Page 79 of Made in Mumbai

“Called who her…?” She stopped short, then shoved his chest. “You are making me! If it’s a boy, he’s going to be so sad that we called him her in the beginning.”

Gautam laughed, pulling her into his chest. She turned her head to the sea, but remained there, her arms coming around him. A small voice tried to wiggle up and out of its pit of dark doom, but he pushed it back. This, right now, was perfect. He did not need anything negative to take this moment away. Not from the woman in his arms, and definitely not from himself.

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It took them a long time to come home. Because when they returned to their parking spot, their car had been towed. Gautam proposed to send her home in an Uber but she held his hand tight and pulled him walking towards the RTO Parking Lot, not even complaining about the crowd in Town in the evening.

This area had its own charm, with ancient Victorian and Art Deco buildings lining the streets. The Flora Fountain, Horniman Circle, Bombay High Court Building, Kala Ghoda… Even amid throngs of people, your eyes were always looking at something pretty. And Maya kept reminding him of it as their trudge to get back their car turned into a walking tour. She pointed out things to him, some that he already knew, and some that he was amazed to know. Like the fact that the British had dug a tunnel out from the Old Post Office Building, an erstwhile fort, to escape if Napoleon attacked. A gem from ‘Maya Trivia.’ She was a treasure chest of those, and kept him supplied throughout their walk.

It felt good — to hold her hand and walk across old Bombay. Like a dream he had never dreamed in the first place. It felt so good, that a part of him was disappointed when they reached the RTO lot. But one look at her and he sped through the process. Maya might have pasted her brightest smile on her face, but the way she shifted her weight from one foot to the other told him he had overdone it today.

He paid his dues, signed, and got their car back. And they set off back towards the suburbs.

Their car lurched home in bumper-to-bumper traffic, with Maya giving him detailed commentary on all the photos she had taken on her phone. Apparently, it was over 200. He had half a mind to ask her to send them all to him. But he kept quiet and drove until they were back home.

The pizza they had ordered was waiting at his concierge and they were so hungry, that none of them even spent a minute to change.

He popped his cuffs, rolled his sleeves and pulled off his belt, collapsing on the sofa. While she just tied her hair up and sat cross-legged on the floor by his thigh, opening the box on the coffee table.

“Maya! Sit up here.”

“This is perfect,” she pulled out a slice of cheesy tandoori paneer pizza (again, her choice) and stuffed the end into her mouth.

“You are pregnant…”

“And I do Yoga.”

“When?” He leaned forward, coming eye to eye with her as she opened her mouth to let the steam out.

She showed three fingers.

“Three what?”

“Haww… hawwwt…” she swallowed. “Three times a week. It’s online, so I come from the office and do it at home.”

“Do you have it tomorrow?”

“Yes. It’s Monday, Wednesday, Friday.”

“Do not do it alone. I’ll be at home in case something happens.”

“Nothing will happen,” she kept eating.

“Oye, M?”

“Hmm?” She turned up to him — all pretty eyes and messy bun, mouth full of pizza. His heart melted.

“Nothing.”

After a long day of constant conversations, they ate their pizza in silence, no television or white noise needed. He was on his last slice when his phone buzzed.

“Yes, Sahyadri?” He toggled the loudspeaker on, reaching for the oregano sachet.

“Hi Gautam, when are you coming back?”

He glanced at the clock.

“It’s 9. Why would I come back now? What happened?”

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