Chapter Nine
Chapter
Nine
“Look, you didn’t ask me for my opinion, but I’m old, so I’m giving it anyway.”
—Sophie Petrillo, Golden Girls
In all her years clicking photos of her friends and family for fun, Harsha hadn’t expected she would get the chance to document a moment as big as this one…for a complete stranger. It wasn’t just an opportunity, it was a responsibility . One she would do her best to uphold.
Nandi Hills was a good hour and a half from her neighborhood, so she booked a cab for the afternoon journey. The client, Daman, was driving up there with his girlfriend, and had told Harsha not to text him her whereabouts until he could reach out to her on his own. He didn’t want to risk Harsha’s message popping up on his phone and spoiling the surprise.
In the back seat of the cab, Harsha fiddled with her camera, her fingers shaking, as pop music blasted through her AirPods. Daman had explained that it wasn’t really a grueling trek, but still a two-hour walk up a steep flight of a thousand steps, so she’d worn her Nikes. No way did she want to trip and damage her camera before he proposed. Besides, Daman said a few photographers had turned him down, citing the logistics and the long walk, and that had made her eager to show him she wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.
The driver dropped her off at the entrance, and she took a quick selfie to send to Veer with the caption I’m here, wish me luck!
He replied minutes later while she waited in line at the ticket counter. Good luck to you and the guy lol! Text me after and tell me how it went
Harsha:
I will!!!
Harsha spotted Daman and his girlfriend up ahead in the queue, chatting excitedly. They were both fit and muscley, dressed in athleisure clothing, looking more than prepared for the two-hour hike. Even with a bare face, the woman was stunningly beautiful. Harsha tried not to snap a picture then and there of how happy they looked as the woman tossed her head back and laughed. They got their tickets and walked up ahead. Daman turned once to nod discreetly at Harsha, who nodded back.
At the counter, the attendant’s eyebrows furrowed when Harsha asked for just one ticket. “It’s just you?” he said. “No one’s joining you?”
Harsha frowned back. “Yes, why?”
The attendant nudged his head, gesturing behind her. “You see the rest of the line? All couples. We never get solo travelers here.”
“Right. Well, I’m just here to take photos.” She held up her camera. “One ticket, please?” After she paid for her ticket, she looked around, bemused. No wonder Daman had decided to bring his girlfriend here to propose. True to the attendant’s words, Harsha was the only person here who didn’t have a date or friend with them.
Her phone buzzed.
Daman:
Don’t lose sight of us, but just in case: I’ll be doing you-know-what right outside the Yoga Nandeeshwara Temple
Harsha sent a quick thumbs-up emoji in response and retied her laces, preparing herself for the trek.
For a Tuesday evening, the place was crowded, which was good, because that meant Daman’s girlfriend was busy taking in the picturesque view all around them instead of noticing Harsha. The place was beautiful, and the steep steps leading up to the top of the hill were flanked by lush greenery on either side. The trees swayed lazily in the brisk evening wind, while stray dogs ran around the visitors’ legs, hoping for pieces of biscuits. Daman seemed to be in a rush to catch the sunset—only about an hour to go—so he urged his girlfriend onward while others stopped to feed the dogs. Harsha was starting to get out of breath, but she would persist. This was her chance to prove herself.
She climbed the steps through the forts and ruins, the structures made of redbrick walls coated with moss and dust. There really was something incredible about ancient Indian architecture, she decided as she touched her hand to the wall, and the history that went along with it. This place had once been an impenetrable military fortress for a king, and it was now where people bared their souls and confessed their love for each other.
She clicked pictures every now and then of Daman helping his girlfriend up the steps, his fingers interlocked with hers. Harsha stopped to give her lungs a quick break and regarded the photos. They looked so good together against the backdrop of the dense foliage. She smiled at the lump in her throat. God, she couldn’t wait for the big moment.
