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Served with Love

Page 8

by Priyanka Menon


  ‘And you thought you could just drop her at the nursery?’ Pakhi wasn’t finished. ‘She’s a baby, Abhimanyu! Did you even check with me before putting her there? Did you go through the credentials of the nursery staff before putting my baby in there?’

  ‘Yes, Pakhi, I did.’

  But Pakhi wasn’t listening. She’d walked out of his room and was about to open the door when he caught up with her.

  Her eyes could have literally cut him to pieces. ‘Just get out of my way, Abhimanyu,’ Pakhi muttered.

  ‘Look, Pakhi, I’m sorry,’ Abhimanyu began but she interrupted him again.

  ‘Sorry? You’re sorry? You almost gave me a heart attack, Abhimanyu. I thought I lost Abhithi. I thought she’d been kidnapped.’ Pakhi couldn’t get over how casually Abhimanyu was taking this.

  At least Abhimanyu did her the courtesy of looking slightly sheepish before saying, ‘Pakhi, listen to me. I had only the best intentions … you know that. C’mon,’ he tried to cajole her. ‘You know I wouldn’t let anything happen to our girl.’

  ‘She is not your girl, Abhimanyu.’ Pakhi spat out. ‘Just get out of my way.’

  Abhimanyu tried not to show how much her words hurt him. Not your girl. She’s right, man!

  Squaring his shoulders but still barring her exit, in an emotionless voice he said, ‘I’ll get out of your way, Pakhi. You may want to make yourself decent before you leave the suite.’

  12

  A gust of sticky and humid wind hit Pakhi’s face as soon as she got out of the aircraft. With Abhithi perched on her hip, she quickly climbed down the stairs. As soon as her feet touched the tarmac, she made a run for her luggage, but was informed that she would have to wait for security to clear it. She waited, her impatience making her tap her shoe on the hard tarmac. The sleeping Abhithi was blissfully unaware of the drama that had resulted in her aunt deciding to leave Kolkata at once. Abhimanyu had insisted that they fly back in his jet. He’d said this in such an ominous tone that Pakhi had not even thought of countering him.

  Pakhi had just been grateful that her niece was safe and sound. When she had stormed into the nursery, Abhithi had been gurgling away with a young volunteer, who, Pakhi later found out, was a certified caregiver for children. She ran to Abhithi grabbed her, letting relief finally wash over her.

  From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Abhimanyu speaking to the ground staff. The two of them hadn’t uttered a syllable to each other on the way back. A part of her felt guilty about the way she had reacted. He had only been trying to help after all. But there was another part that crushed that feeling of guilt to the ground with the pointed heel of six-inch stilettos.

  Their luggage cleared, Pakhi and Abhimanyu walked into the arrival area at T2, the swanky terminal of Mumbai’s Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport. Anyone who saw them would assume they were a couple with a baby girl. But in the last few hours, their hearts had drifted very far away from each other.

  ‘Pakhi’ Abhimanyu finally broke the silence between them just as they stepped out of the terminal.

  She didn’t respond though. Abhimanyu fought hard to keep the lid on his simmering temper. He caught her hand and tugged her around to face him.

  ‘What?’ she asked him defiantly.

  Abhimanyu saw the dark circles that had suddenly appeared around her big eyes. He could see the lines around her mouth which he had feasted on only that morning. Gosh! Had it only been this morning?

  ‘Pakhi,” he said in a soft voice, as he attempted to placate her. ‘It’s too late for you to go home now. Your father…’

  ‘Knows we’re coming home, Abhimanyu,’ she cut him off. ‘

  It’s nearly 2 a.m., Pakhi,’ he said, a hard tone creeping into his voice.

  ‘So?’ She wasn’t relenting.

  ‘So, it would be better not to wake him up at this hour,’ he retorted.

  ‘You really shouldn’t be giving me a lesson in what’s right and wrong, Abhimanyu,’ she shot back at him.

  That was it. He couldn’t take it anymore. Whipping out his phone from the pocket of his jacket, he dialled a number and barked, ‘Shankar, gaadi lao!’

  ‘The driver will be here in a minute,’ he informed Pakhi. ‘I’m sure you recognize my car – 0006 is its registration number.’

