Everyone Has a Story 2

by Savi Sharma

  I shook my head. ‘I’ll be meeting my publishers next week at the Delhi Lit Fest. We’ll finalise things then.’

  Sai popped yet another butter cookie in his mouth and crunched thoughtfully. ‘That is why you’re going there then?’

  ‘Oh no,’ I responded. ‘That is part of it, of course, but not even the most important part. I am anxious to meet my peers, the other authors that will be there.’

  ‘What do you hope for?’ he asked.

  My watch gave out a small chime, reminding me of the time. I glanced at it, subtly indicating the end of the interview. ‘The world is wide open,’ I responded to his question, shrugging my shoulders. ‘I would no more dare guess what I will meet than I could tell you what I will be eating for breakfast a year from now. But I will tell you something: I am very, very excited to see what the future holds for me.’

  Sai packed away his interviewing material, then stood and offered me his hand. I shook it warmly; then wrapped the remaining few biscuits in a napkin and silently offered them to him.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, taking them happily and holding them like they were a cherished treat. ‘They are most delicious.’

  ‘You’re welcome. And thank you for coming over today.’ I reached behind my desk and retrieved my business card. ‘Please, feel free to let me know if you need a clarification on anything or if you have any follow-up questions.’

  Sai’s eyes met mine. I knew from what he had said that he had wanted to meet me, but now I could see in his eyes that there was new admiration, not just curiosity about who I was. He slipped his own card out of his pocket. ‘And for you,’ he said, handing the dog-eared information over to me. ‘If there is anything to add, please let me know. Travel safely to Delhi, and best of luck to you, Meera.’

  I walked him to the door and we said our goodbyes once more. I watched him drive away from my little house and leaned against the door, going over our conversation in my head. I loved being able to speak about my experiences. I always hoped that these interviews helped inspire people as much as my writing. Maybe Sai would go home and start writing his own book.

  As I returned to my office with the intention of clearing up after our snack, my phone rang.

  I picked it up, but had no time to get my hello out. ‘What time will you be here?’ the man on the phone said without preamble.

  ‘And hello to you,’ I laughed at my friend, Kabir. ‘I’ll be there in about half an hour.’

  ‘Great,’ Kabir said enthusiastically. ‘Looking forward to it.’

  ‘Me too,’ I agreed. ‘It’s going to be a night to remember, for sure.’

  Pressing the button to end the call, my eyes danced over to the picture of Vivaan on the wall. ‘I’ll see you soon,’ I said softly, blowing the photograph a gentle kiss. I knew he’d be picking me up any minute now, so I grabbed the brightly wrapped gift that was lying on the table, stroking my fingers over the pink and white bow.

  Wandering into the kitchen, I let Aashi know that Sai had left and that I would be leaving soon as well. We quickly went over the schedule for the next day, and then I went back into my office to call Vivaan.

  2

  VIVAAN

  Squinting in the bright sun, my fingers found their way to the compartment above the windshield. I tapped it once and it opened, giving me the sunglasses I suddenly needed. The day was partly cloudy when I started driving, but the brilliant sun presented itself as I navigated through the traffic to get to Meera’s house.

  My phone rang, that special tone that I had programmed in to let me know, without even looking, that Meera was calling me. I really didn’t need the ringtone; most of the time, I reached for my phone to answer it before she even called. We had such a powerful connection.

  I slipped my sunglasses on and put the phone on speaker.

  ‘Hello, sunshine,’ I said happily.

  ‘Sunshine now?’ Meera laughed. ‘Or are you talking to the sky?

  I felt the laughter well up from deep inside me. ‘It seemed fitting in this late afternoon weather. But yes, I was speaking to you. Can you hear me okay? I’m driving right now, so I have you on speaker phone.’

  ‘I can hear you just fine,’ Meera responded. ‘Glad you’re remembering to put it on speaker. Don’t want to tempt fate or anything.’

  ‘No way,’ I answered firmly.

