Like a Love Song

by Nikita Singh

  ‘Fuck. You scared me. Where did you come from? Were you in the kitchen this whole time?’ Laila asked.

  ‘No. I just came in a minute ago. How’s everything looking here?’

  ‘Good,’ Maahi said.

  ‘Are you guys still trying to force your creations down people’s throats?’ CJ eyed the cupcakes and cookies laid out in the front, separated from the rest of their basic baked goods.

  ‘No one comes here for those croissants or those pound cakes, CJ. You know that,’ Laila said, pointing towards the display.

  ‘You’re right. They come here for the coffee. That’s why we are called Cozy Coffee. This is a coffee shop, not a bakery.’

  ‘Why can’t it be both? It’s not like we don’t bake all our baked goods. If you want this place to be just another coffee shop, why are we baking our own cream puffs and brownies and everything? Why don’t we just buy them to sell?’ Laila argued. ‘People love my cookies.’

  ‘And my cupcakes,’ Maahi added quietly and then shut up. She had been involved in way too many of these arguments.

  ‘Yes!’ Laila said. ‘You’re the only one who has a problem with our creativity.’

  ‘I really don’t. It’s great that people like your baking; I do too. I’m just saying—let’s not lose focus here, okay?’ CJ said. He looked from Laila to Maahi and then back at Laila and clapped his hands together twice, saying, ‘Now, let’s get brewing.’

  ‘Fine. But just so you know, we’re making all of our toppings right here in the coffee shop from scratch, starting today. We’re done using all of that packaged stuff—it brings down the quality of our food significantly. I’m changing the orders,’ Laila said and walked away to the bathroom, not giving CJ a chance to respond.

  ‘Okay then,’ CJ muttered and wrapped a cupcake of the day in tissue paper before waving Maahi goodbye.

  Maahi waved back. CJ’s daily visits were short and sweet, just the way both Maahi and Laila preferred. He was easily recognizable in the neon-coloured turbans he donned. The first time Maahi had met him, it had been neon-pink, which she thought would be a tough act to follow. But in all the days Maahi had worked for him, she had never been disappointed. Except for the one time he wore a plain grey one, and Maahi thought for a second that he looked handsome. But he actually apologized to them, telling them he was in a rush and had to borrow a turban from his brother, promising he would be back in ‘form’ the next day.

  ‘Is he gone?’ Laila asked, returning from the bathroom. ‘I’m done pretending to pee.’

  ‘Yeah. He took one of my cupcakes.’

  ‘That hypocrite. Wait, can I have one too? Those look delicious,’ Laila said and helped herself. CJ never paid for the stuff he took because he owned the place. Laila never paid because, in her head, she believed that she owned the place. ‘I’m glad we went too deep. This is heaven.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Maahi said, feeling proud of herself and the distance she had travelled in a year. That night, when she couldn’t explain to her parents why she liked working at Cozy Coffee, why she would risk their precious reputation over serving coffee, she had discovered why. Watching Sarthak appreciate something she created from scratch, and then Laila, an actual baker, reinforcing the idea that she had actual talent, she had felt empowered. It had come as a blessing in a time when her self-worth was at an all-time low.

  It was only slowly that she realized exactly how much she enjoyed baking, that it wasn’t just the idea of it that appealed to her. Under the tutelage of Laila, who was herself learning a lot more at college and practising at the coffee shop, Maahi learned everything she knew about baking. The more she learned and baked, the better she got, becoming more and more passionate about it. She liked experimenting with new, unconventional ingredients. These experiments ended in disaster most times, which only made her more determined to try more things, to get to the ones that were just right.

  When Maahi woke up the next morning, she heard voices in the living room. She got dressed for college and went to the kitchen to get breakfast, regretting it immediately. She would prefer skipping breakfast over talking to Sushanti aunty, who used to be their neighbour four years ago, but still refused to stop being a part of their lives. She behaved as if she were still a neighbour to everyone in the colony.

  ‘Namaste, Aunty,’ Maahi said, smiling sweetly. She didn’t care, but her mom did, so pretences needed to be kept.

  ‘Namaste, beta. How are you? How are your studies going?’

