, “you just sit there and tell me in detail what to do and I’ll make the prasad exactly as you tell me.” Mira’s mouth fell open in wonder. Sooji ka halwa had been their Baba’s favorite sweet dish and Reema could make it blindfolded, with one hand tied behind her. And here she was, asking Chachi how to make it! Well done, little sister, she said silently to herself.
Once the prasad was made, Meenu Chachi was transferred to the sofa, from where she instructed Reema on all the things she needed to do to prepare for the havan.
“Chachi,” said Reema suddenly, “this ghee has something in it. I don’t think we can use it for the havan.”
“He Ram! Bring it here and show me, child!” Chachi almost got up, but a sudden twinge in her foot made her fall back with a moan. Reema ran to her, “Why did you get up? I’ll just get a fresh hot compress for you.”
“No, I’m all right,” said Chachi. “Go and ask Maharaj for the puja ghee on the top shelf in the bhandar and use that.” When Reema came back with the right ghee, she was also carrying a bowl of hot water and a cloth. “Thank God you realized in time that it was the wrong ghee, beta!” she said as Reema placed the hot compress on her ankle. Oho, thought Mira, it was beta now, was it?
She was on her way to the kitchen when Ranbir waylaid her. “Make sure Reema wears one of her new outfits in the evening,” he said softly. “And you too…”
“Why…?” began Mira, but he put his finger on her lips and silenced her.
“She’s already doing marvelous work on Chachi. In fact, Chachi couldn’t have sprained her foot at a more opportune time. Get her to wear one of her new dresses and the deal’s as good as sealed,” he promised before vanishing as quietly as he had appeared before her. Really! thought Mira, shaking her head.
When they all gathered together later in the morning for the havan, Dadi told Mira and Reema to sit with the family, rather than the guests. Chachi raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
Much later, Mira made her way to her room. She was tired, but happy that everything was under control. All the hors d’oeuvres were ready as were the dips that would accompany them. Maharaj had contrived to lay his hands on some kairi even though they were out of season, so she had been able to make a tangy green mango salsa as well as some spicy chutney for the meal later at night.
Reema was standing before the wardrobe in their room, rifling through the clothes that hung there. She turned around when she heard Mira come in. “What do I wear, Di?” she asked. “The silk sari Baba got us last Diwali? Would that be okay?”
“No, no, not a sari, Reema,” said Mira, going up to her. “Let’s take a look at the dresses we got the other day. One of them would be better, I think.”
“You really think so, Di? I don’t feel very comfortable in them. You remember the silver dress I wore when I went with Dadi to the charity auction the other day? Tarun said I looked very nice, but I felt it was a bit short for me.”
“Look, Chhoti, the important thing is that Tarun thought you looked good. And you did look beautiful. Tarun’s friends are going to come today. Do you want to look out of place among them?”
“I know what you are saying, Di, but that dress was a bit on the shorter side. I’m sure everyone at the auction was staring at my legs.”
“And those of a thousand other girls, probably,” laughed Mira at her childishness. “Reema, really, you show more of your body when you wear a sari, you know. Your waist, for one. And if you’re wearing the choli that you got made with the sari Baba gave you, then most of your back, too. How’s it any different? Here, why don’t you try this one? Then we’ll see.”
Reema came out of the bathroom wearing the honey colored shift with little golden specks in it. The cowl neck and the simple lines of the dress gave her an elegance that belied her age. “Wow!” breathed Mira. “That’s just perfect. You’re going to stun everyone at the party!”
Reema smiled at her through the mirror in which she was examining herself. “It’s longer than the silver dress,” she said contemplatively.
Mira rummaged in a drawer and took out a short golden chain with a dark green stone hanging from it. “Here,” she said, fastening it around Reema’s neck. “Just what you need. And wear the dark green sandals we got the other day, the ones with the little bit of heel.”
Reema sighed happily. “What will you wear, Di?” she asked.
“Oh, any old thing,” laughed Mira. She had no intentions of following Ranbir’s instructions to wear Western attire herself. It really was none of his business. “After all, I’m going to be in the kitchen for the most part. Whereas you, my darling sister, are going to be the belle of the ball tonight.”
***
The party was in full swing. From the kitchen, where Mira was putting last minute touches to the dinner, she could hear the sounds of music and laughter. She smiled to herself. The hors d’oeuvres had gone down well. Ajay Chacha had paid her lavish compliments on the Vada Manchurian. “One day,” he had warned her, “you are going to make me a whole plateful of these vadas all for myself!”
“I’ll have to ask Chachi first,” she had teased back. She had become quite fond of Ajay Chacha, who treated both Reema and her with such warmth.