  With a final look at Abhithi to make sure she was OK – he was sure Pakhi wasn’t going to let him hold her – he walked away.

  When Pratap Dev walked out of his bedroom the next morning, it was to find his mountain of a grandson sprawled across the living-room sofa. When had the boy come home?

  Not having the heart to wake up Abhimanyu, the old man ambled to the kitchen and fixed himself a cup of tea. Even though he was ninety-six, he still liked to do things around the house, be it making tea for himself or knocking some sense into his only grandson. He was quite skilled at both.

  Ever since the tragic death of Abhimanyu’s parents, the boy had become the centre of Pratap’s world. He had not only been a grandfather, but had also taken on the role of Abhimanyu’s father and mother. Every PTA meeting, sports meet, school play, college interview, training camps … he had attended them all with his grandson. He would be the one to drop Abhimanyu to school or college on his first day. The lad had pulled a face when he’d found out that his old geezer of a grandfather planned on accompanying to him to Switzerland to his culinary institute as well. But in the end, Abhimanyu had relented, albeit quite easily according to his grandfather, who knew that his grandson would do anything for him.

  Walking out to the living room, Pratap waited just a little while longer before waking Abhimanyu. He’d hardly ever seen the boy sleep since he’d taken over the family business. So watching his grandson sleep so peacefully was quite frankly a treat for the old man.

  But he’d been a perfectionist in his day. And he knew how much his grandson swore by punctuality. It was already 9 a.m.

  Nearly two months had passed since Pakhi and Abhimanyu’s disastrous trip to Kolkata. Well, the entire trip hadn’t been a disaster, Pakhi reminded herself every now and then. But on the back of that reminder came the reprimand. She needed to stop torturing herself with the memories of sleeping and waking up in Abhimanyu’s arms. She needed to stop reminding herself of those few magical hours before things went south.

  After coming back to Mumbai, the two of them had tried their best to maintain as much of a civil, if not cordial, relationship as possible. Pakhi didn’t get in Abhimanyu’s way. Nor did he get in hers. In fact, the two of them barely spoke to each other, unless it was absolutely imperative. Pakhi had gone back to calling him Chef, and Abhimanyu had begun addressing her as Ms Mehra again.

  As the staff would gather around to discuss the day’s menu, Pakhi would sit at the back and listen. Occasionally she would contribute a thought here and there. But that was the extent of their conversation. Fortunately, the change in their attitude towards each other had not affected their work. At least for now, they seemed to be doing OK.

  This was perhaps why Pakhi found it odd when Abhimanyu summoned her to his cabin one morning. No sooner had she put on her apron, than Rajat told her that Abhimanyu was waiting for her. For what? She had wanted to ask Rajat, but she bit her tongue just in time.

  ‘I’m sorry, Abhimanyu. I cannot.’

  Abhimanyu was momentarily taken aback hearing her say his name. It had been too long since she had addressed him directly, without any pretence and forced formality. He’d forgotten the way his name sounded on her lips. It was almost a whisper – a caress.

  Involuntarily, He felt the familiar, but presently unwanted, stirring in his trousers. At nearly forty-three, he was acting like an oversexed hormone-addled teenager. Nice!

  Almost immediately, though, he remembered the way their Kolkata trip had ended and how things were between them. Abrupt. Distant.

  And he felt the blood go cold in his veins. Standing in front of him wasn’t the same woman who had fallen in love with a simple cupcake at M
rs Magpie. This wasn’t the same Pakhi who had tasted his hot chocolate and got excited when she discovered that its secret ingredient was chilli.

  ‘I don’t see the problem here, Ms Mehra.’ He purposely refrained from calling her by her name even though she had used his.

  The change in her demeanour was immediate as his words hit her. He noted the way she schooled her features into a hard and unreadable mask.

  ‘I cannot, Chef,’ she said again.

  ‘And why can you not?’ He was not going to give up.

  He saw her drawing a deep calming breath before saying, ‘Because I cannot come to Jaipur with you.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ His voice went a decibel higher. ‘Just what do you mean by such a statement, Ms Mehra?’

  Pakhi blanched, despite her bravado. Had she gone a step too far? But she’d be damned if she was going to back down.

  ‘Exactly what you think I meant, Chef,’ she retorted.

