“Switch off your torches,” Charu says. “Bright lights interrupt their mating process.”
All the lights go off, one after the other, and we’re veiled in darkness again. I gape at the fireflies in awe. They’re like tiny drops of lemon-yellow light, bobbing and twinkling all around us. I’m so mesmerized by the sight that I don’t even get my phone out to capture the view, but the others do.
“Fuck Android, man,” Varun says, groaning. “Can’t see shit.”
“Perks of having an iPhone,” Priti says, grinning as her shutter goes on and off, capturing pictures.
Varun grumbles, muttering something about how hewouldbuy an iPhone if he weren’t broke, then shoves his Android back into his pocket.
“You’ll see more up ahead, especially during the second leg of the trek,” Jalaj says.
Priti accidentally turns on the flash on her phone as she takes another picture, and all of us protest in unison, horrified yelps cutting through the silence of the forest.
“Jeez, I’m sorry,” Priti says, nearly flinging her phone to the ground in shock as we all attack her. “What’s the problem, though?”
“The fireflies take it as a threat,” Charu says. “They’re all competing for the females’ attention, and any lightthatbright is an alpha to them. It discourages them.”
The funny image of a dejected firefly packing its things into a potli and giving up on mating pops into my head, and I giggle. The others glance at me, and I cover my mouth with my fist, the humor only furthered by their expressions.
“What?” Priti asks, lips pursed.
“Nothing.”
“Hey, look, there’s one!” Digha says, pointing to a spot about a foot above our heads. The firefly floats above us, secluded from the swarm. “Why’s it not with the others?”
“You demoralized it, Priti,” I say, snorting.
“Ha ha, very funny,” Priti says, rolling her eyes so hard, I’m convinced she can see inside her head.
“Fireflies have cliques,” Charu says, grinning. “If you’re not cool enough to flash like them, you’re kicked out of the group.”
“Look what you did, Priti,” I say, my lips turned downward but mirth making my shoulders shake. “You’ve bullied the poor thing out of getting laid.”
Priti smacks my arm, annoyance written all over her features, but I don’t miss the slight twitch of her lips before she turns away from me and hides her smile.
19
Sometimes a Girlie Just Wants Someone to Profess Their Love for Her the Way SRK Did inRab Ne Bana Di Jodi
Prabalmachi, Sunday
We reach the campsite after what feels like a decade. It’s a bunch of connected one-story buildings laid out over the rocky, uneven landscape. There’s a bathroom that’s so dirty I don’t dare use it, a kitchen, a few bedrooms, and multiple tables and chairs arranged along the breadth of the main building.
All of it looks like it might’ve been part of a village school complex, with open corridors and thatched roofs. There are a few men here who come to help us the moment we arrive, probably Prabalmachi locals, handing us parcels of food. In each parcel, there’s one samosa, two theplas, kaccha mango pickle, a Britannia cake, a Frooti, and a packet of chips.
“The tents are set up out back,” Jalaj says. “There’s a water cooler to your right. Take a ten-minute break—eat, drink, freshen up—and we’ll assign you your tents.”
We sit in a row on the raised floor of the main building, a step higher than the ground. After borrowing a first aid kit from the helpers and bandaging my wound, I set my food on my lap and scarf it down, only now realizing how hungry I am. Rudra gets up to go fill his bottle and offers to fill mine and Priti’s. I smile gratefully at him, unclipping my bottle and handing it to him.
After I’m done eating, I dump the parcel into the garbage bin and walk over to the wooden railing looking out over the valley. The view from here is breathtaking.
The stars are bright, and it’s like a few of them broke off from the sky and decorated the town, lighting it up from within. Because of the hilly topography, there are points where there’s no illumination, only the darkness of forests and shadows of mountains, while at others, there are clumps of civilization.
It reminds me of the scene fromRab Ne Bana Di Jodiwhen Shah Rukh Khan spelled out the wordsI love youfor Anushka Sharma using the lights of the city of Amritsar. The first time I watched the movie, with my laptop on my lap and a tub of popcorn in my hand, I was filled with longing to have someone lovemethat much one day.
God save me. Bollywood has shaped the hopeless romantic in me, and no amount of indoctrination or hypnosis will ever be able to change that. Not that I want it to, but I wish it didn’t unnecessarily raise my expectations for romance and make me do impulsive things like go on a whole road trip for one kiss.
“Hey.”
