PART 2 #11
Tired and sweaty, a little later, we wander off to a side street and wolf down two shawarmas.
Then we buy two huge bottles of water and wait for the alcohol to pass through our systems. We follow the others to the beach where the sound of the waves offers a stark contrast to the pulsating, drunk, manic, sexual energy of Bangla Road.
We sit down and nurse our bottles of water.
‘Why are you so into our kind of love story?’ Amruta asks, resting her head on my shoulder. ‘When you can’t be with Aanchal?’
‘Ship of Theseus. I have changed. Some other guy fell in love with her, not me. I don’t remember that Daksh.’
13.
Aanchal Madan
The soft, powdery sand of the beach cushions my feet as I make my way towards the barbecue hosted by the resort.
It’s our last night here. Saket gives me that smitten look he often has, his eyes lighting up as he glances my way.
Every time I open Reddit threads about people choosing their partners, there’s one piece of advice that stands out.
Always be with someone who loves you more than you love them.
By that logic, and sound logic from people having been in successful marriages, I should get married to Saket without a second thought.
‘It’s awesome, isn’t it?’ he asks.
I nod.
‘I distinctly feel like the third wheel,’ complains Vanita. ‘But it’s your fault. This was a friends’ trip and you were a last-minute addition.’
Saket chuckles. ‘I can go back to the room and order room service if you want.’
‘Please do that,’ says Vanita. ‘I would like Aanchal all to myself.’
‘I am enough for both of you,’ I add.
‘That’s the beginning of every threesome porn,’ says Vanita. ‘And that’s disgusting. I’m saying that to myself, of course, for making that connection. I’m a to-be-mother, I should do better.’
‘And you will be the best mother of all time,’ I tell Vanita, stating the obvious. ‘Supermom. Everyone’s going to look at you and go, like, how does she do this?’
I can almost imagine her quitting her job and being the mother of mothers; starting a mothers’ cult and an Instagram account to tell people how to raise their children.
As we get there, the sun’s going down and it casts a golden glow over the set-up that can be categorically defined as Instagram-worthy.
We had seen pictures of this on the hotel website, but the photographer should be fired with immediate effect because this is way more beautiful than his clicks.
With string lights twinkling above rustic wooden tables laden with food and torches lighting each table, this is as pretty as it gets.
To top it off, I can hear the gentle lapping of the waves against the shore.
Saket makes a beeline for the drinks counter and gets us sparkling coconut water.
‘I like this butler service,’ says Vanita. ‘I think you should sign up for life right now. What better place?’
I roll my eyes. ‘I’m not sixteen that I will cave into peer pressure. We will take our time.’
‘I will argue that your ideas were more set at sixteen than now,’ she says and turns to Saket. ‘And can you please click a picture of me?’
Saket whips out his camera instantly. He positions us with the sea and the bustling live seafood counter in the background, quickly snapping a few photos. He’s not happy, obviously, so he reframes us, asks the chef who’s passing to stop and pose, and clicks a few more.
‘Should we get some food?’ asks Saket, while Vanita checks the pictures. ‘This hotel has a lot of cheap British tourists, and they eat like hogs, so we better get going.’
The tables boast a spread that’s a little overwhelming: grilled seafood, including large prawns with dangling eyes, and tender squid that seem like they would start squirming at any moment, alongside skewers of chicken that frankly look boring next to everything else.
Local chefs in crisp, white uniforms man the grills, flipping freshly caught seafood with precision.
Instead of ladling food like he said he would, Saket clicks a few more pictures.
Vanita and I crowd our plates and walk towards one of the several long, wooden tables, draped in navy-blue tablecloths.
‘So yes, you will take time, but you’re going to say yes to him eventually, right?’ asks Vanita in a low register. ‘Nothing has changed, right?
‘I’m going to say yes,’ I answer. ‘Why? Why would anything change?’
‘So I’m assuming one of two things happened on your date with Daksh—’
‘It wasn’t a date.’
‘You realized you’re over him? Or he’s over you?’
‘It’s not as simplistic as being over someone.’
‘Okay, Imtiaz Ali.’
‘Our time’s up. It’s time to move on from that story. It’s ended. I mean, this is the best time to walk away from it. I don’t hate him for what he did, he doesn’t hate me, and that’s the best-case scenario. There’s nothing left there.’
Vanita stares at me as if she’s waiting for more explanation, but I have none for her. Sometimes the best outcome of a love story is escaping without hurt. Disappointed that it is what it is, Vanita digs into her salmon.
When I look up, my eyes search for him once more.
I see Daksh at the far table. He’s in a white linen shirt and white trousers, his hand clasping Amruta’s, who looks striking in a long, black flowing dress.
He seems happy, she seems happier. They have a family already, a career they have built together, and they have a future.
What could I have promised him? It’s a destructive, romantic thought, that’s what it is.
I turn and look at Saket—the gorgeous Saket. I can learn to love him. Parts of me already do. As he walks towards our table, he throws a charming smile at me like he always unfailingly does, and my heart leaps a little. We will be happy, I know. He places a plate in front of me.
‘This is grilled fish, a little spicy, wrapped up in a banana leaf,’ he announces.
‘You’re the best,’ squeals Vanita, unwrapping the banana leaf.
Just then, two fire dancers start preparing for their dance a little distance away.
Vanita gets up. ‘I’ve got to take a video of this.’
