Every Time It Rains

by Nikita Singh

  To those who dare to love again.

  Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing.

  —Sylvia Plath

  CONTENTS

  1 BLANK SPACE

  2 SHINY

  3 CHANGE

  4 THE HOVERER

  5 THE GAME

  6 COFFEE

  7 ORANGE

  8 THE BRINK

  9 FANCY

  10 FANCY AFTER-PARTY

  11 LOSERS

  12 THE WAIT

  13 BARGAIN

  14 THE PLAYERS

  15 FAMILY

  16 FIRST DATE

  17 UNDERWATER

  18 THE DARK

  19 ESCAPE

  20 TOO LATE

  21 SUPER-MEGA-ABSURDLY-COMPLICATED

  EPILOGUE: ONE MONTH LATER

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  About the Book

  About the Author

  Copyright

  1

  BLANK SPACE

  It was dark and quiet at this time of the day. It was Laila’s favourite time—she liked dark and quiet. Most bakers she knew woke early to bake, starting off their days on the right note, ensuring a draft of fragrant air escaping from every open door and window of their bakery to seduce customers in. She, on the other hand, liked to end her day baking. During the day, she was a businesswoman, the primary person in charge of the operation of two rapidly growing bakeries in New Delhi. She worked long days, putting out fires, ensuring that everything ran smoothly. However, after their shops closed every evening, she took the time to go through the day’s sales herself, wrap everything up, prepare the shops for the next morning and do her favourite thing of all—bake.

  While her best friend and business partner Maahi was at their Shahpur Jat shop, closing for the day, Laila was at their second, newer shop, the one in Hauz Khas Village. They had opened it only four months ago, and it still wasn’t as smooth an operation as their first shop and needed more attention. They referred to their Shahpur Jat shop as One and the one in Hauz Khas Village as Two in order to keep things simple. After their two employees at Two—Javed, who helped them bake and Aparna, who managed the counter—had left for the day, Laila sat under a warm lamp hanging from the ceiling, checking inventory.

  ‘Whoa! You scared me—sitting there like a ghost!’ came a voice from the door.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Laila asked, looking up from her iPad and smiling at Maahi. ‘All good at One?’

  ‘All good at One. Clean and shiny and closed, thank God. It was such a long day! Did you know Ram’s grandfather once fought a lion and came out alive to tell the story? I do now. I heard the story—a very long and very dull version of it.’

  ‘Hard to imagine a story of a human battling a lion being dull.’

  ‘It was and I had to hear all of it because I asked!’ Maahi’s lips twisted to the side. ‘I feel bad for him though. At least here Javed and Aparna have each other. There at One, Ram has no one to talk to all day except me.’

  ‘So basically Ram is your new best friend.’

  ‘Basically.’ Maahi snorted. ‘I came over to ask my old best friend an opinion on something. Walking here was a bad idea though.’ Maahi hopped in front of the air conditioner vent and fanned herself furiously with her hands. ‘I couldn’t find an auto, and then this one dude asked for forty bucks—like I’m an idiot!’

  ‘You do kind of look like one.’

  ‘Laila! So mean!’

  ‘What—just stating facts. You’re the one jumping in front of the AC, looking like an idiot.’ Laila laughed at Maahi and went to join her by the window. The cold air from the AC did feel nice on her face. Her hands automatically went to massage the back of her neck. ‘Really that hot outside?’

  ‘Usual Delhi summer. It’s actually not that hot—just humid. It’s been dull and rainy all day.’ Maahi pursed her lips. ‘At least I’m done with college.’

  ‘At least you’re done with college,’ Laila repeated. She had slowly begun to delegate more and more responsibility to Maahi recently. Even though they had equal partnership in Cookies + Cupcakes, Laila had mostly been in charge since Maahi, who was a few years younger, was still finishing her BBA. When she had finally graduated a couple of months ago, it had been a welcome change to have her around full-time, and now, Maahi had taken over charge of One while Laila managed Two.

