Tea for Two and a Piece of Cake

by Preeti Shenoy

  ‘You do deserve it, Akash. I am so proud of you,’ I say.

  ‘Far cry from our Parinita days, eh?’ he asks, as we both remember our time at Point to Point, eight years ago. It seems almost like another lifetime.

  ‘Yeah, we have come a long way. At least you have progressed from there. You have reached somewhere in life. But look at me. Eight years and I have achieved nothing. It is like I have taken four lefts from the centre and have reached back where I began.’

  ‘You have two angels, Nisha. Don’t forget that,’ he says, and I love him for saying that.

  The doorbell rings, startling both of us. We wonder who it could be in this rain. It is Mrs Billimoria from next door, and this time she has brought along the most divine-looking chocolate mousse.

  ‘Thought you might enjoy this, dear, but keep it in the fridge. I also got you the letters that I had been holding onto,’ she says, walking in to place the mousse as well as the bunch of letters on the table, when she suddenly spots Akash and gasps in surprise.

  I try hard to suppress my giggles, as he does look ridiculous sitting there, solemnly dressed in my clothes.

  ‘Mrs Billimoria, this is Akash, a good friend of mine. He is wearing my clothes because he got drenched in the rain,’ I find myself explaining.

  ‘Oh, hello,’ she says, and she hurries out without another word.

  Akash and I collapse in laughter like two little children who have stolen cookies and got away with it.

  Finally, when the laughing fit subsides, I say, ‘Let me go check on my cooking. It must be done.’

  ‘It smells heavenly, Nisha,’ says Akash and he is right. It does smell heavenly.

  I set the table properly. It is a long time since I have done that. If it is just Tanya and me, we sometimes don’t even bother to come to the dining table. We sit with food in our plates on the sofa and eat. It feels good to set the table properly and I take out the old crockery owned by my parents.

  The end result is a really alluring and inviting meal and I watch quietly as Akash tucks into it.

  ‘Mmmm Nisha, you’re a goddess in the kitchen… too good,’ he gushes between mouthfuls.

  I feel so happy with his compliments, and am beaming with delight.

  After he finishes, he helps me clear up the table.

  ‘Goodness, Nisha, you have cooked a lot. There is so much food left,’ he says.

  ‘I am so used to cooking for large numbers when I am entertaining, that I really find it hard to just cook for one. Never mind, let’s put it in the fridge so that I don’t have to cook tomorrow. Besides, it’s been a long time since I cooked Chinese food for Tanya.’

  Then I serve the chocolate mousse that Mrs Billimoria has brought and ask Akash if he wants to eat it in the balcony. It’s still raining, but the balcony is shielded well.

  We carry our chocolate mousse and sit in silence. It is that kind of quietness which is comforting, but only if two people have known each other for a very long time and are happy in each other’s company. The rain is a slight drizzle now, and we watch the city lights shining and reflecting in the water, punctuated by one or two scooters and cabs slowly trying to limp back to life. Rains have a way of adding beauty to even the most common of scenes, transforming them into something almost magical.

  We sit in absolute silence long after we have finished the mousse and finally Akash says that he should be getting back.

  ‘Don’t be silly! You stay here tonight. Do you want to be drenched on the streets for another six hours?’ I ask him.

  He agrees that it would indeed be madness to try and go back to his place just then. So I make the bed in the other room (which used to be my room) and show him to it.

  As I am turning to go back to my room, he says, ‘Stay, Nisha, let’s talk for a while more.’

  The way in which he says it tugs at my heart. For a reason I cannot fathom, I sit beside him on the bed.

  We talk for very long. Akash says that he was trying to figure out what it was about me that was different, and that I have really lost oodles of weight since the last time he saw me. He also adds that I am looking fantastic. He asks if I have been on a diet. I tell him that it must be all the walking I do these days with Rohit perched on my hips, as well as the housework that I have been occupied with lately. Secretly, I am very pleased that he said it, and I make a mental note to check myself out in the mirror—something that I stopped doing long back.

