Wake up, girl! Read online

  Niharika Jindal

  BLOOMSBURY INDIA

  Bloomsbury Publishing India Pvt. Ltd

  Second Floor, LSC Building No. 4, DDA Complex, Pocket C – 6 & 7,

  Vasant Kunj, New Delhi 110070

  BLOOMSBURY, BLOOMSBURY PRIME and the Diana logo are

  trademarks of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

  First published in 2019

  Copyright © Niharika Jindal, 2019

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers

  Bloomsbury Publishing Plc does not have any control over, or responsibility for, any third-party websites referred to or in this book.

  All internet addresses given in this book were correct at the time of going to press. The author and publisher regret any inconvenience caused if addresses have changed or sites have ceased to exist, but can accept no responsibility for any such changes

  ISBN: 978-93-87863-15-6

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  To all the girls who fell in love with the hero in every book they read…

  I hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it.

  Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  This book wouldn’t have been possible without the guidance of my husband, Raghav. You are the constant pillar of support and love in my life. Thank you for bearing with my eccentric mind.

  Thank you to all my friends and family members who have helped me reach this wonderful chapter of my life. I’m extremely grateful to all the people who went through my manuscript and gave me their suggestions.

  Thank you to my agent, Suhail Mathur, and the entire team of The Book Bakers for believing in my writing capabilities.

  Thank you to Bloomsbury India and Paul Vinay Kumar for publishing me.

  Chapter 1

  ‘Goodness! You’ve gained so much weight, Naina!’ Mom exclaimed, scrutinizing my curves in a fitting lehengablouse ensemble. Her expression was a cross between shock and worry.

  Hmmm. I looked down at myself in a peach-coloured lehenga with its delicate gold embroidery.

  We were at Gotra, a popular ethnic clothes’ store, trying on wedding-appropriate attire.

  I didn’t know that I’d be attending a wedding so soon after returning from Boston. I had just completed my undergraduation in Economics at Boston College and was home for good.

  Mom’s facial expression caused a moment of hilarity within me. So, she wanted me to look SSS – sweet, shy, and simple … oh wait, there’s one more S – slim. It was so clichéd that it never failed to amuse me.

  ‘Mom, c’mon! Not too much. Only about four or five kilos,’ I replied with a grin.

  Seeing her eyes pop out was so worth the fib. Really, I couldn’t have gained more than a couple of kilos, but riling Mom and getting a reaction out of her gave me a perverse thrill. Which, I must say, evaporated as soon as she started lecturing me on the subject. I definitely didn’t enjoy that. Mothers never really tire of that shit, I’ve noticed. My mother, especially, lived for the chance to lecture someone.

  I didn’t really expect my mother to understand that the weight gain was due to the non-stop partying and the excessive amounts of alcohol and junk food that senior year of college entails. Oh, and not to mention the contraceptive pills. Now that they were all things of the past, I would have no problems bouncing back to my original size…

  Better not talk about contraceptive pills out loud, Naina!

  Yes, inner voice, I know that.

  I pushed the thought aside. I wasn’t in the mood to relive memories of Boston right now.

  My younger sister walked out of the trial room looking radiant in a sea-green and pink lehenga. Slim and tiny-waisted, Avishi had an enviable figure. She was petite but had all the necessary curves that every girl dreams of. All outfits looked flawless on her.

  ‘How do I look, guys?’ Avishi asked, twirling around.

  ‘Oh my God, Avishi! You look amazing! You’ll be the most beautiful girl at the wedding!’ Mom said.

  Mom gave me a sideways glare.

  Oh, great! Not that I have anything against my sister, before you jump to any conclusions.

  I love Avishi to bits. It’s just that I wish my mother would understand that there’s nothing wrong with being a wee bit extra curvy.

  You’re from a khaata-peeta khandaan, Naina.

  Yes, I’m well aware of that fact, inner voice.

  While Avishi looked incredible in her outfit, I was showing a bit more cleavage than was considered appropriate in the Indian samaaj, and my waist had a slight love handle situation going on.

  ‘Naina, try on the Manish Malhotra outfit. Oh wait, they have Sabyasachi too,’ Mom said in her loud shrill voice.

  ‘Mom, I really don’t care about lehengas. The one I have on is fine. Let’s take it.’

  Thank God for my younger brother, Yohaan.

  Before this gets confusing, let me clarify. At twenty-two, I’m the eldest out of three siblings. Avishi is eighteen, and Yohaan fifteen.

  Yohaan and I have the same body type and metabolism. Like me, he, too, has the tendency to put on weight at the drop of a hat…or, should I say, at an extra spoonful of ghee.

  Anyway. Consuming copious amounts of cheese and booze will bring out the love handles in anyone! Plus the contraceptive pills really increase water retention in the body. So, maybe, I shouldn’t even blame the cheese and vodka as much…

  Avishi had just started college in Australia. She had a good three more years for the love handles to make an appearance. If they ever do, that is.

  She is one of those rare hateful species that can eat to their heart’s desire without gaining a single kilo.

