by DICE Media
‘To play games.’
Kavya corrected him. ‘The arcade, Dhruv, it’s called an arcade.’ Dhruv wanted to tease Kavya about how sophisticated she pretended to be whenever she went out when he was interrupted.
‘You can’t go in, Sir,’ the man declared.
Annoyed, Dhruv asked, ‘Why? What’s the scene? Who the hell are you?’
‘Sir, I’m the manager of this mall. I’m sorry but I can’t let you go upstairs. You see, there’s a child’s birthday party going on in the arcade. And you have “In Cock We Trust” written on your T-shirt.’
Dhruv glanced at his clothes. He was wearing his favourite Sriracha sauce T-shirt—a hot sauce and a piece of clothing he held very dear. The logo of this sauce was a rooster, which is why the caption ‘In Cock We Trust’.
‘Yeah, so?’ Dhruv didn’t get the point.
‘Sir, someone might file a complaint. It could become an issue. Please try and understand.’ Worry was evident on the manager’s face and in his voice.
‘This is my favourite chilli sauce brand’s T-shirt.’
‘Sriracha is the name of a sauce, Sir,’ Kavya said.
But their explanations and arguments were to no avail.
‘Ma’am, that doesn’t matter. If even one person complains, it can become an issue. Please try and understand. Plus, today is my first day at work. Please don’t put my job at risk. Please.’
‘Don’t talk rubbish, man! We want to play a few games. Just let us in.’ Dhruv was losing patience.
However, the manager remained adamant.
‘Sir, please try and understand. Someone could file a complaint. This could put my job at risk.’ He was almost blocking their way by now.
Seeing the man’s earnestness, Kavya gave in. She caught Dhruv’s eye and nudged him along, signalling that it was best they left. As a final act of defiance, Dhruv shouted, ‘How can you do this, yaar? This is unacceptable!’ He then turned to follow Kavya, who was already on her way out.
As Kavya and Dhruv left, they heard the manager calling out, ‘Thank you so much, Sir! Please come again tomorrow! I’m sorry!’
Dhruv was furious about what had just happened. ‘How can he throw us out like that?’
‘Come on, it’s not entirely his fault. You should have at least taken a shower, or changed your T-shirt.’
‘But today is a Sunday! And I don’t bathe on Sundays, you know that!’ Dhruv threw up his hands in exasperation.
It wasn’t that Dhruv looked shabby, but Kavya understood the manager’s point too. She asked, ‘So, what do you want to do now?’
‘I don’t know.’
Then, with a straight, serious face, he asked, ‘Do you just want to go home and have sex?’
Kavya burst out laughing. ‘At least don’t look this bored when you ask something like this!’
Dhruv smirked. Then feeling disheartened again he asked, ‘Then what do you want to do?’
Kavya pondered for a bit before turning to him with an impish smile. ‘Do you want to go to a salon with me?’
She knew the answer would be no, but she took her shot anyway.
‘What? Why would I want to do that?’
‘Because then I can get a hair spa. And then when you play with my hair, it’ll be more fun!’
‘Yeah, right! When was the last time I did that? Have you seen your hair? If I get my hand anywhere near those wild curls, it’ll get lost.’
‘But you used to do that, and I miss it!’
Dhruv seemed surprised.
‘But then what about my match?’
‘Can’t you watch it on your mobile phone? Please!’
Seeing Dhruv hesitate, Kavya declared, ‘Okay, I’ve decided. We’re going to the salon. You can watch the match on your phone.’
‘No, yaar, it’s not the same thing! It isn’t fun watching it on the mobile phone. See, Kavvu, there are fifty-two Sundays in a year. The chances of Liverpool playing—’
‘—I know, I know. The chances of Liverpool playing on a Sunday are a mere 8.8 per cent.’
‘Yeah . . .’
‘But it’s a Sunday and I really want to do something!’
By now, Dhruv wore an expression that Kavya knew very well. It was the face he made when he was almost convinced but was hanging on to the last straw of resistance. With puppy-dog eyes, Kavya squealed, ‘Please!’