  Akash also completely understands why I don’t want to take any money from Samir.

  ‘I would probably have done the same thing if I were in your place,’ he says, and my heart goes out to him, the second time that day.

  I tell Akash that I want to start earning money now, and that I would not be taking any money from Samir, after what Samir had said in his mail. But even as I say it, I know that I really do not want to take up a job, as I would hate to leave Rohit in a crèche, and I want to be there when Tanya comes back from school. I also remind Akash about the nightmare I faced eight years ago, when I had gone for a round of interviews after losing my job at Point to Point. I am so much older now, and I do not think I can really subject myself to interviews like that anymore.

  Akash is quiet for a while as he listens patiently, absorbing every little detail that I tell him.

  ‘So basically, what you are saying is that if you can have a job where you can be around when Tanya comes from school, and where Rohit can be with you throughout, then you would want that job, am I right?’ he surmises.

  ‘Yes, that’s exactly what I want, but who would give me such a job?’ I ask.

  ‘You yourself would,’ says Akash.

  ‘What do you mean? Explain please!’

  ‘Wait and see, but just give me about ten days time,’ he says mysteriously.

  I wonder what Akash has up his sleeve. I cannot think of any such job and he refuses to divulge details.

  Akash and I talk for a long time. He tells me about the string of relationships he had, including two at IIM, after he left Point to Point. He has been through four breakups. I am surprised as Akash has never opened up to me before. Even though we have kept in touch all these eight years, he has not once mentioned any of this, even though we were good friends. I ask him why he hadn’t told me all this before and he shrugs. ‘Maybe we never got a chance to talk like this,’ he says and it is true. I realize it is the first time we are meeting without Samir. Perhaps that is why Akash is more comfortable with being around me now.

  Finally when we have talked enough, I say a good night to him as he settles down in my bed—the bed which I have slept in for many years—wearing my clothes. I feel really tender towards him.

  And just before walking out, I kiss him on the forehead and turn out the lights.

  But even in the darkness, I can feel the warmth of his smile which radiates the joy in his heart, as he says, ‘Goodnight Nisha. You know, you’re really the best.’

  Brand New Start

  Mrs Billimoria opens the door to her flat the next morning when I come back from dropping Tanya. Akash has already left. He had said he would have loved to go straight to work from my place, but of course he had to go home for a change of clothes. I had thanked him for coming and he had said there was no need to thank him at all.

  ‘Good morning, my dear,’ she calls out affectionately.

  ‘Good morning Mrs Billimoria,’ I say smiling.

  ‘You can call me Mrs B. That is what all my students used to call me.’

  ‘Oh, I never knew you were a teacher.’ I say. I have developed a liking for Mrs B now. She is sweet and kind and warm. Her students, I am pretty sure, must have loved her too.

  ‘Yes, my dear, I have taught English for thirty-eight years at St. Anne’s school.’

  ‘Oh, that is really nice. Do your students keep in touch?’

  ‘Yes, some of them do. They still visit me, you know.’

  ‘That is really wonderful, Mrs B. I too have fond regards for some of my teachers.’r />
  ‘And I must tell you, my dear, I never meant to intrude last night. I apologize. I never knew you had a visitor.’

  ‘Oh no, you weren’t intruding at all. Akash is a dear friend and we both loved the chocolate mousse,’ I say with a smile.

  ‘I am glad then,’ she replies. Rohit gurgles in pleasure, as something in our exchange amuses him, and he lunges towards her.

  ‘What a darling he is! Do you mind if I carry him for some time?’

  ‘Not at all!’ I say, as she carries him and he tries to leap towards her flat.

  ‘Oh, do you want to see my house, baby?’ She croons to him and asks me whether I mind if she takes him inside.

  I do not mind at all and I follow her.

  Her home is full of antique furniture. She has done it up so well. There is a huge chest of drawers which dominate the living room, making it look like an altar. There are many black and white photos of a handsome young man. There are also candles and flowers.

  ‘Who is this, Mrs B?’ I ask.