She looked around the kitchen. Was there anything else to be done? Maharaj was chopping up coriander to garnish the dishes. “I’ll just check on the rest of the arrangements,” she told him as she made her way to the family dining room, which had been converted into a huge buffet for the occasion. Mrs. Bagchi was there, checking on things, getting a maid to polish some last minute additions. She smiled at Mira. “Everything’s ready here,” she said, “but I’ll check once more just to be sure.”
“There you are!” said Ajay Chacha, walking into the room. “Beta, isn’t it time you joined the party? Bas, bahut ho gaya. Everything is perfect. You have indeed done us proud. Now I insist you come out into the garden and join us.”
“No, no, Chachaji, Maharaj may need me.” Mira didn’t know why, but she was hesitant to join in the fun and games taking place outside.
“I have checked with M
aharaj. He says he will warm everything up and place them here over the food warmers. So, there is nothing for you to do.”
“I’ll help him do that,” said Mrs. Bagchi. Mira had no choice but to trail after Chacha into the huge garden. I hope Reema is enjoying herself, she thought, as she wandered towards the marquee set in the middle of the lawns. Chacha had seen an acquaintance and moved off to say hello.
A sudden crackle underfoot startled Mira and she almost lost her footing in the soft grass. A hand appeared out of nowhere to steady her. “Stumbling again?” Ranbir enquired softly, his eyes raking her up and down. “These are not the clothes I asked you to wear?” he said, a frown settling into his forehead.
“And why should I wear what you ask me to?” demanded Mira, moving on. She was wearing a soft yellow silk kurta, with silver zari ambis climbing down its front. Ma had made it for her out of an old sari of hers and she loved it. Surprisingly, Ranbir did not follow her, as she had half expected.
A space had been cleared in the middle of the marquee for those who wished to dance. Mira looked at the people gyrating there and looked away. She wished she could find another member of the family there—right now, even Chachi would do.
The music suddenly changed beat as the DJ switched to Bollywood remixes on someone’s request. Mira felt her foot tapping as one of her favorite songs began to play. Tapping her foot turned to swaying her hips and she soon found herself in the midst of the dancers, grooving and swinging with the best of them. She couldn’t remember the last time she had danced. And she loved to dance, especially to Bollywood songs. Song followed song and Mira lost herself in the beat and tempo of the music.
The loud sound of applause brought her back to earth and she looked around her in disbelief. She was alone on the dance floor—everyone else had moved off to watch her. Blushing furiously, she moved hastily to one side, trying to lose herself in the throng. Unfortunately, she found herself confronting Ranbir, who had been watching her intently. “Well, well,” he said sardonically, “who would have thought Little Miss Desi was hiding so much dancing talent!”
Mira looked away, flushing. She had not meant to make a spectacle of herself, to attract so much attention. “Please, Ranbir,” she said. “Ajay Chacha asked me to join the party, that’s why I’m here.”
“I have no objections whatsoever to your being here,” he replied smoothly. “Or to your little performance there, for that matter. In fact, I’m rather enjoying discovering these hidden facets to your personality.”
“Ranbir, darling, there you are!” A tall, fair girl in a little black dress and chestnut highlights in her swinging mane came up to them. “This has to be the most happening party of the year,” she gushed, hand going to rest proprietarily over Ranbir’s arm.
Mira took advantage of the moment to walk back to the kitchen. This is where I belong, she thought a trifle resentfully. Nonetheless, she couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her lips.
It was a while before she ventured out again. The lawns were relatively empty because everyone was in the dining room, attacking the buffet. The DJ was also taking a break. She had just reached the secluded path near Dadi’s original rose garden when she heard a low sob, then Reema’s voice. “Please let me go. I don’t want to drink that,” she was saying. Mira hastened her pace to turn the corner into the rose garden. Reema was standing between two young men, who, from the looks of them, were quite inebriated. One of them had his arm around her and was pressing a glass of beer to her lips. Reema was fending off the glass with one hand, squirming visibly under the arm around her shoulder. The other man was laughing at her ineffectual attempts to make her escape.
“You’re the hired help, aren’t you?” asked the man with the beer glass, laughing lewdly.
“No, she’s a respected guest in this house, so leave her alone,” said a level voice behind her. Mira ran to help her sister, but Ranbir was quicker. “Go and find Tarun and Ram Singh,” he told her tersely, then turning back, he said in a louder tone, his anger no longer reined in, “I said let go of her!”
Mira did as she was told. She couldn’t believe what was happening. She sent off a maid to find Ram Singh, the security guard, and went in search of Tarun. It took her some time to find him and, as they hurried back to the rose garden, she told him what had happened in a low voice. They returned to find the drunken men blustering before Ranbir, threatening him in loud voices. Reema was cowering behind Ranbir’s broad back, sobs shaking her slender frame. Tarun ran to her and caught her up in his arms. One of the men lunged at her. Ranbir’s fist shot out and caught him square on the jaw. He staggered back, holding his jaw in astonishment.
