Authors: Anuja Chauhan
I dug my phone out of my red rucksack frantically and looked at it.
Rinku Chachi heaved this really long-suffering sigh and took it from me. She pressed some keys and then looked up disgustedly. 'Zoya, it's working. It was on silent, that's all.'
I grabbed the phone and checked all the missed calls. There was one from Hairy, one from my dad, two from Lokey and Zoravar and tonnes from Rinku Chachi. But none from N. Khoda. So much for that theory.
But somehow the whole thing gave me some momentum. Or maybe I was just tired of waiting for him to call. Whatever it was, I put down my bag, scrolled down to Nikhil's number, pressed call and, phone in hand, walked right into the loo and shut the door in Rinku Chachi's confused face.
It rang. Once. Twice. Thrice.
Before it could ring the fourth time - I was going to disconnect on the fifth ring, I'd promised myself - he picked it up.
'Hello?'
'Hi!' I said, all bubbly.
'Zoya?' he said suavely. 'What's up?'
But I wasn't falling for that. I knew he had my number saved, it must have flashed when I rang, who did he think he was kidding with that surprised
Zoya
?
I shrugged, looked in the loo mirror. I was still looking really good. My hair was positively angel-like under the lights. I said airily, 'Lots actually. Sightseeing. Negotiating contracts. How are
you
?'
'I'm well,' he said, sounding more amused than anything else. 'Very well, actually. Aren't you going to congratulate me?'
'Huh? Oh yes! Congrats, great match,' I said, automatically. Then, telling myself I was a girl who'd gone bungee jumping today, I took my courage in my hands and said casually, 'I thought we were meeting up yesterday, why didn't you call me?'
I thought I had him pinned then, but imagine my surprise when he turned around and said, 'Why didn't
you
call me, Zoya?'
Damn, I didn't know how to answer that. I gaped at myself in the mirror and finally came out with a lame, 'Uh, I forgot?'
'Please,' he said, 'you know, I really don't think I'm
that
forgettable.'
'No, you're not,' I said, dropping all pretence, 'and as you're so
famous
and
unforgettable,
don't you think
you
should've called me, because if I called you I'd have felt like some overeager pile on?' I couldn't believe I had said that. It had to be the most pathetic, needy speech of all time!
But all Khoda said disbelievingly was, '
Pile on
? Zoya, all you sent me was an sms saying "okay". It didn't sound like you were very keen to meet me. And you barely spoke at breakfast. What was I to think? I figured if you wanted to meet me, you could call. God knows a million people called me last night!'
'Oh, I'm sure you had a great time last night!' I replied, stung to the quick. 'There's a picture of you in the morning paper, with Miss Sultry Mouth!'
'South,' he corrected, 'Sultry South. It's the name of the restaurant, not the owner's daughter. I always go there for dinner in this city, I co-own it. And if we're trading damning press clips then there's a photo of
you
in the afternoon paper with a shirtless Zahid. Beat that.'
That gave me pause. 'There is?' I asked.
'Stop sounding so excited,' he said sardonically. 'Sound a little bored with the whole thing or I'll think you're...what's that word you use so often? Yeah,
uncool
.'
That made me laugh. I couldn't help it. 'Please can we meet today?' I heard myself asking, too eagerly.
'Pick you up in fifteen minutes,' he said instantly and hung up.
It was seven-thirty in the evening, so I figured we'd be going out for dinner. Rinku Chachi was packing and stuff. We had to fly to Sydney for the next match tomorrow. So she looked rather bemused when I bounded out of the loo and announced that I was going out for dinner with Nikhil Khoda.
She cleared her throat self-consciously and said, 'Vijay Bhaisaab has sent me here as your shaapper-own, Zoya. Tell me the truth. Where are you going in the night with this Khoda?'
'
Uff
, we're only going to a restaurant, Chachi,' I said, rooting in the suitcase for my nicest clothes. 'Fully public place. We're only friends. Don't you worry.'
But she looked worried as I slipped into a long slinky black halter dress and brushed out my hair vigorously. She pursed her lips as I plumped out mine, narrowed her eyes as I widened mine with kaajal.
'Tell him to come upstairs,' she said in a steely voice when Nikhil rang saying he was in the lobby.
'Chachi!' I whispered, cupping the phone with one hand, 'Please,
nahi,
it'll look so uncool!'
She shook her head, a formidable little figure in her pastel pink salwar kameez. 'No, Zoya, my mind is made up.'
So I sighed and said, 'Uh, Nikhil-sir? Can you come upstairs? My aunt wants to meet you.'
He agreed, not sounding too surprised.
I glared at Rinku Chachi. 'If he turns around and leaves now it will be all your fault,' I hissed.
The doorbell rang and I opened it.
Khoda was leaning against the door-jamb, looking dishy in a white tee shirt under a dark blazer. He did a bit of a double take when he saw me - because I was looking good, I hoped, not because I was, you know, an over-the-top fashion disaster.
'Come in,' I said, rolling my eyes. 'My Chachi awaits.'
He gave my hand an admonitory squeeze as he moved past me into the room. 'Behave,' he whispered.
I followed him into the room and was totally gobsmacked when he approached the resolute pink figure on the sofa.
