Page 21 of Dancing Fools and All That Jazz
Ingrida had smiled and as she pulled at her tight ring she asked, ‘And your parents, they approve of Jay?’
‘They most certainly do. It helps he is from a good Indian family, and I do not correct Baba when he proudlytells everyone it was he who introduced us. I let him keep up this pretence. It makes him happy, and all my older relatives will approve of our match. Like your Latvian weddings, some of our traditions are outdated but it pleases my family to adhere to them.’
‘But you say, your sister, she was not so lucky with her husband?’
I nodded but did not say more.
I am quite sure it is thanks to Rashmi I was not forced down the arranged route. I went to university to study dentistry, so Baba turned his focus on my sister, much to her annoyance. It is not my fault if she did not want to study and did not stand up to my parents, even when they chose a man sixteen years older. I told Ma it was a big mistake. To be fair, if Rashmi’s marriage had not been so disastrous, I am sure Baba would have insisted I marry this way. But Rashmi was so unhappy and fled from her disgustingly old, buck-toothed husband the moment she could, bringing her toddler and small baby with her.
Rashmi is cross my marriage has not been arranged like hers. She is always complaining about me getting my own way, saying I can wrap Baba around my little finger. She seems to forget I stuck up for her. Jay says she is just jealous.
I was surprised Baba did not stop me moving in with Jay but again, I should be grateful to Rashmi. They needed my bedroom for Rashmi’s two boys. In fact, her return to the family home with the little ones has provided a much greater diversion for Ma and Baba’s attention than anything I could have contrived.
The song fades with words about being in heaven. I imagine Jay as he will look on our wedding day, dressed in his Sherwani, which matches the colour of my red Lehenga. I am so glad I moved in with him; I could not have stayed in my parents’ house for a day longer. I had to escape from all the dreadful noise and mess my nephews make. I cannot believe the disorder caused by two small people.
I replace my mask with a new one as the next patient, an older lady with a crowded mouth of teeth, enters and settles into the chair.
‘Hello, Asha.’ She points at my left hand. ‘Oh, deary me. I see you have still not managed to get married then. How long has it been since the original date?’
She does not wait for me to answer, babbling on as I snap on a new pair of gloves.
‘You’ve had to postpone it twice, or is it three times now? First the pandemic and then – what was it? A death in India was it? Poor dear. Well, you need to ensure it happens this time. I know of several young people who split up before their weddings could be rearranged. It would be so tragic if that happened to you…’
I smile with my eyes but – unseen behind my mask – bob my tongue out at the irritating woman.
‘Good afternoon, Mrs Little. Lie back. Now, open wide please.’
The music from the radio changes to a well-known Indian song. The track is similar to my special wedding dance. It is one of our entries in the Paris competition and I am very proud Clarissa let me assist her with thechoreography. Rashmi and I used to do Bollywood dancing when we were teenagers.
My mind is solely on the music as I mechanically check the teeth in the gaping mouth beneath me and attend to the brush and scale.
I have to say, Clarissa’s ladies all look beautiful as we dance in our blue and green saris with matching scarves floating in the air. Ma helped Monica make the costumes at our Rusholme family sari shop. She said Monica was a very good seamstress, but I had to be very firm with Ma when the job was done. ‘Do not dare to ask Monica to work in the family business. It would be a complete insult and so embarrassing.’ I told her. ‘Monica is a very well-to-do lady of a very high class in Britain. She works for a well-known wedding dress designer. So please, Ma, she is not a lady to sew saris for a living.’
Poor Ma, now every time she sees Monica, she bows as if she is royalty.
I think of my wedding dance. None of my family have an inkling about it and Paris will be the perfect opportunity to ensure it is performed to a high standard. I want my guests to be utterly blown away with our performance.
My patient swats my metal probe away with her hand to quickly gulp down a swallow of saliva before gingerly opening her mouth again.
‘Almost done, Mrs Little. Now, wider please.’
Paris will be the first of a long line of trips for me. I have only told a few of my patients, but I will be taking a six-month break when Jay and I go around the world onour extended honeymoon. With a bit of luck, Mrs Little will be seen by one of my colleagues on her next check-up, which will be due before I am back.
Rashmi was furious when Jay and I announced our plans.
‘Why is Asha allowed to go gallivanting around the world?’
‘She will be with her husband,’ Ma explained. ‘Besides, you have responsibilities now. You have two children to look after.’
‘It is not fair,’ she had cried.
‘Of course it is fair,’ I said, watching her plump baby guzzle from her breast and wincing at the thought of a child latched onto my nipple. ‘I am in a professional job where staff frequently take sabbaticals. It is not my fault you are not in a similar position…’
‘It is nothing to do with your job. You always do just as you please.’ The baby started to cry, and Rashmi sat him up to wind him, when he proceeded to vomit out almost all of his feed.
‘Now look what has happened.’ She burst into tears as Ma tried to mop up both mother and baby.
‘Here, take Nikhil for a minute.’ She dumped the wet child on my lap and when the fumes of his soiled nappy hit me, I was overcome with nausea. I managed to holdhim at arm’s length until Ma took him from me.
