Page 31 of Six Days in Bombay

“People are what matter, Minister. I cannot say with buildings what I can say with people as my subjects.”

“But what you are saying, Miss Novak, is setting India back in time. These ancient rituals you paint are bound to tell the world that Indians are—are…”

“Backward?” Mira grinned. “How about thinking of my paintings as a way of highlighting all that is good—and true—about India? Traditions that have meaning going back thousands of years. Women who keep those traditions going despite the cost to their health and their hearts.” She looked at the minister through narrowed eyes. “Or perhaps it’s my style you object to?”

The older man looked uncomfortable. He pulled on his collar.

The matron sitting next to him said, “Rajasthani miniatures are known the world over. That’s a beautiful style for you to try, Miss Novak.”

“And it’s known as a very Indian style, isn’t it? But if we limit our idea of Indian art, we limit our experience of India.She—India—is so much bigger than our understanding of her. She should determine what represents her. Not us.” Mira’s eyes were shining as she lifted her wineglass for a sip. The minister wasn’t convinced, but I could see the dowager purse her lips thoughtfully.

Mira’s husband sat on the other side of her in his white three-piece suit, neither speaking to anyone nor ignoring them. When he wasn’t smoking his pipe, he was chewing on the bit, looking at his wife. There was a faint smile playing about his lips, as if he were enjoying the show.

I hadn’t much of an appetite, not since the feeling that bloomed within me when Amit placed his hand on my back. Sitting next to him was near impossible. He and I avoided looking at each other. I wasn’t sure what to say to him, what to make of what had happened between us. Had I imagined the look he’d given me? Was it merely a spinster’s imagination playing up? Just as I was thinking about getting up from the table, Mrs. Mehta accosted me, heavy gold bangles jangling on her wrists. I’d seen her across the room earlier talking to some of her cronies.

She put one hand on the back of my chair and another on the back of Dr. Mishra’s. “So, Doctor, did you know our Sona is quite the problem solver?”

Amit’s gray eyes turned to mine in question.

I felt the same rush every time he looked at me. I looked away.

Mrs. Mehta grinned. “It has to do with a pair of lovebirds. Perhaps I see another pair in front of me,hahn-nah?”

I colored. Amit cleared his throat. Mrs. Mehta patted my shoulder, smiled mysteriously at Amit, and turned her charm on Mira, whom she’d been dying to talk to.

I couldn’t take another moment next to him without being able to touch him or say anything meaningful. I rose from my chair. A bearer came up behind me and pulled the chair out in one swift move. Amit looked up at me. “Are you leaving?”

I nodded. I couldn’t tell him that he was the cause of my erratic pulse. I needed space away from him, away from the charged excitement of this party, to collect my thoughts.

He pushed his chair back and put his napkin by his plate. “I’ll… Let’s get you a tonga.”

I wanted to tell him I’d take care of it, but I didn’t want to call attention to myself so I simply walked up the stairs and onto the terrace. I needed to find my wrap. It was far chillier now that night had fallen. I entered the deserted drawing room and veered left into the hallway. At this point, everyone was on the lawn. There was a cloakroom nearby where wraps had been deposited.I heard Amit’s footsteps behind me. I opened the door closest to me. No wraps. I tried the second door. The bathroom. As I walked nearer to the third door, I heard voices, deliberately kept low.

“I thought she was going to be younger.”

“What would you do with a younger wife that you can’t do with an older one? Both can produce heirs.”

I realized I’d happened upon a conversation between Dev and his father. I turned around to retrace my steps but I almost ran into Amit, who was right behind me. He put a finger to my lips to keep me from crying out.

“Besides,beta, her family is useful.”

“Meaning?”

“Mr. Kaur is an influential magistrate. He will keep your unpleasant…business…out of the courts.” There was a pause. Dev mumbled something I didn’t catch.

When he spoke again, the elder Singh’s voice was stern. “I can’t have this happening again, Dev. You will do right by Gayatri. My hands are tied.” It sounded like an order.

I felt Amit’s hand take mine to lead us back the way we’d come. We ran into a bearer in the drawing room, and Amit asked him to find my wrap. The servant nodded and went down a different hallway.

“We shouldn’t have heard that, and we shouldn’t have heard Mira and her husband talking either,” I said, feeling like an interloper.

“Sona, perhaps I should tell you something…about Dev…”

The servant was back. He handed me my wrap. Amit took it from me and covered my shoulders with it. When I turned to thank him, his face was inches from mine. “Do you know that’s the first time you’ve called me by my first name? Miss Novak and Mr. Singh called me Sona from the first moment I met them. And I’ve known you a year longer.”

He backed up a step. In Bombay, the city of the film industry,you never knew if you were about to star in the next juicy piece of gossip. It was always better to be safe. He’d just crossed the line by calling me Sona, and he was aware of the repercussions. “Come. Let’s get our tonga.”

“There’s no need for you to accompany me.”

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