She knew Dhruv couldn’t say no to that. As his shoulders slumped in a gesture of surrender, Kavya smiled triumphantly. She took his hand and they started walking towards the salon.
This girl takes too much advantage of her cuteness, thought Dhruv as he dragged his feet towards the salon.
4
‘You have such pretty curls. But why don’t you maintain them?’ The hairstylist admonished Kavya as he examined her hair.
‘Because I don’t know how to.’
They were in a plush salon that had smartly dressed hairstylists and jazz music playing softly in the background. Kavya was perched on one of the chairs while Dhruv sat grudgingly on the sofa meant for guests. The match had already started, and he had missed the first few minutes. He clumsily tried to untangle his headphones, but it was difficult to do so while watching the game. He ended up tangling them further, much to his annoyance.
‘You should get the keratin treatment and follow it up with a hair spa,’ the hairstylist advised. Kavya didn’t have a clue about what would be the best thing for her, but she wasn’t going to fall for the money-shelling-out trap that was being laid out in the guise of hair care advice. She was only sure that she didn’t want both. She turned to Dhruv.
‘Listen, Dhruv! Should I get the hair spa done or the keratin treatment?’
Not only did Dhruv have no idea about hair treatment, but he was also bewildered by Kavya seeking his opinion. How was he supposed to know? He was too engrossed in untangling his headphones so he could watch the match in peace.
‘If I get the keratin . . .’ began Kavya.
‘Oh, shit! Almost a goal! It was this close, yaar!’ Dhruv held his forefinger and thumb close together to demonstrate the proximity.
Kavya was still staring at him, demanding his attention.
‘Get it done,’ Dhruv said, too preoccupied.
‘Which one should I get done, Dhruv?’ Kavya’s voice sounded urgent.
‘Huh? Get that one—the herbal one.’
‘Why not the extra protein one?’
‘Get that one, that’s the best!’
It was apparent that Dhruv was not paying any attention to what Kavya was saying. He was too absorbed in the match, and rightfully so—it was turning out to be a thrilling contest. Kavya couldn’t help feeling irked.
‘Fine! You just watch your game!’ she snapped, but Dhruv had finally managed to plug in his headphones and couldn’t hear her.
‘Just do what you think is best,’ Kavya told the hairstylist, throwing a miffed look towards Dhruv.
* * *
Barely ten or fifteen minutes after the hairstylist had started working on Kavya’s hair Dhruv started shouting and cursing.
‘Fuck! Shit!’
So engrossed was he in the game that he seemed to have forgotten where he was.
Kavya was embarrassed. Every person in the salon was looking at Dhruv and then at her. Shocked by the colourful language Dhruv was hurling at his mobile phone, a mother covered her son’s ears, condemnation oozing from her body language. The atmosphere at the salon had gone from cheerfully busy to silent and tense in seconds.
‘You need to talk to him,’ the hairstylist told Kavya, worried that other customers might walk out because of Dhruv. Kavya got up, midway through her spa, half her hair held up with curlers, and walked towards Dhruv.
‘Could you please watch your match outside?’ Kavya asked Dhruv, her terse manner fully showing the embarrassment she felt.
Dhruv looked up and removed his headphones. He sensed Kavya’s discomfort. Then he looked around at the eerily silent salon and the people staring
at him, realizing what had happened.
He got up without a word and began to walk out, plugging in his headphones again. But just when he was almost outside, Liverpool missed another chance to score. Frustrated, he cursed loudly again, adding to Kavya’s embarrassment.
* * *
‘Liverpool will need to pull off something spectacular if they want to stay in the fight for the first three spots in the league . . .’
The commentator was analysing the match as the game entered the final ten minutes. Why can’t Kavya understand that these games are important to me? Dhruv thought. Things couldn’t have got more uncomfortable and irritating for him. Not only was Liverpool down 1-0, he had been forced to watch the game on his mobile phone and been kicked out of the salon as well. To top it all, he was certain that Kavya was pissed off with him.
Dhruv was tired of standing outside on the pavement, and his team’s performance only added to his exasperation. I could’ve been comfortably sitting at home, having a chilled beer, he thought. He knew that if the status quo did not change, he would vent his frustration on Kavya and they would end up fighting. He knew he wouldn’t be able to help himself.
