Avani
Blame it on the mountains.
‘Where to now?’ I asked him, looking out the window as we began driving further uphill.
‘You’ll see.’ He smiled, giving my thigh a slight squeeze.
We drove for another ten minutes up through the mountainside till we reached a tabletop.
There were no other cars in sight, no people.
Aman parked the car near a makeshift shed that had a bicycle kept inside it.
It was colder up here, windier, and the clouds were so low I felt I could touch them if I wanted to. There was a lone bench that faced the valley flowing off the edge of the flat land we stood on.
I wished suddenly that I was the kind of person who viewed a landscape in numbers.
You know, how some people say, ‘Oh, this cliff must be 3,000 metres above sea level’ or ‘This land must be around 9 acres’ or ‘It’s so cold, it must be as low as 8 degrees here’.
But here I was, happy to simply be high in the hills and enjoying the crisp, cold air.
We settled on the bench and Aman put his arm around me, pulling me closer.
‘This feels like something out of a movie,’ I said dreamily.
‘It must be one if it feels like one.’ He lowered his head to kiss my forehead.
‘That line can fit into a lot of conversations.’ I smiled tightly.
He hugged me tighter.
‘So … what’s the story?’ I asked.
‘Huh?’
‘About this place?’
‘Didn’t get you …’
‘I mean, why have we come here? What memories do you have of this place?’
‘None.’ He paused, and then said, ‘Yet.’
He turned to hold my face delicately between the warmth of his palms and placed his lips on mine.
My hands moved from my lap to the collar of his sweater.
He winced a bit when my ice-cold hands touched his warm skin, and pulled me closer into the kiss.
His hands moved from my face to my hair, to my neck.
I found my right leg moving of its own volition to fling itself over him, and in one swift movement I was straddling Aman.
Was it like me to lose all sense of place and just get into a full-on make-out session with a hot man on a park bench in public? Absolutely not.
But this was Aman, so … fuck, yeah.
Our lips didn’t lose contact for a single second as our bodies started moving in urgent chaos.
I felt a brush of cold air, his hands sliding up my sweater and resting firmly, almost possessively on my back.
Instinctively, my hands moved from his neck to his broad chest and then slowly towards the button of his jeans.
‘You’re never going to forget this place,’ I whispered as I undid the button and leaned in closer to kiss him.
‘Promise?’ he rasped back.
‘Promise.’
Aman
Took me thirty-one years.
Sucky inventions, these cellphones.
I was in the middle of what could be the hottest make-out session of my life when my phone rang and rudely interrupted us.
‘Take it,’ she whispered when I let it ring.
‘No,’ I said, gasping a little.
‘Aman!’ She got off me and settled back on the bench, adjusting her sweater and scarf.
I groaned and pulled out my phone. Gagan. I straightened and buttoned up before I answered the call, like my brother could see us getting down and dirty on the hilltop.
‘Hey!’ I said.
‘Where are you?
‘ and I are out for a drive.’
He took a split second before saying, ‘Don’t you want to be home with your family, now that we’re all together?’
I frowned involuntarily at his tone. Gagan could get prickly, yes, but he was being particularly thorny this time.
‘Be right there,’ I said and hung up before he could reply. For a second I wondered if he was annoyed because I wasn’t home or because I was away with . I pushed the thought from my mind as I looked at her. ‘Gotta get home. The party starts soon, baby.’
‘Okay …’ She made a sad face but stood up immediately and pulled her scarf tighter around herself.
‘I promise we’ll pick up where we left off.’ I pulled her to my side as we walked to the car.
We drove back in silence, mostly. ‘You’re not nervous about the party any more, are you?’ I asked as we neared the house.
‘Umm …’ She shifted in her seat. ‘Not really. No. I’m fine.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll be right next to you the whole time.’
‘I know.’
‘I love you, baby.’
She looked at me and smiled, squeezing my hand over the gear.
We entered the house twenty minutes later to see the staff making the final arrangements for the party.
Ramesh was giving the dogs their meals so they were well fed and rested by the time the guests started arriving.
Ma, Papa and Gagan were nowhere to be seen, so I assumed they were in their rooms, getting ready, and and I headed to ours.
A few minutes passed.
was taking a shower behind the curtains and I was shaving by the vanity mirror.
And just like that, she stepped out with a towel wrapped around her chest, and kissed my back as she walked past me into the bedroom, as though we did this every day.
I looked at myself in the mirror and shook my head. It really didn’t get any better than this.
I finished shaving and stepped out to see struggling to zip up her dress. She was facing the wall, so I paused a moment to take in her naked back and the curve of her hips.
‘No,’ I said.