“Ram Singh!” Mira could hear the tone of disgust in Ranbir’s voice. “Throw these vermin out of the gate immediately. And remember their faces—I don’t want to see them here ever again.”
The stocky guard who had run up to them shoved the two men along towards the gate.
Mira went to Reema. “It’s okay, Chhoti, stop crying. Why were you here alone with them?”
“It’s my fault, I told her to meet me here,” said a white-faced Tarun.
“Stop this foolish drivel!” snapped Ranbir, his eyes glittering dangerously. His face softened as he turned to Reema. “Reema, sweetie, it’s over. You’re safe now.”
“Yes, but if you hadn’t…” choked Reema through her tears. Ranbir took her face in both his hands and wiped away her tears. “But I was—and that’s all that matters. Always remember, you are just like Tarun for me, and I will always be there for you, just like I am for Tarun.”
Mira could feel the comfort and reassurance emanating from the man and tears came unbidden to her eyes. She let out a long sigh. With Ranbir standing by her, her timid little sister need never be afraid any more. Suddenly, she felt Reema had taken a huge step away from her and towards the Dewans that night. Even though she knew it was inevitable, it unsettled her.
***
It was that feeling of being unsettled that found her pacing the terrace later that night. The party was over and Mrs. Bagchi was supervising the servants in clearing things and putting them away. Reema, still shaken, was in bed. Mira had sat by her, gently stroking her head as she watched her drift off to sleep. But for Ranbir’s timely intervention, she could have had a far greater misadventure than the scare she had had.
She sighed as she leaned against the parapet, her mind wandering idly as she contemplated the changes that were taking place in her life. The terrace had become a place of refuge for Mira. She loved the solitude it afforded her and the wonderful green view it offered her of Delhi. She let the slight breeze, with its hint of coming chill, soothe her mind, drawing her dupatta a little tighter around her to ward off its nip. Diwali was round the corner, winter close behind. She turned away from the parapet and found herself colliding into a broad chest, encased in an exquisitely cut jacket.
“You?” she stuttered, shaken by the brief contact.
“How is Reema?”
“Sleeping now, but she was a bit disturbed,” she replied.
“I can understand that. She’s been through a scary experience, but she’ll get over it.”
“Thank God you reached there in time,” shuddered Mira. “I couldn’t have handled those men by myself.”
“I’ve asked Tarun to check who they were. They were obviously gate-crashers or guests of other guests, because Tarun doesn’t know them.”
Mira looked up at him. Ranbir’s face still showed anger. It was obviously a big thing with him that such a security slip had occurred at Dewan Kutir. She had been surprised at the gentle yet firm way in which he had reassured Reema, stemmed her tears.
“Thank you,” she said, “for what you did for Reema.” He remained silent. “You know,” she continued shyly, “if this had happened even two months ago, Reema would have wanted to go home at once to Ma. Today, she has not talked of it even once. It’s all thanks to you. I think she feels safe with you.”
“It was the least I coul
d do,” he said finally as they stood near the parapet, gazing meditatively at the horizon.
“What do you think?” asked Mira after a moment. “Will Chachi agree to their getting married? She seems to have softened a bit towards Reema, but….”
“We’ll have to wait a little longer and see,” said Ranbir, flexing his hands before him. “I’m going out of town for a couple of days, but when I come back, we’ll move things one way or the other.” Mira looked at him enquiringly and he continued after a pause, “You see, Chachi thinks she knows what kind of daughter-in-law she would like—smart, sophisticated, beautiful and able to handle herself in society.”
“In short, everything Reema is not?!”
“More importantly, everything Chachi herself is not. She sincerely believes that Chacha would have been much more of a success if she had been more able to handle the social side of his business—like Dadi does. And now she doesn’t want Tarun to face a similar handicap. What she doesn’t understand is that Chacha loves her deeply and holds none of her supposed shortcomings against her. Neither does Dadi.” He turned towards her, his eyes softening slightly as they took in her troubled countenance.
Mira sighed and turned around so that her back was to the parapet, her palms resting on its edge. “I know that,” she said. “Dadi jumps to her rescue if Chacha ever says anything to her. And, despite her sharp tongue, she seems equally devoted to Dadi.”
“What Chachi also doesn’t realize,” continued Ranbir, looking directly at her, “is that Tarun is like Chacha. He likes a simple life, prefers to stay at home and enjoys being with the family. A socialite wife of the kind Chachi hankers after would ruin his life, make it a nerve-shattering round of parties and, frankly, I don’t think Tarun would be able to cope. Reema is just right for him. In fact, I’m impressed by the fine instinct he has shown in falling in love with her.”
