‘You thought of nothing but this,’ she said, her voice pained.
I nodded, but I knew having a vision wasn’t enough. A dream like this… it had to be backed by experience, research, knowledge, support and a generous investment. Knowing where you wanted to be wasn’t enough while starting a business. You needed to figure out exactly how you’d reach there, before you even began your journey.
Taking the book in her hand, Vartika jumped a few pages ahead where I had tracked my savings and the investment requirements for the restaurant. ‘Start-up expense’, it read. Under it, tentative numbers were scribbled against kitchen and fixtures, furniture and interior, legal, rent, packaging and stationery, contingencies. On another page, there was a list of assets I’d need.
‘Don’t worry about the rent yet,’ Vartika added, looking at the range of cost against the heading.
I nodded. I was hoping to make her a sleeping partner. ‘I will apply for FSSAI food licence this Sunday,’ I said, ‘then a loan in a few days. I am hoping to get anything between ten to fifteen.’
She nodded, uncapped the pen tucked in the book and turned to the front. Beneath the name of the restaurant, there was a long blank space. She filled it with the street address and smiled up at me. I felt a slow buzz that started somewhere in the tips of my fingers. It was finally happening.
When I finished my drink Yusef had concocted for me, Vani asked for a refill. ‘Trying to turn me into an alcoholic?’ I asked her, declining the offer. Honestly, I wanted to savour this day for what it was.
Vartika smiled, patted my shoulder and leaned closer to me, her perfume strong and stimulating. The surge of longing to kiss her in that moment made me stiff and Yusef gave a lopsided smile at my reaction. Vartika, however, was oblivious to it.
‘A person intoxicated with a vision and passion as intense as yours can never get addicted to anything but his dreams,’ she said and I smiled, letting Yusef partially fill my glass too. ‘To your freedom,’ she made a toast, then lit up a cigarette.
Just as I was about to relax for the night, having achieved a milestone that might end up being the greatest or the poorest decision of my life, my eyes caught sight of a familiar face. ‘Who is he?’ Vartika asked, following my gaze. Arihant approached us, dodging the plate of roasted chicken on his way over and grimaced, probably because of the smell.
‘My brother,’ I muttered, not taking my eyes off him.
As soon as he joined us, he stuck his hand out for a shake, as if this was a merry get-together. ‘Hello, I’m Arihant Adhikari. Ishaan’s brother.’
Vani gave me a sidelong glance and offered her standard bone-crushing handshake to Arihant. My mood shifted as quickly as a swift change of gear; the room becoming gloomier. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I can ask you the same.’
‘That’s none of your concern.’
‘No. But I guess we should be of some concern to you.’
The dude spoke in riddles I didn’t care to solve. What does it take to get rid of him for one damn week? I took a sip of my drink to remind myself of the good day I’d been having so far. ‘What do you want?’ I asked, almost bored.
Vani spoke, ‘I will give you two some space.’ She began to back away, but I grabbed her hand, making her stop. This was a reflex movement. I had never done that and I doubted she’d allowed anyone to do that. But I wasn’t ready to let go of this proud moment and of her just yet. ‘Stay,’ I told her, knowing my brother would leave if I just paid him no attention. ‘It’s okay.’
Instead of shoving a punch to my jaw, like she did to a customer who had grabbed her hand many moons ago, she took a step closer to me and waited.
‘Does Baba know you’re here?’ Arihant asked, breaking into my thoughts like he always did. The sharp edge of warning in his voice made me clench my jaw. The word hypocrite popped into my mind. A person who had a house of glass shouldn’t pelt rocks at others, we’d learned as kids. So I coughed a laugh.
‘Baba doesn’t know a lot of things, baby brother, does he?’
‘What do you mean?’ He looked confused, like he had no idea what I was talking about. This was what I envied about him; being so convinced of his own goodness.
Not wanting to start another argument, I simply said, ‘Nothing. Let’s just stay out of each other’s business.’ I plucked the cigarette from Vani’s hand and took a drag. Now that he was here, I might as well treat him like a customer. After all, he was at my workplace, for reasons I didn’t wish to know.
