‘Please line up quickly, or I’ll ask Yuvrajji to go back,’ Ratan says firmly but politely.
‘May I come on the other side, sir?’ one girl asks, already stepping forward.
‘No,’ Ratan says immediately. ‘Both of you stand together.’
I offer a smile as we get into position. ‘Thank you, ladies,’ I say. ‘And yes, it’s my first time in Bengaluru.’
The photo is taken in under ten seconds, though somehow, it feels longer.
Once we’re back inside, Ratan looks at me, a little apologetic.
‘Sorry about that,’ he says.
‘It’s fine. You only threatened to send me back once!’
I take a tour of the floor and arrive at a sunroom. I stand there staring at the rather large plunge pool. It is thirty metres long. The water is inviting. I look around me; it is just me and the water. I strip down to my underwear and jump in.
I need to crunch my thoughts, and I do it best when it is accompanied by cardio. Beta endorphin is my fuel.
My decision to stay on in Bengaluru was taken in the eleventh hour. When I first heard of this Gowda proposal, I hoped it would wash away. There are two weeks to go, time enough, I thought. But when everyone around me starts making plans, I’m forced to act.
I dial Aaditha because we are in an epoch where technology has simplified communication to such a degree that there should be no reason why two adults, who find themselves in a situation they’ve beenforced into, shouldn’t get on a call. She doesn’t answer, and when I call again, a day later, I figure I have been blocked.
Aaditha and I need to have a conversation, which is why I decided to stay the day in Bengaluru.
Father is ecstatic. He calls my decision to extend my visit by a day ‘very civilized’.
That did nothing for the questions humming in my head. The water is warm, and my arms are keeping pace with my thoughts.
Aaditha was straight-faced for most of the morning, arms folded just below her chest, except for when she tugged at her clothes or drank her coffee. Then came the wedding announcement, and she startled visibly.
Our eyes met across the room. It was only a moment, but it was enough to tell her that I’d handle it.
Father hadn’t said anything about a photograph to me, much less a palace announcement about the wedding. His words knocked me off my feet for a moment. I looked daggers at Mother, who had obviously lit up on some cue from her husband. She even suggested a spot for the photograph, like some creative director summing up options. It wasn’t even her home; she was the guest. Mrs Neela Prathap was content rocking back and forth in her seat for most of the hour we were there.
Aaditha went along with the photograph, even though she took her time leaving her place on the sofa.
Nomenclature – COFFEE Before Books & Bras – is the prime reason I think Aaditha may have had more of a role in the business than just being the front for it. It’s not an ordinary brand name; it has personality, someone’s personality. Too many words and way too much love for it to be Prathap Gowda’s call.
There was something in the way Aaditha sipped her brew – not just pleasure but pride.Her shoulders lifted, and her eyes brightened when the parents praised the beverage.
It’s possible that Aaditha wants out, too.
Why would a south Indian heiress, an industry leader seemingly, be agreeable to an arranged match with Rajasthani royalty?
We are disparate as societies go, and by all accounts, the Gowdas know serious money. So why tie yourself up in royal traditions that mean nothing to you when you can live freely?
The Gowdas and the Rathores are poles apart, geographically andculturally. We love to show, even if the show is sophisticated, while the Gowdas are vanilla in a healthy way, much like their walls. No art, no souvenirs from places travelled or traces of a life lived, no photographs of the family, save for a few on the mantelshelf. Maybe that’s the part of the house they open for occasions and have deliberately left it sparse. It’s refreshing that there’s no pretence, no hiring of an interior decorator to jazz it up.
I know it is Father who reached out to Prathap Gowda, but Karnataka’s finance minister could’ve easily said no, come up with any number of excuses without offending anyone. That he didn’t says something. Prathap Gowda probably wants it more than his daughter. I wonder why? What’s Mr Finance Minister’s plan?
As we exited their home, Prathap Gowda told me his daughter would be at her office in Kempe Crown by 8 a.m. and if that hour suited me, I could see her then. I turned to tell Aaditha I would be at her office by 8.30, but her back was to me. She was in conversation with her mother.
The time, so early in the AM for a meeting, took me by surprise, but it suited me. I could leave for Ranibagh immediately after.
I sleep through the rest of the evening. It is past 9 p.m. when I wake up.
My phone tells me more accounts have copied/reposted theTittleTattlepictures. Their Instagram handle, @TittleTattle, has more pictures of ‘the Ranibagh Royals’ getting off the airplane. Someone even has a picture of our jet arriving in Bengaluru, but I can’t tell if it is Bengaluru or even if it is this morning’s photograph.