  ‘I’m good. Everything’s good.’ Maahi served herself some upma from the kadhai on the stove and looked for ketchup in the fridge.

  ‘Good, good. We were all so worried about you when you came back from Bangalore. See, you are so thin now. You looked so weak that in the beginning we thought you were sick. What happened to our chubby little Maahi? But good that you’re back on track now. Your mom and I were just talking about how important education is.’

  ‘Yeah?’ Maahi sat down to eat, planning on gulping down her breakfast at top speed and getting the hell out of there as soon as possible.

  ‘Yes. Girls nowadays are doing so many things. All career women. Look at your mom—she has such a good career and she also takes care of the family. She cooks and everything. But at least women are worth more than that now, profession-wise. They do both. At least she doesn’t have to go to work and cook there too!’ Sushanti aunty laughed.

  Maahi concentrated on swallowing her food without choking.

  ‘Oh, but it’s not like that,’ Ma said. ‘I enjoy cooking, especially for my family.’

  ‘I’m saying that only, no? For the family, yes, but why cook for strangers? What is the need?’

  Maahi finished eating and brought her plate to the sink. ‘You’re so right, Aunty. Thank you so much for thinking about my well-being,’ she said.

  ‘Haan, beta. I only say this because I care about you. That’s why I worry,’ Sushanti aunty said, beaming.

  Maahi contemplated asking her about her son, who had been made to resign from his position at work because of sexual harassment complaints about him, but decided she was above that. He seemed to have found another job without difficulty, and went around telling people that he quit his previous job because there was no scope for his talent in a small company like that, but one of Rohit’s friends worked in the same company, so they knew the truth. She said bye to her mom and left.

  Sarthak was leaving too, and offered to drop her to her college on his bike. He told Maahi how Sushanti aunty was praising him nonstop all morning. He seemed to think it was a ploy—just to raise expectations to a level that he eventually won’t be able to match and then they could act regretful about how much potential the Kotharis’ son had and how he ended up wasting it.

  Her day at college didn’t go as well as she’d hoped, but still better than her morning. She got seventy-one per cent on her tests, which she was fine with, but it wouldn’t please her parents. She had made a few friends at college, so it was easier to get through her classes and was a huge help especially during exams when they studied together. But she couldn’t wait for her classes to end so she could rush to the coffee shop and bake with Laila.

  That day, Maahi got out of classes early and reached an hour before Laila. She got started on her lemon cupcakes, another experiment. The cupcake itself was easy; she just added lemon juice in her regular batter and beat it extra-long. Maahi used to think her cupcakes would be fluffier and generally better the longer she beat them. She had learned over time that beating the batter too much wasn’t the best thing to do—because that resulted in bubbles. She remembered Laila’s pursed lips when she had seen that especially bubbly batch of red velvet cupcakes Maahi once baked.

  ‘What smells good?’ Laila came in just as Maahi was preparing the frosting.

  ‘Cupcake of the day in progress.’ Maahi pointed at the tray she just pulled out of the oven. ‘Lemon cupcakes with lemon Italian meringue frosting.’

  ‘Wow, complex. How’s that going?
What did you put in it?’ Laila stashed away the brown bag she was carrying, and peeked into Maahi’s bowl.

  ‘I started with sugar and water, cooked the syrup at 240. Then took lemon juice and lemon zest in another bowl, added egg whites to it, beat it for a while. Mixed the syrup in it and have been beating it ever since,’ Maahi explained excitedly.

  Laila took some frosting on a spoon and tasted it. ‘Mmm, good. Keep at it—needs more beating.’

  ‘I know. I’ve been on this forever. But does it taste okay? I was worried it might get too sour.’

  ‘It has the right amount of lemony tang to it, don’t worry,’ Laila said. ‘You finish this up. Mohan is getting off his shift in a minute, so I’m going to man the counter. Come out when you’re done. I have elaborate plans for cookie of the day that I need to get down to.’

  ‘Cool,’ Maahi said. She wanted to ask Laila what she was planning to bake, but she had already left the kitchen. The highlight of Maahi’s days, apart from baking, was getting to eat Laila’s cookies. Sometimes she thought that they stuck to the cookie of the day and cupcake of the day tradition just so they got to bake and experiment, and also eat each other’s creations.

