‘If it is so important then you should be able to do it,’ she argued. ‘Since the day you came, I’ve been compromising on your behalf because I could tell you really enjoyed being here. But I can’t keep relying on you like this, especially since all you’ve done is bail out when we most need you. I’m doing a business, Ishaan. Not running a charity for people with misplaced dreams.’
For some reason, that pinched my heart more than what Sherman Gill could have ever said. ‘I told you,’ I said, trying to keep my voice down, ‘it’s not in my hands. I tried convincing my boss.’
‘Does it look like I care?’
It had taken me a year to elevate from an apprentice, a helper—someone who chopped vegetables and refilled the pantry day in and out—to a line cook, someone in charge of real cooking. Although I had begun with grill and salad, it had only been five months since I shifted to the sauté station. This was the fun part of my job and it had taken me forever to get here. I wasn’t ready to leave.
I knew nothing else I said could make a difference. But I had to try. ‘You need me,’ I insisted, not taking off the apron just yet.
She laughed and it sounded more derisive than playful. ‘No person in this world is irreplaceable, Ishaan. Neither are you.’
I spent the week tossing and turning in bed, my mind stuck on the kitchen. I dreamed of wandering to the place, of being invisible while everyone else worked the busy hours. I tried to pick up a plate, open the oven doors, but my hand brushed past it. I woke up the Friday morning with a gut-wrenching feeling of missing out and deep regret.
‘All the best, Ishu,’ my mother said, handing me a breakfast plate, a piece of omelette and bread. I kissed the top of her head that brought a smile to her face. Saloni was in the living room, reciting the dialogues of her play loudly, in whatever language it was, while taking big ass bites of her breakfast. Baba had already left for office.
As I pushed my feet into the shoes, Saloni bounced to my side. ‘Can I get five hundred?’ Standing, I pulled out my wallet and handed her one. ‘Aren’t you going to ask why?’
‘As long as you’re not buying drugs or alcohol, I don’t need to know,’ I said, ruffling her hair.
She smiled. As I rushed down the stairs, I heard her voice behind me, ‘FYI, it’s for a bag!’
The meeting ran for four to five hours. As soon as I reached the office, I was reminded of it. It was indeed a big deal. You could either brag about yourself or get roasted. All your achievements or the lack of them thereof were bared, your leadership skills broken down and tested.
For some reason, that thought didn’t scare me. All I wanted was for it to get over. It was as if my mind was starting to shut down, not letting anything get past it.
After lunch, we filed into the conference room and loitered around politely until everyone took seat. The MD and all department managers walked in last, about half an hour after everyone had settled down. They believed the delay helped us to talk and bond. They were probably right, but I just didn’t care.
Sherman addressed the room with his usual pleasantries. One by one, each team lead discussed what projects they’d handled the previous month, how they managed it, the results, and what they intended to achieve this month. It droned on and as the time of the catering event neared—four in the afternoon—I shifted in my seat, checked my wristwatch enough times to attract Mr Gill’s attention. He narrowed his eyes questioningly at me, but no matter what, I couldn’t stop feeling restless.
My mind drifted back to the conversation I had with Vartika. I’d let everything and everyone else rule my life for so long, it had become almost second nature now to disregard what I really wanted. I’d felt this suffocating agitation once before and as a remedy, I’d joined Copper Club. The place was my abode. As the clock rushed past four and hung on the edge of five, my palms broke into a sweat, my mind numbing. I drifted in and out of focus from the conversation around the table. I saw their mouths move, but I couldn’t hear a word. I nodded when the rest of them nodded. As my turn neared, a claustrophobic feeling settled in and I hungered for fresh air.
It took me about half an hour to reach the location. The decorations for the wedding were still in process. Asking around a bit, I reached the back of the kitchen while the silverware was being unloaded. The cooking had already begun for the smell of curry lingered in the air. I approached Vartika, who was supervising the unloading.
‘I’m not paying more than three thousand! It’s not my fault that you had to pay a fine for speeding,’ she was telling the driver.