  Before I could be forced to try on more outfits, I quickly changed out of my lehenga and returned to the main area. As I went towards my mother and sister, I heard my name being called, ‘Naina!’

  I turned around and saw Radhika calling out my name. For the first time that day, I felt genuine joy. Radhika and I have been close friends since over a decade now.

  I ran excitedly towards her. Towering above me by a couple of inches and looking extremely glamorous as always, Radhika gave me a warm hug.

  ‘What’s up? I had a feeling that I would run into you here today ever since you texted that you were back from Boston. You look like you’ve lost weight,’ Radhika exclaimed.

  ‘That’s because all my body parts are securely tucked in now. You just missed the love handles by a few. Just ask mother dearest. You have
to save me, Radhika. Mom has sort of lost her sanity in the midst of all these clothes,’ I said.

  I hoped my voice resonated the mounting hysteria within me.

  She laughed, ‘What is all this shopping for?’

  ‘A cousin’s wedding in Delhi. Entire family reunion. You know how it is,’ I answered.

  ‘Sapna Aunty must be really excited to have you back home. Whenever I’ve run into her the past couple of months, she has only talked about finding a good boy for you. She’s a woman on a mission,’ Radhika said.

  ‘Fuck, are you serious?’ I was appalled. ‘She is so embarrassing! It is her favourite topic of discussion.’

  Why does she have to be so vocal about her thoughts?

  I completely agree, inner voice! Mom had no filter when it came to speaking her mind.

  I had no doubt that Mom and Radhika would have run into each other at this very store. The best and worst thing about small cities is that you end up bumping into everyone you know, somewhere or the other. Since Gotra was the only decent Indian clothing store in Indore, it was the unspoken meeting spot for every woman in the city.

  ‘Naina, don’t treat it as a joke. You know your mother has always been very clear about getting you married at the right age and so on, and now that you’re back, she wants to get the job done,’ Radhika warned.

  ‘We’ll see,’ I said.

  Just at that moment, Mom decided to creep up behind us and exclaim loudly, ‘Radhika beta! We always run into each other while shopping!’

  ‘Hello, Aunty. I was just telling Naina the same thing. So, you’re all off to Delhi?’

  ‘Yes, for a big fat Indian wedding. Who knows? We might find Naina a dulha and soon have a similar wedding of our own!’ Mom winked at Radhika.

  I looked at her in horror. ‘Mom, could you please stop embarrassing me in front of my friend? And could you please find something else to obsess over?’

  ‘What is so embarrassing about it, beta? Marriage is the next obvious phase of your life. Radhika, I’m sure your parents must be making your marriage plans, right? Maybe I should talk to your mother and discuss it with her,’ Mom said with a dangerous gleam in her eye.

  Now it was Radhika’s turn to look at Mom in horror. ‘Aunty, please, let’s just focus on Naina for now! We can deal with me later.’

  I wanted to laugh. This was kinda funny.

  Thankfully, just then, Avishi called out to Mom to come to the trial room to see the new outfit she had tried on.

  Once she was out of sight, a panic-stricken Radhika whispered, ‘She won’t actually call my mother, right? She was just joking, wasn’t she?’

  ‘Relax, Radhika. She is currently too obsessed with me to take on your life as a project too. Don’t worry.’

  Radhika sighed with relief.

  I changed the topic. ‘Please update me on the latest gossip and take our minds off this depressing nonsense.’

  Radhika launched forth, making her away across our social circle and pretty soon I had forgotten all things related to weddings and dulhas.

  I really wish I’d taken Radhika and Mom more seriously. There was nothing to prepare me for the storm that awaited in Delhi.

  Chapter 2

  ‘Naina, beta, you have become soooo pretty!’

  ‘When are you getting her married, Sapna?’

  ‘Have you started looking for boys, yet?’

  ‘How old are you now?’

  The questions and comments went on and on.

  Soon as I could get away, I sought out Avishi in the Leela Hotel lobby and whispered, ‘I really need a shot of vodka. Or of anything strong, at this point.’

  The best part about having siblings is that you don’t need to explain situations to them. They intuitively know and go along. Like Avishi knew that, at this moment, I just needed to drown out the word marriage with vodka.

  When I was in Boston, I was vaguely aware that returning home would mean facing the wedding question. But I had definitely not anticipated the sheer urgency it would assume.

  I mean, what is it with weddings and aunties?

  In my mind, the wedding issue can be best described as the Attack of the Aunties. They’re similar to predators, to be honest. They only need to see an individual who looks remotely single, and the attack starts.

  Oh, and the advice. Every single aunty feels compelled to share an incident, or a piece of advice related to marriage that they feel is indispensable, to be doled out to the single person. This, if unheeded or ignored, has the potential of bringing upon the fucking apocalypse upon us.

  The word marriage, for me, was fast becoming synonymous with the word annoyance, thanks to all the pestering, badgering, frustrating, hounding of the ‘well-meaning’ aunties.

  We were lodged at the Leela Palace in Delhi for the next three days. My second cousin’s wedding was also going to be a huge family reunion for my mother.

