Page 63 of Red Flags and Rishtas
The memory faded away slowly, and I pulled myself back into the present. Aadar was pulling out another cigarette from his pack. He didn’t extend the pack towards me, and I quashed my craving before it could consume me.
‘Mock all you want, but romance is real. It may not be common, but it is real,’ I said, leaning back into my chair and crossing one leg over the other.
‘Well, this has been fun,’ he said, stuffing the lighter and smokes into his jeans, ‘but I’ve got to go stock a bar for a marriage that won’t last.’
I laughed, half-waving at him as he got up to leave.
‘Go eat something,’ he said, turning back to face me and gesturing with his eyes at the pool cafe a few feet away.
I smiled to myself as I made my way to the eating joint, oddly calmed by the interaction I’d just had. I knew I’d have to face it at some point, but for now, the frustration and anger from before had receded into a corner of my mind.
After a well-deserved lunch and two cups of tea, I was back in my room by 5:00 p.m. I had close to two hours to spare before the event. I laid out the black-and-gold sari I’d stolen from my mom on the bed and breathed a long sigh of relief. There was enough time to YouTube a draping tutorial, do my hair and make-up, and maybe even grab a bite.
And so, naturally, I decided to take a nap.
I awoke to the sound of my phone vibrating next to my pillow. I checked the time, it was 7:15 p.m.
Fuuuuuck,I grumbled before clearing my throat and hitting the accept button.
‘Ananya? Where are you? I’ve left you like five texts,’ Pooja said, sounding mad.
There was no way I could let her find out I’d been napping all this while.
I pushed the grogginess out of my voice and began. ‘Oh, sorry. I was wrapped up with something in the kitchen,’ I said, hoping she wouldn’t ask me more questions. ‘I’ll be down there in five.’
She asked me to hurry up, reminding me that all the sponsors and clients were going to be at the event today, and it was my job to socialise, flatter and impress. The wedding, at least for me, was no longer about the bride and groom. It was about the people who had made it happen. And I had to make sure they wouldn’t regret it.
I cursed loudly as I stumbled out of bed and picked up the sari I didn’t know how to wear.
How difficult could it be?
When I emerged from my room twenty minutes later, I had newfound respect for all the women who woke up every single morning and donned this unnecessarily long and laborious fabric. I knew I’d worn it all wrong – the pleats were uneven, the pallu was too long and there were extra yards of fabric that I hadn’t known what to do with, so I’d tucked them in inconspicuous places. I hoped and prayed that my generous use of safety pins would keep it in place. I wasn’t in the mood to compromise my dignity for the second time this week.
‘There you are.’ Pooja seemed visibly relieved to see me.
She was standing with two older men and one woman. I greeted them all with a smile.
‘You remember Samar and Hari from Stellar Spirits,’ she said by way of re-introduction, but I couldn’t recall which name belonged to which face. ‘And this is Samar’s wife, Chandra.’
Aadar appeared a few seconds later, bearing drinks for the current party of five.
‘Here, take mine,’ he said, before gesturing to a passing waiter to bring him another one.
I sipped the whisky as the six of us made small talk about the weather, the commute to the hotel and the ballroom decorations before finally moving on to the only thing that mattered – the success or failure of the event.
‘We’ve gone a little overboard on the budget, it seems,’ said Samar, as his wife excused herself to go to the loo, no doubt sensing that we were about to talk shop.
‘Oh?’ I asked, as I was hearing about this for the first time.
‘The groom’s friends extracted a few extra bottles from the bartenders last night,’ explained Aadar, catching my eye. ‘And I don’t think they intend to pay for it.’
‘I’ll look into it, don’t worry,’ I reassured them, adding this to the mental Excel sheet I’d been maintaining all week.
Samar nodded and smiled, but Hari continued to look sceptical until I promised to send an email detailing the exchange of the extra bottles. As part of the deal, Stellar Spirits was obligated to provide twenty bottles of whisky per event. If the guests happened to consume more alcohol, Harsh and Deepti would have to bear the cost. If you asked me, that was a pretty sweet deal.
‘Have you guys eaten?’ I asked the party. ‘I’ve heard rave reviews about the chaat counter.’
Golgappas, I’d learned, were a great pacifier. The burst of flavours, fuelled by the meethi and teekhi chutney, was all-consuming. Pooja and I walked over to the next set of clients after sending the Stellar Spirits team to gorge on street food. The senior hospitality manager of Lotus Royale, Mr Gupta, was sitting at one of the tables next to the bar. He and his wife were chatting with Harsh’s mom, who looked more dressed up than her brand-new daughter-in-law in her heavy green and gold sari.
