Page 1 of You Had Me At Annyeong!
Chapter One
Mumbai, India
Spring
What was I even thinking? The little voice inside Timira’s head asks as she recounts, embarrassed and horrified, the events of the afternoon. The sun is yet to set, and through the windows, the last of its honey-hued rays are streaming in and jostling for space with the LED lights that the staff at CinCin—Timira’s favourite neighbourhood bar—have just turned on. It’s happy hour and a gaggle of giggly college-goers are guzzling on one-plus-one draught beers. Seated at the bar, she looks at them wistfully and sighs. Still half in shock and half enraged, she switches her phone off airplane mode and with trembling fingers checks her message inbox even as her phone makes a series of non-stop dings announcing the arrival of multiple texts. ‘Marbellas Misses May as Well’, her work chat group, is flooded with messages. A flurry of new texts rushes in even as she scrambles to read the older ones.
-Did you hear? Timira’s just quit! I overheard the boss telling Rodrigo’s manager.
-Why Rodrigo’s manager? What does he have to do with Timira?
-Whaaaat? She’s quit? Just like that?
-IKR? Weird! Like, he seemed to be desperately looking for her …
-Even after what happened?
-Dude, I smell a rat here! Tell me you don’t!
-Ay, c’mon, da. That’s a bit much, don’t you think? Tim and Rodrigo?!
-I’m telling you something’s going on for sure!
-You think they might have been hooking up?! OH EM GEE!
-Tim? She doesn’t even seem like Rodrigo’s type. Isn’t Rodrigo seeing someone?
-Guys, please don’t speculate.
-I didn’t think she’d quit over this, though …
-Shouldn’t we check on Timira? I’m a little worried if she’s okay.
-Bro, isn’t Tim still in this group?
-Wait, what? You mean she might be reading all this?!
-Nah, am sure she deleted this chat when she put in her papers … Oh, f***, she’s still on the group.
-DELETE EVERYTHING!
Just as they’re about to ‘delete message for everyone’, a notification arrives.
Timira M left.
Putting her phone aside, Timira inhales deeply.
Breathe, Timmy, breathe. Aren’t you glad you walked out when you did?
Turning towards the bartender, she asks for ‘the usual’.
Should I tell Mum and Apa? Perhaps I should call Alice first … no, no, no, not Alice. She’ll nag me and will blurt it out to Mum before I can tell her. Bhaskar, let me call Bhaskar.
Bhaskar is Timira’s best friend. They had first met in school as ten-year-olds made to share a desk when they were lumped together like pre-teen school rejects, and have been inseparable since. Alice is his wife and Timira’s other best friend. ‘New-AgeDahej’ is what Timira jokingly calls her. When Bhaskar and Alice decided to marry, after dating for only six months, it was Timira who planned his proposal. When Bhaskar had thought he was, perhaps, rushing into it, it was Timira who reminded him how fortunate he was to have met Alice in the US—where he had been pursuing a postgrad degree in management; she had grown up to first-generation immigrant Korean parents—and how perfect they were for each other.
‘Anybody can see how great she is! You truly have lucked out, my friend. And, for some reason, she seems to genuinely love you. Eww.’ Timira had made a barfing expression and laughed before adding in a more sombre tone, ‘Don’t overthink and ruin it. If it feels right, it IS right!’
Bhaskar knew it was right. It had felt right from the moment he had walked into the salon Alice used to work at—only a few steps from his university campus in New Haven—and was greeted with the warmest smile he had ever seen, one that thawed his frozen, winter-hating, Tamilian heart.