Saket and I watch from our seats as they start their performance.
‘Dangerous,’ says Saket. ‘But not synchronized. Could be better, no?’
‘I think we should do it.’
He swivels to face me to make sure he’s heard me right. ‘Are you serious?’
‘I think it’s a yes from me. I’m dating you, but I’m also going to marry you. We have a couple of years before we get married, but I want to know that’s where it’s going to go.’
‘If you want it, that’s where it will go,’ he says, blushing. ‘And, of course, yes. I mean it works for me, totally. It worked for me from our very first video call.’
He looks at me with a mix of nervousness and love. I know that I can learn to love him more. He would make that happen. I would make that happen.
‘I need to tell you something though,’ he says.
‘That you’re a serial killer for real?’
His pause makes me anxious. Finally, he speaks, ‘I talked to Daksh.’
‘You did what?’
He catches my gaze. I can feel he’s thinking how he should say whatever’s on his mind.
‘I wanted to know where he was at,’ he says softly. ‘I mean, I was cool with whatever. But I needed some clarity.’
My heart beats with nervousness. ‘And what clarity did you get?’
His face grows soft, suddenly younger by a decade. ‘Just that this is real. What we have is not some last-ditch attempt.’
I feel caught, but I try my best not to show it. ‘You think it’s a last-ditch attempt?’
‘No. It’s an attempt. But one that’s thought out,’ he says and reaches for my hand. ‘I’m sure about this. Talking to Daksh helped. He told me about what you guys talked about.’ His hands are rough and firm. I like them. He continues, ‘Thank you, Aanchal. You won’t be disappointed.’
‘You’re making it sound like a business deal.’
‘We will be happy,’ he says, his smile reaching his eyes.
‘I’m sure we will.’
We both turn to watch the fire dancers. Both of whom are breathing fire into the night sky, illuminating the evening.
14.
Daksh Dey
Amruta dashes back to our room to make sure we haven’t left anything behind, I lean against the cool marble counter of the hotel reception. This is the second time she’s doing it.
‘Here are the keys,’ I say and drop the extra hotel room keys we have accumulated over the past four days here.
‘Are you going back to India?’ the woman at the front desk asks me as she taps on her keyboard.
‘We are off to Koh Samui from here and then back to India.’
‘Great choice. You stayed with us for just four days? Short trip,’ she remarks.
I nod. ‘We have kids back in India.’
She’s now too occupied to answer. I flip open to the page I had reached in my book.
The wife had just murdered the husband and enlisted the help of her friends to dispose of the body.
They are googling. Rookie mistake. When I look up, I see Aanchal approaching, her movements a bit sluggish, her eyes bloodshot.
‘The last shots are always the worst,’ I greet her as she nears, a faint smile playing on my lips.
‘Drinking is the worst. It’s all Saket’s fault.’
‘Of course, of course,’ I chuckle. ‘How’s he?’
‘Probably playing volleyball. Who knows. At this moment, I hate him,’ she grins weakly.
Her eyes flit to the bills accumulating on the counter top.
‘Checking out already?’
‘Flying to Koh Samui. And then back home. Got to get back to the grind.’
She nods. ‘Grind doesn’t mean Gaurav, right? He told me you’re quitting.’
‘We are calling it a soft transition. Tejal’s doing a good job.’ I spot her frowning. ‘I guess you don’t like her, do you?’
She shrugs. ‘I’m okay with her. Whatever makes Gaurav happy.’
Then she hands over a bunch of her keys to another receptionist.
‘You’re leaving too?’ I ask.
‘Yeah, off to Krabi for a few days. Just Saket and I. Vanita has had enough.’
The receptionist hands me a couple of bills for me to check. I peruse them and point to a couple of items. ‘These two were supposed to be complimentary.’
The receptionist nods and takes it back.
‘Saket told me he talked—’
Just then, the receptionist interrupts Aanchal, ‘Miss Aanchal, could you confirm the minibar charges here?’
Aanchal smiles tiredly. ‘I have no memory of that, but sure. If it’s there, we must have drank it.’
‘She’s an alcoholic,’ I tell the receptionist.
‘Very funny,’ says Aanchal.
The receptionist handling my bills gives me the final bill. I quickly glance over the charges, nodding. ‘That looks right, thanks.’ I hand the bill back, then refocus on Aanchal. ‘So Saket talked to me. It was a good talk, told him where we are at. He’s totally into you, by the way. Nice guy.’
‘So am I into him.’
The clerk presents another form, which I sign without missing a beat.
Just then, Amruta emerges. She walks up to me and smiles at Aanchal.
Aanchal smiles back and addresses her, ‘Have a great trip to Koh Samui, okay? Take lots of pictures.’
‘Not everyone is like Saket,’ says Amruta. ‘This one here clicks one picture and he’s done. Unless it’s your brother. Then he clicks many and his whole argument? That Gaurav has fans!’
‘You guys have fans too. One is sleeping in the room,’ says Aanchal.
And then a small smile creeps on her face. ‘I never told you guys this, but I think both of you are great together.’
Amruta smiles widely. ‘That’s really sweet of you.’
The receptionist breaks into our conversation. ‘Mr and Mrs Dey, you’re done. The car’s ready for the airport. So whenever you’re ready.’
Amruta and I echo, ‘We are ready.’
I turn to Aanchal. ‘Bye, Aanchal, see you. Invite me to your wedding.’