‘But madam, it is because of you I had to—’
She held up her finger, which silenced him. ‘No. You should have left earlier. Now, let me work or I’ll not pay you a penny.’ He sighed and left.
‘Hey,’ I called her.
She turned and narrowing her eyes, sized me up. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I’m… here,’ I said, not sure what else to say. I wasn’t really expecting a cold welcome. I decided saying sorry was probably the way to go. ‘To apologize.’
‘Save yourself the trouble,’ she said and pointed to a new boy working in the kitchen. ‘You’ve been replaced.’ Saying that, she went over to the driver who produced a receipt and took out some money from a small pouch in her hand. I followed her.
‘I left my meeting midway to come here,’ I explained, a little desperate now.
‘So?’
‘So?’ my voice raised. ‘So? Can I please come back?’
She sighed, sparing me an annoyed look while the driver signed on the receipt. ‘Do you think we’re playing a roadside game of cricket here? You’re out for one game and the next, you get to bat again?’
I studied her face, feeling a little indignant at her childish analogy. ‘I ditched the meeting,’ I said every word slowly, just so she could understand the gravity of what I’d done. ‘I practically ran away from office to be here. That’s nothing like me. I could pay hell for this tomorrow.’
‘That just proves you cannot follow through with a commitment. You left my place to be somewhere else and you couldn’t even stay there long enough.’
‘I left your place?’ I demanded. ‘You threw me out!’
‘It’s the same thing.’
‘It’s not the same thing.’
‘Listen’—she tucked the receipt in her pouch and faced me—‘I appreciate you left your meeting, but you missed the one I held here. And don’t even counter it wasn’t important because that will only piss me off.’ I wasn’t going to, I wanted to tell her, but decided not to cut her in. She continued, ‘I can’t work with half-ass commitments, with spineless people. In fact, spine is the only thing you need while working in a kitchen. Admittedly, I don’t trust you enough to hire you back.’
The lump rose to my throat, but I gulped, pushing it down. It was harder than I had thought it would be. Mustering the courage and my shattered self-respect, I approached her again as she went to taste the chicken curry. The boy newly hired stared at me.
‘Two teaspoons of garam masala,’ she said and the boy left to fetch it.
I pulled in a breath. ‘Melting Pot.’
She threw a glance over her shoulder. ‘What?’
‘The … the name of … my restaurant,’ I said with a faltering tongue, but a confident stance. ‘It’s Melting Pot.’
It took her a second to react. ‘Why are you telling me?’
I felt the surety of my decision in my bones as I said, ‘Because I’m ready to leave the job.’
She turned to face me and crossed her arms across her chest. ‘How do I know you’re not just saying that to get back in?’
‘Because after what I did today, I don’t think I’ll be welcome in the office anyway. I left the meeting under the pretence of going to the washroom. They will find out that I’m no longer there the hard way.’
She scoffed. ‘That won’t fool anyone. I know you. You’ll grovel for a few days and they’ll take you back.’ I hesitated only for a
moment, trying to register her words, and she shook her head, taking that as my defeat. ‘Forget it, Ishaan. Go back to office. That’s really where you should be right now.’
I contemplated going back to the office, defeated and mortified, and the thought horrified me. I didn’t know what to say to Vartika, so I repeated what I’d told her earlier, trying to make her see it was indeed a big deal. ‘How fast do you want me to go? Leaving the job is not so easy, but I’m ready to do it. Isn’t that good enough for now?’
She paused and just when I thought she’d melted, she pursed her lips. ‘No.’
‘Vani, please.’
It might be the tone of my voice, the pleading desperation in my eyes or simply my conviction behind the words, but Vartika fixed me with a stern gaze I was more familiar with. ‘If you leave this place before midnight,’ she said, ‘before we have packed and parcelled everything, I’m going to kick your ass to the curb and never see your ugly face again.’
A rush of cool relief calmed me. ‘I promise I won’t leave.’
