“His stealing your money to buy tharra wasn’t your first clue?”
Farah nodded in acquiescence. “So I figured you could help us out.”
As the mother crow shat on Saloni’s head, Geeta felt dread chill her toes despite the warm day. “I’ve already helped you out, Farah. Exceedingly so.”
“A little more wouldn’t hurt. Let’s say, two hundred rupees each week?”
“So another loan?”
Farah let out a short, fat “ha.” “Goodness, no. A loan, you pay back. This would be more like a gift. And I’d give you a gift in return, too.”
“And what would that be?”
“My silence. About your crimes.”
“You little pirate,” Geeta seethed. She ignored Saloni’s thumbs-up from the yard. Her hair resembled the nest she’d disturbed, white guano dribbling down her crown, and she had scratches on her arms and face. She was sweaty as she showcased the acquired fruit to Geeta like a trophy. “You’re just as guilty as I am. More so—you fed him the coil.”
“But the way I see it, I think it’s more likely that they’ll believe you acted alone. I wasn’t the brightest student. And I’m certainly not well read. I doubt the police would think I was capable of cooking up such a complicated plan. But you, Geetaben.” Farah leaned forward and let her baby crawl. “You’re super clever. No one would underestimate you.”
“Thank you?”
“So it’s settled? Two hundred rupees starting next week? Or actually, let’s make it this week, why not? I figure the easiest way is just to have you cover my weekly loan repayment with Varunbhai. Less hassle for us both.”
Saloni vacated the yard, limping. Geeta said: “I’ll think about it.”
“What’s there to think about? It’s an obvious choice.”
“Hardly.”
“Geetaben, was I unclear? Oh dear. I do hope I wasn’t unclear. I’m blackmailing you.”
“No, I got that part.”
“Okay, good. Sometimes I’m not clear when I speak. Samir always complained about that.”
“You were very clear.”
Farah grinned. “Thanks, yaar.”
“I don’t think you can call me ‘friend’ while blackmailing me, Farah.”
“No, no, you’re still my closest friend! I don’t see why a small business matter would get in the way of that.”
She wasn’t being over-smart; Geeta could see she was earnest. It boggled the mind. Had this always been part of Farah’s plan, or had she just sniffed an opportunity and taken it? “I’ll be off then.”
“Are you sure? I could make some chai.”
“With or without the poison?”
“Well,” Farah said, crushing two more walnuts. “That’s really up to you now, isn’t it, Geetaben?”
SEVENTEEN
“I don’t understand.”
“Welcome to the party.”
“Why would Farah blackmail you?”
“Why are we going to the twins’ house for a poisoned dinner party? Because this village has turned into a lunatic asylum.”
“Bey yaar, I keep telling you, only Darshan’s is poisoned, obviously.” As they walked through the village, Saloni raised the dish of spicy vegetable curry she’d prepared with the seed. Deep burgundy swirled across her palms; her henna had taken very well. Geeta’s was an unappetizing orange. “She’s nervous, okay? We’re there for moral support.” Saloni threw Geeta a pointed look. “It’s what women do. Watch out—gobar.”
Geeta dodged the fresh cow pie on the dirt. A stack of dried ones were propped against the building to their right, to be used for fuel. “Isn’t Priya there for immoral support?”
“Look, it will throw off any suspicions of poison if it looks like we all ate the same meal. Haven’t you ever seen an episode of C.I.D.?”
It was dinnertime and the streets were fairly empty, though some men in dhotis squatted outside their homes to roll and smoke prandial beedis. The scent of tobacco braided the air. Geeta unwillingly thought of Karem and how he’d tasted of smoke, though she’d never seen him with a cigarette. Focus, she scolded herself. Saloni’s curry smelled delicious enough to draw a few jokes from the smoking men about sharing.
“Oh, you don’t want any of this,” Saloni quipped. “Too fattening. It’ll kill ya.” Everyone except Geeta laughed.
Saloni, it seemed, had no qualms about what she carried. Above them, lines of shining tinsel loped from building to building, leftovers from the festival decorations. They’d been strung perpendicular to the power lines, forming an overhead grid.
Geeta whispered, “But I don’t want to be there when he…you know.”
“You think I do? We won’t be there for that. He won’t die-die for one or two days after.”
“Oh, okay,” Geeta deadpanned. “What a relief then.”
“Plotting is all well and good, Geeta, but it’s hard to actually execute these kinds of things alone.”
“Farah managed,” Geeta grumbled.
“Oh, and now Farah is the gold standard, is it? Farah, who’s fallen in her drunk husband’s footsteps to snatch your money?”
Geeta’s groan was baleful. “One woman’s blackmailing me to kill her husband and the other is blackmailing me for killing her husband. God knows which unlucky star I was born under.”
“I told you the crazies flock to you.”
“Why not you?”
Saloni balanced her dish with one hand so she could flex a bicep. “？‘If they are one, I am a one and a quarter.’？”
“So humble,” Geeta snorted. “Let’s get this over with. I’ve had a crap day.”
“You’re not the only one. Those crows attacked me. I was shat on. And that was one of my favorite saris, you know. Farah said it was totally unsalvageable. But she’s turning it into matching kurtas for the kids.”
“You went to Farah?” Geeta gaped.
Saloni shrugged. “What? She’s the best tailor in the village.”
Geeta rubbed her forehead as they approached Preity and Priya’s door. Saloni knocked. It still bore Karva Chauth decorations, scarlet bunting lining the doorway. Two unlit diyas were on the ground, next to a hill of sandals. The lamps were tear-shaped, the wick resting against the peak. How had she never realized that diyas were shaped like vulvas? Geeta shook her depraved head. Che. One kiss and suddenly she was some randy—
Preity answered the door, Priya behind her. “He’s napping, come quietly!”
As the twins led Saloni through the dim hallway, Geeta lagged behind, peering at their home. The space was very large, though she supposed it’d have to be to accommodate two families. She passed a dining area and common room to join the others in the kitchen, where the women surveyed the meal. The twins had prepared a sizable amount of spicy vegetable curry. Saloni had matched the recipe, but had added cashews and, of course, pong pong.
“All the kids ate with Zubin’s parents earlier, so it’ll just be the six of us for dinner.” Preity extended her hennaed hands in an invitation. Priya gripped one and Saloni the other. Each reached out for Geeta’s to form a circle. She did not want to, but her hands rose of their own accord.