As they continued their hike, she captured the scenic beauty of the eagles soaring overhead in the coloring sky, squirrels scurrying up trees, and a couple of quick selfies to etch this evening into her memory.
Finally, when they reached the top, most of the crowd dispersed to the local restaurant or the footbridge to catch the scenic view from the hills, but Daman led his girlfriend to the Yoga Nandeeshwara Temple, looking back once to make sure Harsha was following close behind.
“This is so beautiful,” his girlfriend said, staring up in awe at the tall granite sculptures along the walls of the temple. “Thanks for bringing me here.”
“No, thank you for bringing me so much joy.” Daman pulled her closer, kissing the side of her cheek. Harsha snapped another quick photo. As the sun started to dip into the horizon, painting streaks of orange, purple, and pink all around them, he got down on one knee.
Harsha hid behind a rock and focused her lens on the sight before her. Daman held up the velvet ring box as his girlfriend let out a loud gasp. Onlookers paused, their eyes on the couple, some whispering, others cheering.
“Gauri, will you marry me?”
“Yes!” she screamed, falling to her knees and enveloping him in a hug. They didn’t kiss, presumably since they were at a temple and other visitors wouldn’t take the public display of affection too well.
Once Daman had placed the ring on her finger, he beckoned Harsha over. “Did you get any good photos?”
She beamed, showing them her camera roll. “So many. You make a beautiful match, congratulations!”
“Babe!” Gauri clapped her hands to her mouth. “You hired a photographer?”
“You deserve nothing less,” Daman said, adoration in his eyes.
“Can I take some more pictures with the ring?” Harsha offered.
Gauri wiped a tear from her eye. “Of course. How do we pose?”
She gave them some instructions, using as reference the engagement photo shoots she’d looked up before coming here: Gauri holding up her left hand, showing off the ring, while Daman kissed her on the cheek; her hand on his chest while they looked deeply into each other’s eyes; and him kissing the engagement ring while she grinned uncontrollably.
As they made their way back, Harsha chuckled when Daman had to keep reminding Gauri to look down at the steps and not at the rock on her finger. “Can you blame me?” Gauri said, holding her hand out in front of her. “This is the world’s most beautiful ring. Where did you get it?”
“It was my grandmother’s,” Daman admitted, cracking a small smile.
“Babe, I love that!” Gauri exclaimed, stopping to envelop him in another hug. Harsha clicked one more quick photo. When they resumed walking, Gauri told Harsha, “We love the outdoors, and we’re always in nature, so I really wasn’t expecting this today.”
“How did you both meet?” Harsha asked.
Daman laughed. “I was on a hike in Goa, and she was doing a magazine shoot there. I initially assumed she was one of those high-maintenance fashion models who preferred air-conditioning to mountain air, but we got to talking, and…” He pressed Gauri’s hand to his smiling lips. “She had hiked to all my favorite spots in the country and had a longer bucket list than mine. So, of course, we went hiking on our first date.”
“And three years later, this fool finally decided to pop the question. Took you long enough,” Gauri teased, smacking Daman on the shoulder.
“That’s such a beautiful meet-cute,” Harsha said, holding back the lump in her throat. “I want a story like that someday.”
Daman quirked a brow. “I thought I saw a picture of your boyfriend on your Instagram.”
Harsha’s heart pounded. “Oh, our story isn’t as movie-worthy as yours,” she said quickly. “We met at a café.”
“Every meet-cute is movie-worthy.” Gauri swung her and Daman’s arms as they walked. “A lot of things had to line up perfectly for you and him to be in that café at the same time. That’s special.”
Harsha only offered a small smile. They reached the exit, and Gauri hugged her tight as a thank-you, while Daman said he would pay her invoice once they got home.
“I’ll send the photos your way next week,” Harsha told them, then flagged down the cab she had pre-booked.
As she sat in the back seat while old romantic songs played on the radio, she scrolled through the photos she’d taken. The laughter they shared during the walk. The dampness of Gauri’s eyes when Daman asked her to marry him. The love in his gaze after she said yes.
