15 Heavy Petting #3
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.
We made a stop at their table to check in on Mr Gupta.
Having sponsored all the venues as well as most of the food for the celebrations, he was easily the most important person at the party.
Judging by the number of empty whisky glasses in front of him as well as the way he was beginning to roll his r’s, he seemed to be having a pretty good time.
His wife, on the other hand, had not hopped onto the party train.
She was cradling a glass of water, awkwardly smiling at whoever came to speak to her husband.
‘Can I get you anything to drink, Mrs Gupta?’ I asked her.
‘Oh, no …’ She shook her head and said, ‘I don’t drink whisky.’
‘Some wine, perhaps?’ I asked.
She smiled. ‘I didn’t realise there was wine.’
There wasn’t. But for the plus one of our main sponsor? I’d stomp on the grapes myself if I had to. I pulled a waiter from the bar and instructed him to pop open a bottle of Pinot Noir from the private selection for the lady.
I spent the rest of the evening drinking with different groups of people, at first with Pooja by my side, and after an hour or so, without her.
After having gauged that I had things more or less under control, she switched off from work mode and joined the office folks at what I called the ‘fun table’.
The editorial writers, social media interns, stylists and sales reps were all huddled together, laughing and talking animatedly.
It was 10:00 p.m. when the magic of all that whisky started creeping in.
I abandoned my glass at an empty table and replaced it with a bottle of water, knowing full well that the end of the night was not yet in sight.
Finding a window between all the socialising, I escaped to the parking lot to make a quick phone call.
‘Hey, you.’ Madhav picked up on the first ring.
‘What’s happening?’ I asked him, leaning on the passenger door of a white WagonR.
‘Just came out for a few drinks with the office peeps,’ he said, directing my attention to the faint hum of music behind him.
‘Nice,’ I said, then added teasingly, ‘looks like you’re having plenty of fun without me.’
‘Please,’ he laughed and said, ‘this is all so I don’t lose my mind waiting for you to call me back.’
I felt a pang of guilt for not speaking to him all day. I’d meant to call him back earlier, but there had always been something more pressing.
‘I’ll make it up to you,’ I said, mentally pencilling him in for a date or two in the coming week, when things would’ve slowed down on the work front.
‘Let’s meet tomorrow?’ he proposed. ‘It’s a Sunday and you’ll be done with your wedding stuff, right?’
‘Tomorrow is a bit difficult. Vrinda’s boutique has a small launch party in the evening,’ I explained, wondering if he’d expect an invite after I told him.
But he only said, ‘Ah, damn.’
We spoke for a few more minutes before he admitted his friends were nagging him to hang up. I urged him to go have fun and promised to call him whenever I got free from the reception, however late it might be.
‘That didn’t sound like a Tinder date,’ a voice from behind me made me jump.
Aadar was walking into the parking lot, no doubt to smoke the pack of cigarettes he was holding.
‘Jesus, will you please stop being such a ghost?’ I said, placing a hand on my heart for effect.
‘Don’t change the topic,’ he said, narrowing his eyes. ‘Who was that?’
‘God,’ I said, ‘didn’t take you for the jealous type.’
‘Pfft.’ He blew out a puff of air and said, ‘I’m just making sure you’re not breaking rule number one.’
Right, we were supposed to keep each other in the loop. I’d completely forgotten about that with everything that was going on.
‘Okay, fine,’ I said, giving in. ‘I’m seeing someone … kind of.’
Aadar took a drag of his smoke, observing me closely.
‘So you’ve got a boyfriend?’
I moved away from the car and slowly walked over to where he stood on the other side of the WagonR, enjoying the dreadful anticipation I knew he had to be experiencing.
‘Well, not exactly,’ I said and paused for a moment before adding, ‘not yet.’
He wiped imaginary sweat off his forehead. ‘Phew.’
I rolled my eyes at him, nudging him to move over so I could lean against the car next to him.
‘Okay, your turn.’
He continued to smoke his cigarette in silence for a few moments.
‘I’m “seeing” someone too.’ He made air quotes with his fingers.
I tried to ignore the instant change in the pace of my heartbeat.
‘Don’t be vague,’ I chided.
‘I’ve met the girl two times,’ he said, dropping the light and stubbing it out with his heel. ‘She seems nice.’
‘And you’ll marry “nice”?’ I asked, crossing my arms in front of my chest.
‘Why not? What’s wrong with nice?’
‘Nothing,’ I said, then shook my head. ‘Or everything. I don’t know.’
He chuckled, shaking his head. ‘You’re so weird.’
‘This conversation is making me want to drink,’ I said, pushing off from the car.
He caught my arm before I could step away. The warmth of his hand spread across my forearm, sending sparks down my spine.
‘Here,’ he said, producing a hip flask from the inside pocket of his blazer.
I accepted the flask from him, smiling down at it. ‘Why are you carrying a flask when there’s free booze at the party?’
‘So I don’t have to keep making trips to the bar,’ he said. ‘Plus, that is the free booze.’
I took a swig from the mouth of the steel container, contorting my face as the intensity of the drink hit my throat.
He followed my lead, bringing the flask to his mouth.
In the safety of the dark parking lot, I allowed myself to look at him.
Watching him up close felt like he had a slo-mo filter on him.
I observed the way his lips parted to welcome the whisky, how his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed and the precise manner in which he wiped off the droplets on his chin.
‘More?’ he asked, offering the flask back to me.
If I’d been sober, I would’ve calculated the number of drinks I’d already had, the hours I’d slept the previous nights, the total amount of water I’d consumed all day and decided that I’d had my fill of alcohol for the day.
But the whisky had begun to overpower the rational part of my brain, and I felt compelled to feed the addictive high I was starting to experience.
We passed the drink between us at regular intervals as we continued to stand there in the parking lot, neither of us suggesting that we go back to the ballroom.
‘My brother told me about your little breakdown in Khan Market,’ Aadar said abruptly.
I covered my face with one hand, feeling my cheeks turn hot. ‘I wish he hadn’t done that.’