Page 12 of One Indian Girl

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‘Oh. So London?’

‘San Francisco.’

‘Ah. IT guy?’

‘I have to go, Debashish.’

‘Still mad at me?’

‘No. I really have to go. I have to get ready for dinner with the guests.’

‘Okay. I am just asking casually. Where is the wedding?’

‘Marriott,’ I said.

‘Nice! Must be beautiful.’

‘Stop chatting on your phone. Who are you talking to anyway? Everyone we know is here in Goa for the wedding,’ Aditi didi said.

‘Huh? Nobody. Just...work,’ I said, keeping my phone aside. After the bridegroom, the bride had lied to her sister.

‘Take this, my body necklace. Your dull dress will liven up,’ she said.

‘My dull dress is Prada, didi,’ I said.

‘I don’t care. It needs to have a get-up, no? It is too sober. You are too sober.’

I didn’t think I was going to remain sober. Not after Debu’s next message.

‘I am coming,’ he said.

‘What?’ I typed back, mouth open.

‘I am coming to India. Let me check flights.’

‘Are you nuts?’

‘No, really, I want to talk to you.’

‘Debu, calm down, okay? This is not funny.’

‘At least you called me Debu again.’

‘Whatever. I have to go. Please don’t message.’

‘See you soon. Bye.’

‘Go to work. Bye.’

‘Again you are lost in your phone. What is wrong with you?’ Aditi didi said.

I looked up as I re-entered the real world.

‘Everyone’s meeting for dinner soon. Get ready.’

‘Can’t I go like this? I just wore this.’

‘No. You are the bride.’

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