  ‘How has your day been going?’ she asked. I loved that no matter what was going on in her own day, she always took the time to ask me about my day. It warmed me to know how much she cared about me.

  I responded that my day had gone very well, and then remembered that she had an interview today. ‘Did your interview go well?’ I asked. ‘Did he or she like the cookies you made? I still can’t believe you wouldn’t let me eat any,’ I grumbled teasingly.

  ‘The interview went very well and he loved the cookies. I do have a confession to make though.’

  ‘Oh?’ I asked. I could tell by the way she was talking that it wasn’t too serious, though.

  She cleared her throat. ‘I. . . um. . . gave him the rest of the cookies.’

  I rolled my eyes. She was always giving away food. She’d bake two loaves of bread, only to give one to a neighbour or something. ‘I’d be crushed but that doesn’t surprise me,’ I admitted. ‘Plus, I know you’ll make me more.’

  ‘Oh, you think so, do you? Maybe I wasn’t planning on it.’

  ‘You weren’t going to make me more cookies?’ I asked in mock horror.

  ‘Of course I am.’

  ‘I knew it!’

  Meera laughed. I loved that laugh. ‘You know me too well,’ she said.

  ‘Never too well,’ I responded. ‘Just the perfect degree of ‘‘Knowing Meera’’.’

  ‘Knowing Meera,’ she said. ‘When I’m old and grumpy, maybe that is what I’ll name my memoirs. Anyway. . . what time do you think you’ll be here?’

  I glanced over at the landmarks around me. It amazed me how quickly I was absorbed in my conversation. It was almost as if I were in the same room as my girlfriend, instead of weaving through the busy Pune traffic. ‘I should be there in about ten minutes,’ I confirmed. ‘Will you be ready by then?’

  ‘Always ready for you,’ she said.

  We said our goodbyes and I pressed the button to disconnect the call.

  I must be the luckiest man alive , I mused. I have a fantastic woman in Meera, who is everything to me. I still thank the heavens that I crossed paths with her four years ago. Imagine, if I was ten minutes late to the café, or she was sick the day I was there. . . fate would never have brought us together.

  In the silence of the car, I laughed at myself. Fate would have found a way, regardless. She and I were meant to be together, always.

  From the first moment, she possessed my thoughts. I wanted to tell her what was in my heart, but my emotions and my words never connected. Eventually, they did and look at us now.

  Thinking of the day that I met Meera reminded me of how fortunate I was also to have had the chance to get to know Kabir. Happy, but driven to make his business succeed, his ambition and friendly nature made him very approachable. He and I became the best of friends, but he also extended himself to others. It was what made his business venture, Kafe Kabir, extremely successful.

  I, in turn, was lucky to have invested in his business when he decided to start his own coffee shop. My investment yielded enough for me to be able to explore my own beloved country.

  It was amazing, I thought, how much my desires were now tuned into India. When I met Meera, I was driven to escape the borders and travel the world. I wanted to see so many new things. I wanted to experience other foods, meet exotic people, dip my toes in waters I had only watched on TV. I loved looking at maps. Small maps, large maps, the globe. India seemed so small and there was so much to see.

  How naive I was then, I thought to myself. I was hopping on to airplanes, sleeping in strange hotels, because I wanted to see . . . what? The world? Yes, I travelled and, yes, I me
t some fascinating people.

  But in doing so, I was missing so much. I overlooked the beauty of my own country.

  Now, my drive to explore kept me so much closer to home. What changed? I think maybe it started the day Meera and I went to the old fort and my eyes opened to the beauty around me. I didn’t need to cross the globe to see the beauty of the world. It was right here.

  For the last three years, I had kept myself much closer to home. I now journeyed throughout India to find those small, less travelled areas. Those spots that do not come up at the top of a Google search, but are nestled away. This was the true beauty of India.

  Meera and I had forged an amazing relationship. At first, we thought we could combine our work. She could travel with me, and write in hotels while I went off to learn more about our motherland.

