CHAPTER 10 Kavita
Kavita
I grab an ice pack for Neel from a nearby stall while he stands there, clasping his hand. As I place the ice on his knuckles, he winces.
“Is it hurting badly?” I ask.
“I’ll be alright. You should head back to the dance,” Neel says, trying to reassure me.
I blow on his knuckles to reduce the sting. “I’ve been dancing for the past two hours. I could use a break.”
Neel glances back at the dancers. “They’re really going all out there.”
“Those sticks are no joke,” I chuckle.
I throw away the ice pack once it melts. We then walk away from the crowd, Neel walking beside me. The memories from a week ago when he came to the boutique flood my mind. How I barely managed to maintain my composure while he was there is beyond me.
Even now, as he leans in closer, I breathe in the scent of his cologne, a fresh set of tingles coursing through me. My chest flutters erratically.
“Thanks for rescuing me from the dance floor tonight,” Neel says, turning around once we’ve moved far away from the dance area. “I wasn’t sure I’d make it out in one piece.”
His eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, which he does quite rarely. An awkward silence settles between us until I finally realize that he’s looking at me strangely. I clear my throat and shake my head. “That’s what friends are for.”
He smiles again and impulsively extends his hand. “Thank you.”
I take his hand. His grip is firm and reassuring despite the injury.
As I shake his hand, he winces slightly, and I quickly let go, my eyes widening with concern. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I forgot about your hand.”
Neel shakes his head with a laugh. “It’s fine. I’m tougher than I look.”
I find myself smiling. Just then, his phone rings. He excuses himself to take the call. I’ve barely taken a few steps away when my mother suddenly appears in front of me.
“I’ve been looking for you,” Mom says. “Come, I want to introduce you to some friends.” Mom never misses an opportunity to introduce me to her friends at events like this.
“Where’s Dad?”
“Oh, he’s over there, waiting for your grandmother.” She points to a table where my father is talking to a few people. Grandma, my father’s mother, loves to come to the Dandiya every year, too, and it’s one of the times I look forward to meeting her. But I don’t see her yet.
“Come on.” Mom tugs at my hand. “They’re waiting.” We make our way through the crowd toward the less crowded area near the stalls at the back. The music is mellow here. Mom spots her friend and pulls me along.
“Sarika,” she calls out. “Meet my daughter, Kavita.”
We exchange polite hellos. Sarika takes me in from head to toe, her eyes glinting with curiosity. “Kavita, nice to meet you! So, what do you do for a living? Are you married? Any kids?” she asks, not even pausing for a breath.
I force a smile. “I run my own boutique, and no, I’m not married.”
“Oh, a boutique! How interesting!” Sarika exclaims. “But you know, a pretty girl like you should settle down soon. You don’t want to miss the marriage train, do you?” She lets out a shrill laugh.
I’ve danced for hours now, and I’m starving. I need something to eat before I can handle all these questions hurled at me. I groan inwardly, desperately wanting to escape.
I answer some more questions as politely as I can and excuse myself, making a beeline for the samosa stall. The aroma wafting from the fried samosas and chutney is to die for.
I’ve just taken a bite of a samosa when Mom comes back. “Kavita, meet Padma, my old classmate.”
Padma smiles. “This is my son, Rakesh. Rakesh, this is Shalu’s daughter, Kavita!”
A lanky guy appears by her side. “Hello, Aunty! Hello, Kavita!”
My mother stares at me as I try to greet them with food in my mouth.
“Hello, Rakesh,” I manage. The next moment, the mothers disappear, and it’s just Rakesh and me.
“It’s so great to meet you, Kavita. Your mom and my mom go way back, it seems. Small world, isn’t it?”
I nod at him, trying to chew fast.
“I actually just got back from trekking in Dharamshala. Have you been?”
I shake my head.
“No? Oh, it’s beautiful. The mountains, the monasteries...” Rakesh drones on.
My feet ache. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, trying to balance the plate of samosas in my hand as I struggle to pay attention. I shoot him a few pointed looks, hoping he’ll pause, but no such luck.
“...and the food, don’t get me started on the momos and thukpa they have up there! You really should try to make a trek sometime, Kavita. It’s just so invigorating and rejuvenating for the soul...”
My free hand fiddles agitatedly with the paper napkin as he rambles on without taking a breath. Just then, I spot Neel. He’s standing not too far away, still talking on his phone.
As Rakesh looks away for a second, I wave at Neel with my napkin, mouthing, “Help me!”
Neel doesn’t notice me at first, but finally, I catch his eyes. “Please!” I mouth again.
I’m relieved when Neel finally catches on. Giving me an almost imperceptible nod, he ends his phone call and strides over.
“Kavita! There you are,” he interjects loudly. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Rakesh stops mid-sentence, blinking in confusion. “Oh, hello...”
“Sorry to interrupt, but I really need to borrow Kavita for an urgent matter,” Neel says smoothly, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Family emergency.”
“Of course, of course!” Rakesh sputters, still looking bewildered.
Neel ushers me away swiftly before any more questions.
Once we’re out of earshot, he leans in with a teasing grin. “What was that all about, anyway?”
“My mom was setting me up again!”
“Poor guy! Didn’t know when to stop, did he?”
I groan. “You have no idea. That guy could probably bore a statue.”
Neel chuckles. “Though it was somewhat amusing to watch you hop from foot to foot as he went on.”