  ‘That is my Adil, my husband. The only love of my life. We were together just two years and then God cruelly snatched him away from me. But oh, they were the best two years of my life,’ she says, and when she talks about him, it is like somebody has switched on a light bulb inside her. She actually radiates with happiness, her face undergoing a transformation.

  I don’t know what to say, but I am silent. She is really fortunate to have known love like that.

  But then who knows, had he been alive, and had they stayed married longer, perhaps even their marriage would have lost its magic, its charm? I do not know. My own ordeals have eroded my faith in the institution of marriage.

  ‘You know, Adil chose me over my sister. He had come to meet her, but he ended up falling for me. My sister is older. She never forgave me for that. She did not even come for his funeral,’ she says.

  ‘I am, sorry, Mrs B.’ I say, and I truly am.

  ‘So do you have children, Mrs B?’ I ask.

  ‘No, I have nobody of my own now, except for my sister. She lives in Coorg with her husband and her children who are all grown up and well settled now. They keep telling me to live with them, but I really do not want to give up my house here in Mumbai. This is my world. This is where I have lived all my life, and this is where I will die,’ she says.

  Rohit is slowly learning to stand up with support and he has stood up holding the arm of her sofa. I watch him like a hawk, in case he falls over and hurts his head. Rohit slowly walks, takes his first step without support, and looks at Mrs B and me triumphantly.

  We both laugh at his expression and Mrs B claps.

  ‘Well done, Rohit. Now walk to me,’ she says.

  Rohit realizes the enormity of what he has done and takes a few more faltering steps. He is really growing up fast.

  I think for a moment that had Samir not walked out, he would have been the first person I would have called to say that Rohit has started walking on his own.

  And some part of me still hurts from not being able to share such simple joys with Samir.

  Akash calls two weeks later, saying that he has some really nice news for me, and that he wants to come over in the evening.

  ‘Only if you promise me you will stay over like last time,’ I say. I did enjoy his company the last time round; it was a pleasant break in the monotony of my life which is dominated only by my children’s activities.

  ‘Yes, Ma’am. But please make the same dishes you made last time,’ he says.

  ‘Don’t worry about the menu. I will cook something delicious.’

  I decide to make some Mughlai chicken, rotis and a lovely salad. I also decide to make a dal. I again lay the table, adding to Tanya’s excitement, as she gets to help me set the table and lay out the mats and ‘special plates’, as she calls them. She wants to know who would be visiting, and I tell her that Akash would be coming over.

  ‘Oh,’ she says, disappointment clouding her sunny face.

  ‘Why baby? Don’t you like Akash?’ I ask.

  ‘I do, but I was thinking maybe Papa is coming over,’ she says. She clearly believes that Samir will definitely come.

  I do not have the heart to tell her that her papa has called just once in all these days, and her mama hung up on him after telling him to fuck off. I look at her angelic face, and I hate the adults who screw up their relationships so badly after having kids. Children truly do not deserve to go through a broken home for no fault of theirs.

  But there is nothing I can do about it.

  Akash calls up at around seven to say that he has got caught up in office, as his boss wants him to finish a slide show for his presentation.

  ‘Really sorry, Nisha, I was all set to leave, and the bastard piles this on last moment,’ he says.

  ‘Hey, I’ll wait. I am not going anywhere. Don’t worry.’

  And to be honest, his coming later suits me fine, as it means that my children will be fast asleep.

  After the children have slept, I find myself glancing at the clock every now and then, as I wait eagerly for Akash. I have brushed my hair and worn a nice top and sprayed on some perfume too. I have never dressed up for Akash before this, but the compliment he paid me last time about my losing weight and about my looks, seems to have worked its magic.

  I give him a big tight hug as soon as he rings the bell, and he immediately notices my perfume.

  ‘Nisha, you smell great and you look gorgeous,’ he says, and I smile.

  ‘You don’t look too bad either,’ I say.

  ‘Dry clothes generally look smarter than wet ones,’ he smiles and winks.

