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The Jaipur Trilogy #2
by Alka Joshi
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In the end, the Agarwals didn't need me to help decide the issue, which was a relief. Manu's mother, busy with her sandalwood rosary, settled the argument. "Because all that dancing and singing in films corrupts people! Come, Niki, help me up. We're going to my temple." Nikhil groaned. He was a polite child; an order from his grandmother was not up for debate.
Now, amid deafening applause inside the Royal Jewel Cinema, the Maharani Latika—the third and youngest wife, now widow—of the Maharaja of Jaipur, takes center stage to welcome all the moviegoers. This is the first major project she's headed since the death of her husband. She is Manu's boss; none of the other wives of the maharaja wanted to manage the finances. Manu is the director of facilities at the Jaipur Palace, shepherding building projects like these, and I've been sent by Auntie-Boss to learn his trade.
"Tonight, we celebrate the grandest movie house Rajasthan has ever known, the Royal Jewel Cinema." The maharani waits for the applause to die down before continuing. Her ruby-and-diamond earrings and the gold-embroidered pallu of her red silk Banarasi sari send a thousand sparkles out into the audience as she scans the packed house, a beatific smile on her face. "It's an historic occasion for Jaipur, home to world-renowned architecture, dazzling textiles and jewels, and, of course, Rajasthani dal batti!" The crowd erupts into delighted laughter at the mention of the famous local dish.
Her Highness acknowledges Manu's supervision of the project, compliments the fine work of Singh-Sharma architects and finishes her speech by welcoming the actors from the film onto the stage. Anand and Vyjayanthimala are followed by the kohl-eyed Kapoor in a sequined sari amid whistles and shouts of Waa! Waa! The audience showers all three with roses, frangipani and chemali and gives them a standing ovation. When we were growing up, Auntie-Boss's sister, Radha, was more of a film buff than I was. But tonight, even I'm caught up in the feverish excitement, the thunderous clapping and whistles from the audience.
Finally, the theater curtains part and a hush descends on the crowd as the film certificate and title credits begin rolling on the screen. Even the rickshaw-wallas and tailors in the cheap seats of the front rows are coaxed into silence.
Indian movies are long, lasting almost three, sometimes four, hours, broken by an intermission. At the break, we file out of the building—along with the majority of the audience—into the street for refreshments. The street vendors are prepared. They've arranged themselves along both sides of the street in front of the theater. The aroma of roasting chili peanuts, panipuri, onion pakoras and potato samosas is almost too much to resist. I buy small glasses of chai for everyone and pass them around. Samir buys a large plate of kachori and aloo tikki for our group.
It's May in Jaipur and already sweltering. The theater is air-conditioned, but the air outside is fresher than the odor of a thousand bodies pressed close together inside the theater. Ravi's wife, Sheela, refuses the chai and the food, claiming it's too hot to eat. Her baby daughter has fallen asleep on her shoulder, the warmth of her small body making Sheela squirm. Sheela puffs out her cheeks and walks over to a stall selling khus-khus fans. A bead of sweat glides down her throat and disappears into the low neckline of her fuchsia silk blouse. I force myself to look away.
Parvati is proudly showing off her four-year-old granddaughter Rita to the society matrons who have come to say hello. "Tumara naam batao, bheti."
Kanta is chatting gaily with friends. Samir and Manu are being congratulated for their work on the cinema house by the Jaipur elite who have shown up for the gala affair. I look around for Ravi, who was with them earlier, and wonder why he would miss this opportunity to be in the limelight. It's not like him.
Excerpted from The Secret Keeper of Jaipur by Alka Joshi. Copyright © 2021 by Alka Joshi. Excerpted by permission of Mira. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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