The patriarchy scored again when Vedveer walked into my still-under-construction store. Just like that, I was the helpless heroine, and he was the gallant saviour, conveniently recast as my underwriter.
TheTittleTattlereporter must’ve walked into the café after we had left, asking questions and coming to conclusions.
The good news is that Mohit, with his unique brand of magic, is arriving in a few hours, but why let solid facts come in the way of good gossip?
Like, who are your sources? These people are obviously smoking somethingreallygood; they are flying on a freaking twig.
Vedveer’s words play in my head.
I’m not offering you a room; you can have a whole wing. There’s nothing to worry.
A wing without a gym!
I asked the chambermaid (whom I forbid from touching my overnight case – I can’t get over someone packing and unpacking your stuff) if there is a gym on the floor, and she didn’t know what on earth I was talking about.
Kalari in the room is an option, but why give folks reason to institutionalize you?
Reema, who had been doing nothing but trailing me around, also didn’t know the location of the gym on these grounds.
‘For whom?’ she asked and didn’t wait for an answer. ‘I think the ranisa works out regularly, Yuvrajji, too; he works so hard, and he runs every day.Shaayad unke paas neeche gym ho.’
I nod.
The palace gardens stretch for miles; there are peacocks wandering around marigold-lined paths. Beyond the sandstone arches, the city wears a bright morning glow, its rooftops reflecting a rosy hue.
I consider a walk in the garden, but I’m not sure what is okay and what is not on these grounds.
Yesterday, I had breakfast in my room – orange juice, coffee and two slices of toast.
This morning, Vedveer (who must’ve seen theTittleTattlepiece but makes no mention of it) announces a breakfast meeting on chat.
VRS:Aaditha, Mother would like to have breakfast with you at the Breakfast Room at about 8 o’clock? I would like to join you too, if you’re ok with having company.
Like I have a choice! I want to be on my own for a bit. I don’t need company, but I have no option but to oblige. What can Isay? I’m going to the market to buy… coffee powder?
Me:Ok.I was about to send a one-word message but quickly add:See you soon.
VRS:Reema will meet you at your door at 8 and bring you across. See you there!
Me:See you!
Just as well! I need help to navigate the path to this breakfast room.
It’s not like I step out of this suite, in which I’m likely to get lost on the way to the shower, and fall into this breakfast room. (I refuse to capitalize the ‘b’ and ‘r’, like in his text; it’s just a room where people eat breakfast, not a museum!)
There is a rap on my door at 8 a.m., and I’m escorted to the breakfast room on the seventh floor by a liveried gentleman who introduces himself as the butler. His name badge says Pranav. I wonder what happened to Reema, but I don’t ask.
I’m in gym clothes – off-white Lululemon bottoms and a crop top, with a sports bra that peeps out of the wide neck. I’m carrying my gym bag, too. I’m protesting. The iPad is in the gym bag. I will open it to theTittleTattlepage and very casually place it right where Vedveer Rathore can see it.
The door to the breakfast room opens, and I wade into a sun-kissed space; the warmth is tempered by an air conditioner in full blast. Sunlight pours through the sunroof, and the blinds cast a lace-like shadow on the marble floor.
The air is rich with the scent of roses and freshly brewed beans.
I take a seat where a chair is pulled out for me. The table is set, crockery and cutlery in china and gleaming copper.
Of the three people expected at this table, I’m the first to arrive. The room is full of help, who are standing with their hands behind their backs like an assembly line of schoolboys.
They are looking away, but keep an eye on me, just in case I call… for a cask of wine instead of morning brew!
