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 sheâd made no other plans, just so that she could be here.
But thereâd been no question of missing Dollyâs party; Dollyâs husband Makhija and Danesh were due to sign a partnership in the coming week that would make GluMart the exclusive adhesive supplier to Makhijaâs 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 solitaireâan impersonal pendant she guessed his secretary had bought from the jewellery store below their officeâand a cardânot 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, âHappy Birthdayâ. This had marked Nadiaâs 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 Dollyâs head, admiring her hairstyle, and as she fretted that she could never make her hair look like that, Dollyâs hairband moved. From behind the thick of her coiffure emerged two lifeless eyes and out darted a tail. Nadia gasped, stopping. She grabbed Daneshâs arm with both her hands.
âHer ha-hair ⦠itâs movingââ
Danesh looked from Nadia to the moving hairband and said coolly, âNice chameleon you have there, Dolly.â
Dolly turned around, almost purring, and lifted a hand to run along the chameleonâs long green-beige body, âI knew youâd like it, Danny.â
Nadia held Daneshâs arm tighter, as he turned to her and said, âAnimatronics.â
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 chameleonâs 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 thisâlow 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, whoâd 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 hadnât wanted to move to this towering penthouse because sheâd 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
George Simpson, Neal Burger