Not wanting to be left out, the women too joined the party with gusto. They raised one toast after another and cheered the tall and lanky sardar. The bandmaster was a seasoned subedar. His eyes didn’t miss out the genuineness behind the love and affection on display by both the officers and the ladies. Taking a bit of liberty, he waved the baton twice and abruptly stopped the routine, traditional martial tunes. He swished his baton again and whispered a few words to his band. Reacting swiftly, the musicians began playing pacy Hindi film songs. It was a risk the subedar was taking, for which he could be hauled up by none other than the second most senior officer of the Indian Army. He very well knew that this was an official event being attended by officers in uniform. His act could put him and his superior in deep trouble. But the soldier in him was elated to see an exemplary officer like Virk being promoted to flag rank.

As soon as the music came on, the wife of the general officer commanding-in-chief (GOC-in-C), Mrs Rathod, raised her champagne glass and nodded her head excitedly. Her eyes met with the band members’ who bowed gently while the GOC-in-C smiled uncomfortably. Emboldened, the other women too broke into a spontaneous jig. The centre space, adjacent to the spacious, well-stocked wooden bar, turned into a lively dance floor. Mrs Rathod held Virk’s hand and led him to the floor. With one hand on her delicate waist, Virk moved elegantly to the rhythm. They danced like nobody was watching, breaking the shackles of hierarchy.

Bibi watched the festivities from her vantage point, wearing a big smile on her face. She held a tall glass of sparkling champagne in her hand, sipping it from time to time. But in reality, she was not a drinker, only pretending to be one. Havildar Ram Singh, her favourite steward, kept replacing her glass with new ones that held less and less alcohol every few minutes so that it looked like she was enjoying her drink. ‘It is a big occasion for me, Amrit,’ Virk had told her before the party. ‘And most women drink beer and wine. Even if you don’t drink, just hold a glass so that it seems like you are celebrating with them,’ he had pleaded. Realizing what it meant to her husband, she had agreed. Now aware that she would be summoned to the dance floor very soon, she handed the glass to the steward and mentally prepared herself.