Page 116 of One Indian Girl
‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘You are pretty cool too.’
‘What is this? An overworked bankers’ self-praise society?’ Neel said.
We laughed. The waiter refilled our champagne glasses.
‘We are friends,’ Neel said. ‘I don’t see you as a junior now.’
‘Do note I get too casual with friends. Tell me if I overstep the line. After all, you are my senior,’ I said.
‘I am not the typical senior. You can be honest with me. Speak your mind.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah. Try me,’ Neel said.
‘Okay. What do you truly think of me?’ I said. ‘As a person.’
He wiped the water droplets on his glass with his thumb.
‘Go on, hit me. Be frank,’ I said.
He smiled.
‘You are smart, of course. But you are also simple and a little lost. You are one of the most attractive women I have met. Yet you need external validation, a lot of it. This could be because you have self-esteem issues. You are sensitive, but have closed yourself. After what has happened in New York perhaps.’
‘Wow,’ was all I could say, impressed and speechless at his observations.
‘A bit too frank?’ he said.
‘Yeah, ouch,’ I said and laughed. ‘But not bad. You do observe more about me than the financial models I create.’
‘Oh, but your work is stellar. You could be partner one day. Radhika Mehta, Partner, Goldman Sachs. Here’s to that,’ Neel said and raised a toast. He finished his glass in one shot. I followed him. The cloudless sky looked even more beautiful as little stars became visible at dusk. A slow French song began to play in the background. I couldn’t understand the lyrics, but could feel the pain of the singer.
‘Partner Radhika. With a lot of deals under her belt. But lonely, without love,’ I said.
‘What nonsense. Radhika with a lot of love,’ Neel said.
‘Whatever. I don’t think so. Which song is this? It’s beautiful.’
‘La vie en rose. Life through rose-tinted glasses. Famous French song. But seriously, that’s what you think? You won’t find love?’
‘Yeah. My biggest fear, perhaps.’
Neel gave me a look of disbelief.
‘You want to talk about New York?’ he said.
The waiter brought us another champagne bottle. Over the course of dinner and a few more glasses of bubbly, I told him my entire New York story. He listened with full attention, nodding at every significant moment.
‘And so, that’s it. I dropped the phone in the East River. Came to Hong Kong,’ I said.
I wiped a slow tear rolling down my cheek. I didn’t think of Debu much now. However, repeating the story was not a breeze.
‘You could have just dropped the SIM card, you know. And wiped the phone to factory settings,’ Neel said.
I looked at Neel. He kept a poker face. I don’t know why, but we burst out laughing.
‘It’s okay, crap happens in life. Mostly it’s for the good,’ Neel said.
