Page 82 of One Indian Girl
‘It’s not that difficult. Just tell them you have another guy.’
‘Whom do I tell?’
‘Anyone. Your mother. Your sister.’
‘Is this a good idea, Debu? I am really confused.’
‘It’s love, baby. It’s meant to be confusing. Even I was about you. But now I am sure. I want you to be MrsRadhika Sen.’
The name MrsRadhika Sen made me squirm a little.
‘Madam, don’t move so much,’ the mehndi guy said as I furiously typed with my right hand.
‘Not sure if I will change my surname.’
‘Don’t,’ he said.
I didn’t respond. He typed after a minute.
‘Is that a yes, though?’
‘I don’t know, Debu. I am at my mehndi. Hard to use the phone too.’
‘Baby, please, just say yes.’
I put the phone aside.
‘I have been doing this for twenty years. You have the most beautiful hands of them all,’ Puran said.
‘You say this to every bride?’ I said.
He looked at me and smiled, showing his paan-stained teeth.
‘Actually, yes.’
I smiled back, shaking my head. My phone buzzed again.
‘Your left hand is almost done. Will need the other one soon,’ Puran said.
I nodded and checked my phone. The message had not come from Debu. It came from an unknown international number. It began with ‘+852’, the code for Hong Kong.
‘Hi. It’s Neel,’ the message said.
‘Madam, can I have your other hand? And don’t move your left hand now. It has fresh mehndi,’ Puran said.
‘Give me one minute,’ I said to the mehndiwallah.
‘Hi, Neel,’ I replied.
‘I heard you are getting married. In Goa.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Cool. Office people told me.’
‘Yes. What’s up?’
‘I am in Sri Lanka. Due diligence on a deal.’
