‘I have to say, it was pretty nice having langar in the temple that day though. I didn’t realize how much I missed home-cooked dal and roti.’
‘I missed it too,’ Nikki admitted. ‘Weirdly enough, I never cared for dal when I lived at home. I know if I called my mum to ask her how to cook it, she’d try to use her dal to lure me home. I thought, how hard can it be? I bought some lentils in the supermarket and boiled them and added curry spices to the mix. I think I put in too much turmeric – that was one of the problems with my recipe anyway – and it came out fluoro-yellow and completely inedible. By the end, I just wanted it to look like dal at least, so I tossed in some instant coffee mix to make it browner.’
‘Please tell me you didn’t eat it?’
‘I tossed it into the alleyway. The next morning my boss Sam came in, grumbling about how somebody had vomited next to the pub and I thought, no that’s just Nikki’s Venti Dal Latte.’
Nikki was so comfortable chatting to him that the remaining hours of her shift passed quickly. When Jason asked her what she had been doing at the temple that day, Nikki shifted her attention to a new group of customers at the bar and busied herself with their orders. The distraction bought her some time to return with an answer. ‘I teach a writing class there – adult literacy.’ She decided that this would be her standard answer to anyone besides Olive; it was safer.
Olive returned to the bar after the final round of trivia was completed. ‘Jason, your answer to the Mexico question was correct. Guadalajara.’ Her voice was pitched slightly higher than usual.
‘Uh-oh. Tipsy Olive,’ Nikki teased. ‘Teaching those nasty Year Nines with a hangover must be horrid.’
Olive ignored her. ‘Nikki, did you hear what I just said? Jason is very clever. You guys are cute together. You and Mindi should have a double Punjabi wedding.’
‘Mindi’s my sister,’ Nikki explained to Jason. ‘And Olive, shut up.’
‘Mindi’s looking for a husband,’ Olive continued. ‘Do you have anyone in mind, Jason? Friends? Brothers?’
‘I’ve got a brother but he’s only twenty-one. He’s famous though, if that counts for anything.’
‘What is he famous for?’ Nikki asked.
‘Have you heard of the interactive website Hipster or Harvinder?’
‘Yes,’ Nikki said at the same time Olive said, ‘No.’ Nikki launched into an explanation for Olive. ‘It’s a website where people can submit photos of themselves sporting trendy beards and visitors rate them according to how closely they resemble pictures of this Sikh man named Harvinder. He’s got an insanely bushy beard.’
‘My brother did a study abroad year in India and befriended the famed Harvinder during a trek in a tiny village. They got to talking about how beards represent identity in Sikh culture and how they’ve become very hip in the Western world lately and the idea for the website was born,’ Jason said.
‘Your brother created Hipster or Harvinder? That’s so cool.’
‘Yeah. He returned from India with a big beard as well. It was a self-expression thing. He tried getting me to grow one but I looked like a hobbit,’ Jason said.
‘You’re too tall to be a hobbit,’ Olive said kindly.
‘Thank you,’ Jason said.
‘Have you got any friends we can set Nikki’s sister up with then?’ Olive asked. ‘Tall ones?’
‘I don’t really believe in the whole Indian set-up thing.’
‘Why not?’ Olive asked.
‘Too much pressure. Everyone gets so involved – friends, parents. They start putting deadlines on everything, as if every relationship between a woman and a man must lead to marriage. It’s stressful.’
‘Exactly!’ Nikki said. ‘Imagine going out with someone your mum picked for you. That’s an immediate turn-off.’
‘Then if it doesn’t work out, you have all of this explaining to do.’
‘And people to avoid.’
‘Too much drama,’ Jason agreed.
Nikki noticed Olive’s attention switching between them as if she was watching a tennis match. She slipped back to the trivia tables, giving Nikki a wink over her shoulder as she left.
A wild wind battered the bus windows with rain. Passengers hurried off the bus and ran, huddled, towards the temple. Nikki gripped the edges of her rain jacket hood but the wind bit at her cheeks. Last night, after she closed the pub and had her last cigarette outside with Jason, they had discussed quitting smoking. ‘I’ll quit with you,’ he said. ‘We can help each other out. Of course, this means I’ll have to have your number. You know, for tracking my progress and inspirational pep talks.’
Now after braving the rain and managing to arrive at the temple’s wide awning, Nikki contemplated having her last cigarette. She made her way along the edge of the building and cut across the car park, ducking into the alleyway. The cigarette was well worth it. She took a long draw and wondered how she was going to quit, but the idea of having an excuse to talk to Jason made it worthwhile.
Deep in thought, Nikki finished her cigarette and stepped out of the alleyway. Behind her, a gruff voice called out. ‘Excuse me,’ he said.
She turned around to see a stout young man wearing a checked shirt with the top buttons undone to expose the curly hairs on his chest.
‘Is this the temple?’ he asked. Something in his voice gave Nikki the impression that he wasn’t asking, but telling.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Are you lost?’ She matched his stare. His lips curled back in disgust as he stepped towards her.
‘Your head should be covered,’ he said.
‘I’m not in the temple yet,’ Nikki replied.
The man stepped towards her. There was a hard look in his eyes. Nikki’s stomach fluttered with nerves. She glanced around and, with relief, noticed a family milling in the temple’s entrance.
His eyes followed her gaze. ‘Cover your head in the presence of God,’ he said eventually through his teeth. He stalked off, leaving Nikki bewildered.
All of the women were already in the classroom when Nikki arrived. They were busy in their conversations and Nikki did nothing at first to interrupt them. She was distracted by her encounter with the man. She had never seen somebody so aggravated by an uncovered head on temple grounds. Who was he to order her around?
Tarampal Kaur trailed in after her and took her seat at the furthest end of the room. She laid out her pencils in a row and then looked up expectantly at Nikki. ‘I’ll be with you in a moment,’ Nikki told her. The other women looked up as if noticing Nikki for the first time.
‘We talked about our stories on the bus all the way here,’ Manjeet said.
‘On the bus? Couldn’t other people hear you?’ Tarampal asked.
‘Nobody eavesdrops on old lady chatter. To them it’s all one buzzing noise. They think we’re discussing our knee pain and funeral plans,’ Arvinder said.
‘You could at least try to be discreet,’ said Tarampal.
‘Ah, being discreet gets us nowhere,’ Preetam said. ‘Remember playing coy and pretending not to want it?’