  Abhimanyu’s patience was wearing thin at her impertinence.

  ‘Look, Pakhi,’he finally said. ‘I don’t really know what the problem is here. But trust me when I say that we’re leaving for Jaipur the day after tomorrow. You can make whatever arrangements necessary.’

  He then picked up his mobile and swivelled one-eighty degrees in his chair while dialling a number.

  Dismissed?

  Pakhi wanted to throw last night’s leftovers at his head. But she walked out of his cabin with as much dignity as she could muster.

  There was no way she was going to Jaipur with him.

  13

  ‘I’d like my own room, please. No question of a suite.’

  Like I want to share a suite again with you. Abhimanyu almost said the words aloud.

  Oh, but you do, man. You do.

  For the hundredth time in the last two months, Abhimanyu told the little annoying voice in his head to shut the hell up!

  The journey from Mumbai to Jaipur would have been taxing had there been any kind of communication between him and Pakhi. But not a word was uttered. He had fully expected her to make a fuss about using the company jet again. But she’d remained mum. Any other time Abhimanyu would have probably exploded with anger. But he resolutely remained silent. By the time they’d landed, Abhimanyu was sure tiny cobwebs had begun to form in and around his mouth from lack of use.

  Even the drive from the airport to the hotel had been spent in silence, except for the occasional intake of breath when Pakhi would find something fascinating as she looked out.

  Dev InterContinental was located close to Nahargarh Fort, overlooking the city of Jaipur, from its northwest corner. The hotel was busy all year round. Abhimanyu was especially proud of this hotel and considered it to be one of his greatest achievements. The board members were not very open to his expansion policy when he had joined the family business. Many had insinuated that he wasn’t old enough to know the ropes of the hospitality industry. They believed that the Dev Group was too small to compete with the mahals and palaces of Rajasthan. But Abhimanyu was unmoved. And fortunately Daji supported him. The first few years, as the planning and construction of the hotel began to take shape, were tough on Abhimanyu. There were several instances when he’d secretly agreed with the naysayers on the board. But Daji had helped and prodded him along.

  Today, Dev Intercontinental Jaipur was amongst the top five luxury hotels in Rajasthan, beating some of the old favourites in Jodhpur, Jaisalmer and Jaipur itself. Spread across nine acres of beautifully landscaped gardens, with fountains and miniature mahals with intricate jharokhas that were perfect for romantic candlelit dinners, Dev Intercontinental was exquisitely crafted in the renowned pink sandstone of Jaipur, with a signature blend of Mughal and Rajasthani architecture and interiors. Four storeys high, the hotel had hundred and seventy-five rooms, four banquet halls, and three restaurants that served every cuisine from Rajasthani flavours to Mexican spices between them. A huge swimming pool and a miniature version of Chokhi Dhani for children was also part of the hotel’s amenities.

  They were escorted to their rooms by the hotel manager, Gehlotji, who had worked with the Dev Group since Daji’s days. When Abhimanyu had started operations in Jaipur, Gehlotji had requested a transfer to the city to be closer to his grandchildren. Even though he was well into his seventies, he was sharp and extremely proactive.

  Pakhi and Abhimanyu’s rooms were on the topmost floor. Abhimanyu usually preferred to stay on the first floor whenever he visited. But he had a feeling Pakhi would enjoy the beautiful vistas from the top floor. He didn’t delve too much into why he was taking such a keen interest to make sure she had a memorable stay.

  He didn’t care. Really, he didn’t.

  This was Pakhi’s first visit to the Pink City. She’d never understood the moniker until the drive from the airport to the hotel. The beautiful pink stucco buildings that dotted the streets were simply breathtaking. She hadn’t been able to stop the gasps that escaped her lips every five seconds. She remembered reading about Jaipur when she was in school, about how the city had been planned according to Vastu Shastra back in the eighteenth century.

  She’d done a quick Google check on her way to the hotel and had gone through some tourist recommendations. She made a mental note to speak to Gehlotji, the sweetest man she’d met, and ask him to suggest a few must-see places and must-do activities. Abhimanyu had told her they would be in Jaipur for three days and two nights because a new chef and some kitchen staff needed to be hired. She had thought of telling him that he could do this by himself and that she didn’t need to accompany him to Jaipur. But halfway through to when she was composing a retort, she remembered she wasn’t speaking to him. Moreover, this was a chance for her to explore the city she’d heard so much about from Papa, who had worked here before he got married to Maa and moved to Mumbai.