  It wasn’t to be. If I were honest with myself, I think she was as drawn to her home office as I was drawn to the open road. I loved finding and then taking that path less travelled as much as she loved just being home. When we were finally honest with ourselves, and each other, we realised we needed to go in two different directions.

  One might think that this would mean our relationship was doomed to fall apart, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Our relationship grew even stronger.

  Now, I traveled about three weeks of the month, while she stayed home in Pune. Then, the fourth week or so, I joined her in our city.

  Sometimes, she came with me; other times, her schedule didn’t allow it. If she was on some self-imposed deadline, she wanted to just be in her familiar writing area. If she had commitments that I could attend, I went with her. At other times, she went alone.

  It worked for us. Very well, in fact.

  As my car moved closer to Meera’s home, I thought about my next steps with work. I wanted to share what I had learned with other people. . . maybe those who had never taken the time to explore India, or maybe those who once thought, like I did, that they needed to leave our country’s borders to really begin to live.

  A few minutes from home, I decided once and for all that this is what I wanted to do. I wanted to start a company introducing other people to India. I needed to show my fellow countrymen just what we have within our own borders.

  Just as I was pulling down Meera’s street, my phone rang again. I pressed the button to receive the call. ‘Look out your window and you’ll see me,’ I laughed.

  I was barely out of the car when Meera came bursting out of her front door. She threw her arms around me and hugged me tightly. I returned the hug, savouring the scent of her hair as it fell over my face. We pulled away, and kissed the kiss of two people who had been apart much too long . . . even though it had only been since yesterday.

  ‘Hello to you too,’ I said, laughing, when we stopped to catch our breath. ‘Do you have the present?’

  Meera held up one finger. ‘Just inside the door,’ she responded, and turned to prance back to the door. ‘I had a feeling you would have smashed it when we said hello.’

  I would have argued and tried to convince her that I would never have crushed something as precious as that gift. But I remembered our kiss and knew it would have been a useless argument.

  3

  KABIR

  My beautiful café was even more colourful than ever. Colours were splashed on the walls, spread over the tables, and floating in the air. Even if you weren’t able to take in the colours, the sense of excitement in everyone was contagious and growing.

  But something was missing. I took my phone out of my pocket yet again and frowned at the time. Opening my text message app, I tapped a quick question to my wife: ‘Where are you?’

  I got a response back almost immediately and wondered if she was starting her own message instead of simply responding to mine: ‘I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.’

  Nisha was the most reliable woman in the world. She was so steady, my rock. After a long day at work, I knew I could go home to a warm, delicious-smelling house and ease myself into her arms. I loved how she took care of me. Even after the baby came, her love just seemed to divide, pouring over me as well as our little girl.

  A noise from the kitchen brought me back to the task at hand. The party. I hurried into the kitchen to check on the cake. ‘Is it ready?’ I asked my baker. She nodded and stepped back from the counter, her arms spread in invitation.

  ‘Come, look,’ she responded. ‘It’s a cake worthy of a queen. . . or a two-year-old princess.’

  I looked it over with a critical eye, but it was absolutely perfect. I gave my baker a quick squeeze on the shoulder in gratitude. ‘You’re right; you did an amazing job.’

  ‘As always,’ she teased.

  I nodded, laughing. ‘As always.’

  How was it that Jianna, our little baby, was two years old already? It seemed like just yesterday that Nisha told me she was pregnant. Although I had just started Kafe Kabir and we weren’t in the best place financially, I was thrilled to know that Nisha was carrying my child. I loved watching my baby grow inside her, and it didn’t seem like it could get any better. And then my sweet little girl was born, and life did get even more miraculous.

  Soft murmuring broke into my reverie and I knew our guests were starting to arrive. I gave my baker a final nod of appreciation and headed back to the restaurant area to start greeting people.

