Edison by Pallavi Sharma Dixit

Author:Pallavi Sharma Dixit
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Third State Books

“These ads all are looking for doctors,” Prem said, trying to ruffle the pages angrily.

“I am not saying you should marry them,” Beena said. “Just meet some girls, have some fun.”

“I hate this idea,” Prem said.

“Okay, fine, be alone,” Beena said, stuffing too much idli into her mouth.

Laughter erupted from Leena’s table at the same time that the heart wrenching song “Lambi Judai” (“Long Separation”) from Hero began, and Prem wondered how this restaurant had become a showcase for depressing song videos. They changed the topic of conversation to Isha Rao’s failed hunger strike, trying to ignore the disproportionate amount of fun the other table was having. Beena paid the bill, and Prem thanked her for the kind gesture and good food. As they got up to leave, he said, “You know, you really have some bad ideas,” but stuffed the pages into his pocket anyway.

Prem carried on his solitary existence on the phone at Beena’s. He had started to book other vendors, such as a lighting and AV company, a security firm, and a limousine service for airport pickups and drop-offs, though there were still no stars to pick up or drop off. By May, the snow, hardened and brown at the curbside, had melted, and it started to feel like a temperature he could withstand. June saw the arrival of AC units sticking out of King’s Court windows, and Prem wondered why Beena didn’t install one when she could afford it.

That same month, Gopal got engaged. He had met Radha at Sanjay Sapra’s daughter’s graduation party at Moghul Fine Indian Cuisine, the most celebrated and formal restaurant in town, where he noticed her across the room hovering around the paneer station, a giant orange flower tucked behind one ear. Her face had a dewy glow and her plump arms were threatening to bust free from her skin-tight sari blouse. Without speaking to her, he already couldn’t imagine his life without her. When he finally approached, he said, “You look like actual Radha. The one with cows.” She smiled shyly, and he admired her modest nature and chin dimple. She, in turn, liked his curly, tousled hair and was impressed by his incisive questions about American culture such as “Why is Jack short for John?” which demonstrated a delicious curiosity. It wasn’t long before the Singhs were hosting in their apartment a grand potluck engagement party for the couple, which quickly spilled out onto the lawn on a hot summer night. Prem stood around with his friends and watched the happy couple feeding each other coconut laddu, then boondi laddu and besan laddu. In that moment, with no one feeding him excessive laddu, Prem recognized how lonely and bored he had been these few months. He had taken to frequenting places where he thought he might see Leena—Drug Fair, Dairy Queen, the parking lot of the Mediplex building across from John F. Kennedy hospital where her gynecologist had her offices—but he never saw her this way. Only when he

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