  In my twenty-two years of existence, I’d been to a lot of hotels, but the ultimate for me, in terms of luxury and glamour, was by far the Leela. Still, I wondered, could the plush rooms accommodate all of the ten thousand suitcases we had dragged along with us?

  Avishi and I walked up to the bar in the hotel and ordered, ‘Two shots of vodka, please!’

  As it was only six in the evening and the wedding party was yet to arrive, the bar felt rather empty. This suited us fine as it was the perfect setting for a bitch-session.

  ‘Where’s Yohaan?’ I asked Avishi.

  ‘He’s gone to buy new shoes with Dad. He felt he needed new shoes for the wedding.’

  ‘Dude. You will not believe some of the stuff these aunties said to Mom.’

  ‘Hold on,’ Avishi said as she motioned for the bartender to set down the shots. ‘This will definitely sound better after the shot.’

  My sister and I each gulped down a shot of Grey Goose vodka.

  Naina, stop encouraging alcoholism in your little sister! Have some shame.

  Inner voice did have a point. I shouldn’t be emboldening Avishi to take shots of vodka at six in the evening. But I could not care less at the moment. I really needed to vent.

  ‘So, Pamita Aunty comes up to Mom and starts inquiring whether I have any close “boy” friends,’ I said to Avishi. ‘Mom, obviously, says, “Yes she does. But they’re her childhood friends.”’

  ‘And then? What did Pamita Aunty say?’ Avishi asked.

  ‘She said, and I quote: “Yaar kab dildaar ban jaye pata nahi chalta”!’ I tried to imitate Pamita Aunty as best as I could.

  Avishi was in splits. The bartender looked like he wanted to get in on whatever was so funny.

  Not happening, dude.

  ‘Didi, isn’t that a line out of a Karan Johar movie?’ Avishi asked, trying to control her laughter.

  I exclaimed, ‘Yeah, I think it is! It sounds super filmy, God knows. I don’t know how you can talk to all these adults so calmly, Avishi. And engage in their nonsensical chatter. I definitely can’t! Disha Aunty came up to me and asked what my thoughts are on boys. What does that even mean? I got all nervous and just managed to say, I have no thoughts, Aunty, and walked away as fast as possible.’

  ‘This other aunty, too, got me all worked up. She told Mom to get me married off as quickly as possible, saying that girls become very troublesome as they get older. What crap! Also, could she be more hypocritical? Her own daughter, who’s thirty, is still unmarried? None of us are commenting about her impending nuptials, or lack thereof, are we? Avishi, these aunties are brainwashing our mother to a point of no return! The are even saying how they can’t wait to dance at my sangeet!’ The anguish in my voice as I vented had caused it to go decibels higher than normal.

  My brother and I are very different from Avishi when it comes to social behaviour.

  Avishi is the most vivacious of us three. She loves striking up a conversation with people, known, unknown, of all ages, aunties included.

  Yohaan is like me. We are socially inept. At a party, I’d rather hang
out with a few close friends, than mingle with people I don’t know. I can be downright socially awkward at times.

  Only at times?

  ‘Relax, didi. Don’t stress over it until you actually have to. The aunties aren’t going to stop giving their two-pennies worth of advice. Don’t let them get to you. They just need a topic to discuss. Unfortunately, they have chosen you as their target right now. But, we’ll be back home before you know it! Should we have another shot?’ Avishi asked hopefully.

  The big sister in me finally awakened. ‘One is all you are having.’

  ‘Okay,’ Avishi said in a dejected tone.

  ‘Okay, fuck it. Let’s have one more.’

  ‘Yesss!’ Avishi pumped her fist in the air.

  Round two of vodka arrived, and we gulped it down.

  I felt lightheaded. Drinking on an empty stomach perhaps wasn’t the smartest choice.

  Yeah, no shit!

  ‘So, what about Ayaan? Are you guys in touch?’ Avishi asked me hesitantly.

  My head sprang up at the sound of his name. ‘Ssshh! Not so loud! The gossip queens are everywhere!’

  I looked around to make sure there was no one nearby.

  ‘Okay. I’m sorry. I was unsure whether to ask or not. I know how sensitive the topic is,’ Avishi apologized.

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it here. Come on. Let’s go to the room. We can discuss this in more details upstairs.’

  We got off the elevator and walked down the winding gallery. Our room looked like a hurricane had hit it. Our suitcases yawned open and stuff spilled out of them everywhere. I managed to extract my pajamas out of my suitcase and changed into them. Ahh, so comfy, I groaned with pleasure, and flopped down on the bed. There are a few things in life that give one utmost satisfaction and comfort – sleeping on a hotel bed is definitely one of them.

  Avishi had changed into her jammies as well and settled herself onto the bed next to me.

  ‘Shall we order something from room service?’ she asked.

  ‘Always,’ I replied.

  As I ordered pasta, Avishi’s phone rang. It was her best friend, Sakshi.

  ‘Didi, I’ll be right back,’ said Avishi and went outside the room to take her call. She wouldn’t be back for a while I knew.