Page 5 of You Had Me At Annyeong!
That is how Preston Marak had met Katyayani ‘Kitu’ Ganguly.
That is how Timira’s parents met.
‘Oho, stop fighting, you both. Over me, at that. Timmy, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Get ready for work, go, go!’ Timira’s father requests earnestly.
Turning towards his wife, who can feel her pleasant mood turning sour, he adds, ‘Why are you doing this early in the morning? Let the girl get to work in peace, madame. Keep your venting for later. I’ll be here all day to listen.’
‘Oh, you go back to your phone. Since when are you concerned about her work? You were never bothered about her studies either. I did everything …’
‘Arre, missus Marak, sab aap hi ki kripa hai.Breathe, madame, breathe. Phone? Just say the word and I’ll break it into pieces! Stupid phone. Who needs it when I have you?’
‘Uff, suchnyekami. Please, Marak ji.’
Her mother is now rolling her eyes but Timira can see that her father has successfully mollified her.
And there they go again. God, such clowns.
Her father is now hovering around her mother as she fixes poha for breakfast.
‘Shall I run down and get some jalebi, Mrs Marak?’
Timira looks at them and smiles ruefully.
Lucky are those who get to have their jalebi and eat it too. Unlike those, like me, whose life itself is a giant jalebi that’s gone cold and limp from being left out in the open and forgotten about, just how all joy has been sucked out of mine!
* * *
Timira has always had a soft corner for Mehboob Studio. When she first moved to Bandra and got her first job as a television producer, it was the first studio she ever went to. It’s where she saw Shah Rukh Khan for the first time while accompanying her producer to an interview when she interned at NDTV, and felt her childhood crush on him swell to ginormous proportions. It’s where her favourite music festival has been taking place every year since 2011. She has always looked forward to shoot days at Mehboob. It’s walking distance from her Turner Road home, and she usually reaches a little before reporting time to pick up chicken rolls for colleagues from A-1 Bakery or pop into Snow Bite across the road from Mehboob for a scoop of their world-famous-in-Bandra choco-chip ice cream. But today is not a usual day. She hasn’t returned any of Rodrigo’s calls or replied to any of his texts these past two weeks. As she walks on to the shoot floor where she’ll be coming face to face with him for the first time since their break-up, Timira feels her legs wobble a little. She hasn’t slept well in weeks and has been agonizing over her contribution in the break-up with Rodrigo … if, in fact, it was she who had driven Rodrigo to such a point that he’d cheat on her. With the two people who know of her break-up, Bhaskar and Alice, away on holiday, and having to walk on eggshells around her parents has meant she has had no time to grieve the demise of her relationship, and that’s taken a toll on her. As is evident from her listless eyes and drooped shoulders. A far cry from her usual ramrod-straight spine, proud chest and quick steps despite her slim built and small-ish frame. As the noise from the generator gets louder, so does the voice inside her head.
So what if my life is a jalebi? Jalebi is nice, it’s round and sweet. Rod loves jalebi with kulfi … stop, stop, stop! No, Timira, no. Rod is gone. He cheated on you and you rightly dumped him!
She tries to turn her small steps into confident strides but falls a little short. She passes by Rodrigo’s vanity van and, cussing under her breath, flips a finger at it only to realize it wasn’t a great idea, after all. She looks around furtively to check if somebody might have noticed.
Phew! Thank God nobody saw me.
Relieved, she heads towards the floor, this time skipping lightly. She has barely taken a couple of steps when she is ambushed by a group of excitable, young-looking people.
‘Oh, hi, Chiro!’ She recognizes one of her juniors at the agency she worked at, Marbella Image and Public Relations, leading the cub pack.
Curly-haired, pockmarked, pleasant-looking Chiro smiles widely. ‘Hi, Timira ma’am!’
‘Ugh, stop with the ma’am already! It’s incorrect English anyway. Plus, it makes me feel old!’
Timira is among the most senior consultants at Marbella. She has been in PR and communications for close to fifteen years now. Not that it matters much to her, but the company website and her visiting card list her as VP, client servicing, words that make most new hires wary of her. That and the office lore about her legendary focus and ridiculous number of happy clients.
Chiro smiles shyly and turns towards the flock he looks to be minding.
‘Guys, this is Timira Marak. One of our VPs.’
The wide-eyed herd looks at Timira in awe and mumbles their hellos.
‘Are these our new interns, Chiro?’
‘Yes!’
‘Wow! Day one at a high-profile shoot. Fancy! Or, some might say, trial by fire.’ Timira winks at the group.
A jewellery brand shoot is being canned today. The brand, Bejewelled, is a long-term client of Marbella’s and Timira’s long-standing account. Rodrigo joined their roster when he came to India to ply his trade in the Indian Super League (ISL). Half-Japanese, half-Brazilian, Rodrigo is one of the biggest football stars to play professionally on Indian soil, and when he picked Marbella to handle his PR (after a mini-bloodbath), it was a coup of sorts. When Bejewelled was looking for a celebrity with international appeal to endorse their new line of engagement rocks, Marbella gently floated the mouth-watering idea of signing Rodrigo, a never-married, never-engaged, officially single certified hottie. They had needed absolutely no convincing. At the time, while Timira was still seeing Rodrigo and was blissfully unaware of what was about to come. It hadseemed like a great idea. A perfect synergy. They had even decided to no longer hide their relationship and disclose it to her boss, no matter the repercussions, once the television commercial they were shooting today was on the air.
