Aaditha
Silk, Sequins and a Stubborn Silence
I’m seated on a divan placed at one end of a hall with a grand name – Sahitya Sabha. Gilded arches mark the entryways, one of which opens into the anteroom. I look carefully at the door and memorize it. I will need to escape this space at regular intervals.
Some of the finest designers in the country – along with their ever-present entourages – are swarming this part of the palace, a space usually reserved for literary events. Rolling racks of skirts and blouses, swathes of brocade in varying shades of gold and tangles of flimsy fabric are propped up in every corner of the room.
According to Reema Barmer, the intern, hired for the sole purpose of adding chaos to my life, we’ll be trying on clothes all day for the ‘crown prince’s seven-day wedding celebration’, which is set to take place in just about sixty days.
Amma and I arrived at Ranibagh late last evening because I insisted I would not leave Bengaluru until I completed the tasks I scheduled for the day. There wasn’t much to be done, but I was determined I’d have a say, even if what time we left was the only choice I had.
‘We don’t have much time,’ Reema says, speaking quickly.
‘Ranisa was with the designers all day yesterday; shenarrowed down options to make things easier for you. She knows you’re busy; that’s why she’s helping. You are really lucky her taste is flawless,’ she says, bending over me and adjusting my hair.
Gauri Elena called Amma two weeks ago to tell her that the palace had summoned top design houses for a three-day showcase so we could admire fabric swatches and pretend to make difficult choices for the seven days of wedding celebrations. She insisted we come to Ranibagh for at least a couple of days so the bride’s outfits could be finalized.
‘What do you do when I’m not around?’ I ask Reema. I’m genuinely curious.
‘I don’t know, Rajkumari,’ she says. She is breathing hard. ‘I try to help Yuvrajji. I check with him all the time to see if he needs anything, but he’s too busy.’
‘Doing what?’
Reema breaks into peals of laughter. Her blush is bold, a new colour in the palette.
Maybe I should suggest to the Rathores that Reema could help at the coffee store just outside their palace gates, the same one they ‘funded’. That’ll inspireTittleTattleto run another piece on south Indian stingy. This one will be earned at least.
Thrift like the Gowdas.
How Aaditha uses a palace employee (who basically does nothing, outside of triggering my anxiety levels) to cut back CB3’s expenses.
I’m in Ranibagh only because I couldn’t escape (credit to my family for that). Ever since I told my parents I wanted out, they’ve been pouring emotional persuasion over every conversation like it’s gravy.
They coax, they plead, blow hot, blow cold and absolutely refuse to take no for an answer.
Appa roped in Alia for Team Prathap, and she was sticky withpersistence, never confrontational, just endlessly gushing about Vedveer.
‘He’s a good person,’ my older sister by a decade simpered two nights ago while driving to work in a different time zone.
She paused for a response, and when she didn’t get one, she stepped on the accelerator.
‘Vedveer is perfect for you,’ Alia said. ‘He’s everything a girl could ever want – kind, funny, thoughtful. I don’t understand why you are having second thoughts. And the way he looks at you... it’s like you’re the only person in the world.’
‘Err… and when exactly did you see that?’
‘At the polo game, Aadi! When he was talking to you, it was like nobody else mattered! It is so sweet, really!’
‘I’m not so sure… He looks at a lot of girls like that.’
Appa called for a late-evening meeting with the security team at No. 5 MG Road to make an announcement, shortly after he caught wind of theTittleTattlestory. A week after the Lakshmi Bar piece hit the stands.
‘Effective from this evening, we keep separate logs for entry and exit – full names, addresses, whom they’re meeting and the reason for their visit. We’re fortunate that this incident,’ Appa says, leaving out details deliberately, ‘didn’t result in a serious breach. But let this be a wake-up call for everyone. It is someone outside of not just this group but beyond these walls who noticed the disguise before any of you.’
A dozen nods and not a single response (according to Raju).
‘Every two–three weeks, aveshabhusana(costume) walked out of these gates, but thatveshahadn’t walked in. Didn’t it occur to you to question?’ he asked.
The disguise seemed to amuse Appa more than bother him. His only real issue with the Lakshmi Bar scene was the fact that security missed it.