When will it be my turn? Harsha wondered, wiping away a tear of her own. Her eyes flitted shut, her head falling back against the headrest. Images swam in her mind of a man getting down on one knee before her, asking her to marry him because he couldn’t picture his life without her. When she said yes, he would kiss her, chuckling at his own nervousness. She would hug him and press her forehead into his bearded cheek, smell that musky fragrance she’d loved since the very first time. His lips would melt into that cute, cinema-worthy smile, and then—
Harsha jarred back into the present moment. No. Her heart thudded, and she returned to looking at the photos of Daman and Gauri. Nope. It didn’t mean anything that she had pictured a certain someone in that dream sequence. He was the closest thing she had to a boyfriend right now, the last person whose arms had held her. That was the only reason her subconscious was playing tricks on her. Right? Right.
She grabbed her phone and sent Veer a text, if only to remind herself that things were as normal as they could be between them.
Harsha:
It was perfect. She said yes and I got it all on camera!!! How’s your day been?
Veer is typing…
Veer is typing…
He went offline.
She bit her lip. What was that about?
“Veer, put your phone away,” Mom chided from the back seat. Cars honked behind them in line to pull into the departure terminal at the airport.
“Sorry,” Veer said, deciding he’d text Harsha back after he and Mom returned home. He parked by the side of the terminal and got out of the car, his family following his cue. He tugged his brother’s heavy suitcase out of the trunk, checked to make sure Arjun’s name tag was still in place, and turned to him.
“I can’t believe you’re getting your master’s degree,” Veer said, shaking his head at his brother.
“All thanks to you.” Arjun fist-bumped him. “I’ll pay you back, I promise.”
Veer’s eyes watered. “You don’t have to.”
Arjun hugged him tight and whispered in his ear, “Try to think about yourself for once. Please.”
Before Veer could reply, Mom exclaimed, “Oh, give your old mother a hug too!” She wound her arms around both of them, her body shaking with emotion. “My son, getting his MBA. It’s a dream come true!”
Arjun pulled away, grinning weakly. “I’ll miss you both.”
“Bet you won’t say that in a week,” Veer teased. “You’ll make new friends and forget all about us.”
“Oh, imagine if you met a girl there!” Mom clasped her hands together, gushing. “You’ll both graduate and get well-paying jobs, and your kids will grow up rich and happy!”
Arjun’s smile twitched for a second. “Uh, yeah. Maybe.”
Veer didn’t know much about Arjun’s love life. Veer had often told him about the girls he’d dated throughout high school, college, and adulthood, but it was always radio silence on Arjun’s end.
“Well, I should get going,” Arjun said, but he didn’t budge. “I’ll call once I’m in Delhi.”
“Text us after security, when you board, before you take off, and after you land,” Mom said, counting down on her fingers. “And video call us to show us your dorm room!”
“Mom.” Veer laughed, wrapping an arm around her. “Let’s just put a wire on him and call it a day, how about that?”
Mom smacked him on the shoulder, then turned to her other son. “One last hug?”
All three of them hugged for a minute before a security guard came by and asked them to move. With a sigh and a lot more tears, Veer and Mom said goodbye to Arjun and got inside the car so Veer could drive them back home.
On the way, Mom said, “Now that Arjun’s getting his degree, don’t you think you should plan on settling down? Find a better job, get married, have children?”
“Mom.” He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and slowed down at a traffic signal. “I don’t want to discuss this right now.”
“But why?” Mom sighed, poking her head up from the back seat. Sitting in the front had always terrified her, especially given the sad and sorry state of Veer’s secondhand car. Nayanthara might have been Mom’s favorite actress, but she had grown to hate the car anyway. “You must be lonely. Surely, you want to do something more purposeful than serve people coffee all day—like acting. What ever happened to that?”
“I like working at Sunstag, Mom, and I need to support you and Arjun for the next two years.” He resumed driving and added, “I can’t afford to try my hand at acting or go to college for a better job.”
