Geeta snapped her fingers. “Karem. We’ll buy tharra from him. Give it to the guys. That way, we’re seen and they stay out drinking longer.”
Saloni tapped her chin. “Okay, that’s good. Really good, actually. What about Preity? Priya came into the room for incense sticks, sure, but why didn’t Preity see his body when she came to bed?”
“Because I stayed with the kids!” Preity said. “Pihu had a nightmare and I stayed with her. All night. I do that sometimes. That’s why Darshan thought it was his chance, because I told him I’d be with them.”
Geeta raised a hand. “But why didn’t Priya wake Preity up after he attacked her?”
“I dunno,” Priya said, shrugging. “Honor. Shame. Embarrassment. Any one of those things they’re always trying to make us feel. Oh! And I was worried about my sister; I didn’t want to hurt her further.”
Preity nodded. “You didn’t realize he was dead. You didn’t see the blood, you just ran and locked yourself in your room.”
“Okay, I think that works, actually,” said Saloni. “But you have to really sell it with Zubin, okay? When he comes home, he’ll be drunk, and you’ll tell him immediately. You have to be…”
“Hysterical,” Geeta said.
“Like, so hysterical,” Saloni said dryly, and Geeta barked a laugh despite herself. When Priya looked confused and a bit suspicious, Geeta coughed and ticked her fingers with renewed efficiency. “Okay, you two have your stories, Saloni and I will get our alibis, we have no prints, we have—”
Saloni bit her lip. “Wait. Wouldn’t it make it easier if Priya’s face sold the story more than her words?”
Priya frowned. “Is that some kind of riddle?”
“Hear me out. We came in here and started screaming at Geeta because she looked fine. Too fine.”
The twins were skeptical. “Not really. I don’t even know where to start. That hair—”
“Forget the hair. Look at the skin, offo. Yahan dry, wahan oily.”
Geeta touched her nose. “Okay, I—”
“Lipstick wouldn’t hurt.”
“Is that a sari or a dishrag?”
“I said okay!”
“Yes, yes, everything you’ve said is true. And then some,” Saloni muttered. “But the point is she always looks that bad. I’m talking unusually bad.”
“Wow,” Geeta said. “Wow.”
Saloni squeezed her hand. “When this is over, we’ll fix you. One disaster at a time, na?”
Before Geeta could comment, Preity spoke. She addressed Saloni but was surveying her twin. “So…she needs bruises?”
Saloni nodded. “I really think that would, you know, make it irrefutable.”
Priya held up a finger. “Uh, wait a minute—”
Preity considered this. “And what, we just, like, hit her?”
“Okay,” Priya said, taking a step back. “Let’s all just slow down.”
Saloni continued, “Nothing crazy, just like a bleeding lip or black eye.”
“Excuse me!”
Geeta nodded. “Like how Farah was after Samir.”
Saloni snapped her fingers. “Exactly! Yes. That’s totally the look we’re going for.”
“？‘The look we’re going for?’ Okay, Lakmé, all of you back off.”
Saloni checked the clock in the corner. “It’s really getting late, na? We need to fatafat smack her and get on our way.”
“No way. No smacking.”
“Listen, Priya,” Saloni said, hands on her hips. “If your face is fucked, you won’t have to act so hard. People won’t ask as many questions. Are you such a good actor, Amitabh Bachchan, that you don’t need any costume?”
“I—er—”
“Exactly. One or two thappads now will save you tears later.”
Saloni was as persuasive as she’d been in her school days, coaxing girls into buying bogus, ugly hair clips or fancying bogus, ugly boys. It was equal parts admirable and intimidating. Geeta recalled then what it was like to have someone in her corner, advocating no less than she would for herself. It had been so long, she’d grown too accustomed to stooping under the burden of solitude. The relief was immediate. She felt taller, as though seeing the world from a greater height.
Priya exhaled her capitulation. “Okay, let’s do it.”
It was decided it should be Preity. Since the twins were blood, there was a lower likelihood of lingering resentment. Preity moved to pull off her rings.
Saloni stopped her. “What’re you doing?”
“The rings will mark—Oh, right, obviously.”
Priya stood, eyes closed, body tense. She kept her arms tight near her sides while Preity reared back her arm and struck. It was a soft slap, like the ones the women gave their children for minor offenses. Priya’s head didn’t so much as move.
“That was…not great, Preity.”
“And shouldn’t it be a punch, not a slap?”
“Bey yaar, do I look like Farah’s daughter that I’ll just smack her around so easily? She’s my sister.”
“What’s that mukkabaaz’s name, anyway?”
“Miriam.”
“No yaar, Imani.”
“Irem,” Geeta said.
“Ohhhh,” they said in unison. “Correct.”
“Shall we focus?” Geeta asked.
“Get angry!” Saloni suggested.
“How?”
Saloni pulled her shoulders back and declared, as though at a campaign rally, “How are you not angry that she’s the beautiful sister and you’re the ugly one? That for years you’ve had to have sex with a man who’s picturing her?”
The women gasped. Geeta joined: “Or that you two look like before-and-after pictures?”
“Well, now I just wanna hit you.”
Priya sighed. “Remember when we were kids and you really, really loved Mummy’s gold jhumkas?”
Preity frowned. “Yeah, of course. What about them?”
“Well, the reason she gave them to me instead of you is because she thought some chakkar was happening between you and that Sikh boy, and she never really got over it.”
“Why would she think that?”
Priya’s smile was sheepish. “Probably because some chakkar was happening between me and that Sikh boy, and I told her it was you when someone saw us?”
“What!”
“I’m sorry! But you were always her favorite anyway! Me, she’d’ve never forgiven.”
Preity punched her sister in the eye with impressive accuracy. Priya reeled. “I loved those earrings! I always thought I’d be married in them!”
“But you couldn’t have worn them anyway because of the acid— Ow!”
Preity easily landed another blow. One twin cowered, the other stalked forward. They both nimbly avoided Darshan’s body, but it was an inelegant tussle: Preity manacled one of her sister’s wrists to keep her within reach while she used her free hand to attack.
“I’ll give them back to you!”
“What the fuck good are earrings to me now!”