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He’s silent for a bit before nodding. “The earlier you start, the better it is. Youth, especially a woman’s youth, can so quickly be wasted.”
This conversation is a gift. My itch has come back worse, in that all I want to do is scratch myself until Veer Singh feels uncomfortable enough to flee. Seriously, if he says another word about future planning or wasting youth, I’m going to… to… scream and dunk his head in a pile of canopies. Of course, that option would cause a stir which I'm not allowed to generate, so I’m left with option B: switch topics.
“Whatever you are doing at the gym is paying off.”
Vomit, gag, throw myself to the ground.
“It is, right?” Veer cups his own bicep. “Want to feel?”
“I think I’ve got somewhere to be.”
“Yes. Shreya is getting on stage.”
I turn and sure enough, my mother in her fabulous evening gown has ascended the stairs and is now tapping on a microphone. I go breathless, even though I know what happens next. Here comes the big speech, followed by cake-cutting, and then everyone sings me theHappy Birthdaysong.
All eyes looking at my mother will eventually swivel until they find me. Then the comparisons will happen between my lovely elegant mother and the daughter that looks nothing like her. Much speculation has been made about who my dad is as most people assume I get my darker colouring from him, but there has been no public confirmation of his identity. It’s something Shreya decided a long time ago didn’t matter because I was hers alone.
As I feel people staring, I wonder if I should have my hands by my side? Or does that make me look like a robot whose joints haven’t been greased? It would be reassuring to use the front camera on my phone to check if I look acceptable, but mymother has already started talking and looking like you’re taking a selfie in this moment would be tacky. That itch gets stronger.
“Komal is very thankful you could all make it.”
People clap. On cue, I smile broader. Catching a few people’s gazes in the crowd, I wave at them at a speed that is faster than a pretentious monarch but slower than a sugared kid.
“And we owe a round of applause to each of you. Our family and friends who have given us the honour of their time tonight. I speak on behalf of Komal when I say we are truly grateful for your presence.” She leads another round of louder applause. Even stoic try-hards can’t resist. You don’t think you’ll pay attention, but when my mother speaks, you find yourself lingering on every word.
“Komal is my only daughter, but I’m convinced that in another lifetime we are the same age, and best friends playing together. For how else can I explain how connected our hearts are? I still remember when I brought Komal home. Not to this big house, but the cramped apartment I was living in before. Looking around at peeling walls and dirty appliances, guess what Komal’s first words were?” My mother pauses. “Do-do.”
The crowd laughs at the silly joke. I feel incredibly loved and still, somehow, unsettled as I join in.
“That very night I decided to be an actress and provide for my new family.” She pauses. “Skip a few years, and I didn’t realize Komal had gotten into my side drawer. Paper goes everywhere. Not just on the floor, but on the bed.” Another pause. “At this point, I was barely getting any work. And the work they wanted me for wasn't good work. Those scripts in the drawer were low-budget films, predicted to flop.”
My mother stretches her syllables out, her skin brightening under the spotlight. Everything stands out, like the thickness of her long brown hair, the abundance of her eyelashes, and the blush of her rosebud mouth.
“And two of those filmsdidflop. The actors in those movies disappeared into nothing. We never heard from them again.”
When my mother gestures to me, the crowd eats it up. They keep looking at her, and then back at me. Ideally Shreya Chahal and her daughter should be in the same shot. Flashes go off in my periphery. My cheeks strain, but I hold still, keeping my expression enamoured. This will be featured in a tabloid tomorrow. The climax of the evening is now, and thus, euphoric music is starting.
“Back to that moment,” my mother says. “Do you know which script Komal started playing with? The one my daughter chose? The one I signed with?”
Dramatic pause.
“The Mitti Prince.”
No further explanation needed. Everyone knows that movie. It broke records back in the eighties and launched multiple careers. Clapping overwhelms everything. My own palms are sore as I’m the last one to stop.
“Komal Chahal”—my mother puts a hand on her heart—“I’ve thought this so many times since I became your mother, but I feel I can’t tell you enough. You are my lucky charm. The reason I stand here today.”
I love you, I mouth to my mother when our eyes meet. People might accuse her of saying all these things to put on a show, but I know that she’s speaking from the heart. When it comes to me, my mother always does. Despite how my pulse races, this is a memory I’ll remember. It’s not every day your mother publicly attributes her career to you. It’s huge. I can barely breathe or think—even more so at the next thing she says.
“Now I want to be your lucky charm, which is why I’ve got a surprise for you. The surprise every girl grows up wishing for and something I finally think you are ready for.”
Beside me, Veer Singh bumps my shoulders. I’m certain I glower before I can help myself, because he’s inserting himself in a moment where he doesn’t belong. This surprise that is happening… even though my mother doesn’t do surprises. She thinks—and I agree—it’s better to prepare and to be trained for everything life throws at you. I can’t imagine what she’ll announce now. What can it be? What does every girl wish for? I want to itch so badly, but I can’t because people are watching. Trying to wonder what will happen next, my mind is overwhelmingly blank. I'm an aimless wanderer among celebrities, uncertain about my future. What do I wish for? What is it that I see when I close my eyes?
A spotlight hits me because we’ve got adjustable lighting rigged throughout the space, and, of course, my mother hired someone to do the controls tonight.
“I want to give Komal something that will help transition her into the next stage of her life.”
What can it be?My mind is racing.What is my next stage?