My tone softened. ‘Tell me what brings you to my den.’
What he said next blew the air out of my lungs.
‘Saloni was caught for shoplifting. I don’t know the details, but Mom called. They are at Naupada police station.’
The thought of this little girl arrested in the midst of spectators and dragged along was unbearable. I didn’t wait for him to say anything more as I hustled to leave. In the daze, Vartika appeared in front of me as I was leaving. She gave me a jacket, the touch of her hand on my bicep loosening the knot in my chest. ‘Call me later,’ she said softly.
This wasn’t the first time I’d had a brush with the police. Few months ago, Vartika’s restaurant licence expired and she’d been running it for a month when the van pulled up. Kicking away the hawkers’ carts, they demanded to see licences of all working shops. I spent two consecutive days with her at the station, as did Yusef, while we sorted it and bailed her out. The officers were considerate and kind, though, letting us know they had nothing personal against us and that they were simply following rules. As long as we were on the right side of the law, we had no reason to fear. They had enough drama to deal with as it was.
So I wasn’t afraid of the men in uniforms as apparently my mother was. I was only concerned for my sister’s state of mind. When I entered the police station, Mom blocked my way. I touched her arm lightly. ‘It’s okay,’ I told her. ‘We’ll sort it out.’
I headed to the seat she’d emptied. ‘Hello, sir. I’m Ishaan Adhikari, brother of Saloni Adhikari,’ I offered a handshake to the officer, who took it and gestured to the seat.
‘I’d need some identification.’
I gave him my driving licence and he studied it and handed it back. ‘Can you please tell us what happened?’
He spared us all a look. ‘You belong to a good family,’ he observed and proceeded to tell us about the incident. The theft turned out to be a mere dress that he laid out in front of us. Looking at that piece of cloth worth a few thousand was like a smack across my face and I had to do everything to keep my face passive when all I wanted to do was throw the money on the faces of those Paula Wear owners and take my sister home. But I also knew what she’d done could lead to something worse. What hurt more was the fact that she felt the need to steal.
I waded through my guilt, sadness, shame, sympathy and anger to focus on the conversation.
‘Thank you, sir,’ I said at the end of his narration. ‘I know my sister. She will never do this again. Please tell me what we’d need to do to pacify the owners. And the fine.’
‘The fine will be twice the cost of the stolen item, which amounts to eight thousand. She’ll also be barred from visiting the mall until she submits a written apology. Shoplifting is a compoundable offence and it can be taken to court. But because she is a minor and a first-time offender, the store is ready to sort the matter out without making a fuss. That is, if you’re okay with it.’
‘We’re okay with it,’ I said.
‘It’ll be helpful if you give the apology letter right now,’ the man said. ‘We’ll submit it to the store manager.’
‘I’ll do that,’ Arihant offered. ‘I’ll write the letter and have her sign it.’
He nodded, then got up to escort my sister. When she joined us, I glanced at her distraught face, then I left my seat to thank the officer.
‘Just take care it doesn’t happen the second time,’ he told me. ‘First time underage offenders are simply preached a l
esson. Second time, they’re taught one.’
I nodded. The message had got through, loud and clear.
‘I’ll book a cab for you two,’ I told my family once we were outside.
‘Ishu da,’ Saloni called, her voice shaky.
I pushed the lump down in my throat and willed myself to not hear the fright in her voice or see the distress on her face. If I did, I might break. Thankfully, I didn’t need to because Mom’s phone interrupted the moment. Arihant answered it.
‘Hello, Baba … I’m not home … I met Mom at the sabji bazaar. But yes, I’m staying over tonight … Not today, Baba. You just come home directly…’ He paused and glanced up at Mom briefly, who was perfectly still. ‘She is shaking her head “no”. But if you want, you can get it … Okay.’
