The Candid Life of Meena Dave(31)

Tanvi laughed. “It’s all a mix of things. During Diwali, some people, like Sabina, fast and go to the mandir, do all the religious rituals. Uma celebrates by eating and making special food, snacks and sweets, things like that. I like the color, the lights, the community, the socializing parts of it.”

“Are most Indian holidays like that?”

“Yes,” Tanvi said. “Even Raksha Bandhan, a day a sister celebrates her brother. You tie a raakadi, a bracelet, around your brother’s wrist and do a little religious pooja. Then everyone eats and enjoys being together.”

“What if you don’t have a brother?”

Tanvi winked at her. “There’s always a cousin around. We don’t have a word for cousin in Gujarati. Everyone is brother or sister, no matter how far or distant.”

“Just like everyone is uncle or auntie,” Meena said.

“It doesn’t matter if you share blood or not. Everyone is related.”

“What did you call this?” Meena asked, gesturing to the marble.

“Rangoli,” Tanvi said. “In India they use flower petals as well as powders. In ancient Hindu epics, it was written that rangoli was used by unmarried girls as a way of praying for a good husband. Speaking of, how was dinner with Sam last week?”

Meena laughed. She admired Tanvi for her determined matchmaking.

“It was only dinner,” Meena stated. “Nothing more.”

“I used to have dinner with my husband.” Tanvi grinned. “Before he proposed.”

“You’re not funny.”

“And you’re not seeing what is right in front of you. You are both single, around the same age, well educated, and about the same level of attractiveness. Not to mention that I’ve noticed the little looks between you, the way you smile when you’re around each other.”

“Can I try?” Meena asked.

“Fine. Change the subject.” Tanvi held out the tray.

Meena took a pinch of green between the fingers of her uncased hand and gently drizzled it in the empty space, mimicking the pattern Tanvi had created. “This is very cool. The powder is so soft, like silk.” Her fingers were covered in green, and she shared the damp towel Tanvi had used to clean up between colors, then chose bright orange, a bit of gold, and white to finish the slab. “The marble is interesting. It holds the powder well.”

“It’s the same type used to build the Taj Mahal,” Tanvi said. “I had it shipped over from Agra when I went for a visit about a decade ago. Ten squares, two for each door. Then I treated it, roughed it up a little to make the texture grainy enough to hold powder.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Have you been?” Tanvi asked. “In all of your travels, did you ever go to India?”

Meena shook her head. She wondered if she would have found a sense of belonging if she’d gone. “No. I’ve been to a lot of countries in Southeast Asia but never had an assignment in India.”

“Your work sounds so glamorous.”

Meena laughed. “The opposite. It’s a lot of couch surfing, traveling in coach, and squeezing in as much as possible to meet tight deadlines.”

“Then this must be nice,” Tanvi said. “A little break.”

“Yeah.” It was turning out to be a little more than that, but she’d stayed put, and that was something.

“You need to explore,” Tanvi exclaimed. “Go out and make friends. Date Sam.”

“You’re tenacious.”

“Start small, then. Sabina has a big Diwali dinner for all of us. Put it in your calendar.”

Meena nodded. “Did Neha help decorate?” She bit her lip. The curiosity would not leave her.

Tanvi glanced at Meena. “You want to know about her.”

“I’m staying in her home.” Meena shrugged a shoulder.

Tanvi sat down, her back against a wall, her arms around her knees. “I’m not sure how to describe someone I’ve known my whole life. She liked to dance. Garba. It’s part of the Gujarati pre-Diwali festivities. For nine nights, we dance during Navratri. Neha liked to go to the suburbs on the weekends, where people hosted dances in high school gyms.”

“Alone?”

Tanvi laughed. “Sometimes. Uma and I went with her a few times. She had a lot of stamina. Garba starts late, around nine at night, and doesn’t end until one or two in the morning. But she loved being on that hardwood floor all night, continuously dancing in circles.”

The door across the hall opened, and Wally charged at the two of them. Tanvi screeched. Meena caught the puppy with her good arm and held him against her. He yipped. His body wriggled for freedom.

“Oh no.” Sam ran out the door. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s OK.” Meena grabbed the runaway dog with her free arm. “I got him before he did any damage.”

“Tanvi auntie?”

“I’m fine.” Tanvi held the tray of powders out of reach. “You’re going to have to carry him around from now until after Diwali. Or he’ll be covered in color like Holi.”

Sam reached down and scooped Wally up. “I didn’t know it was that time.”

“We’re a little late in decorating. Diwali is early this year.” Tanvi looked at Meena. “And we had to finish Halloween.”