She turned towards me, confusion on her face. ‘Huh?’
‘Absolutely not.’ I walked slowly towards her. ‘You’re not wearing that tonight.’
‘Why?’ she asked, irritation lacing her voice.
I rested my hands on the wall behind her. ‘Because I can’t walk into a family party with a full-on boner, baby,’ I whispered into her ear.
She burst out laughing and slapped my arm. ‘Shut up, Aman! It’s Maya’s, by the way.’
‘Then ask her to name a price because you’re not giving this dress back.’ She gasped as I kissed the side of her neck and brought my arms around her waist to pull up the zipper.
‘Thank you,’ she said when I was done.
‘You’re welcome … and you’re gorgeous.’
I watched her as she walked away towards the bathroom. The thought that she’d been quieter crossed my mind again, but I forced it away to stay in the present. If there was anything brewing in her head, she would share it with me when she wanted to and we’d get through it together.
I decided to get ready.
I was pouring myself a glass of water when returned to the bedroom, looking like the dream she was. Her cheeks and her eyelids glittered with whatever she’d applied on them, her hair fell loosely around her shoulders in waves and her legs looked like artwork in the deep-red heels that she’d slipped on.
‘You’re telling me I lucked out so much that I get to have you by my side when I walk into the party tonight?’ I said.
‘You really should thank your stars.’ She smiled gently as she draped a delicate bag on her shoulder and dabbed some of my aftershave on her neck. ‘Shall we?’ she asked, her hand outstretched for me to take.
How could one person make me want to give everything up so I could run my fingers through her hair while she fell asleep beside me? How could one look from her make me want to build walls so high that nothing and no one could get close enough to hurt her? And how could one touch from her make me want to tell her to be mine forever?
I was losing my mind, I know. But if I had to, I would fall in love with exactly like this all over again.
Empty pockets and stomachs.
One evening, I told myself. Just one evening. That’s all I had to get through without letting my overthinking mind ruin the absolute dream that our trip had been so far.
We’d had the most gorgeous (and eventful) afternoon, yet Gagan’s words still echoed in my ears: ‘Enjoy the party, get your selfies and then let things run their course. As they must.’
I rolled back my shoulders, flexed my fingers and gently wrapped them around Aman’s arm as we made our way downstairs. Aman remained every bit the Aman he always was. If he’d sensed a change in my energy, he didn’t let it show, and I couldn’t be more grateful.
The party looked like it had just begun. Guests were rolling in in small groups and the main living area was quickly filling up. If this was what his parents thought of as an ‘intimate’ gathering of people, their more inclusive guestlist must be the entire state of Uttarakhand, I thought.
Servers looked exactly like they did in books and movies.
Textbook appearance.
Almost stereotypical, walking around with trays of drinks and small rich-size food items that left the hosts’ pockets and the guests’ stomachs empty.
A live band had been set up at the far end of the living room and was now belting out soft tunes.
I spotted Aman’s parents by the door, welcoming a family that looked like they owned something or the other.
My bet was an airline, but I had no way of checking.
My eyes swept across the room, looking for Gagan, but the guests looked like they were having fun and the glass panes hadn’t frosted over, so I guessed he must not have arrived yet.
‘Let’s get a drink? We’ll both need the patience to get through all the small talk.’ Aman lightly held my waist and navigated me towards the bar.
We ordered a glass of wine for me and ginger ale for Aman. He gave me a quick kiss as he handed me my drink and was about to say something when a gentleman walked up to him and started talking shop. I zoned out after a brief introduction and swept my eyes across the room to take in the lavish anniversary party.
Whenever Aman’s parents looked at us, I cheerily raised my glass to them, signalling that I was having fun. Aman was still deeply engaged in a conversation about light bulbs and stocks. I had no clue how the two were related, but the wine was beginning to taste amazing and I could feel myself calming down.
‘That was quick. One more?’ Aman asked after a few minutes, having seen me down the last gulp.
‘Maybe in a while. Shouldn’t we go meet your parents?’
‘Let’s do that.’
We wove our way through the groups of guests, now beginning to get louder, chatting over the increasingly lively music.
‘Are you having fun, beta?’ Aman’s mum asked, giving me a warm hug as I wished them both.
‘Of course, Aunty,’ I reassured her. ‘You look beautiful!’ She really did, in a stunning vintage Benarasi sari and dainty gold jewellery that sparkled on her ears and wrists.
‘The two of you look good together,’ his father said sagely, placing his hand on Aman’s shoulder.
‘Now go out the back, there’s another bar set up for more exciting conversations,’ his mother whispered to me, amusement in her voice. ‘If you stay here, you will get bored with all the shop talk everyone will want to have with this son of ours.’
