36 hours earlier.

Invitations were for eight but no one arrived before ten. There are handshakes and air kisses, musky perfume, laughing and singing, platters of delicious food. Glittering, rising film stars call each other darling and sway in silk and chiffon to the music; business barons cheerfully argue amongst themselves; local gangsters chat with tainted police detectives while socialites with butterfly eyes work the room.

The party is in full swing and in the middle of it all, is Nauzer. He can’t quite believe it. His café is the talk of the town, full of bonhomie and a dazzling mix of talent, ambition, money, beauty brought together by business deals, clean and shady. He looks around and feels content, complete, happily intoxicated on a faint but very pleasant feeling of belonging. 

He spots Prashad, who raises a glass and nods to him across the room. Nauzer gives an acknowledging smile. He still feels nervous whenever their paths cross – which is more and more these days. Sometimes he wonders whether he should ever have gotten involved with someone like him… but he couldn’t ignore the potential profits. He lets the thought drift away on a coil of cigarette smoke.

Whisky and cigarettes, late evening turns to night. Glancing at his Rado, two in the morning, he decides to walk home smiling, drunk. In his heady state, the dance of streetlights makes the city seem to glitter. “Everything will be fine”. He bites down on his own lie.

The following morning, Nauzer is lying in bed feeling jaded, heavy and hazy. He rubs his face, eases out of bed, stretches and walks to the window to open the wooden slatted blinds. The room fills with light and he takes in the mess of clothes amidst the ornate cut-glass vases and beautiful rosewood furniture. Turning on his transistor radio, the All India news bulletin blares out. 

Continue reading