Page 32 of Made in Mumbai

“Yes.”

“Maya.” He warned.

“What?” She glanced up from her account-making shenanigans.

“Eat.”

She glanced from his account credentials to her food. Ok, food was her priority.

“So,” she tore a piece from her massive dosa, folded it and popped it into her mouth. “What do you want your username to be?”

“What you are trying to do amounts to identity theft.”

“Identity theft thatisa joke.”

“You are forgetting thousands of families suffer from it every year.”

She stilled. “Haaaaw! Oh my god!” She clutched her jaw in her hands. “You? The Office? Whaaaa?”

“Eat,” he smirked.

“Stop it, Gauti, stop it. I won’t survive the next burst of personality from you.”

“You didn’t think that before.”

“You had a personality back then. This time when I met you, it was like the dementors had sucked all the fun out of you. Were you in prison by any chance?”

“Spent my days worshipping at the altar of Prison Mike.”

“Sir, ma’am, would you like to try the next course?” Their waiter interrupted. Gautam looked at her.

“I am done, I think. I had a lot of junk snacks…”

“When?”

“When I was out sightseeing.”

“Can I interest you in our desserts? We have an array of South Indian, European and fusion desserts,” the waiter held out a dessert menu.

“Now, that I wouldn’t say no to…” she began, then back-pedalled. She had already eaten a massive bogie of sugar today. If the sugar police here knew that, he would think she was out to create a sugar crunch in the world.

“She’ll have a salted caramel and banana waffle, please,” Gautam ordered for her. “And can you repeat my filter coffee?”

“Right away.”

“I ate too much sugar today. Maybe more is not right for my state of mind.”

“What’s the worse you’ll do?”

“I don’t know… climb the trunk of your tree house and sing Channa Mereya?” She tried to scare him.

“Bring a mic. The rains may make it noisy.”

“What if I don’t like salted caramel?”

“You like everything salted caramel.”

Ok.She pursed her lips and gave him her best Maya Kotak eye roll.

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