Navya Mrinalini – (that’s how I’m introduced to her, and that’s how her name is imprinted in my head) – had accompanied me to a designer to buy an outfit for the interview today.
The outing took about an hour, after which we headed to the Four Hundred Club for coffee. On weekends, it is apparently open in the afternoons. A recent thing.
‘We should make a booking?’ I said, remembering the conditions for booking a table, at least an hour in advance.
‘No booking is required,’ she replied, her palm resting gently on my arm as if to make a point.
‘Nice to have some leeway, for coffee at least!’
‘Says the Coffee Empress!’
‘Hmmm… More like for a Rathore!’ I said.
Vedveer was waiting for us at the Four Hundred Club. He was seated at a round table near the bar, not far from where I had tripped. A couple of waiters hovered around him.
‘How is your leg?’ he asked, his eyes on my footwear.
I was in flats. That’s when it dawned on me that it didn’t fit the dress code. The lady at the reception was so enamouredby her royal guest that she didn’t bother to check if what I was wearing fit their guidelines.
Vedveer apparently finished his coffee before we arrived, and we barely settled into our seats when two COFFEE Before Books & Bras’ bone-dry cappuccinos arrived at the table.
I liked that they served the coffee with two button-sized biscuits, one savoury and the other sweet. I complimented the waiter.
‘That’s a really nice touch,’ Navya Mrinalini agreed.
I felt Vedveer’s gaze fan my left cheek; it was naked without a spot of make-up.
I lifted my eyes and met his. The grey-green palette was a shade deeper than usual, like a storm brewing.
‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.
I nodded. I inhaled.
‘Does she know the pick-up point for tomorrow?’ Navya Mrinalini asked.
I was given a detailed briefing on how to get to the car park in the morning and at what time. Not for the first time.
Some twenty hours later, I’m settled on a sofa in the lounge area of the Parivaar Suite, considering a coffee. Amma is seated beside me; she hasn’t said much this morning.
The chambermaids are fluttering around the room, complimenting me on the dress I will wear later. They tell me a make-up artist will be here in an hour to get me ready.
I’m doing a lot of inhaling and exhaling.
There’s a knock on the door, but before I can react, the door is pushed open. It is Gauri Elena. She sweeps into the room, dropping compliments as she walks – Amma’s sari, the cut of my (non-distressed) jeans. Amma and I are on our feet, and Gauri Elena’s hand is on Amma’s bony arm. She asks us to join her and her son in the breakfast room. Navya Mrinalini is apparently out for a photo shoot.
I excuse myself respectfully. I want a moment on my own. I need to catch my breath.
I pick up a coffee and settle on the sofa in the bedroom as soon as they are out of the door.
I remember the launch of COFFEE Before Books & Bras. Appa had done everything he could to get me to do some interviews; he said the brand could do with the publicity and I could fix my public image that way.
I’d rather take whatever vitriol they throw at me than twist myself into an impression that isn’t me.
The landline rings. I let one of the staff get it.
‘This is for you, Rajkumariji.’
I blink. Rajkumari? It is the palace staff. They apparently want to give me a protocol briefing. There goes my ‘me time’.
