~ |Gaurav| ~

"Maine tujhe joote walo se deal sign karne bheja, tu toh joote chori karwane ki deal sign karke aagaya."

Samar was sprawled sideways on a rickety plastic chair, making a show of stringing in cheese from his third slice of pizza. His stomach was budging out in that posture, a feature he usually sucked in during pictures, but was apparently unabashed about in front of me.

I grimaced at his mess in the mirror of my tiny break room we'd been assigned in this dump of a modelling studio. "Ho jaaye chori kya fark padta hai. They make ugly sneakers out of old schoolbags. Matlab sahi hai, karo recycle par tatti saman kyu bech rahe ho?"

"Abey toh pehli ladki dekh ke shaadi karne kyu bhag gaya, seedhe joote walo ko joota maarta."

It hadn't been an easy task, breaking the news to him. In many ways, I dreaded his reaction more than my family's. Not because he was usually concerned about my private relationships, but because one of the consequences of me dragging Avanti, with her consent, to the nearest mandap was the direction it would refocus my content towards. So, I did the most logical thing and broke the news into pieces.

Samar had resisted my decision to go ahead with an unconditional public apology until I threatened to go on a hiatus.

He was confused about my demand to renegotiate our terms with the annual meet at Yatis until they reinstated Avanti, but relented after realizing it won't really affect our brand and would shut me up about my redemption.

Worst of all, he was outraged that she hadn't followed me back despite the apology. Pressed over how bad it looked for me that, next to a Bollywood megastar, she was the only person who didn't follow me back.

Even though it was kind of hot.

I couldn't prolong telling him the whole truth though. For all intents and purposes, Samar was my work wife, and he had to be on board with my choice of a real bride. "Dekh bhai, I wanted to get married anyway. Pehle laga Riya se hi karni hai, since, well, that's what I thought was the obvious next step."

"She disagreed."

"Violently," I added, noting that the reminder had long stopped being painful. "Avanti, well, she's different from Riya in every day. Marriage is what she wants, and she," —has banger, wild curls, a piercing death stare, is refreshingly direct, appreciates honesty, doesn't play mind-games or pretends to be coy about her wants and needs, has goals and values that align with mine, and just— "Fits. She just fits."

I'd achieved the impossible and had made my manager abandon the complementary pizza our brand had provided for lunch. A solid tactic to prevent their model from eating before the shoot. "What if she scams you? Alimony laws dekhe hai iss desh ke? Aur apan ki janta ko pata chalega that you're marrying their favourite shrew toh—"

"—they'll expect me to tame her." The Shakespearean irony wasn't lost on me. More than one ex-girlfriend had ranted about it, back when I'd gone through a whole phase of dating English MA chicks during college, before swearing off of them and their Darcy fetish.

Talk about unexpected standards for men. Rich, handsome, loves like a loyal puppy. Could never be me.

"Tame her into a perfect Indian wife. Kaise karega?"

An image of kohl rimmed eyes narrowing at a challenge, of a sharp nose flaring against a ring, and of a mouth biting back snappy retorts popped up in my mind, nearly rushing all blood down south. Shit, shit, shit not the time! "Uski chinta tu mat kar, that process is already in motion."

"You needed a rebound hookup bhai, not a rebound suhagrat. Shaadi halwa thode hai! Bahut chaalu hoti hai ladkiyan."

"That's just your constantly rejected ass complaining." My phone glowed with a notification. I usually kept those off except for important contacts. Trying to push back the hope that it'll be a DM from our subject of conversation—God why had I forgotten to take her number?—I was left disappointed after unlocking it.

Disappointment turned to dread. Samar stopped ranting when he saw my expression in the mirror. "Kya hua?"

I handed him the phone.

One glance and all that the bastard could say was, "Just when I mentioned hookups and weddings."

Shoumi Roy had replaced my cameraman.

Lights. Camera. Fuck my life.

~.~

This wasn't the first time she'd asked me to put my shirt back on.

"Hiking jackets bechne hai, who thought it was a good idea to make you shave your chaati for that." She threw a cotton white tee at me, hoping it'll bring out the dark brown of the jacket I was modelling.