  After tipping the bell boy for bringing her suitcase, she quickly discarded her white cotton dupatta and, kicking off her Kolhapuris, walked out to the balcony. Her breath caught at the view. Beyond the splendid landscape of the hotel, there were mountains, roadways, palaces, minarets, small houses, buildings, canals, streams, lakes, and even the desert calling out to her. It seemed all of Jaipur had come out to welcome her to their beautiful city. Her conscience pricked her slightly for having left Abhithi behind in Mumbai. But after the Kolkata fiasco, Pakhi didn’t think she would be able to go through anymore heartache, not that there would be a repeat of Kolkata in Jaipur. But still … she didn’t want to take the chance. Plus, Abhithi really couldn’t miss school for too long.

  Loathe as she was to leave the tantalizing view, Pakhi padded back to her room. From her oversized handbag, she pulled out her mobile phone and dialled her father’s landline. In spite of having a mobile phone, her father rarely answered it.

  It was Abhithi who answered the landline. In the last couple of months, every time Pakhi got back home from work, Abhithi would ask for Abhimanyu. She’d want to know why he wasn’t coming home, or why they weren’t going out to dinner, or why she couldn’t just go with Pakhi to the hotel. And every time, Pakhi would have to come up with some excuse or the other.

  After quizzing her aunt about where she was and how long she planned to stay away, she handed over the phone to her grandfather. Surprisingly, Abhithi didn’t ask for Abhimanyu. Although Pakhi wanted to keep all interactions between her niece and her boss to a minimum, she was a little surprised that Abhithi hadn’t thought of him at all.

  She winced slightly at the notion of having relegated Abhimanyu to only her boss. He had moved quite beyond that in her life now. She’d stayed up many nights in the last couple of months trying to find the right name for the place Abhimanyu had in her life. And every time she would arrive at the same conclusion, only to dismiss it the very next moment.

  Pakhi reminded her father that he would have to pick up Abhithi from school in two days since a transport strike had been declared in Mumbai. Schools had decided not to run their buses because they didn’t want to risk the sa
fety of the children. Her father assured her that Subhash, their driver, was aware of the situation, and that the two of them would pick up Abhithi from school.

  ‘How is my Jaipur?’ her father asked.

  ‘It’s so beautiful, Papa.’ Pakhi’s answer was sincere. ‘We should have come here sooner. I can’t believe you never brought me and bhaiya to this city. He would have loved it!’ Her voice cracked slightly at the memory of her brother.

  Fortunately her father didn’t allow her to wallow in her sorrow for too long and said, ‘Ah! It will always remain one of my regrets, beta. After you graduated from IHM, I thought you would choose Jaipur over Bengaluru. But you wanted to remain close to Rajeev. And look what that led to…’

  Her father’s voice trailed away. It was true. Rajeev had a job in Bengaluru at that time. So Pakhi had chosen Bengaluru over Jaipur. But what her father hadn’t known at that time was that she had had a huge row with Rajeev on the subject. She had been very keen on Jaipur, but Rajeev had pressured her into choosing Bengaluru.

  ‘Let it be, Papa,’ she consoled her father. ‘It’s all in the past. We’ve moved on, haven’t we?’

  ‘Yes, we have,’ her father replied. ‘I’m glad that slimeball is out of your life.’

  ‘Papa!’ Pakhi was stunned at her father’s choice of words.

  ‘I never liked him, Pakhi,’ said her father immediately. ‘I used to keep praying that you would come to your senses some day.’

  ‘Oh, Papa,’ Pakhi said apologetically. ‘I know. Bhaiya kept telling me you didn’t approve of Rajeev. I just never paid much attention.’

  ‘It’s OK, beta. Like you said, we have moved on.’

  About thirty miles away from Pakhi’s flat in Mumbai, a man listened earnestly to the conversation between father and daughter. He spotted a rat scurrying to a corner of the dank room he now called home. He made a mental note to pick up a bottle of rat poison from the old lady who sold her wares down the street.

 

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