  ‘There was this customer that came in today, demanding coffee—at like seven in the morning. I had just got in and started baking. Ram hadn’t even come in yet, so I went to the counter and told him we don’t have any. He literally hurled abuses at me all the way down the street.’ Maahi shook her head. She walked away from the window, finally feeling cool enough to step away from the AC, and went to inspect the counter. ‘I told him we were a specialty bakery and dealt with cookies and cupcakes exclusively as, hello, the name clearly suggests but he wouldn’t listen, crazy person!’

  ‘Dude, just keep the door closed till Ram starts his shift. You don’t have to let the crazies in when you’re alone, especially at seven in the morning!’

  ‘I know that now. But it got me thinking,’ Maahi said, her voice lower. She watched Laila closely as she said slowly, ‘Maybe … we could possibly do coffee. Just saying.’

  ‘Maahi.’

  ‘I know, I know.’

  ‘I’ve smelled enough coffee for a lifetime and I really want our bakeries to smell like bakeries,’ Laila said.

  Before opening Cookies + Cupcakes, both Laila and Maahi worked for a coffee shop, where their employer would treat their baked goods as the least important things on his list of priorities, and the coffee was always his primary concern. After opening C+C, Laila had been determined on leaving coffee behind in her past.

  ‘Coffee ruins everything,’ she said as she walked back to her chair under the lamp and picked up the iPad again.

  ‘That’s subjective. For that crazy man in the morning, the absence of coffee ruined everything. It was most likely the very reason behind his crazed mental state,’ Maahi said, dropping her backpack on the floor and bending over to open it.

  Laila rolled her eyes.

  ‘It’s just something to think about. Maybe we could have just one coffeemaker in each shop, something basic. Maybe serve coffee only in the first few hours of the morning—’

  ‘Maahi.’

  ‘Fine.’ Maahi shut up, but Laila could tell she was going to bring it up again, sooner or later.

  ‘What’re those for?’ Laila asked, pointing to the huge pile of clothes Maahi pulled out of her bag and now dangled from her arm.

  ‘Help me choose a dress for my date,’ she said, dropping everything on the chair opposite Laila’s and pulling a dress out of the mess.

  ‘Right. Forgot you were doing that.’

  ‘Yep.’ Maahi’s voice came from behind the half wall that partitioned the seating area from the bakery. She reappeared a moment later. ‘So? What do you think?’

  Laila looked up from her iPad screen just for a second, long enough for her brain to register the violently orange dress wrapped around Maahi.

  ‘Pass,’ she said, with an air of finality.

  ‘Ugh. Why d’you gotta be like that?’ Maahi groaned. ‘I’m telling you—this is exactly what I need. White’s too plain, red’s way too intense, pastels are boring, black’s just lazy. This is perfect.’

  ‘I think the word you’re looking for is compromise.’

  ‘Mean.’

  ‘Honest.’

  ‘Ugh, what happened to make you like this?

  ‘Make me like what?’ Laila raised her eyebrow, challenging Maahi to finish what she started.

  ‘Forget it.’

  ‘No, tell me.’r />
  ‘I mean, whatever. You know who slash how you are. I don’t get why. Have you always been this dark, twisted cynic…? I don’t know.’ Maahi studied Laila’s expression uncertainly. She seemed to become more and more hesitant. ‘It’s not my place to ask. I meant it as a joke, but then you asked, and now I’m talking and can’t seem to be able to stop talking. And you’re looking at me like that, which can’t be good. You’re making me uncomfortable and frankly, a little scared.’

  Laila snorted. ‘Relax, dude. I’m just messing with you.’

  Maahi looked relieved. ‘So? Tell me.’

  ‘Oh, you’re asking me an actual question? You’re worried there’s actually something wrong with me?’

  ‘I don’t know. Is there?’

  Laila sighed, putting down her iPad. ‘I’m perfectly okay. I just don’t want your dress to impair his vision. Are you kidding me with that colour? What else do you have?’ She got up and sorted through the pile. ‘What’s with all these fancy dresses? What is wrong with what you were wearing today?’ Maahi had been wearing a sleeveless, collared, pale yellow T-shirt with light blue jeans and sneakers.

  ‘Jeans and tee on a first date?’ Maahi cringed.

