I nod.
Reema leaves the room and returns with a different pair of earrings in the hope that they will make a difference.
‘These earrings weigh more than my opinions.’
Alia laughs, sounding more like the sister I know.
‘I can’t really say if it’s working. I’m not getting a full picture because when you step back, the image blurs,’ she tells me, peering into her phone. ‘I love thelehenga; you can’t go wrong with ivory. It’s the dupatta that I’m not sure about.’
I return to the Sahitya Sabha, and I try onlehengas and sarisin every shade the human eye can register and a few it probably shouldn’t.
Meanwhile, I’m one drape away from collapsing into a pile of sequins.
I’m fed bites of salad between my trials, but I need more. I stab my fork into a cherry tomato sitting on a pile of greens and shove it into my mouth. The salt in the crumbled feta is life-giving. I repeat the exercise twice, thrice before reaching for the rose water.
My eyes are on the doorway. I need to lose Reema and get out of here. A door opens, and late-afternoon light spills into a narrow passage. My eyes follow the light, and my feet respond to the cue. It’s an opening. I look over my shoulder; I can’t see Reema anywhere. I make a dash for the exit.
I cross another corridor. This one is narrower, and I enter a rectangular room. I’m welcomed by the soft scent of sandalwood. The room feels cooler than the space I just exited.
I settle on a sofa and look around me. The wall is lined with portraits of women, queens, maybe. I sigh and shut my eyes. Barely a minute passes when I hear the creak of the door, which is followed by a flood of light, as if to announce an entry.
‘Here you are, Aaditha.’ It is Gauri Elena’s voice. ‘That child, the intern, is running all over the palace looking for you.’
I blink.
‘She must have told you I was looking for you and forgot all about it! She’s just twenty-two but can’t remember a thing!’
I’m on my feet, deferring to Gauri Elena, who takes a seat next to me. She’s dressed in soft silks and pearls and is carrying a velvet box, which she flicks open before reaching over and placing it before me. An uncutpolki kada, set in gold, fills the box.
‘This was given to me by my mother-in-law,’ she says. Her back is straight, and her eyes are soft. ‘She gave it to me on the morning of my wedding.’
I nod.
‘She didn’t say much; she wasn’t a woman of many words,’ the ranisa continues, lifting the thick bangle and placing it on my wrist. ‘But she reminded me that women like us carry a huge weight, but we must always bear it with grace.’
I wonder what the ranisa is getting at. Is this a reaction to theTittleTattlestory?
‘We don’t expect you to wear it every day,’ Gauri Elena says with a smile. ‘But every time you look at it, let it remind you of who you are and who you represent.’
I’m being told off, and I’m not pleased.
I want to say,I don’t need this added weight. My own is more than enough, and I don’t need a piece of jewellery to remind me of who I am.
My eyes drop to my wrist and skim the gold; it is solid, full and slightly oversized. A perfect fit, somehow.
‘Thank you,’ I say reluctantly.
‘Welcome to the family, Rajkumari,’ she says, her fingers warm on my cheeks, when the door behind me opens.
‘There you are, Rajkumari. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.’ My phone is in Reema’s hand.
The ranisa smiles. ‘You are so forgetful. You told Aaditha to wait for me here but forgot all about it!’
Reema is confused. I could’ve clarified that I was running away from Reema, but I let it pass.
The door opens again. I almost curse. This time, it is Vedveer.
‘Aaditha,’ he exhales. His gaze goes over Reema but doesn’t reach his mother.
