The Bandit Queens (99)
When Preity and some of the men had begun playing cards, Geeta sent Ramesh back home under the guise of coitus. It was more difficult than she’d anticipated to conjure a faux but feasible task for a blind man. First, she’d asked him to refill Bandit’s water bowl. Wouldn’t it be faster if you went? he’d not unreasonably asked. So she’d suggested meeting him there for an—ahem—private celebration. And off he scampered with his cane. Often the promise of sex was far more potent than intercourse itself.
Since he’d traipsed off on his fool’s errand, Geeta occupied herself with mingling as per Saloni’s instructions. She’d joined and lost a few rounds of teen patti. Now, upon leaving the somnolent Farah, she wandered near a snack table, searching for fresh guests to engage. Diya lamps and flowers decorated various plates of sweets. She pretended to survey them before wandering near the pani puri station, where Karem touched her elbow. He wore a black kurta and had shaved, which made him look younger despite the grey shot through his hair. “Geeta, can I speak with you?”
She wanted to oblige; he was a reprieve from the exhausting social rounds. She’d talked to more people tonight than she had in the last five years. But Geeta had already chatted with Karem earlier, asked after his kids. Then he’d tried to settle in for a more serious discussion, she could tell by the way his voice lowered with gravitas and his head bent toward hers. Like most of the other guests, a red tilak with a few grains of stuck rice decorated his forehead from when he’d been greeted.
Far more palavering was in order; Geeta had to showcase her attendance. “Umm…” she hedged, looking up at him. The rice had fallen from his now-dried vermillion.
Past Karem’s shoulder, she saw Preity and Priya approaching, their plates empty. Priya’s laughter abruptly died when she saw who was standing near the pani puri, and she elbowed her sister twice with urgency, whispering something. Preity’s eyes widened and they executed neat, identical hairpin turns. Geeta was too confused to be offended. She’d already spoken to them, made the necessary eye contact, and checked them off her list, but she’d been hoping to parlay them into a reason to dodge Karem.
“It’s important,” he stressed.
Geeta laughed far too loudly, purposefully drawing attention from those nearby. She explained, dividing a millisecond of fixed eye contact between all those who looked her way: “He’s just too funny! Talk about making memories, am I right? Happy New Year! Saal Mubarak!” she barked at bewildered guests as he led her outside.
A puzzled Karem waited until they were on the porch before saying, “Listen, it’s about Bada-Bhai. I’ve been trying to talk to you all night, but you’ve been…busy.”
“Busy making memories!”
“Right,” he said doubtfully. “Are you feeling okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“You keep staring everyone down, demanding that they remember you.” He widened his eyes and looked at her, unblinking, following her whenever she twisted her head away in discomfort. “Happy New Year!” he cawed with manic merriment. “Saal Mubarak!”
“I’m not that bad!”
“Then why is everyone talking about the crazy lady with the bug eyes?”
“Okay,” she said, still laughing. “Maybe I’m more nervous about returning to the social scene than I realized.”
“Well, it’s just a party. Try to have a good time. You know, eat, drink. Maybe blink once in a while.”
“I think I forgot that I miss talking to you.”
He smiled. “Me, too. You look nice, by the way.”
She wore a silk sari in red and green that Ramesh had presented as another gift, the funds undoubtedly coming from her dwindling jewelry box savings. Thanking him had nearly given her an ulcer, but she’d managed by imagining him dead. She’d begun to regret allowing Saloni to handle the matter alone; Ramesh would never know that Geeta had conspired in his demise. But hubris tripped lesser murderesses, Geeta reminded herself. The Bandit Queen had pride, surely, but she also had brains.
Karem’s compliment left her more embarrassed than flattered. She gave her bun a self-conscious pat. Before leaving her home with Ramesh, she’d speared in an old costume pin, the two sharp prongs buried in the coil. Most women tonight, however, had lined their buns with fresh jasmine.
“You do, too. What were you saying about Bada-Bhai?”
Karem sobered. “I was in Kohra, trying to see if I could drum up some new business, and I overheard one of his goons at a chaat stand. He was on the phone, saying something about clearing someone’s chit.”
“Okay,” Geeta said, frowning. “What does that—”
“Have to do with you? Well, he also said it was in exchange for getting revenge on the ‘bitch who took the dogs.’?”
A hot fist of dread squeezed her chest. “What?”
Karem nodded. “Exactly.” It was clear he’d connected the pieces just as she was doing now: a forgiven debt for revenge on Geeta, mixed with Ramesh’s sudden and inconvenient arrival. “Geeta, I’m not trying to overstep here. And I know your relationship with Ramesh is between you and Ramesh, but…”
“You think Ramesh came back because Bada-Bhai wants revenge on me in exchange for Ramesh’s debt.”