  ‘Why not? It’s more you than these pretty dresses. Bet he’ll be wearing something like that.’

  ‘One, you somehow make pretty sound ugly. And two, he’s a boy.’

  ‘Which is why he’s allowed to be comfortable and you’re supposed to doll up? I mean, of course there’s nothing wrong with wearing a dress, but I’m just saying—dress for yourself and no one else.’ Laila pulled out a grey skater skirt.

  ‘That one goes with … Let me look.’ Maahi rummaged through the pile and found a red ruffled top. ‘Here.’

  ‘Hard pass. I think this skirt would go well with the T-shirt you were wearing earlier. Understated. Classy.’

  Maahi thought for a second before agreeing. ‘And I could wear sneakers with this outfit.’

  ‘There you go.’ Satisfied, Laila began folding the rest of Maahi’s clothes one by one and shoving them into her backpack, while Maahi changed behind the partition. ‘Cute.’ She nodded when Maahi re-emerged.

  ‘Thank you. Can you help me with make-up?’ Maahi took out her bag of cosmetics and walked over to the decorative mirror on the wall.

  Laila followed her. ‘What do you want to do?’

  ‘Just hide this pimple scar’—Maahi pointed to the side of her right cheek—‘and maybe something with the eyes?’

  ‘Got it.’ They became quiet as Laila applied minimal make-up on Maahi’s face. She honestly didn’t think Maahi needed any, with her clear, almost flawless skin and beautiful brown eyes. Her slender, five-foot-three-inch frame and long hair matched her cheerful, warm personality. She liked to wear a lot of colour and had recently taken to painting her lips in bolder shades of reds and pinks.

  Laila still remembered the first time they’d met—Maahi had entered the coffee shop Laila worked at in a long flowing dress with five different versions of purple flowers on it. Quite in contrast with Laila, who stuck to the various shades of black, white and grey. If she felt like colour, Laila would go as far as wearing dull, solid ones like deep burgundy, mustard or military green. She liked how their choice of colours reflected their personalities and highlighted their dissimilarities.

  ‘Who’s the dude?’ Laila asked, finishing Maahi’s lipstick.

  ‘Amit. I told you about him? He’s from Delhi—born and raised. Works as an analyst for ICICI,’ Maahi said. She collected all her stuff and shoved it back into her backpack.

  ‘A banker? How did you meet him?’

  ‘I haven’t—yet,’ Maahi said softly.

  ‘Tinder.’ Laila raised her eyebrow at Maahi.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with Tinder. It depends on your intentions and mine are pure.’

  ‘What exactly are your intentions?’

  ‘Meeting new people. Companionship,’ Maahi said a little defensively. ‘Where else will I meet people? I’ve graduated, so there’s no college, and I spend all my time running back and forth between One and Two.’

  ‘We get a steady flow of customers, all in the right demographic. You could meet someone organically?’

  ‘I can’t.’

  Laila paused, examining Maahi in the soft lights of their bakery, while Maahi examined herself in the mirror. Maahi’s last relationship had been with Siddhant, who she had met at work, back when they used to work at Cozy Coffee in Gurgaon. Laila didn’t want to bring him up. Even though things with Siddhant had ended almost a year ago, Laila knew it was still painful for Maahi to think about. She spoke in a much lighter tone, ‘Hey, do your thing, girl! Show me a photo?’

  Maahi cheered up and pulled her phone out. Laila went to bring an assortment of cookies and cupcakes and they sat down at their usual table by the window. It was kind of a ritual for them—ending the day with sampling whatever remained of each other’s baked goods.

  ‘Your lemon meringue cupcakes were a big hit today,’ Laila said, digging her fork into the last one. ‘All sold out now.’

  ‘Yeah? Didn’t do as well at One. We still had almost a dozen left there.’ Maahi broke a piece from a large ground-walnut cookie. ‘I gave them to the kids on my way here.’

  Laila smiled. ‘Did they say thank you?’

  ‘Damn right they did!’