The one-sided conversation didn’t make much sense. Once he’d hung up, he told me he would book a cab. He seemed to have let go of our encounter and I welcomed this silent exchange between us.
‘Where were you today?’ Mom asked me. ‘I called your office.’
‘I was out with clients for dinner,’ I said, throwing a glance at Arihant, wondering if he would rat me out. He was silent.
‘When will you come home?’ Mom asked.
‘I’ll be late. I have some unfinished business I need to take care of. Don’t wait for me.’
‘Don’t be too late.’ I didn’t know what constituted ‘too late’ in her dictionary. Past sundown? Post midnight? After they’d slept off? I never had a clear answer to that. But one thing I was sure of, no matter when I returned home, I was always late.
More than anyone else in the family, I could understand what Saloni must be going through. I was in her place once. It had been the morning of my first day of seventh standard, a year since we moved to the city. Arihant was barely two and had gone to my distant aunt’s house in Navi Mumbai, who lived in a plush area surrounded by a garden known for housing jamun and old full-grown banyan trees.
My aunt was fond of Arihant because as a baby, he was the most accommodating kid, perennially smiling, eager to get into other people’s arms, rarely cried unless he was sick, and quickly gelled into any environment he was put in.
A premature baby, he was under the intensive care unit for the first two months of his life and he’d been fussed over since. One requirement for him to stay alive was a fresh healthy environment, the only thing my parents couldn’t afford. Our house was right next to a dumping ground, the stink constantly a part of our air, and the area utterly unclean, barely liveable for humans. Because of this, Arihant regularly took rounds to the hospital.
When he was six months old, chewing the remote while I watched TV, I was told to keep an eye on him in case he decided jumping down from the bed was a fun thing to do. At that time, my aunt visited us. She acknowledged me with a smile and handed me an expensive box of biscuits and while I admired them, she cooed and played with Arihant. She couldn’t stop praising how adorable he was and the people pleaser that he was, he lapped it up, even falling asleep in her lap. When she learned about his condition, she offered to take him to her place and bring him back occasionally when we’d miss him.
In all honesty? I didn’t. This only meant more peace in the house and less time wasted looking after someone I neither created nor wanted.
My mother would stay at my aunt’s house in the afternoon, after all the morning duties were done and my father had gone to his workplace and I’d gone to school. She would return at night, with Dad. This happened for another two years until Arihant developed his immunity.
The two short years of solitude also meant my house was the number-one spot for the boys to hang out at. One of my friends had video games, which he brought home. At times, he brought movies. Once the glaring sun had sunk a little, we took our stumps and bats and headed for a long three-hour match.
It was only after a week that our landlords, a family of five, complained of us being too loud and noisy during the afternoons. My father learned the truth; I didn’t exactly study all day after school and it came as a shock to him. So much so that I was shocked he’d be this surprised. Which kid studied all freaking day?
I don’t think I was ever trashed that badly in my life. This episode barely left any scars. It was what happened a week after that that remained with me until this day.
I was accused of stealing a gold chain by the same family. My mother fiercely defended me, saying she’d quit talking to me if this was true, and that before making any such accusation, they should thoroughly check their house. I stood there, seething, clueless, mortified for apparently no reason and simply frustrated with this locality.
When my dad heard the story, he asked them to check their place, neither taking a strong stand nor being agreeable. They gave us an ultimatum that if I didn’t return the chain or if they didn’t find it by evening, they’d complain to the police and we’d have to find another place to stay. For the night, Dad pacified them.
Once we were inside, my mother took me to the kitchen and gave me a few laddoos that she had made, Arihant sleeping soundlessly in the seating area. When Dad freshened up and came into the kitchen to have dinner, he sat next to me and very quietly asked, ‘You haven’t stolen it, have you?’
I blinked up at him, my mouth going dry. The question, the doubt in his voice, the sadness and distrust in his eyes was a stab in my chest. I swallowed, my heart shattered in pieces.