I giggled at that and hugged them once more before turning to Aman and said, ‘Can I talk to you for a minute?’
He excused himself and led me to a quiet corner of the room, and when I continued to walk towards the door to the backyard he followed me with a confused face.
‘Baby, we might get caught,’ he whispered.
‘What?’ I laughed.
‘There are cameras everywhere. Let’s just go back upstairs.’
I walked on without saying anything, till we stepped out of the back door. He stopped short when he saw the bar, with people closer to our age gathered there. A group of three girls stood at the end of the bar, another group hung out by the pool.
‘Oh.’ He sighed.
‘Oh.’ I winked.
It was a lot quieter here and the weather was perfect for the al fresco setting. If I kept drinking wine, with Aman looking the way he did in his suit, we might just have to retire early, I thought.
‘Do you want me to introduce you to everyone now or after another drink?’ he said.
‘You know me too well. What do you think?’
‘One glass of wine, coming up!’
He gave me a quick hug before walking over to the bar to greet the girls and speak to the bartender. The girls turned around to check out Aman’s ass as he walked back to me with my drink, but I chose not to give that much thought for the moment.
I was about to take the first sip when a familiar voice interrupted my thoughts. ‘Hello, .’
And my heart dropped to the pit of my stomach.
I froze mid-sip and took a couple of moments to compose myself.
Confrontations have always been the death of me. If you threw me into a room with someone who could potentially draw me into drama of the negative kind, my cognitive functions would shut down, my self-confidence would dip lower than my standard of humour and forming responses in whole sentences would feel like I was being made to drag a hundred-kilo boulder uphill. In short, I would be depleted in every way. Just another gift my life has given me via childhood trauma. The gift that keeps on giving.
On my way to becoming a fully functioning twenty-three-year-old adult, I’ve avoided confrontations the best I could.
In sixth grade, I saw Saheli Mistry, my bench mate, stealing my new gel pens from my pouch during lunch hour.
Never said a word.
Just moved to another seat the next day and never spoke to her again.
In college, I caught my first boyfriend cheating on me with the winner of that year’s internal beauty pageant, Miss Puneri Pulse 2019, and never spoke of it to anyone because if he knew that I knew, it would become a whole thing that I would have to deal with.
I told myself my heart wasn’t broken, just slightly scratched, and ended the relationship myself.
And how can I not mention finding out about my parents’ decision to separate through a regular phone call from my father when I was staying with Aaji? I didn’t ask them what was going on; I didn’t scream or cry or protest, even to Aaji.
I just convinced myself that it wasn’t real until it happened, and bore the aftermath and consequences once it did.
It took me years to come to terms with what my childhood had looked like and what it actually was, because I didn’t have it in me to sit my parents down and ask them.
I didn’t even try, and then it was suddenly too late to even do that.
I could feel a slight burn behind my eyelids when I shut them tightly before turning to face the dementor that was unfortunately Aman’s mom’s firstborn. Just for tonight, I reminded myself and forced a smile as I opened my eyes to lock them with Gagan’s. They held the same indifference, same judgement as they had that morning.
‘Hey, Gagan,’ I said, trying to sound cheerful.
‘Hello to you. What are we drinking?’ I could feel his words crawl up my spine, one vertebra at a time.
‘Wine for my girl and ginger ale for me. What can I get you?’ Aman asked as he walked back to us.
‘How’s the wine, ?’ Gagan turned to face me, almost ignoring Aman, as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket.
‘Good. You should try it,’ I replied chirpily.
‘Thanks. I’ll get myself a whisky.’ He pursed his lips into what only he could pass off as a smile. ‘Excuse me.’
‘I got all the charm genes,’ Aman joked as his brother walked towards the bar.
‘Clearly,’ I said, downing my second drink. I was going to need a lot more than just resolve and positive affirmations to get through this evening. If alcohol was what the lord was offering me, alcohol was what I would take.
The group hanging out by the pool had now moved to the bar, and two of them joined Aman and me, followed by the others, one by one.
I realized these were the rich offspring of the various billionaires attending the party.
Every few minutes, Aman introduced me to a new pair of eyes that I felt scanned every piece of jewellery on my body and the thread count of the fabric my dress was made of.
I really didn’t want to stereotype rich people after being with Aman for so many months now, but they were making it very difficult not to.
Gagan walked in and out of our conversations as and when he saw people he needed to talk to—that is, those who looked as bored and annoyed as him—but, for the better part of the next hour, I stood sandwiched between the two most opposite types of people in this world. One was sunshine in human form, and the other was … well … Gagan.
At some point, we again found ourselves in our little group of three.
