Delhi. Supposedly we’re in India for religious reasons. I’ve got other clothes.’
‘I should hope so,’ Rajni said.
Shirina picked up the menu. ‘Hmm, these juices look refreshing.’ She waved over the waiter. He came bounding back.
‘Hello again, Tarun,’ Jezmeen said, flashing him a warm smile. Her tattoo was on full display and – Rajni was sure she did this just to spite her – she leaned forward slightly, exposing the deep line of her cleavage.
‘I’ll have the mint, green apple and carrot detox juice, please,’ Shirina said.
‘Madam, so sorry but unfortunately, we don’t have any carrots at the moment,’ Tarun said.
‘Just the green apple on its own would be fine,’ Shirina said.
Tarun looked very troubled. ‘I must apologize, Madam, but we are out of all fruits at the moment.’
Which meant Rajni’s mango smoothie with seasonal fruits would be made of what, exactly? ‘What do you have then?’ Rajni snapped. She handed him the menu. ‘Go on. Point it out for me.’
Tarun nodded at the menu, his features squeezed as if she’d challenged him to conjure all of the missing menu items. The look of concentration on his face made Rajni momentarily ache for Anil. It had been a while since she’d seen him so vulnerable. Something happened around the time he became a teenager, when his whole existence suddenly depended upon appearing tough and streetwise. After Rajni reluctantly conceded to letting Anil take his gap year to work, she couldn’t help pointing out that his regular outfits of hoodies and baggy pants weren’t going to impress any employers. ‘If they can’t except my authentic self, then I ain’t excepting their job offer,’ Anil replied. ‘Accept!’ Rajni had snapped, and walked off as Anil scowled and muttered, ‘It’s what I said, though.’
‘Madam, I really don’t know what to tell you—’ Tarun said.
‘It’s really alright, Tarun,’ Jezmeen said. ‘It’s not your fault.’
Tarun uttered another apology and scrambled away. ‘Really Raj, did you have to scold him like that?’ Jezmeen asked.
‘I’m sorry, but when I’m given a menu, I expect items I can actually order, not a wish list.’
‘He’s doing his best,’ Jezmeen said. ‘We’re in India. Adjust your expectations. You can’t throw your weight around like some colonial returnee. Nobody puts up with that nonsense any more.’
‘You think you can just blend in with everyone here? I’d like to see you try to walk outside wearing that outfit and all that make-up and showing off that tattoo.’
There. It was done. She couldn’t even create one day of peace with Jezmeen. ‘I don’t need another mother on my bloody case!’ Jezmeen used to shout when she was a teenager. Mother. Jezmeen always said this word like a foul word was supposed to come after it.
Shirina had a talent for taking herself out of these arguments. Rajni had noticed her training her eyes on the couple in the pool as they splashed each other playfully. Now, she picked up the itinerary. ‘Why don’t we talk about tomorrow?’ she suggested.
‘Yes, why don’t we?’ Jezmeen said. She took the itinerary from Shirina and studied it. Rajni knew it by heart, she had studied it so many times. ‘I was really hoping to take a side trip, but I guess that’s not on the schedule.’
Rajni sighed. ‘Where exactly were you planning on going, Jezmeen?’
‘There’s a music festival in Goa and then I thought I’d get a city fix in Bombay after getting through all these holy places. There are tons of cheap flights to the South.’
I’ll get to Vitosha Mountain in Bulgaria for skiing season and then spend a few days in Sofia. Anil and Jezmeen were alike in this funny way. They talked about places they hadn’t been to with such familiarity and confidence.
Like when Anil said, I’m going to give it all up for her. A shudder went through Rajni. What a fool, she kept on saying to Kabir. What a stupid fool our son turned out to be. They had spent all of Anil’s life trying to steer him towards a steady future, giving him every opportunity at success. More opportunities than children with siblings, Rajni and Kabir told each other over the years, a salve for the pain of being unable to have any more kids. Anil had all of their resources and attention. And although Rajni didn’t always understand her son – why, for example, did he insist on being from the streets when he grew up in a lovely Victorian terrace in North London? – she never expected his path to diverge this far from her expectations.
‘I’m afraid my plans have changed slightly as well,’ Shirina said. She pointed to the final item on the itinerary – the trek to Hemkund Sahib, where they were meant to scatter Mum’s ashes in Lokpal Lake. ‘I was going to email you about it but I thought it would be better to tell you in person.’
‘Tell us what?’ Rajni asked.
Shirina took in a deep breath. ‘It’s really a last-minute thing. Sehaj’s family – the extended family in Punjab – they haven’t met me yet. I agreed ages ago to visit their village at the end of July.’
Rajni stared at Shirina. Was she really telling them now that she would be skipping out on the most important part of the pilgrimage? The mountain trek would be the most strenuous part of their journey. Rajni hadn’t sent her sisters multiple links to websites about preventing Acute Mountain Sickness for Shirina to just opt out of going altogether.
‘I’m very sorry,’ Shirina said.
‘This is a crucial part of the journey, though. I’ve kept Mum’s ashes all this time and brought them to India so we could carry out her wishes. Can’t Sehaj’s family see you a few days later?’ Rajni asked.
‘They’re a huge family, people have already made plans to travel down. If I change the dates at the last minute, it’ll look bad.’
The last minute? Plans for this trip had been in the works since Mum’s death in November. Rajni saw an opportunity to lecture Shirina on priorities – she had missed her chance when Shirina returned to Australia so quickly after the funeral. But Shirina lowered her eyes, as if expecting to be scolded.
Rajni glanced at Jezmeen. There wasn’t much Rajni and Jezmeen agreed on, but Shirina’s marriage to Sehaj had united them, if only in a cursory way. They shared little observations about how Shirina had disappeared into her role. In that first year, every time Rajni sent a message to check in with Shirina, the replies were about Sehaj and his extended family – new business ventures, celebrations of other marriages. Jezmeen also reported to Rajni that she noticed Shirina had taken down all pictures of herself on social media in any skirts above the knee, or at parties where cocktail glasses and beer bottles were visible.
It was surprising, because although Shirina had always been obliging, she had never really struck Rajni as an aspiring conservative Indian trophy wife. In university, Shirina had been ambitious enough to do summer internships at PR firms where she wanted to work one day, and after graduation, she landed a good job, earning a salary in her own right. Rajni knew that all sorts of women chose the arranged-marriage route these days, not just the traditional ones who wanted to keep house and have babies right away, yet Sehaj’s wealth seemed to have bought a certain acquiescence from Shirina. ‘The ring would have cost him
