Chapter 2: Niyati
It was the morn of the eve before New Year’s eve. Niyati entered her apartment, kicked her heels right off her feet and into her room. She undid her bra through her dress, slipped it out from under her armpit and tossed it onto the last of her homemade UV lamps. She had decided to keep the last one as a souvenir from her lamp-making days².
Niyati’s shiny, straightened hair (or ‘Delhi hair’ as Veena and Seher liked to call it) smelled of tobacco and studio air conditioning. She was buzzed on red bulls, cigarettes and a headache. She stuffed her hair into a bun, held it up with a clip and headed to the kitchen. Niyati didn’t like the tea they served on set. She liked tea the way she made it.
As she played with the stove regulator and the boiling tea rose and fell, she scrolled through her phone contacts. You see, Niyati was not going to be in the city on New Year’s Eve. She had a flight to Bangkok that evening. The first actress slash model, who had been approached by the ad production crew, had had a seriously bad MCAT trip and refused to leave her room or take calls.
The next two girls on the casting director’s priority list also had prior commitments. Niyati, the fourth person on that list, was wrapping up her previous night’s shoot when she received the offer. She didn’t want to refuse the paying job. She knew rent had to be made.
But she also knew what it meant to be a responsible member of a gang that was (hopefully) about to go tear it off (when she heard Seher’s voice correcting her grammar: tear it up) at some party on New Year’s Eve. As an actor, she had learnt that it was never a good idea to change the cast at the last minute. Her first acting teacher in Bombay used to say, “Industry mein, life mein, tiknaa hai toh sabse pehle bill scene sambhalo, uske baad chahiye utna chill scene kar daalo!”
She had to make sure she carefully picked her replacement for New Year’s Eve with the gang. It had to be someone at least as talented and quick on her feet as Niyati, who also wouldn’t interfere with the dynamics of the group or offset them in any way. Or worse: replace her permanently. By the time tea was ready, she had already shortlisted three girls from her phonebook. Ladies and gentlemen, let’s meet the contestants on Who Wants To Be Niyati On New Year’s Eve?
Contestant #1: Aarti
Aarti would have been perfect. She weighed almost the same as Niyati and they had the same hair. The problem with Aarti would have been that she would have tried to correct Seher or Veena or Anuj when they were trying to correct her. Although, Aarti loved stories of the gang when Niyati told them. That was to Aarti’s advantage because now she knew everyone’s rhythm. But then again, Seher might have stabbed Aarti for correcting her over and over again.
Contestant #2: Avantika
Avantika was the newest to arrive in Bombay, and had no sense of the city’s culture, aesthetic or hierarchy. But Avantika made the exact same tea that Niyati did. When hanging out at Niyati’s place before or after an audition, she was Niyati’s only friend who was allowed to make tea. (Except when the gang had just decided to plonk themselves at Niyati’s after a heavy meal, and they needed jasmine tea. That was Seher’s gig.) Avantika had Niyati’s long, flowing hair except she was a little plumper than Niyati, almost the same as Seher but less than Veena. A few months of auditions would take care of it, Niyati had thought when she had first met Avantika. Avantika did not have fucks to give.
Contestant #3: Aashita
Aashita loved to talk. That wouldn’t have been as much of a problem as her bright outfits. Or her eyeshadow. There was a good chance that Aashita would think a silver³ spaghetti top is alright for brunch. Mainly because Aashita hadn’t bought anything that didn’t shine in the last two years (that she had been living in Bombay). “If a casting director spots me at a party, they can’t not see me as the item girl,” Aashita would say.
After introducing the contestants, Niyati called for an audience vote. And the cunning (and imaginary) television audience immediately voted Aashita and Aarti out. She looked at Aashita’s entry in her phonebook and said in her reality-TV-show host voice: “It could have been you, Aashita. But I don’t think the audience likes your gliterry tops.” Then she scrolled down the phone screen. “Aarti, you were this close. If only, if only, you didn’t think you were right all the time. I am going to have to ask you to leave the stage. Best of luck, Aarti, for whatever you will be up to in life.” She scrolled down to dial Avantika.
– “Get in a white sundress with blue flowers on it. Purple will do, but no turquoise⁴ or no shade of green that can be confused for turquoise. No aquamarine, no teal, you get the deal.”
– “I am wearing black dungaree shorts, is that okay?”
– “Yes.” It really was. Seher was well over her manic pixie dream girl phase. Although, she was a few inches taller than the cliche.
– “So where are we going?”
– “To brunch!”
– “I am finally going to meet your gang?”
– “Not only are you going to meet them but if you play your cards right, then you better cancel your New Year’s Eve plans.”
– “Some rich guy I met at that magazine party was taking me to Madh for a party on a boat, in a bungalow or something.”
– “You can ditch that.”
– “That is what I meant.”
– “Perfect. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”
As soon as Niyati hung up, she grinned and winked into one of the many mirrors that hung around her house in places where people usually put up art. Mirrors of different sizes and shapes and depth perception. She proceeded to relish the last few sips of her tea before she entered the bedroom and zipped open her trolley bag. Putting her hands to her waist, she looked at the bag. “Time to pack.” She looked at the bathroom door. “Then a quick shower.” She looked at the bed. “Then a quick power nap with my hair spread out on a towel between the pillow and me. For the perfect fresh Sunday morning look.” Then at a simple tie and dye dress, light yellow in colour, crumpled in texture, lying on one side of the bed. Also, on the bed were a white belt and a pair of white sunglasses. No turquoise in there, except for a silver ring. “It was my grandmum’s.” She smiled, looking at the ring less longingly than if it was a camera. She looked down and broke character as she grinned at the perfect delivery of the grandmum excuse. “Time for brunch.”
² Niyati had briefly considered a stint in making and selling UV lamps before the gang had explained to her why it was the worst business idea ever.
³ It had taken Niyati almost three months to convince the gang to let her wear a shiny top to a party.
⁴ That same morning, as soon as Seher had woken up, she had tweeted “Turquoise is the new yellow.” Eight people had retweeted it. Three ex-boyfriends had favourited it. The tweet just meant one thing — the yellow, orange and white that her apartment was, would gradually, curtain by curtain, lamp by lamp, trinket by trinket, start seeing more turquoise. Except for the fan, it was deep blue. From her room in Delhi, which had been mauve, red and blue.