  ‘Are you hungry? Do you want to eat now?’ I ask him.

  ‘Not really hungry. Get me two glasses, I have something for you,’ he says.

  I fetch two glasses while he opens his laptop bag and takes out a bottle of wine.

  ‘Some lovely red South African wine for us,’ he says, as he pours.

  ‘But what are we celebrating?’ I ask amused.

  ‘Patience, lady, patience. Let me show you,’ he says as he hands over a paper envelope to me.

  I open it with great curiosity and I am so surprised.

  There is a stack of superbly designed business cards and letterheads.

  My jaw almost drops to the floor as I read

  The Magic Saucepan

  We make food good!

  Underneath that, on the bottom right side is my name, address, and phone number.

  I notice that Akash has used just Nisha and not my full name.

  The business cards, look really professional and are so beautifully designed on expensive handmade paper, as are the letterheads. The whole effect spells sheer class.

  ‘Oh my God, Akash, what is all this? What is “The Magic Saucepan”?’ I ask him.

  ‘First tell me whether you like it or not?’ he says, his eyes shining.

  ‘Yeah, of course I do. It’s a wonderful name and the cards are outstanding. But you still have a lot of explaining to do on your part. I’ll explode if you don’t explain right now!’

  ‘You Nisha, YOU are in business! The Magic Saucepan is your company and we are celebrating your first party order. Woohooo!’ He cannot hide his excitement any longer and he takes hold of both my hands, pulls me to my feet, and spins me around.

  ‘What? Oh my God! What?’ I finally manage to say when he stops spinning me around.

  ‘What party order, Akash? What is all this? Tell me in detail Akash,’ I demand.

  ‘Nisha look, you wanted to earn money, right? And you wanted a job where you can be around Rohit and are there when Tanya comes home from school.’

  ‘Yeah but…’

  ‘No buts. Listen to me,’ he interrupts. ‘You cook so well, Nisha, and there are a lot of these private parties where there is a real demand for some good food. This is where you step in.’

  ‘But wouldn’t it be easier for them to order straight off from restaurants?’ I ask.

  ‘Arre! Haven�
�t you seen how greasy and oily most of the restaurant stuff is? Besides, they all have the same boring menus. Here you will be customizing the menu and modifying it as per the client’s needs. Quality service, Nisha, will be your forte,’ he explains slowly.

  ‘Oh my God, Akash, I cannot believe this. This is all so sudden, and whose order did you get and how did you manage to get them to agree to it when they haven’t even met me or sampled what I cook?’

  ‘C’mon, Nisha! There is something called reliability, goodwill, and trust, Madam! The executive director of my company is having a party at his residence. I know the couple well, and they are both quite fond of me. I had told them that a friend of mine has started a catering service which serves awesome food, and that they would have never tasted anything like this before. In fact, they want Chinese food, and you do cook it so well.’

  ‘And how many people will I have to cook for?’

  ‘Twenty. And you just have to cook one main course and two side dishes. They have roped in starters from a place which specializes in just that. You can manage that number, can’t you?’

  ‘I have cooked for about fifteen people once. So twenty should not be that big a problem. But I don’t have the cooking vessels, Akash.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Nisha, I will help you with everything. Ok, forget all that. Guess what I quoted on your behalf,’ he says.

  ‘I have no idea, Akash! How can I guess?’

  ‘Take a guess, a wild one,’ he says.

  ‘Err…four thousand five hundred rupees?’ I ask doing a quick mental calculation. The ingredients to cook for about twenty people would probably cost me not more than two thousand five hundred rupees, if I am making noodles along with one vegetable and one chicken dish, chicken being the most expensive item amongst them. ‘Well, they are paying you eight thousand five hundred, lady!’ he says happily.

  I am stunned.

  ‘When is the party?’ I ask him.

  ‘It’s on Saturday night. We will have to deliver the food by 7.30 p.m. I will come here on Saturday morning and help you do everything. Then I will drive you to their place.’

  ‘All that’s fine, but what will we do with the kids, Akash?’ I ask.