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“Consider it payback for all the times you mean girl-ed her,” she quipped.
I took a huge swig of the lemonade and started coughing as the burn of vodka hit the back of my throat.
“What the hell is this?”
“A Moscow Mule,” he said, with a grin that kicked me harder than the mule.
Warmth began to spread through various parts of my body, and although I wanted to blame it on the alcohol, I couldn’t because I’d just had one sip. Against my better judgment, I drained the glass in desperation, hoping it would knock some sense into me. All it did was almost knock me off my feet.
My eyes watered and I almost cried out as the vodka burned its way down my oesophagus.
“She looks like she’s going to pass out. Fuck! Padmini Aunty is going to kill me for getting her daughter drunk at Dadi Sa’s funeral,” whispered Veer in a panicky voice.
“Calm down, Laajwanti! It’s not my first drink ever,” I said hoarsely, as I waited for the buzzing in my ears to stop.
“Who’s Laajwanti?” asked Diya in confusion.
“I told you she’s pickled. And it’s all my fault,” wailed Veer.
“Ohmigod! Can you sound any more like a Laajwanti? Stop wailing before the rudaalis think you’re trying to steal their jobs.”
He shook his head in bemusement.
“How did I ever think you were like a docile cow? You’re more like a Minotaur that’s escaped the depths of hell.”
“And you’re the same chauvinistic pig that you always were,” I shot back. “Do you think calling me any form of bovine species is flattering?”
“Isha, you can slaughter my brother like a pig if you like, but later. Please keep it down for now. People are starting to stare,” begged Diya. “Let’s not have a repeat of what happened during our anniversary party.”
She was referring to the slam-bang screaming match we’d had the last time Veer and I spent more than five minutes together.
I looked at her and blinked, and then blinked again. When did she sprout that second head, I wondered. Maybe it was a pregnancy thing. Wait, that didn’t sound right. Pregnancy made you sprout a whole other person in your uterus. It didn’t make you sprout a second head.
“Dee, did you know you have two heads?” I whispered. “Don’t worry, though. The second one is as beautiful as the first one. And I’m sure Bhai Sa will love you even if you turn into a female version of Raavan. He won’t judge you by your booty. I mean… beeewty. Probably because you have so much of it. Boo…eauty. Not heads. Umm, why can’t I feel my tongue?”
“How much vodka did you put in that Mule?” hissed Diya over my head.
“Far too much, I’m sorry. I didn’t know she was such a lightweight,” said Veer, grabbing me before I slid to the ground.
“Oops,” I cackled. “Hey, look! The fat lady stopped crying finally. It’s time to burn the Raavan… mphhhh…”
Veer muzzled me with his hand before I could finish my sentence. I took exception to that and bit the inside of his palm gently. And then licked it. Just for kicks. And because it was there. It was fun to see how it horrified him. He looked like he wanted to throw up.
Which reminded me…
Utter disgrace…
Shamed the family…
So embarrassing…
Ma’s words swept over me without even making a dent because all I could think of was that I had puked into Veer’s hand. And all over his brand-new Jordans.
Fuck my life!
“It’s not such a big deal, Ma. We passed it off as heatstroke,” said Diya soothingly, but my mother was beyond soothing.
“People aren’t fools, Diya. Heatstroke does not make people yell embarrassing things about their dead family members. That thing she yelled about burning the Raavan was unforgivable! I mean, the family knew Dadi Sa was a monster, but did she have to advertise it to the world? And that too, in front of the Governor and the Chief Minister, and the entire world. The funeral was being live telecast on news channels,” wailed Ma.