Hoping against hope, Dhruv crossed his fingers and prayed that Liverpool would at least come up with an equalizer. If not a win, at least a draw. The next five minutes would change the course of the Sunday.
‘Goal! Sturridge, you beauty!’ Dhruv whooped as Daniel Sturridge scored his second goal in five minutes, giving Liverpool the lead. Praise the Lord, the impossible had been made possible, Sunday had been saved!
Dhruv put on some victory music and started grooving to it. It was strange how one could go from misery to ecstasy in a matter of minutes. And the reason? Something happening so far, far away. Now in a better mood, Dhruv started thinking more constructively about what had happened in the salon.
Kavya is right. I should be more aware of where I am and what I say. Damn, I must’ve scarred that kid for life. Dhruv chuckled.
Just then, Kavya walked out of the salon.
‘How’s it looking?’
Unfortunately for Dhruv, he went with honesty rather than flattery. ‘What did you get done? I can’t even tell the difference.’
This was enough to annoy Kavya. ‘Just like there’s no difference in Liverpool’s position in the league?’
‘Why are you angry?’
‘You need to learn how to behave in public, Dhruv.’
‘It was an honest mistake, Kavvu. I swear I didn’t realize what I was doing.’ Dhruv sounded sincere.
‘Mistake? Really?’ Kavya narrowed her eyes at him. She turned around to walk away, but Dhruv reached out to stop her. However, he ended up stepping on her chappal, almost causing her to fall. She gave him a cold, furious stare.
‘Now this was an honest mistake, yaar. Seriously!’
Kavya walked into a store and bought a packet of chips. She munched on them as she walked around inside. Gradually, she calmed down. She realized that she was angry only because she was hungry. Seeing her in a better mood, Dhruv started discussing their dinner plans.
‘What do you want to eat? Chinese?’
Kavya scrunched up her face and shook her head in disapproval.
‘Mughlai?’
‘Too oily!’
‘Italian?’
‘Too boring!’
‘Mexican?’
By now Kavya had finished the packet of chips and realized that she wasn’t hungry any more. ‘Actually, I’m done.’ She looked sheepishly at Dhruv.
‘Don’t say that, man.’
‘Arre, I am full. But I will have a bit with you. Promise.’
Dhruv couldn’t hide his disappointment as both of them thought of other places they could go to. Suddenly, Kavya’s face lit up.
‘Hey, why don’t we go to that place you suggested in the morning? The one that serves Kerala food?’
Dhruv perked up instantly, excited about food all over again. ‘Good one, Kavvu!’ he said, delighted at her suggestion.
How did I forget about that? he wondered as they walked towards the place.
Kavya and Dhruv reached the restaurant only to find a long queue. Dhruv went in and inquired—there was a forty-five-minute wait.
‘Are you serious?’ It was Kavya’s turn to be disappointed.
‘You know what? Let’s go home and pick up ingredients for some Thai curry on the way. We’ll have it with rice. That’s the best option!’ Dhruv suggested.
‘Oh, yeah! And I can make a Snapchat story with instructions on how to make it. Screw you, Megha!’
As they hailed an autorickshaw back to their apartment, Dhruv laughed at how Kavya could be both cute and silly at the same time.
5
Once home, Dhruv and Kavya plonked themselves on the sofa. They were both pretty tired by now. Out of habit, they took out their mobile phones and started looking at their friends’ Snapchat stories. Be it Akash’s photos of all the fun he was having in Goa or Megha’s photos from the splendid Coldplay gig, each passing photo got them a little more agitated. Kavya went to her Snapstory and relived the day. They sat in silence for some time, mentally comparing their Sunday to everyone else’s.
That is, until Dhruv reached Kavya’s Snapstory. She had put up photos of the brunch, of them watching Inside Out, of her at the salon and even photos of them shopping for ingredients for the Thai curry. She had tried very hard to make her day look fun and enjoyable.
It dawned on Dhruv that everyone twisted the truth around, that no one ever had as much fun as they claimed on social media. He turned to Kavya with a smile.