  Hauz Khas Village had no dearth of little kids roaming around, trying to sell cheap jewellery and accessories to passers-by. Every evening around closing time, these kids would assemble outside Two and wait for their share of sweets. In exchange, they would sing C+C’s praises to everyone in the neighbourhood willing to listen. Although Laila and Maahi hadn’t asked them to do so, it wasn’t bad for business and it helped them stick to their policy of selling only fresh baked goods; everything they baked had to be sold within twenty-four hours.

  Over the last few months, the two girls had come to form a relationship with these kids, who were less fortunate, and roamed around in tattered clothes and chappals, but somehow managed to have bright eyes and quick wits. They had developed a sense of humour, which helped them live even in the situation they existed in. Laila was hesitant giving them money to help out, not knowing where it would go or if the kids would even benefit from it. Their cookies and cupcakes didn’t replace a healthy meal, but they were made from the best quality ingredients. Also, they were delicious as hell and went straight to the kids’ stomachs!

  ‘It’s funny when you think about it,’ Laila said. ‘We’re teaching these kids manners, when they should be in school getting an actual education. How much can learning to say thank you and sorry actually help?’

  ‘Maybe that’s not such a bad thing. They’re learning life lessons by living them,’ Maahi said.

  ‘You’re saying education is not important?’

  ‘Of course it is important. I just think going to school wasn’t the best part of my childhood. Most kids hate it. But I know what you mean. These kids don’t even have the option to go to school and hate it.’

  ‘Exactly. Some of them are in school, but they either don’t go or the teacher doesn’t show up. Even when the teachers are there, I don’t know how seriously they take their jobs and how much they actually want to teach. They’re very underpaid,’ Laila said. She sighed and got up. ‘I read this article today and … I just … Everywhere I look, there’s something wrong with everything and there’s no easy fix because the problem is way deeper in the root of things. It’s exhausting just to think about it.’

  Maahi followed Laila to the kitchen, watching her with evident anxiety. ‘Are you—’

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ Laila said shortly and flashed a smile she hoped would pass for a semi-real one. ‘I’m just being overly sensitive today for some reason.’

  Maahi looked unconvinced. ‘We should be sensitive towards these issues. Everyone should. There’s nothing wrong with that.’

  Laila nodded, hoping to close the topic. She had been agitated
all day and was yet to figure out why. She would continue to feel restless until she pinpointed the reason behind her strange state of mind. But she didn’t want to pull Maahi into the mess inside her head, especially not right before her date with a stranger from the Internet.

  ‘You’re all set?’ Laila asked, glancing at Maahi.

  Maahi checked her partial reflection in one of the doors and ran her fingers through her hair. ‘Yep. Keep your phone with you though—just in case.’

  ‘Just in case he’s a serial killer or something?’

  ‘Exactly. Or something less extreme like if I’m nervous or bored and need to pretend to text for a second, I could actually text you.’

  Laila laughed. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘I won’t be out long. I have to go all the way back home.’ Maahi groaned. She lived with her parents in Vaishali, which was on the outskirts of Delhi, over an hour away from their bakeries. Maahi left some of her stuff at the shop and with a final glance at her reflection in the mirror, and after blowing Laila a kiss, walked out.

  Laila smiled. It was a long, lingering smile. Not exactly sad, but definitely not happy. It stayed restricted to her lips, frozen for several seconds, before receding. She walked back to the window and turned the AC off, feeling as if it were providing a fake sense of protection in a way, shielding her from reality. Outside, the sky had been cloudy all day, occasionally letting a dull ray of sunshine pass through. It had been raining, on and off, but not enough to soak through even the topmost layer of land.

  The light showers seemed to intensify. There was a loud crack of thunder and the world was lit in a whitish glow for a spilt second. Laila slipped to the floor, crouching down, holding her knees close to her chest. She rested her cheek against the cool window and stared outside. She sat there for a long time, hidden in the dark, staring at the blurred mixture of yellow and white lights in the street, bustling with the Friday night crowd, her eyes filling up with tears and then drying up before finding escape over and over again.

  As she sat and watched the held hands and rushed steps, the flurry of people covering their heads and seeking refuge from the now heavy stream of rain, their laughter rang in her ears. In the absence of air conditioning, the shop was becoming humid and stifling. Laila found it hard to breathe.