Shoumi Roy operated that way, swooping in last minute and taking over a project only to bend and fit it to her uncompromising vision.

"I was told it was shirtless, do mahino se isi shoot ka preparation chal raha hai." Something that had involved a carefully calculated protein over healthy carb intake, and core exercises that dragged me the gates of hell and hi five Satan.

Now she wanted to apply her female, body-positive vision and say it didn't matter.

"Look these are just concept pictures," came her heavy, bored voice from behind the white tungsten studio lights. Lights that were quick to make me sweat even in the peak December cold of Delhi. "Next week we'll shoot on location, Samar said you guys are planning a road trip to Manali anyway, that'll work out fine."

"Raincheck on that plan," I said, pulling the shirt over my head before donning the jacket and warming up with experimental shots. "I got other plans for next week, for the month even."

She worked deftly behind the camera, making me change posture every four clicks while maintaining conversation. That was the thing about Shoumi, while many photographers preferred silence, she was exceptionally chatty during the process, focusing on making her subject as natural as possible. "Kya plans? Making more cringe vlogs on Delhi nightlife?"

"The last one featured your ex."

"Like I said, cringe. Paseena mat poch," she directed, switching on two more ring lights on my left and effectively blinding me to everyone in the room. "Sahi lag raha hai, rugged sa thoda without overdoing it. Daadhi tera idea tha ya Samar ka?"

"Mera," I replied. "India mai kitne din ke liye ho?"

"Taking a year off man, I'll try freelancing and stuff. Next month to Hampi for a project toh usse pehle ka koi scene bana."

"Haan theek hai, ek mahine hai na idhar, phir meri shaadi pe hi aana seedhe."

The clicks stopped, her bob popped up from behind the hefty camera. She switched off the ring lights. "Break!"

As her minions and other set staff scattered, Shoumi pulled me aside where Samar was again nibbling on cold French fries. "You knew about this?" she directed at my manager.

"Huh? No aaj hi bataya isne."

"Kon hai?"

"Arey that chef meme girl, maine tujhe uska meltdown bheja tha."

"Betichod isiliye tune apology ki?" Shoumi Roy was usually too cool for gossip. But when anything involved me she was all ears. She'd loved the period of my very public humiliation post breakup, forwarding me memes featuring me until I muted her. So naturally, this news made her sidle up next to Samar and attack the cold French fries. "Wahi mai sochu, you never apologize."

"I also never vomit on dicks so you know, nothing to apologize for."

"Tujhe kya pyaar vyaar ho gaya hai?" she pressed, ignoring my mention of a highly traumatic event in our frenemy-ship. "Itna simpada kabse bangaya?"

This was going to be a long photoshoot.    

~.~

Happy Holi!

Okay so where do I start? Apologies for basically ignoring everything and going MIA but my life was kinda thrown upside down in February. Campus reopened, offline classes resumed, I'd to move states and shift and adjust in a life of communal living with the added stress of offline exams so writing took a backseat. When I would sit down to write it would be Bhabra. It's only now that I got back to TSG. 

I'm also internet starved these past few weeks, getting forms in order to get the campus Wi-Fi is harder than one would've thought. I temporarily gave up and just got a 12gb top up. Even that will end soonish lolz. 

An added impact of the move is that I've learnt new gaalis. But the funniest thing is, when I sit down to write the Hinglish dialogues of this book my default gaalis have changed and I've to backspace and go, "shit this isn't a Dilli wali gaali." xD

And no, I won't address the elephant in the room about how both my besties arm twisted me to get featured in the book. Feel free to bully them for bullying me. 

Anyway, how's life treating you guys? Know any cool websites selling cheap posters online? Preferable old Indian classical paintings, Ravi Varma, Haldar, etc. My budget is 500 but all good prints cost like, 900ish and yeah I might have to edit and get them printed myself.

Also speaking of solid Indian aesthetics, akiimarvelous made these gorgeous, gorgeous covers for TSG, so glad I'm finally able to share them.