So I searched for the event and there it was, a super-flattering picture of me in my color-block dress alongside Vir—who also looked gorgeous, though it kills me to admit it. But next to it were pictures of Vir, my Vir, with Koyal Khanna—the Bollywood actress Koyal Khanna! That was why he didn’t want to watch that movie I asked him about. SHE was in it. And she was his girlfriend—at least according to the news reports.
And those pictures! Vir and Koyal on a white-sand beach in Goa—with her in a tiny bikini that I would never in a million years have the guts to wear. Vir and Koyal at a movie premiere—the movie premiere of that movie I tried to get him to watch, in fact! Vir and Koyal wearing preppy, sporty outfits at some IPL match (whatever that means).
How does one deal with something like this? I was so angry, because the Vir I thought I knew was not the Vir who would lie about having a girlfriend and actually keep me from finding out about her by pulling the whole “don’t Google me yet” tactic.
I should have called him and demanded an explanation, but I just couldn’t. I had so much stuff to do for the wedding, and this was all way too much right now. What would I even say? None of it made any sense unless he was really that guy who would actually do something like this. Was he?
I ignored Vir’s texts that day. And I didn’t walk Yogi around the lake as we’d planned. I cried into Yogi’s fur before falling asleep. There was no other explanation. He was that guy and I was a clueless fool.
I was never going to trust Vir again.
Ever.
I carried on planning the wedding.
Now that Masi was coming, I had to make sure that the mehendi—the one event we were having at home—was perfect. I threw myself into planning it, which also helped keep my mind off Vir. We’d booked the mehendi lady already—so the next-most-important thing was food.
That meant a trip to Sher-e-Punjab.
“I’m so sorry I can’t give you the contract for the wedding,” I said. “Ladkewale Tamil hein…” He smiled at my accent as I tried to explain that we had to have some South Indian dishes at the wedding—rasam, sambar, payasam, etc.
“No problem, ji,” he said. “We’ll cater your mehendi. Anything else we can do to help? Have a lassi and samosa before you go. No payment needed.”
I sat down in the pink vinyl booth with the plastic flowers and ate the best samosa I had had in a long, long time. In fact, I finished everything they put before me. They didn’t have a lot of stuff on their menu, but what they made, they made well.
My mad-at-Vir energy (as well as lassi and samosas) fueled my mehendi-planning efforts. Next stop, Talbot Rental. They rent everything—tents, tables, chairs, linens, china, stemware, silverware, heaters, air conditioners, carpets, lights—anything you can think of.
I was sure we couldn’t fit everyone in the house, so we needed tables and chairs. I had a look at the linens as well—just to see—even though it was smarter to get disposable paper and plastic from the party store instead.
But you know what I found? Curry Cuisine was overcharging for the linens! We’d picked the simplest linens and china and silverware—white floor-length table covers, burgundy napkins, simple gold-rimmed china—and he was charging double what Talbot Rental advertised. What was up with that?
There wasn’t much I could do—we had accepted his quote and put down a deposit. We were stuck with him, I guess. I felt deflated. Not only was that Sunny Sondhi a pompous ass who gave us the runaround, but he inflated his prices as well.
I’d call Ragini Aunty and ask about the rates he gave them last year, I decided. And check with Shoma Moorty too. Good thing I had her number on speed dial.
“The rates are fine, beta,” Shoma Moorty said. I could hear loud music in the background—no surprise, she was at a wedding. “But don’t be late paying him, okay? Did I tell you what he pulled at Mishra Ji’s son’s wedding last year?”
“No—what?” I asked.
“The balance was due the day of the wedding. The parents were sitting in some ceremony with their older son, and the younger son didn’t have his checkbook—so he threatened to take all the food away!”
“What?” I asked. “Did he?”
“No, the younger son went to the ATM and took out cash. I thought he was going to knock Sunny Sondhi down, he was so angry.”
“That’s not good,” I said.
“And I told him! I said: Mr. Sondhi, it’s a small world and it’s their son’s wedding. How can you do this and shame them in front of their in-laws? I said I would give him a check myself, and that he knew my credit was good. But did he listen? No!”
“I’ll pay him on time, Aunty,” I said. “Thanks for telling me!”
“And, beta, I never knew that Megha’s sister was Mallika Motwani!” she said. “So many of my brides want her lehengas for their trousseau. Tell me she’s making Vinnie’s wedding dress!”
Could she sound any more worshipful?
“She is, Aunty,” I said. “She definitely is.”
Ragini Aunty had nothing but praise for Curry Cuisine, though.
“He was on time, and the waitstaff was excellent, and the food was delicious,” Ragini Aunty said. “It was buffet style, most practical, you know, with our kind of food. But we didn’t have to worry about annnything.”
She spoke really fast. My brain could barely keep up with decoding her accent in time to hear her next sentence.
“Everything else going well, yes, kanna?” Ragini Aunty said. “I was just telling Uncle, Vinnie is sooo lucky to have
