Happy Birthday!: And Other Stories by Meghna Pant Read Free Book Online Page B

he could remove them easily, and as usual he had dismissed her. Now Dolly and she stood looking at each other, Nadia finding no words with which to fill the silence. She had met Dolly only at parties like these, and exchanged nothing more than pleasantries. She wondered if she should tell Dolly that it was her birthday today and that she’d made no other plans, just so that she could be here.
    But there’d been no question of missing Dolly’s party; Dolly’s husband Makhija and Danesh were due to sign a partnership in the coming week that would make GluMart the exclusive adhesive supplier to Makhija’s paper company. No, Nadia decided, it was Danesh who should tell Dolly and the other guests that it was her birthday.
    But did he even care? This morning, Danesh had given her a three-carat diamond solitaire—an impersonal pendant she guessed his secretary had bought from the jewellery store below their office—and a card—not a crude or witty card, but the sort of card you give an acquaintance whose taste you cannot guess, with a drawing of a small bouquet of daisies tied with a thin red ribbon whose tail spelled out the words, ‘Happy Birthday’. This had marked Nadia’s birthday celebrations.
    Danesh finished taking off his shoes, and Dolly promptly turned around, leading them to the living room, where the party was in full swing. Nadia stared at the back of Dolly’s head, admiring her hairstyle, and as she fretted that she could never make her hair look like that, Dolly’s hairband moved. From behind the thick of her coiffure emerged two lifeless eyes and out darted a tail. Nadia gasped, stopping. She grabbed Danesh’s arm with both her hands.
    â€˜Her ha-hair … it’s moving—’
    Danesh looked from Nadia to the moving hairband and said coolly, ‘Nice chameleon you have there, Dolly.’
    Dolly turned around, almost purring, and lifted a hand to run along the chameleon’s long green-beige body, ‘I knew you’d like it, Danny.’
    Nadia held Danesh’s arm tighter, as he turned to her and said, ‘Animatronics.’
    Dolly and he looked at each other, exchanged a small smile.
    Then Danesh stepped in line with Dolly, and Nadia had to let go of his arm.
    ~
    Blood rushed back to her legs and she walked faster to catch up with the duo, even as the chameleon’s head vanished back into the coiffure, once again becoming a hairband.
    They entered the living room that was bursting with energy and splendour, a state in which all its days seemed to pass. It possessed a sense of expectation so palpable that Nadia felt late. She had only ever seen it like this—low lighting, candles on the mantelpiece, Swarovski-laden golden sheers, gooseneck lamps, authentic Husain paintings, a Chinese rock garden opening into the terrace.
    The penthouse was large, but chopped up as most Mumbai homes were, with every room buzzing with activity, like a beehive. Below, the city stretched out in all directions, humming and clanking like an engine, unwavering in its business, the streets coiled into knots. But none of its chaos reached the guests, who’d left the streets behind, the city behind, even their country behind, for this apartment could have belonged in New York and this party could have been in Marrakech; there was nothing Indian about it.
    Dolly vanished, probably to greet another guest. According to rumours, Dolly hadn’t wanted to move to this towering penthouse because she’d read in Cosmopolitan that high-rise apartments were anti-gravity, putting residents at greater risk of developing wrinkles. Nadia imagined Dolly throwing a tantrum over this, her perfectly made-up face contorted with anger, her manicured fingers curled into thin fists, Makhija reassuring her, making a quid pro quo that allowed Dolly to shimmer in her diamonds and host endless parties in lieu of living here. The rumour, as intended, made Dolly sound like