  Maahi finished with the frosting and decorated a dozen cupcakes. She sprinkled lemon zest on top and shredded rosemary leaves—the yellow and green looked lovely against white. She placed them on a display tray and brought them out to the counter. ‘All done,’ she said happily.

  ‘Awesome. I’m going to put carrots and walnuts in my cookies today,’ Laila announced.

  ‘For real?’

  ‘For real.’ Laila smirked. ‘You’ll see. And by the way, the doctor is here again—the guy wearing the AIIMS identity card who didn’t want your cupcake of the day yesterday. You could try selling him this one. He didn’t go for the immensely sweet one, maybe he likes his cupcakes a bit sour.’

  ‘I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough before him. I’m going to let him be,’ Maahi said, glancing in his direction. He looked exactly like he did the day before, wearing the same white coat with black trousers. Maybe it was a different white coat, but she had no way to tell.

  She pulled out the book she was reading. It was a Sylvia Plath title Laila worshipped and had forced on Maahi. There wasn’t much to do at the coffee shop in the afternoon hours, once the lunch and late-lunch crowd had passed. They got a lot of mostly quiet time to read and catch up on their college work. Soon, the smell of Laila’s cookies wafted towards her—it was odd, delightfully weird. She couldn’t wait to try it. She looked up to find that man from yesterday at the counter.

  ‘Hey, what can I get for you today?’ she asked. She hoped he wouldn’t recognize her, or at least pretend, just like she was trying to do.

  ‘Hi. Is that today’s cupcake of the day?’ he asked, pointing at Maahi’s lemon cupcakes.

  ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I didn’t bake them this time, so if you decide to get one, I promise you’ll be safe.’

  ‘Oh. I was hoping you baked them.’

  ‘Really? Actually, I did.’

  ‘But you just said you didn’t,’ he pointed out.

  ‘Yesterday you didn’t want one because I baked them so I was hoping you’d get one of these if I said I didn’t bake them, but I did,’ Maahi blurted. ‘I realize I’m not very good at marketing my products.’

  ‘Wow. So you just lied to me.’

  ‘I was only kidding! I was about to say “JK, I did bake them” but then you said you actually did want me to have baked them and that threw me off!’

  The man narrowed his eyes at her.

  For a second, Maahi couldn’t figure out if they were still kidding or if he was serious now. Then he shook his head gently, almost to himself and his lips twitched to one side in a hint of a smile.

  ‘I’ll take one of those,’ he said.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Maahi asked.

  ‘You really aren’t good at marketing your products, are you?’

  ‘Yes, I suck. I’m the worst.’

  ‘I think you’re pretty awesome,’ he said, out of the blue.

  Maahi paused. She looked at him, trying to figure out what that meant. He really was cute and now that he was standing, Maahi could see traces of the good body Laila and she had anticipated under that lab coat. The way he was looking at her made her want to sit down.

  He let it linger for a moment before saying, ‘I meant at marketing. That was sarcasm.’

  Maahi laughed nervously. ‘Got it. Do you want it here or to go?’ she asked, printing out his receipt.

  ‘Here, please.’

  She picked up a pair of tongs and carefully placed one of her cupcakes on a square white plate before pushing it towards him. She tried not to look at him as he walked away, but found herself stealing glances. She told herself it was because she wanted to see what he thought of her cupcake, which was something she did whenever someone fell for her pitch.

  He was busy on his phone, probably playing Clash of Clans again. Maahi smiled to herself. He took his first bite and three seconds later, Maahi found their eyes locked from across the coffee shop.

  10

  ‘Oh, you guys, so cute,’ Laila said.

  ‘No, we’re not. Because there’s no we. There’s nothing and you need to stop,’ Maahi said, as seriously as she could. It was after closing and they had dimmed the lights and closed the place down. They sat at the table by the window with their cupcakes, as was their daily ritual.

  ‘Then why are you blushing?’

  ‘I’m not.’