  I knew it would be a large turnout, probably larger than most birthday parties for a two-year-old. But Nisha and I agreed that it was important to invite not just our friends, but many of our regular customers as well. After all, they were an important part of our lives. They helped make Kafe Kabir a great success.

  But even more than that, they were family. Perhaps not related by blood, but over the last few years, we have all shared joys, concerns, and celebrations. People came to the café when they were having a bad day, or just to share a bit of good news.

  As the owner, one of my favourite things was to be able to gift a customer with a free pastry to share in their celebration—a new job, or a birthday.

  I couldn’t always go out into the world to see the play a customer was in, or visit someone I knew was sick in the hospital. But I could give away things, and that made me feel good.

  I started to blow up a couple more balloons, and let my mind wander. The first time I ever gave anything away was so long ago. A sad young woman had walked into the café where I worked. She seemed so lost and lonely. I wanted to hug her, but I made her a drink with ice cream and pushed it across the counter to her. . . even before she could place an order.

  That woman was Nisha, and my little gesture was the bit of kindness she needed on a very bad day.

  So, without planning or discussing it, Nisha and I have both tried to help our customers when we could.

  Even though a grateful smile or a thank you is all we would ever want, Nisha and I learned quickly that we genuinely touched many hearts, and people were eager to return the kindness. The minute Nisha’s pregnancy was evident, customers were quick to ask after her when she wasn’t in the café. Small gifts were brought—a rattle here, a knit baby sweater there—and oh, the flowers we were sent when our precious Jianna was born.

  We were all in this together and I was delighted that so many people would be here to celebrate our little one’s birthday.

  My cell phone rang again, and I quickly excused myself and found a quiet area to take the call.

  ‘I wanted to confirm our meeting tomorrow,’ my realtor said on the phone. ‘Do you have the address?’

  I thought about the pile of paperwork that was sitting under the counter. ‘Absolutely. It’s at 3 pm, right?’

  ‘Exactly,’ she said. ‘I’m glad you’ll be able to make it. It sounds like you’re really busy right now!’

  I laughed. ‘It’s my daughter’s birthday party. We’re having it at the café. If you’re in the area, you should stop by.’

  ‘Wish I could, but I have too much to do today.’

  ‘I understand. Go
odbye for now.’

  As I walked back into the café, Nisha was rushing in the door at the same time as Meera and Vivaan did. Even though Nisha was a little later than she anticipated, I loved seeing the three of them coming in together.

  Even though Meera and Vivaan were both extremely busy people too, when the four of us were able to gather together, it was almost like coming home from a long journey.

  Jianna held out her long arms to me, and I swept her up, giving Nisha a tight hug as well before we kicked the party into high gear.

  The life of the party, Jianna, seemed to coax a smile out of everybody she turned her beautiful brown eyes on. And although we said gifts were not necessary, our little girl had plenty of unwrapping to do, and she took to the task with delighted wonder. In fact, I was just as amazed at how generous people were to our little girl.

  ‘Thank you so much, everyone,’ I said, looking around the room at all these familiar faces. We were truly fortunate, I thought, as I reached over and squeezed Nisha’s hand.

  ‘Thank us with some cake,’ Vivaan suggested loudly, right before Meera gave him a playful shove, rolling her eyes dramatically.

  Before we cut the cake, though, I had something important I wanted to say.

  Clambering on a chair, I asked for everyone’s attention. ‘Thank you for coming today,’ I began with a huge smile, looking at all the happy faces in the café. ‘You have all been a very important part of our lives, and Nisha and I are very grateful for your support of our little family.’ I looked down at my beautiful wife’s face and she nodded her agreement, eyes shimmering with happy tears.

  ‘We are all here to celebrate Jianna’s birth. It’s been a fun two years. . . a few sleepless nights but ones that I wouldn’t trade for the world. Jianna has blossomed with so much love in her world and everyone here is partially responsible for that.’

  My eyes glided over the people gathered and I gave them a huge grin. ‘I look forward to celebrating many more of Jianna’s birthdays with you.’