The Hope Factory A Novel - By Lavanya Sankaran Page 0,9

on Cunningham Road was plunged in darkness when they arrived. The sleeping watchman had to be roused, and Anand and Vidya followed his sluggish, waving torchlight down a path and round the back of the building. Vidya stumbled in her high heels on the pavement stones and Anand held out a hand to steady her.

“God,” she said, clutching tightly to his fingers, “I can’t believe they gave up that gorgeous Whitefield bungalow for this place. All that money from selling their software company—a deal that’s in all the bloody newspapers—and they move to a building without a generator. I mean, it’s all very well that they are giving all their money away to charitable causes, but at least they could live someplace decent!”

“I don’t think they’re giving it all away, no?” said Anand. “Just some of it.”

“Don’t always disagree with me,” she said, pulling her hand away as they reached the apartment.

“Unscheduled power cut,” their hostess laughed as she opened the door. “Watch the step.” She ushered them through the house, her guests moving all by guess and to the sound of her voice urging them to step this way, mind that side table—through the living room and out to a little verandah.

Vidya might differ, but for Anand this verandah, facing a tiny garden, had a relaxed, comfortable charm that he missed in his own house with its studied, stylish formality. A long, low table was littered with candles and wine bottles; the surrounding divan piled with block-printed cushions. Anand sank down into the cushions next to his host, Amir, who was absentmindedly plucking chords on his guitar.

Though he had met Amir through Vidya, they had formed an instant friendship, the ease that Amir and Amrita shared with each other spilling over onto their friends and acquaintances. Anand sipped at his whiskey, lying back luxuriously and feeling the tension within him ease for the first time in hours. This was his notion of hospitality: casual, unfussy, a few good friends.

Amir was discussing road signs. “ ‘Pederastrian Bridge,’ ” he said, “my favorite of the day. And there were actually people walking through, right under that sign. Quite shamelessly. Some holding children by the hand too.”

“ ‘Bed shits,’ ” Amrita called. “Saw that yesterday outside a linen sale. And ‘Ladies Bottoms.’ ” She placed a bowl of nuts and a plate of kebabs on the low table and picked up her wineglass.

“Ah, few things nicer than well-made ladies’ bottoms,” her husband lazily said, putting aside his guitar and reaching for the nut bowl. “You should have bought a few.”

“I’m gifting you with bed shits instead,” Amrita said. “Vidya! A drink?”

Vidya flipped her phone closed. “Sorry,” she said and sat on a cushion, slipping off her high-heeled sandals, “these endless calls are so annoying…. You know, so nice to have an evening like this! So relaxing.”

“Have a drink,” said Amir.

“Lovely!” Vidya sipped at her vodka-tonic but left the glass sweating on the table when her phone rang. “Oh, it’s Pingu. Yes, baby? Couldn’t sleep …? Yes, I’ll be home soon, you just close your eyes and think of something nice…. Akka’s there, but don’t disturb her, okay? She’s studying hard …”

“Who else are you expecting?” Anand thought he knew the answer to this, but couldn’t resist asking.

“Just another couple,” said Amir. “Colleagues from our old software days…. Nice people. And Kavika. I’ve barely met her since she’s been back—be good to see her again.”

Anand glanced around. Vidya was busy with another call, another message. “What is Kavika doing here? She was with the UN, wasn’t she?”

“That’s right! And really successful too,” said Amrita. “But she’s given that up and she’s back with her baby. Well, toddler. She seems to be exploring options, but in the short term, she is going to be working with me on fund-raising for that scholarship program for underprivileged schoolchildren.” She tapped Anand on the knee and smiled. “Thanks for your contribution, by the way. That was really generous.”

He shrugged it off, embarrassed, and asked instead: “She’s going to be here for some time?”

“I hope so,” said Amrita. “She’s brilliant. Fun. Quite unconventional, but her heart’s in the right place.”

“Lord,” said Amir, smiling at old memories, “we used to be such a neighborhood brat pack growing up; all of us: Kavika—such a rowdy, like my brother, Kabir…. Vidya was better behaved, I remember. Kabir and Kavika stole Harry Chinappa’s cigarettes once and hid them under my pillow…. Ammi gave me such a walloping! Jesus. Who knew she had