Tea for Two and a Piece of Cake (19 page)

Finally when we have talked enough, I say a good night to him as he settles down in my bed—the bed which I have slept in for many years—wearing my clothes. I feel really tender towards him.

And just before walking out, I kiss him on the forehead and turn out the lights.

But even in the darkness, I can feel the warmth of his smile which radiates the joy in his heart, as he says, ‘Goodnight Nisha. You know, you’re really the best.’

Brand New Start

M
rs Billimoria opens the door to her flat the next morning when I come back from dropping Tanya. Akash has already left. He had said he would have loved to go straight to work from my place, but of course he had to go home for a change of clothes. I had thanked him for coming and he had said there was no need to thank him at all.

‘Good morning, my dear,’ she calls out affectionately.

‘Good morning Mrs Billimoria,’ I say smiling.

‘You can call me Mrs B. That is what all my students used to call me.’

‘Oh, I never knew you were a teacher.’ I say. I have developed a liking for Mrs B now. She is sweet and kind and warm. Her students, I am pretty sure, must have loved her too.

‘Yes, my dear, I have taught English for thirty-eight years at St. Anne’s school.’

‘Oh, that
is
really nice. Do your students keep in touch?’

‘Yes, some of them do. They still visit me, you know.’

‘That is really wonderful, Mrs B. I too have fond regards for some of my teachers.’

‘And I must tell you, my dear, I never meant to intrude last night. I apologize. I never knew you had a visitor.’

‘Oh no, you weren’t intruding at all. Akash is a dear friend and we both loved the chocolate mousse,’ I say with a smile.

‘I am glad then,’ she replies. Rohit gurgles in pleasure, as something in our exchange amuses him, and he lunges towards her.

‘What a darling he is! Do you mind if I carry him for some time?’

‘Not at all!’ I say, as she carries him and he tries to leap towards her flat.

‘Oh, do you want to see my house, baby?’ She croons to him and asks me whether I mind if she takes him inside.

I do not mind at all and I follow her.

Her home is full of antique furniture. She has done it up so well. There is a huge chest of drawers which dominate the living room, making it look like an altar. There are many black and white photos of a handsome young man. There are also candles and flowers.

‘Who is this, Mrs B?’ I ask.

‘That is my Adil, my husband. The only love of my life. We were together just two years and then God cruelly snatched him away from me. But oh, they were the best two years of my life,’ she says, and when she talks about him, it is like somebody has switched on a light bulb inside her. She actually radiates with happiness, her face undergoing a transformation.

I don’t know what to say, but I am silent. She is really fortunate to have known love like that.

But then who knows, had he been alive, and had they stayed married longer, perhaps even their marriage would have lost its magic, its charm? I do not know. My own ordeals have eroded my faith in the institution of marriage.

‘You know, Adil chose me over my sister. He had come to meet her, but he ended up falling for me. My sister is older. She never forgave me for that. She did not even come for his funeral,’ she says.

‘I am, sorry, Mrs B.’ I say, and I truly am.

‘So do you have children, Mrs B?’ I ask.

‘No, I have nobody of my own now, except for my sister. She lives in Coorg with her husband and her children who are all grown up and well settled now. They keep telling me to live with them, but I really do not want to give up my house here in Mumbai. This is my world. This is where I have lived all my life, and this is where I will die,’ she says.

Rohit is slowly learning to stand up with support and he has stood up holding the arm of her sofa. I watch him like a hawk, in case he falls over and hurts his head. Rohit slowly walks, takes his first step without support, and looks at Mrs B and me triumphantly.

We both laugh at his expression and Mrs B claps.

‘Well done, Rohit. Now walk to me,’ she says.

Rohit realizes the enormity of what he has done and takes a few more faltering steps. He is really growing up fast.

I think for a moment that had Samir not walked out, he would have been the first person I would have called to say that Rohit has started walking on his own.

And some part of me still hurts from not being able to share such simple joys with Samir.

Akash calls two weeks later, saying that he has some really nice news for me, and that he wants to come over in the evening.

‘Only if you promise me you will stay over like last time,’ I say. I did enjoy his company the last time round; it was a pleasant break in the monotony of my life which is dominated only by my children’s activities.

‘Yes, Ma’am. But please make the same dishes you made last time,’ he says.

‘Don’t worry about the menu. I will cook something delicious.’

I decide to make some Mughlai chicken, rotis and a lovely salad. I also decide to make a dal. I again lay the table, adding to Tanya’s excitement, as she gets to help me set the table and lay out the mats and ‘special plates’, as she calls them. She wants to know who would be visiting, and I tell her that Akash would be coming over.

‘Oh,’ she says, disappointment clouding her sunny face.

‘Why baby? Don’t you like Akash?’ I ask.

‘I do, but I was thinking maybe Papa is coming over,’ she says. She clearly believes that Samir will definitely come.

