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Helplessness filled me with despair. ‘So … what now? The two of you never meet?’ I asked angrily.
‘Relax, Kas,’ said Pitajee. ‘We’ll be friends … if, of course, Saumen does not have a problem…’ he said, looking at Anu.
‘Friends?’ I repeated, tears welling up in my eyes. Anu and Pitajee were parents who were divorcing each other and I was their child whom neither knew what to do with. I smiled as my fertile brain sketched images in my head.
‘And now you are smiling,’ said Pitajee, inching closer to me. ‘You are deranged, you know.’
‘Shut up!’ I said and hit him on the back of his head.
Before I knew it, Pitajee had pinned my hands behind my back. ‘Say you’re sorry!’
‘Never!’
‘Now.’
‘I will die before I say I’m sorry,’ I said hotly, enjoying every minute of this. As we fought, from the corner of my eye, I saw Purva stare at Anu, an odd expression on his face. He had seen something. Something that had made him still, something that, for a second, gave me chills and made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Before I turned away, I saw Purva murmur something to Anu.
Later, as Purva and I walked to his car, I looked back to see Anu and Pitajee who had fallen behind. The two seemed to be deep in conversation.
‘What did you say to Anu when I was beating up Pitajee?’ I asked Purva.
‘To speak up and not bottle things up inside her,’ he said, shrugging his shoulders.
‘Should we wait for them?’ I asked, not really sure of what he meant.
He looked at the two silhouettes in the dimly-lit parking lot of AIIMS.
‘No, let them talk,’ he said quietly and opened the door of his car, beckoning for me to hop in.
11.30 p.m.
The car came to a neat halt in front of the house that, for the first time, I no longer shared with Anu. She had left to move into a five-star hotel that her mum was already settled into, in preparation for the wedding. Speaking of parents, mine arrive tomorrow, armed, I have been told, with six huge suitcases and seventeen boxes of mithai.
Purva rested his hands on the steering wheel and looked at me, a slow, beautiful smile lighting up his face. He stared for a few seconds, not blinking.
‘Hi,’ I said brightly, uncomfortable with the silence.
Purva threw his head back and laughed. ‘In time, Kasturi,’ he said, letting a hand rest lightly on my cheek, ‘the Delhi government will slap an entertainment tax on you.’
I tried to look indignantly at him, but could not, with that idiotic grin plastered across my face. Instead, I took his big, wide hands into my tiny ones and stared right back at him. Increasingly, these moments, where it was just us, were becoming rare and I fiercely treasured the little time we managed to get together. Honest and simple, kind and gentle – Purva, the man who was to be my husband in ten short days. I searched myself for doubts and breathed easy when I could not find any. It is funny, sometimes, the confidence you can find in the peace of a decision well made.
I slowly fingered the scars on his hands, as always, fascinated by them.
‘I love your scars,’ I said, grinning at him.
‘I love the whole of you,’ he said, grinning back. I made a face at him – my usual response when he said something filmy. There was a moment’s pause before he spoke again. ‘Are you stressed about the wedding?’ he asked gently.
‘No, not at all,’ I said, already feeling sick at the thought of being surrounded by a hundred relatives who would, no doubt, scrutinize everything from the flowers in my hair to the little ant that dared wander into the living room. Bleh!
He smiled, seeing right through the lie.
‘There is something I want you to keep,’ he said, still not switching on the light in the car. Bathed in the yellow glow of the rickety street lamp, Purva untied the watch on his wrist.
I gasped theatrically, bringing my hands to my face, much like a newly crow
ned Ms Universe. Under the Bollywood-esque drama that I was shamelessly indulging in, I hoped I was disguising genuine surprise. Purva, for reasons best known to him, has never been seen without this watch. We have teased and bullied him about it and received no response other than a quick, hurried smile that never quite reached the eyes.
‘This,’ he said, handing the watch to me.