Mom sighed. “So maybe if you found yourself a wife with a good job, you could pool your income—”
“That’s a great reason to get married,” Veer said, laughing aloud, though the irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him. “Let me go around stalking rich women and convincing them to fall in love with me.”
“Marriage is not about love.” Mom sat back in her seat, huffing. “Marriage is about stability and support for both families. It’s selfish to say marriage is about love.” She paused, then added, “Love doesn’t make a difference. It’s commitment that does.”
Veer almost said, Tell that to Dad, but stopped himself in time. Instead, he decided to keep quiet so Mom would have no choice but to focus on something else. He slowed the car at a red light and pretended to tinker with the AC.
Mom cleared her throat. “Did you know your friend Archana has moved back to Bangalore?” she said eagerly.
At that, he turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow. “Archana from high school?”
“She just graduated from college and started her own business,” Mom went on. “You should meet her. She’s single. I met her mom for coffee last week.”
Veer had no interest in dragging a childhood friend into his fake relationship mess. He continued driving as the signal turned green. “I’m sure she’s focusing on her start-up right now.”
“It’s 2025, you know,” Mom replied snarkily. “Women can be wives and entrepreneurs at the same time.”
“I never said—”
“Besides, her parents are looking at prospective grooms for her, and she’s in high demand. I say, you should meet her once, and see if there’s—what do you kids call it—a spark?”
Veer tried cranking the radio up in response, but it wasn’t working. Ugh. The perils of having a secondhand car.
“And if there is a spark, don’t you worry,” Mom went on, “her parents and I will arrange everything. You won’t have to lift a finger.”
“Mom—” he started.
“We’ll plan the engagement, send out the invitation cards, arrange the wedding. You can focus on your career, and she on her business. It’ll work out so perfectly—”
“Mom!” Veer exclaimed. “I can’t marry her.”
“Why not?” Mom smacked the back of his seat. “It’s not like you have a girlfriend—”
“But I do!” Veer blurted out before he could stop himself. He bit his lip, but the damage was done.
Mom put a hand to her chest. “You what ?”
Well, fuck. “Yeah, I’m seeing someone,” he said, hating how far the airport was from the city. Another forty minutes of this torture. He braced himself for his mother’s long list of questions.
“Who is she?” Mom asked. “How did you meet her?”
“Her name is Harsha,” he said, stopping at a toll booth behind the line of cars, deciding to be honest. The beans had been spilled, and he would have to make peace with the mess. “We met at Sunstag. She’s a regular.”
“Harsha? That’s a boy’s name.” She wrinkled her nose. “Is she pretty, at least?”
“Yes.” Veer smiled almost without realizing it and passed his phone over to Mom, open to Harsha’s Instagram page, while they waited in the queue of cars.
“She’s beautiful,” Mom gushed. “You’d make lovely children.”
“Mom—”
“Sorry, sorry,” she replied, laughing as she returned the phone. Her mood seemed to have done a one-eighty. “What do her parents do?”
The queue cleared up, and Veer bought himself some time by rummaging in his wallet to pay the toll booth attendant. No way would he tell Mom the truth about Harsha’s family. She would freak out; as much as she loved Madhusudan Godbole’s films, she would never feel secure enough in their own finances to wholeheartedly accept Harsha as a suitable match for her son.
“Her parents have some sort of business in Mumbai,” Veer said. Well, it was the truth. He just didn’t mention the millions in revenue said business generated every quarter.
Mom nodded eagerly. “And when can I meet her?”
He resumed driving and honked repeatedly at an auto rickshaw driver who cut past Nayanthara like he was an F1 racer. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “Let’s talk about this later.”
“Fine.” Mom tutted, but Veer spotted an upward tilt to her lips in the rearview mirror and heard her quietly hum to herself while he tried not to worry about how furious Harsha was going to be when she found out he’d involved his own family in this mess too.