I do not have the heart to tell her that her papa has called just once in all these days, and her mama hung up on him after telling him to fuck off. I look at her angelic face, and I hate the adults who screw up their relationships so badly after having kids. Children truly do not deserve to go through a broken home for no fault of theirs.

But there is nothing I can do about it.

Akash calls up at around seven to say that he has got caught up in office, as his boss wants him to finish a slide show for his presentation.

‘Really sorry, Nisha, I was all set to leave, and the bastard piles this on last moment,’ he says.

‘Hey, I’ll wait. I am not going anywhere. Don’t worry.’

And to be honest, his coming later suits me fine, as it means that my children will be fast asleep.

After the children have slept, I find myself glancing at the clock every now and then, as I wait eagerly for Akash. I have brushed my hair and worn a nice top and sprayed on some perfume too. I have never dressed up for Akash before this, but the compliment he paid me last time about my losing weight and about my looks, seems to have worked its magic.

I give him a big tight hug as soon as he rings the bell, and he immediately notices my perfume.

‘Nisha, you smell great and you look gorgeous,’ he says, and I smile.

‘You don’t look too bad either,’ I say.

‘Dry clothes generally look smarter than wet ones,’ he smiles and winks.

‘Are you hungry? Do you want to eat now?’ I ask him.

‘Not really hungry. Get me two glasses, I have something for you,’ he says.

I fetch two glasses while he opens his laptop bag and takes out a bottle of wine.

‘Some lovely red South African wine for us,’ he says, as he pours.

‘But what are we celebrating?’ I ask amused.

‘Patience, lady, patience. Let me show you,’ he says as he hands over a paper envelope to me.

I open it with great curiosity and I am so surprised.

There is a stack of superbly designed business cards and letterheads.

My jaw almost drops to the floor as I read

The Magic Saucepan
We make food good!

Underneath that, on the bottom right side is
my
name, address, and phone number.

I notice that Akash has used just Nisha and not my full name.

The business cards, look really professional and are so beautifully designed on expensive handmade paper, as are the letterheads. The whole effect spells sheer class.

‘Oh my God, Akash, what is all this? What is “The Magic Saucepan”?’ I ask him.

‘First tell me whether you like it or not?’ he says, his eyes shining.

‘Yeah, of course I do. It’s a wonderful name and the cards are outstanding. But you still have a lot of explaining to do on your part. I’ll explode if you don’t explain right now!’

‘You Nisha, YOU are in business! The Magic Saucepan is
your
company and we are celebrating your first party order. Woohooo!’ He cannot hide his excitement any longer and he takes hold of both my hands, pulls me to my feet, and spins me around.

‘What? Oh my God!
What
?’ I finally manage to say when he stops spinning me around.

‘What party order, Akash? What is all this? Tell me in detail Akash,’ I demand.

‘Nisha look, you wanted to earn money, right? And you wanted a job where you can be around Rohit and are there when Tanya comes home from school.’

‘Yeah but…’

‘No buts. Listen to me,’ he interrupts. ‘You cook so well, Nisha, and there are a lot of these private parties where there is a real demand for some good food. This is where you step in.’

‘But wouldn’t it be easier for them to order straight off from restaurants?’ I ask.

‘Arre! Haven’t you seen how greasy and oily most of the restaurant stuff is? Besides, they all have the same boring menus. Here you will be customizing the menu and modifying it as per the client’s needs. Quality service, Nisha, will be your forte,’ he explains slowly.

‘Oh my God, Akash, I cannot believe this. This is all so sudden, and whose order did you get and how did you manage to get them to agree to it when they haven’t even met me or sampled what I cook?’

‘C’mon, Nisha! There is something called reliability, goodwill, and trust, Madam! The executive director of my company is having a party at his residence. I know the couple well, and they are both quite fond of me. I had told them that a friend of mine has started a catering service which serves awesome food, and that they would have never tasted anything like this before. In fact, they want Chinese food, and you do cook it so well.’

‘And how many people will I have to cook for?’

‘Twenty. And you just have to cook one main course and two side dishes. They have roped in starters from a place which specializes in just that. You can manage that number, can’t you?’

‘I have cooked for about fifteen people once. So twenty should not be that big a problem. But I don’t have the cooking vessels, Akash.’

‘Don’t worry, Nisha, I will help you with everything. Ok, forget all that. Guess what I quoted on your behalf,’ he says.

‘I have no idea, Akash! How can I guess?’

‘Take a guess, a wild one,’ he says.

‘Err…four thousand five hundred rupees?’ I ask doing a quick mental calculation. The ingredients to cook for about twenty people would probably cost me not more than two thousand five hundred rupees, if I am making noodles along with one vegetable and one chicken dish, chicken being the most expensive item amongst them.
‘Well, they are paying you eight thousand five hundred, lady!’ he says happily.