afternoon, her head still spinning from the night before. She reached for her phone. There was a message from Mindi.
Drinking on a weeknight, Nik? Obviously if sending stupid messages at that hour.
Nikki wiped the blur from her eyes and wrote Mindi a reply.
U have such a huge stick up your bum
Mindi wrote back within seconds.
And u probably just woke up. Talk about bums. Grow up Nikki.
Nikki tossed the phone into her bag. It took her twice as long as usual to just get out of bed because her head felt so heavy. She winced at the squeaky sound of the shower tap and the sting of water on her skin. After getting dressed, she walked up the street to the Oxfam shop. The musty smell of ancient wool coats tickled her nose. Old school textbooks and worksheets sat on a bottom shelf, under the rows of popular novels that Nikki often browsed and bought. Here, Nikki finally woke up. The familiar comfort of books helped to dissolve her hangover.
Searching the shop, Nikki found a Scrabble game as well. A few tiles were missing but it would still be useful for teaching the alphabet. She went back to the shelf to see if there was anything there for her and while browsing, a title caught her eye. Beatrix Potter: Letters. She had a copy of this book at home but its accompanying book, The Journals and Sketches of Beatrix Potter, was hard to find. She had seen it in a used bookshop in Delhi on her pre-exams trip with Dad and Mum but her wanting it had sparked an argument. She distracted herself from the memory by turning her attention to the adjacent shelf. Another title leaped out at her. Red Velvet: Pleasurable Stories for Women. She picked up the book and flipped through the pages and some of the phrases that jumped out at her were:
He undressed her slowly with his eyes, and then deftly with his fingers.
Delia was basking naked in the summer sun in the privacy of her own garden but somewhere, Hunter was watching.
‘I didn’t come here to see you,’ she said haughtily. She spun on her heels to leave the office and she saw his manhood bulging through his trousers. He wanted to see her.
Nikki grinned and took the books to the cashier. Leaving the shop, she thought of the inscription she would pen in the Red Velvet book. Dear Mindi, I might not be as grown-up as you but I do know a bit more about certain adult rituals. Here’s a guide for you and your Dream Husband.
Nikki hauled the bag of books to the classroom and heaved them onto the desk. A sheet of paper had been taped onto it: Nikki do not move desks and chairs in this room – Kulwinder. The desks had all been rearranged into their original neat rows. A low growl in Nikki’s stomach reminded her that she hadn’t yet eaten, but before she left for the langar hall, she shifted the desks into a circle again.
The smell of dal and sweet jalebis mixed in the air with the clatter of utensils and voices. She took her tray through the line and was served roti, rice, dal and yoghurt. Finding an open space on the floor near a row of older women, Nikki recalled being about thirteen and attending prayers with her parents at the smaller Enfield gurdwara. She had needed something from the car and approached Dad – who was sitting with some men – to ask for the keys. People had turned and stared as she crossed the invisible divide that segregated the sexes even though there were no such rules in the langar hall. What did Mindi see in this world that she didn’t? All of the women seemed to end up the same – weary and shuffling their feet. Nikki watched as they trailed into the hall, adjusting their scarves, pausing every few moments to give an obligatory greeting to another community member. The group of ladies sitting next to her chattered away about each woman who walked in. They knew entire histories:
‘Chacko’s wife – she’s just had an operation, poor thing. She won’t be walking for a while. Her eldest son is taking care of her. You know the one I mean? She has two sons. This is the one who bought the electronics shop from his uncle. Doing very well. I saw him pushing her around the park in a wheelchair the other day.’
‘That woman over there is Nishu’s youngest sister isn’t it? They all have that same high forehead. I heard they had a terrible case of flooding in their house last year. They had to re-carpet the place and throw out a lot of furniture. Such a waste! They’d bought a new lounge set only six weeks before.’
‘Is that Dalvinder? I thought she was in Bristol visiting her cousin.’
Nikki’s eyes followed each woman as the commentary ran. She could barely keep up with this rapid stream of information and details. Then a woman that she recognized strode into the hall. Kulwinder. She noticed a drawing of breath from the little group next to her and their voices lowered to a hush.
‘Look at that one, marching in here like she’s a big boss. She’s been so stuck-up lately,’ said a middle-aged woman whose stiff green dupatta was pulled so low that it nearly concealed her face.
‘Lately? She’s always been Miss High and Mighty. I don’t know what gives her the right to be like that now.’
It didn’t surprise Nikki that they didn’t like Kulwinder. She listened closely.
‘Oh, don’t,’ a wrinkly older woman said. She pushed her wire-rimmed frames further up the bridge of her nose. ‘She’s had a rough time. We should be sympathetic.’
‘I tried that approach but she didn’t want my sympathy. She was downright rude to me,’ said Green Dupatta.
‘Buppy Kaur went through the same problems, but at least she still acknowledges us when we say “We’re sorry for your loss”. Kulwinder’s different. I saw her walking around the neighbourhood the other day. I waved at her and she just looked in the other direction and kept walking. How am I supposed to be kind to somebody like that?’
‘Buppy Kaur’s problems were similar, not the same,’ the woman with the glasses said. ‘Her daughter ran away with that boy from Trinidad. She’s still living; Kulwinder’s girl is dead.’
Nikki looked up in surprise. The women noticed her abrupt movement but they kept on talking.
‘Death is death,’ somebody else agreed. ‘It’s far worse.’
‘Nonsense,’ Green Dupatta scoffed. ‘Death is better than life if a girl doesn’t have her honour. Sometimes the younger generation needs this reminder.’
Somehow, Nikki felt that these words were directed at her. She looked up at the woman who said it and met an even, challenging gaze. The other women murmured their acknowledgement. Nikki found her food harder to swallow. She took a gulp of water and kept her head down.
The woman with the wire-rimmed glasses made eye contact with Nikki. ‘Hai, they’re not all terrible. There are plenty of respectable girls in Southall. It depends on how they’re raised, doesn’t it?’ she said. She gave Nikki an almost imperceptible nod.
‘This generation is selfish. If Maya had just considered what she was doing to her family, none of this would have happened,’ Green Dupatta continued. ‘And don’t forget about the damage she did to Tarampal’s property as well. She could have destroyed the whole place.’
The other women looked uncomfortable now. Like Nikki, they lowered their heads and focused on their dinners. In the sudden silence, Nikki could hear her own heart beating faster. Tarampal? Nikki wondered if they were referring to the same Tarampal from her writing classes.