Taking in the hustle, the heat and the rhythmic, chaotic noises of steel against steel, I got to preparing custard. That moment, a euphoric sensation began to seep in and the contrast of how I felt in the concrete walls of confinement and in this free-spirited frenzied workplace was astonishing.
CHAPTER 5
I
’d thought I could deal with stolen looks and whispers, but it wasn’t so easy. The word seemed to have spread like quick-fire. My team gave me strange questioning looks too, except Siddharth. Today, out of all those people eyeing me inconspicuously, he was the only one who looked at me head-on with a goofy smile and greeted ‘Good morning’ when he first saw me.
‘I know a lot of people want to ask you this,’ he said, when we crossed paths in the washroom, ‘but I’m the only one who’s going to. Why did you run away from the meeting, Mr Adhikari?’
I sighed. ‘Siddharth…’
‘Just asking. I bet there was a good reason.’ His immense faith in me was tiring, but somehow also motivating. ‘And you look different today,’ he added.
‘Different,’ I repeated. ‘How?’
He smirked. ‘You don’t look unhappy.’ I grunted at that observation.
After lunch, Sherman called me into his cabin. When I was seated in front of him, I was expecting some sort of outburst or an account of what a shitty employee I had been. Instead, he folded his arms on the table and said in a neutral voice, ‘Should we discuss what happened yesterday?’
The discussion lasted for an hour. I began from the reason for the escape, letting him know I wasn’t proud of it, to my restaurant plans, family issues and financial troubles. I unfolded the cards on the table for his critical curiosity and he listened with a keen ear, interrupting only with questions that eased the conversation forward.
I only faltered when he asked me the most obvious question, the one I was prepared to answer, yet found it extremely difficult to verbalize. ‘Do you want to keep working for us?’ His voice wasn’t curt and he showed little expression as to what he expected of me. He was probably giving me a barren field to choose the kind of empire I wanted to build, without casting a shadow of his judgement on it.
All the doubts I’d had in mind came rushing to the forefront, leaving little space for the tiny bud of hope to blossom. I had watered it barely for a day. Leaving this job meant risking everything I’d worked hard for almost half my life. It meant quitting the one thing that helped me stand on my feet for something that might as well knock me off. Sure, it was a dream project, but dreams had a price tag. And I’d pay dearly if I failed.
‘Ishaan,’ Sherman called and I blinked at him. ‘What have you decided?’
‘I…’ I tried to find my voice. ‘I’m not sure, sir.’ I could see Vartika shaking her head at me. I could see my own reflection in the mirror doing the same.
‘Well, considering what you did yesterday, the top management is extremely disappointed. They wanted me to give you an ultimatum. I’m not going to do that. But if you can’t keep up, you must take a call. Neither you nor we can work like this. Are you understanding me?’ His tone was kinder. He didn’t have the chastising or demeaning pitch he usually had.
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Changing a field is a big step, especially when you’ve come so far,’ he explained. ‘Each field is like a quicksand. You choose one when you graduate and you don’t even know when you get sucked into it. Before you know it, you’re neck-deep inside. But that doesn’t mean you can’t re-track later on.’
I considered his words, then finding some confidence, I added, ‘What if I was to tell you that I have almost a complete business plan for my restaurant ready?’
He paused, contemplating. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised.’
‘Mr Gill,’ I said, realizing he was still the person who paid me and I needed to make sure I didn’t burn any bridges, ‘this is not to say that I don’t like working here. This job has given me everything I needed at the time. And even if I decide to leave, I wouldn’t want to lose touch with the company entirely. But I just … I…’ At a loss for words, I let out a frustrated breath, hoping he’d just get it. ‘Please know that this is not easy for me.’
He gave me a small smile. ‘We are humans, Ishaan. We’re allowed to change our minds. By what you told me, this is clearly an existential question for you and I wouldn’t want to tamper with it or influence it in any way. So I want you to take a couple of days, think over it and give me a final decision by Wednesday. Fair enough?’ he said.
I nodded, feeling the agitation slip away.