The wine was beginning to talk back to me, so I stuck to water after that third glass and told myself that I needed to be in full control of my hands, just in case I ended up punching Gagan in the face.
A sudden question from him interrupted my very detailed mental rehearsal of how I wanted that fight to go.
‘Do you go out often, ?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Do you go out often?’
‘Not very. Uni and the bookstore keep me busy.’
‘We prefer spending most evenings at home,’ Aman added as he slid his arm around my waist.
‘And where is home?’ Gagan asked as he took a swig from his glass without taking his eyes off me.
‘Shastri Road, near Flora Fountain.’
‘Wow. Lovely neighbourhood. The rents must be exorbitant. You manage that on a bookstore receptionist’s part-time salary?’ he asked flatly.
‘I see subtlety isn’t your suit tonight, Gagan,’ Aman replied curtly before I could respond.
‘I apologize if that was too personal. I was just trying to get to know her, since—’
‘Yeah, let’s start with her hobbies then,’ Aman cut him off.
‘Wow. So wound up tonight, Ace. Chill. We’re all friends here.’ He patted Aman’s shoulder and took another sip of his drink like he wasn’t increasingly being an asshole to me as the night progressed.
‘I like reading,’ I said before either of them could say anything more. The night air had started to prick my skin and Gagan’s proximity was making me nervous. ‘I like books,’ I reiterated.
‘And how did you start reading books?’
‘My mother used to read a lot. My grandma too. So I grew up with many books lying around the house.’
‘And your dad?’
‘He worked. A lot.’
‘I see. And where did he work?’
I could feel Aman shifting on his feet. I could feel his arm around my waist tense as he stood patiently by my side while his brother interrogated me like I’d fed him the candy that had made his face turn permanently sour.
‘He worked as an engineer.’
‘And your mother?’
‘She was a maths tutor.’
‘Was?’
‘Yeah. She isn’t a tutor any more.’
‘What about your siblings?’
‘I’m an only child.’
‘Your parents must miss you, since you’re away for the weekend?’
I knew what he was doing.
He was digging for information.
He wanted to know more.
My guess was that he’d asked Aman about me and Aman had given him no answers, since these were not conversations we had had yet.
Aman may have been curious about my family—it was but natural—but he’d never pushed me to share any more than I was comfortable sharing.
He was my safe space.
I trusted him to be there when I wandered too far, and when I turned around to see if he was keeping up with my whims and insecurities, he always was.
‘’s grandma raised her in Pune,’ Aman answered for me, and then added, ‘I think we should head inside and see what Ma and Papa are up to. Maybe they’re looking for us …’
‘I see we aren’t very open to giving out details. Is there a reason Aman doesn’t know much about you, ?’
I had expected Gagan to be sharp, maybe even hostile, but I hadn’t expected this. What was he playing at? What was it about me that irritated him so much that he didn’t even consider engaging in small talk before going at me with what was clearly unconcealed malice?
‘Okay,’ Aman said finally, his voice cold and emphatic in a way I hadn’t heard before. He tightened his grip around my waist as he put his drink down on a tall table next to us and faced his brother. You could cut through the tension in the air with a butter knife.
‘Gagan, a word?’ Aman nodded towards the door that led back into the house.
‘Sure,’ Gagan replied calmly. ‘See you around, . Nice chatting with you,’ he said as he walked away.
‘You … too,’ I replied, the words sticking in my throat.
‘Baby, I’m so sorry.’ Aman turned to me quickly. ‘I don’t know what’s with him tonight. I’m going to talk to him now. Don’t move from here.’
He hugged me and I let myself sink into his familiar touch before I pulled back. ‘There’s something you should know.’ I looked up at him.
‘What is it? Did something happen?’
I took a deep breath and told Aman everything. I told him what Gagan had said to me, verbatim, and what I’d said in return.
My brain kept screaming at me to shut up. It’s an important weekend for him, . He loves his family and misses them, and he’s a good guy … Don’t!
But I’d said too much already. Saying all of it out loud to Aman instantly eased the tension I’d been feeling in my chest for hours now. He’d know how to fix this. I could lean on him.
I saw Aman’s jaw ticking in annoyance when I finished.
He may have been a little pale too, I couldn’t be sure.
I reached out to take his hand in mine and gently asked him to calm down before he talked to his brother about it.
I’m not sure he heard me, because before I could say anything more, he pulled his hand out of mine, turned away and strode towards the door through which Gagan had gone in.
I’d never seen him look the way he did then.
I stood there, stunned, regretting the fact that I’d done the one thing I’d told myself I wouldn’t do.
I’d ruined the night for Aman.
And something told me that the shit show had just begun.