‘Kavvu, your day was nothing like what you made it look on your Snapstory.’
‘Yeah, so what? I don’t want to tell everyone that I had a boring Sunday. Everyone is going places, and look at us. We’re just sitting here doing God knows what!’
‘Arre, what is this FOMO? I know our day did not go according to plan, but it’s not like we had that bad a Sunday. Come on! We had an epic brunch. I got chucked out of a mall and a salon! How often does that happen? We’ll be laughing about it for the next two months!’ This cheered Kavya up and she broke into a pretty smile.
Dhruv continued. ‘Seeing you with those funny red hair clips and watching Sturridge score that goal. Now that made my Sunday perfect. Of course, it could be much cooler and more happening. But isn’t that the case with every day? We can’t keep comparing our day to others’, can we?’
‘Hmm . . .’ Kavya was lost in thought.
‘Besides, we still have that Thai curry to make!’ Dhruv desperately tried to help Kavya feel better.
Now that she had come to terms with her Sunday, Kavya realized that she didn’t want to go through with the Thai curry plan.
‘Listen, Dhruv, can we just order pizza instead? I’m really tired.’
Dhruv heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Thank God you said that! Even I am damn tired and was in no mood to slog over the Thai curry.’
Then he remembered. ‘Wait, but what about your Snapstory?’
‘I don’t care.’
‘Really? And what will people say?’
‘Other people can go to hell! It might sound lame, but you know what I really want to do? I want to have some pizza with a glass of red wine, finish watching Inside Out and then just go to sleep.’
They gave each other a knowing smile.
‘That sounds perfect,’ Dhruv replied.
‘It sounds like our kind of Sunday,’ added Kavya.
‘Exactly.’
So Dhruv and Kavya ordered in pizza, had some wine and finished watching Inside Out. Some would call this the perfect end to a week and the best start to a new one. Kavya even managed to take a lot of photos for Snapchat during dinner and the movie and showed all her friends that you didn’t have to play large to have fun.
As she snuggled in with Dhruv later, she took the final snap for the day: ‘100 per cent Dhruv and Kavya’.
It was in Dhruv’s arms that she found happiness an
d felt secure. With him, everything seemed just right.
HAVE A NICE DAY!
1
It was a typical Monday morning. Dhruv opened all the windows and pulled back the curtains. A gentle breeze blew into the house. The chirping of birds floated into the room.
Dhruv felt a sense of calm as he made coffee for both Kavya and himself, then read the newspaper and watered the plants. He even messaged his mother a cheery ‘Good morning, Ma!’
At the other end of the spectrum was Kavya. While Dhruv moved about outside and finished his chores, she lay in bed, drooling from the side of her mouth, blissfully unaware of the fact that she was running really late. She was definitely not a morning person. But as they say, opposites attract. It was probably the reason why Dhruv and she functioned so well as a team. Dhruv’s coffee was yet to have an effect on Kavya, so he decided to start getting dressed. As he entered the room to get his things, he saw Kavya sleepily move towards the bathroom.
‘Hello! No, no, no, no . . .’ Dhruv grabbed her just as she was about to enter the bathroom.
Kavya struggled with him, begged and made a puppy-dog face and then begged some more. ‘Please, please, just let me go first.’
‘How is this fair? I got up first, switched on the geyser and made coffee. I even woke you up! You remember? You remember that, don’t you?’
Seeing that her puppy-dog expression wasn’t working, Kavya appealed more desperately. ‘I know, I know! But I have my weekly meeting at 9 a.m. and Manoj Sir will kill me if I am late again. And you can go to work even at 1 p.m., na?’
Dhruv was a student of mathematics, a subject most people dread. But he was good at it and was seeking a university grant that would help him complete his research paper and get his degree. He did go to an office, but he was his own boss, which is why his hours were flexible.
It was discipline and a strict schedule that had enabled him to come so far.
‘Hey, no! I also have to leave on time, right? What is this? You need to be more disciplined, Kavya.’
‘Okay, Daddy, next time!’
‘I really wish I was. If you were my daughter . . .’