I heard Vartika’s voice before I saw her. ‘Oh, yes. I am thinking of starting a home delivery service for orders over five hundred. As long as the food is cooked in a kitchen, it doesn’t matter if it comes from a bar or a five-star hotel. And those five-star junkies are a lot less careful than us. They have a reputation riding their horses, so they can slack in the quality. Yes, you’re right. Sure, I’d love to discuss this over the weekend. Could you drop by my office—’ she stopped when she turned and saw me standing politely by her cabin door.
Nothing much had changed since the last time I saw this place and that was strangely comforting. But nothing had stopped for me either. Not Vani’s future plans or replacing me with someone else. It was the same boy I met, chopping vegetables in the kitchen wearing my hat. He was apparently Yusef’s cousin, Aamir.
‘Farookhji, please hold the line,’ she lowered her phone and stared at me questioningly. Of course, I still wasn’t hired back. I wasn’t welcome until I made a strong declaration. So I stepped forward and held out the letter in my hand. She peered at it, read the subject line and her eyes widened up at me. ‘Meet me upstairs,’ she whispered and I tipped an invisible hat before I left. She joined me ten minutes later.
It had taken me a full week to finally make up my mind. I waited for the regret to settle in as soon as I walked out of Sherman’s cabin, soon after handing him the resignation letter. It hadn’t yet come.
Vartika shot questions by the dozen and Yusef tried to listen in as much as he could while mixing drinks for his customers.
My notice serving period was one month, but I was tied to the organization for another two. I’d need to wrap up my work, train someone else to fill my spot while also make a detailed business plan for my restaurant than the one I already had, register it, apply for a licence and loan, get the interior of the place done and get the place up and running by the end of this year. I couldn’t afford to spend more than two or three jobless months in between leaving the job and starting the restaurant if I didn’t want to feel the money crunch.
But despite the mountain of work looming in front of me, I was eager for it. I hadn’t felt like this in a long time. Never, to be precise.
After my narration, I took a swig and let the strong taste of whiskey settle in my mouth, then pulled out an old diary. Folded between the pages, sticky notes and doubled corners was a twenty-page tentativ
e plan I’d made. I began with a sample menu. I had, over the two years, jotted down recipes I wanted to serve in my restaurant, modified slightly to add a pinch of uniqueness—either looks-wise or taste-wise—a way to build my brand. I’d gone from making it a small takeaway joint to an actual place for dining.
‘I don’t want to simply fill people’s stomachs,’ I told her. ‘I want to give them an experience, give them a reason to come back. I want my restaurant to have a personality, engage with customers beyond their hunger. I want to make it worth clicking pictures of and in. I want people to remember it fondly, not the food but the memories. If I had to personify the restaurant, he’d be a wise jolly old man with an out-of-place sense of humour.’
‘That explains your concept. “Old meets new”,’ Vartika said, peering into the first page where I’d written the words.
‘Yes,’ I pointed to the rough designs of old utensils I’d pasted a few pages ahead. ‘Bringing the culinary art from the eighteenth century back. The food will be served in traditional vintage brass, copper, wooden or earthen utensils, whichever I find easily, and antiques will be a part of the décor. For example, broths served in a wooden mortar. Non-functioning or steamed pipes would be up for display.’
‘Sounds nice,’ she mused, flipping a page.
Objective, it read, to establish a presence as a chain of successful, healthy local food outlets and gain a market share in India’s food industry. Immediate target audience—I wrote down on a blank page, now that I knew the location of my restaurant—youth, students of Paramount School and College, Trinity School of Fine Arts, customers visiting Central Mall and D-Mart.
Marketing plan, the most detailed one yet, had everything from the cost of social media advertising to tags and SEO. Ideas for the launch day and an online competition for students to win a free dinner. This was my dream in a very tangible form. A systematic pathway leading to the destination. Once I’d discussed what was in there, Vartika glanced up at me with a look in her eyes that I didn’t recognize.
A Long Way Home Page 14