I swat his arm in mock indignation. “Gee, thanks. Nice of you to enjoy my misery.”
His eyes shine with mirth. “I think we should get out of here so you can eat in peace.”
I smile. “Yes, please!”
My breath quickens as he clasps my hand and guides me through the crowd, clearing the way around us. Suddenly, I spot my mother on the other side, but she doesn’t see me. I squeeze his hand. “Oh no, not that way, please.”
“Got it,” he laughs, squeezing my hand back. “Where would you like to go?”
I turn the other way when my gaze falls on a guy making ice lollies from freshly crushed ice, and suddenly my mouth waters. “Want a gola?”
His eyes follow mine and he hesitates a little before saying, “I’d love one.”
We laugh as we walk over to the gola stand, the playful glint in his eyes making my heart flutter. I guess this is Neel’s new, more relaxed side. It’s refreshing to see him loosening up around me.
After the spicy samosas, the sweet syrup-dripping gola seems perfect.
The stand is busy, with customers surrounding the vendor, clamoring for their golas.
We end up grabbing two, mine generously drizzled with mango syrup and his with blackcurrant flavor.
It’s so cheap that when Neel tries to pay with his credit card, I laugh and pull out cash from my waist pouch.
“They don’t take cards at places like this,” I tell him.
The gola guy looks relieved and takes the cash gratefully.
As we’re slurping our golas, Neel says, “These take me back to my childhood. Simple pleasures like these were the best growing up.”
“I dreamed of owning my own gola stand when I was in school. I kid you not!”
Neel laughs. “Well, I think I might have had slightly bigger ambitions than that.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
Neel grins. “Becoming a famous cricketer or a Masterchef. Though I had no time to cook or play, so there was no chance of success at either.”
I can’t imagine him cooking up a mean curry or holding a bat and running around a field, but there’s that playfulness about him as he contemplates the choices and then says, pointing to the crowd gathered at the stand, “Though, running a successful gola stand doesn’t sound half bad!”
It’s my turn to laugh. “Might have made a decent income if the boutique business didn’t work out for me.”
His eyes twinkle. “Who knows? Running a gola stand might have kept you busier than you are!”
“And yet, totally unsatisfied,” I chuckle.
We’re still joking, and I relish the last few slurps of my gola when Neel touches my elbow. “You’ve got some syrup on your—”
“Hmm? Where?”
His gaze drops to the side of my lips, then lifts to meet my eyes. I gulp the ice that’s in my mouth. For a moment, neither of us moves. The air seems to go still, all the noise fading into the background.
“Kavita, here you are eating gola!” a loud voice breaks into the silence.
I startle at my mother’s voice, and the gola slips out of my hand, hitting the floor. The last bits of remaining ice melt before my eyes. At least it was almost over.
But how did Mom find me again?
“I’ve been looking all over for you,” Mom says. “This is Rini. Her son works in Australia.”
I smile at her friend, Rini and her son. Gosh, this is really becoming too much. “And this is Neel,” I tell the three people staring at Neel, who’s still holding onto my elbow.
He lets go of my elbow and smiles at the new audience.
My mother is just about to say something but stops and stares at Neel. She extends her hand curiously. “Oh! I’ve never met you.”
“Same here, ma’am,” Neel says.
Mom blushes slightly. “Hope you haven’t come alone? Where is your wife? I’m sure she would have loved tonight’s Dandiya.”
Neel glances at me briefly before turning back to her. “Actually, I’m here by myself. I’m divorced.”
“Oh!” Mom sounds shocked but recovers quickly and beams. I haven’t seen her this happy at learning about a divorce, but I know why when she opens her mouth to speak again. “My friend’s daughter is also divorced. Let me—”
“Ma,” I hiss, “Stop it! You don’t have to set everyone up.”
“But—”
Somebody calls her just then, so she cuts it short, patting Neel’s arm before she leaves. “Don’t you go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”
The moment she’s gone, I grab Neel’s hand. “Let’s get out of here.”
Just then, I notice my grandmother approaching us.
“Kavita!” My grandmother rushes over and envelops me in a tight hug. “Look who I brought to join the Dandiya fun!”
We are greeted by two of her friends, all dressed in bright, colorful skirts and garb. I introduce Neel to Grandma and to the women, Rimli Aunty and Kajal Aunty.
Grandma beams at Neel. “Lovely to meet you, Neel.”
The women are buzzing with energy already. “Tonight’s going to be a wonderful night!” Grandma says as they pick up their dandiya sticks and move forward.
“Do you want to join us?” she asks.
“Oh, no! I’m fine,” Neel says.
I glance briefly at his hand. His knuckles have turned bluish. He notices me watching and shrugs. “I’m fine. The pain’s gone.”
We are soon lost in the fun as Grandma and her friends form a circle and start dancing with the dandiya sticks, tapping them together rhythmically. Despite their age, they move with amazing energy and spirit.
“How wonderful that your grandmother and friends are here,” Neel says.
“They always amaze me.” I watch them, their hands waving in the air, their skirts swirling, and a vivid idea begins to form in my head. I’m just about to share it with Neel when a throat clears behind us.
A tall, slender woman with wide eyes, brown, wispy hair, and blonde highlights steps up in front of Neel. She’s wearing a designer zircon-studded off-shoulder blouse, her bare shoulders glistening under the lights. She reaches for his arm. “Neel, what happened? Why aren’t you dancing?”
“Anjali!” Neel says, sounding surprised.