Page 11 of One Indian Girl
‘You didn’t invite me?’ he said, needling me again.
Asshole, you didn’t even return my calls, I wanted to say but didn’t.
My phone rang. Debu was trying to call me. I cut the call. I typed back a message.
‘Don’t call me. I told you I am busy. There are people around.’
‘So just reply to me. Where is the wedding?’
‘Why?’
‘Just curious.’
‘Whatever,’ I typed back.
‘I can call friends around and find out. So why don’t you just tell me?’
‘Goa.’
‘Wow! Destination wedding and all.’
I didn’t respond. To distract myself I asked Aditi didi a deep existential question: ‘What shoes are you wearing with this?’
‘Oh see, now that’s an issue too. I have these four-inch-heel red stilettos, but that’s definitely attention-seeking.’
‘Yeah, plus we are going dancing. Would be difficult in high heels. I am wearing flats.’
My sister feels her deepest bond with me when I discuss clothes and shoes with her. She came up to me and pulled my cheeks. ‘You can’t wear flats for your bachelorette. How cute you are. You don’t know anything.’
Yes, I may be a distressed debt specialist. I may have rescued bankrupt companies and structured complex takeovers. I may be a vice president at Goldman Sachs. But if I prefer flats because they are comfortable, I know nothing. I had kept a black dress for tomorrow’s party. Didi had a look at it. ‘Too simple,’ she said. She went on to accessorize it for me. As she opened her jewellery box, I checked my phone again.
‘Where in Goa?’ Debu had sent me a message.
‘Why?’ I said.
‘Can I call, please?’ he said.
‘No.’
‘It’s at a resort?’ he said.
‘Debu, you are in New York. Focus on your work there. Didn’t you have a girlfriend?’
‘Who?’
‘Never mind.’
‘I am sorry, Rad.’
‘It’s okay. Life goes on. It has gone on.’
‘Yeah, true. But I made the biggest mistake. And you are getting married now. Like now!’
I sent a smiley back.
‘Where will you live after your marriage? Hong Kong?’
‘No. I moved to London from Hong Kong a year ago.’