‘No,’ I said, then worried for a second that I didn’t sound convincing enough, and the fact that I even felt that way almost filled my eyes. I pushed back the tears, the first time I ever did that, and tried to forgive my father for his lack of trust. I am not sure if I really did, until his accident, when I saw how trusting he was of me, how he leaned on me to try and walk the corridors of the hospital as an exercise. He probably didn’t even know his question had affected me the way it did or that the wound had healed on its own accord.
‘Ishaan?’ Vartika’s voice stopped me at the entrance of the kitchen, just as I dropped my bag and helmet on the storage rack. She crossed the threshold of her dimly-lit office. I glanced at Vartika, white powder sprinkled on her black top. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’
The other two chefs looked up from the work, staring at us. I noticed a chair pushed to the wall behind her in the office, the boxes lying half open. ‘I work here, if you remember.’
She pulled her eyebrows together. ‘What about your sister? She okay?’
‘Yeah. It’s all sorted,’ I wanted to avoid the subject.
‘Then don’t you want to be with your family? We can take care of things over here.’
‘No,’ I said, taking my shoes off and stepping into the clean kitchen slippers. ‘I’d rather be here.’
‘But I’m sure your family needs you.’
‘They did.’ I grabbed my apron from the rack. ‘And I have done my job. I’m no longer needed.’
She put her hands on her hips, watching me as I tied a knot at the back, fastening my clothing of honour. Today had been a strange day, one that would have a curve of a mountain if graphically represented. It made me feel nervous and wrecked in the morning, then elated during the evening and plummeted me back to the ground in one sweeping motion. At this point, I was simply exhausted.
‘Are you sure? It’s only a matter of a few hours.’
‘Exactly,’ I told her. ‘And I don’t need a break from this, Vani. This is my break. This is what I do to escape everything else in my life.’
She pursed her lips, looking worried. I put my hand on her shoulders, knowing full well the two bastards at the back would eye us with curiosity and a smile. That I liked Vartika was general knowledge, the only thing everyone here knew except she. ‘I’m fine.’ I brushed off the powder on her shoulder and tips of her hair. ‘What the hell were you doing?’
She shot a look behind her and sighed. ‘Just checking the quality of salt. The last time they delivered a sack, it was crusty and hardened. And while checking, the light went off.
So I was fixing the tube.’
‘Need any help?’ I asked.
She shook her head, patted my hand. ‘Kitchen is where you belong,’ she told me, smiled and vanished into her office.
The sudden flash of light startled me. My brother was waiting up at two in the morning. ‘Hey,’ he said.
‘What are you still doing up?’
‘Waiting for you. You okay?’ I didn’t answer him. All I could think of was the warmth and comfort of my bed. So tucking a bottle of water under my arm, I headed towards my room before this escalated into a long conversation.
‘About what happened today—’
‘If you are awake to argue about what you saw, go back to sleep. I am not in the mood.’
‘I don’t want to have an argument,’ he said, sounding surprised at my conclusion.
‘A conversation, then?’ I mumbled, my voice weary. ‘I’m not interested in that either.’
‘It’s nothing like that,’ he added. ‘I’m just trying to say thank you. For whatever you did. That was pretty brave…’
I stopped listening. So many words spilling out of his mouth made my head hurt. At some point, I cut him short, ‘I did what a family does. Nothing great about that.’ Before he could add anything else, I retreated to my room and shut him out of my head and my space.
CHAPTER 6
‘A
m I disturbing you?’ Joycelin asked me, looking over my desk barrier, a mug cupped in both her hands. I glanced up and realized most people around me had emptied their seats. The office was quieter now.
What time was it?
‘No, not at all,’ I said. While Joycelin rounded the cubical to join me, I checked the time. It was half past nine. The dark starless sky gleamed with moonlight, the sound of vehicles providing a backdrop to the dull office room with its motionless air. Usually, I counted down the minutes to get out of the place when I wasn’t burdened with work, but I guess the excitement of doing it only for a few months more had me going the extra mile. I was perfecting the code due tomorrow.
A Long Way Home Page 15