  Laila raised one perfect eyebrow and went back to her cupcake, thin lips pursed. ‘You killed it with this one, man. This is it—this right here is the real deal.’

  ‘I read a recipe online, and thought about working on a variation. I think the green mango really works here. And the chilli.’

  ‘No shit. I’ve never had a mango chilli cupcake before. How did you come so far? I didn’t teach you any of this. Hell, I don’t know how to do half of the things you’re doing these days.’

  ‘It’s because you just want to eat the cupcakes, minus the work.’

  ‘True. I like having you as my slave!’ Laila laughed. ‘Seriously though, that boy is cute. You need to let it happen.’

  ‘There’s nothing happening. And whatever’s happening wouldn’t have been happening if you hadn’t stuck your little nose in my business in the first place.’

  ‘Exactly. What was I supposed to do? You guys were talking for like, what, two weeks? He came in here every other day—it was clear that he was into you and you didn’t even know his name. As your friend, it was my responsibility to butt in. Also, my little nose is very cute.’

  ‘You’re so proud of yourself, aren’t you?’ Maahi narrowed her eyes.

  ‘Duh. And don’t even pretend you don’t like him. You guys text all day long. It’s quite disgusting, if I’m completely honest with you.’

  ‘You were just saying we’re cute.’

  ‘So cute it’s disgusting. Keep up, Maahi!’ Laila laughed.

  Maahi and Siddhant had been texting each other for a week, courtesy Laila’s meddling. What started as funny banter, graduated to shy flirting and was presently somewhere between long-thoughtful-conversations-about-weird-things and catching-up-on-each-other’s-past phase. He came to the coffee shop if he got a chance before or after his work. He was a medical intern at AIIMS, and lived in Gurgaon near M.G. Road. His days were pretty crazy, with a lot of studying and practising. His internship hours were super hectic and he was always trying to juggle everything. That’s the basic information Maahi had gathered about him in the past few weeks. They often found themselves talking about the most random things.

  ‘Okay, let’s leave. I need to be home soon, hopefully before Mom comes back from work. She’s not feeling too well. I’m going to get home and cook dinner before she beats me to it. She just doesn’t listen; she needs to do everything,’ Laila said, looking worried.

  Maahi felt a pang of envy every time Lail
a talked about her mom. She felt bad for feeling that way, as if she was betraying her own mother. Also because Laila’s parents got divorced when she was eleven and the struggles that she and her mom had faced ever since were way bigger than any of Maahi’s problems with her family.

  ‘I hope she feels better,’ Maahi said as they got up and cleared the table.

  The next day, Laila called in sick. She told Maahi that it was her mom who was sick, not her. CJ couldn’t arrange for someone to cover for Laila, so Maahi was closing alone. He offered to stay back with her, but Maahi preferred to spend the rest of her shift without him.

  ‘Hey there,’ a familiar voice said.

  Maahi looked up from the Hemingway book Laila had recommended and lent her. She skipped a heartbeat when she saw him, but hid it in a small smile. ‘Hi, Siddhant.’

  ‘How are you doing today?’

  ‘Not that great, actually. Laila isn’t here, so I’m holding fort all by my lonesome.’ Maahi sighed exaggeratedly. She wondered if she looked as frazzled as she felt. She had blow-dried her hair—which was longer now and cut stylishly with side bangs—into loose waves and bordered her eyelids with brown liner that morning. Those were two additions to her usual wash-and-moisturize routine, which helped her confidence. The way Siddhant’s gaze lingered on her helped too.

  ‘Oh, that sucks.’

  ‘Pretty much, yes. How was your day?’

  ‘I got done with work earlier than expected. So I get to go home,’ Siddhant said. ‘Which must sound like bragging to you at this point.’

  ‘It’s not like you’re even trying to hide your excitement. But I don’t care. I’m just going to be over here, with my book. You go out there and live your life.’

  ‘Could you be more dramatic?’

  ‘I can, trust me, I can,’ Maahi said. ‘What can I get for you?’

  ‘Do you even have to ask? What’s today’s special?’

  ‘It’s dark chocolate with peppermint. You know what? It’s actually not that good. I wouldn’t recommend it.’