Page 2 of You Had Me At Annyeong!
‘So, you’re my 3 p.m.!’ Alice had chirped. ‘Wow, that’s a head full of gorgeous dark hair. Come on, let’s get you started. Fancy a cuppa? We’ve just got a new espresso machine! Here, let me take your coat.’
Bhaskar was besotted and asked Alice out without wasting any time. A whirlwind romance later, he brought Alice to India to meet his family and friends. And shared with Timira their decision to marry. News that had made Timira jump with joy.
‘Mere do dobest friends!’ she had gleefully announced, riffing off the iconic ‘mere do do baap’ line from a cult 1990s Suniel Shetty classic.
Timira and Alice had gotten along like a house on fire, much to Bhaskar’s delight and relief. When they decided to move to Bombay, Timira helped them find a home and now they lived only a couple of streets away.
The phone feels heavy in her hands and she has to use all her might to lift it and speed-dial Bhaskar’s number.
But it suddenly vibrates to announce the arrival of a new text message, taking her by surprise. It lurches out of her hands and falls with a thud on the wooden bar top, the vibration grating against the wood, making the phone groan angrily.
‘Babe, listen, can you come over to mine? I, um, let’s just talk, okay? I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t want to create a scene, but … ah, whatever. I’ll be waiting, k?’
Timira’s eyebrows are scrunched up and she is grinding her front teeth together.
“I didn’t want to create a scene?!” What a load of crap! A scene is exactly what you were aiming for, you attention-seeking drama queen!
Timira’s phone buzzes once more. Another text from Rodrigo.
‘Babe, could you also get a couple of cigarettes? I’m exhausted after such a long day, could really do with a fag. And you know I can’t be seen buying any, hehehe!’
Timira’s eyes widen and her mouth falls open. Nostrils flaring, she continues to grind her teeth and lets out an audible ‘Ugh’.
‘Ma’am, is everything all right?’ the kind bartender enquires. She has been watching Timira every week since taking up this job a year ago. Sometimes by herself, sometimes with friends, always sunny, always smiling Timira.
‘Huh?’ Timira answers distractedly. Then, upon noticing the worry in the bartender’s eyes, she sits up and adds in asoothing voice, ‘Don’t worry about it. I’m good!’ She even adds a gentle squeeze of the bartender’s hand in what she hopes is a reassuring touch. The bartender, though not entirely convinced, smiles but doesn’t say anything. Timira’s face is begging for privacy and to be left alone. Over the years, the bartender’s job has made her somewhat of a face-reader. Happy drinks, lonely drinks, sad drinks, celebratory drinks, addiction drinks, friend drinks, lover drinks, break-up drinks, make-up drinks, failure drinks—she has served them all. She can tell that Timira needs space and goes back to minding her business.
Timira returns to her phone and re-reads Rodrigo’s text, this time more slowly to make sure she got it right the first time.
Is this guy for real? Like, what does he have for a brain? And what does this say about me? What was I even thinking? I thought I’d marry this daft megalomaniac?! Timira, beta, bach gayi tu! All those weekend mornings of tagging along with Ma to Siddhivinayak clearly didn’t go to waste. Ganpati Bappa Morya!
Bumping her fist on the table, she hisses at the phone screen as though it were Rodrigo himself.
‘Go buy your own smokes, you uncouth, pompous sod! I’m no longer at your service!’ she mutters under her breath.
She flings her phone away.
‘SCREW YOU, YOU LITTLE SHIT,’ Timira yells as she throws it at what she thinks is the ground and goes back to the whisky, her third on the trot, which she gulps down furiously.
What a guy. Makes everything about himself, without fail. And, even after everything, can’t make an apology. How did I think I’d spend my life with a creature like that?! Bola tha Bhaskar ne, that I’ve been blinded by his eight-pack. Tch, shame on me! Hawas ki pyaas mein andhi!
‘Ma’am, your phone,’ a hostess with a sweet face says, handing her Desert Titanium iPhone 15 Promax back, its screen now splitinto two. ‘See that gentleman over there? He asked me to bring it to you.’
Looking up from her glass, Timira mutters her thanks and looks in the direction the hostess is pointing. The cheap drunk that she is, Timira’s senses aren’t very sharp after the drinks and her vision is a little blurry. She rubs her eyes, then blinks a few times before widening her eyes for a better look. But, dizzy as she is from the whisky in her empty stomach, she is unable to see very clearly despite her large eyes that are now almost the size of golf balls. The man’s back is towards her, and all she is able to make out are broad shoulders in a summer shirt and hair cropped so close as to reveal their owner’s little, elf-like ears.
Should I go up to him and thank him, she wonders …Nah, never mind, I look like a mess…He sent the phone through the hostess, I’ll send my thanks back the same way…I didn’t want the phone back, why did he have to pick it up? Who does he think he is? He had no business butting into my affairs! Argh, men are such entitled hum … no way are they human! Creatures, entitled creatures!
Inner monologue over, Timira scribbles ‘Thank you’ on a paper napkin and gestures to the hostess to take it to the faceless man and asks for the bill.
‘Wait until after I’ve left, okay,’ Timira instructs her as she blows over the napkin for the ink from her felt-tip pen to dry before folding it enough times for it to resemble a square in a bar of chocolate. Settling the bill as swiftly as she can, she rushes out and starts walking away in quick steps before breaking into a jog, as though she were trying to escape from something or someone. For the next few minutes, she runs. Along the Carter Road promenade, unbothered by the clammy, heavy air typical of Bombay and the stench from the drying fish and salty waters that she never fails to wrinkle her nose at, even after nearly fifteen years of living in Bandra. Even the curious looks shegarners from the little urchins looking for unsuspecting pockets to pick, the young couples sipping water from the same coconut, and the waif-thin models looking like Baywatch lifeguards as they run in their tiny sports bras go unnoticed.
Tripping over her shoelaces that have come undone, she finally stops and lets the tears roll.
* * *
A FEW HOURS AGO
It has been just over a couple of weeks since Timira broke up with Rodrigo and only two people in Timira’s circle are aware of it. Unfortunately for her, these aren’t the two that she shares a roof with—her sexagenarian, retired parents. Naturally, through this time, while a storm has raged inside her heart, though Timira has tried to appear calm and eaten (a lot of) cake, like the bold pink letters on the mug she is currently holding suggest, she isn’t sure if she has managed to convince her intuitive and hawk-eyed mother.