'Rinku Chachi? I'm Nikhil. Zoya's told me so much about you.'
She was totally floored, of course. Who wouldn't be? By the time he'd finished telling her that she was my favourite aunt (hello, the only competition she had was Anita Chachi, the hag) and that he'd heard so much about her rajma pasta, she would have let him take me to dinner absolutely anywhere in the world.
He got us a deadline of eleven o' clock. She'd have made it later but he said he had to be up early for net practice the next day. He even said we'd be back sooner than eleven! Then he earned her total approval by insisting I carry a warm wrap with me, if you please. So I had to put on this totally not-happening hot pink pashmina over my black halter dress.
We didn't talk much on the way downstairs. I was worried we might run into Shanta Kalra or some of the other journos in the hotel, but we made it to the back of a big black hotel car without being spotted by anyone.
The car took off smoothly, obviously the driver knew where to go. Then, once we'd got our seat belts fastened, Khoda smiled down at me.
'I got you a present,' he said.
I sat up, excited. 'Really?'
He laughed, almost as if he couldn't believe it himself. 'Really!' he said, and pulled something out of the inside pocket of his blazer and handed it to me. 'Look!'
It was a little dark in the car but once I'd got the wrapping off I could tell it was a very dainty gold charm bracelet.
'A charm bracelet?' I asked, surprised.
He nodded, smiling, his eyes warm. 'Yes.'
I didn't quite know what to say. I just sat there looking at him, at a loss for words.
'It made me think of you.' He shrugged casually.
I thought of him going into some fancy jewellery store and looking at stuff, asking them questions, fingering the bracelets with his lean strong hands. Picking out something so carefully for me. Just for me!
'Thank you,' I said, somewhat inadequately.
'I got it from New Zealand.'
I held it up to the passing light and looked at it carefully. 'I can tell,' I said. 'See, this one really cute sheep has New Zealand tattooed on its bum.'
'It what?' He asked, startled.
'NZ,' I said a little more loudly, holding up the sheep for him to see. But even as I did so, a new and thrilling possibility popped into my mind. 'Oh,' I said faintly, and then shut up.
He was looking at me in total exasperation. 'Do you really think NZ stands for New Zealand, Zoya?' he said very casually, plucking the bracelet from my suddenly nerveless grasp and putting one arm around me so he could clasp it around my wrist.
'Of course,' I said, my cheeks flaming, fully giving the
duh
ones. 'It must. New Zealand is famous for sheep, isn't it?'
'What
incredible
general knowledge you have,' he said sarcastically.
'Thanks,' I said, like an idiot.
He leaned in to murmur into my hair, his voice all deep and growly, 'Does no other possibility present itself to your tiny mind?'
I shook my head.
He gave my ear a little nibble. 'Like, um, people's
names
for instance?'
'People's names...' I repeated faintly. His breath against my ear was destroying my ability to string two coherent words together. 'Um...no.'
He let me go, moving away to his half of the car seat. 'Okay, then it must be New Zealand, mustn't it?'
Taken aback at this total volte-face, I opened my mouth to argue, and his gaze met mine, challenging me laughingly. He raised an eyebrow quizzically. 'Well?'
I raised my chin. 'I guess so,' I said.
Nikhil took me to this lovely Italian pub along the riverside market, all warm wood and checked tablecloths and candles stuck into empty bottles of wine. There was a trio of geriatric Italian men, playing string instruments and singing what sounded like romantic songs in cracked voices.
An extremely large waitress got us a table with a view of the river and the winding market street. She took my wrap and his jacket, plonked a jug of iced water at our table and teetered away on her red high heels, leaving us quite alone.
Suddenly feeling idiotically awkward, I poured the water into our glasses, admiring my new bracelet as it glinted in the soft candlelight.
He watched me pour, then said, as he reached forward for his glass, 'Your Chachi's really nice.'
I looked up at him, 'No,
you're
really nice,' I said sincerely. 'How sweetly you spoke to her, you remembered all that stuff I'd told you about her.'
He said, looking steadily into my eyes, 'I remember everything you've ever said to me. Even the nasty things.'
Okay, that was embarrassing. Some of the things I'd said to him would have to classify as pretty mean. 'Hey, I was totally prepared to like you the first time we met,' I protested, 'but you were so horrid to me.'
He raised his eyebrows. 'When? When you borrowed my ball pen to fake a Nike swoosh on Rawal's shoes?'
I shook my head impatiently. 'Not then. Later. When you said I was
stupid
for lighting rockets.'
'You
were
stupid,' he said, putting his glass down and glaring at me. 'I thought I was hallucinating when I looked out of my window! There was this under-sized capering creature lighting industrial-sized bombs with tiny little matchsticks. You were tossing your head crazily and singing too. Weren't you singing, Zoya?'
I shook my head indignantly. Of course I'd been singing.
Bach Ke Tu Rehna...Khallaas
, actually, but there's no way I was going to admit to it. 'No, I wasn't,' I said, lying through my teeth.
He looked at me, one eyebrow cocked. 'Are you sure?'
'Yes,' I said fiercely and quickly added, 'and then, just when I started to
like
you, you swept the boys away before Neelo and I could get our shots!'
'You were so Corporate that day,' he said reminiscently. 'Giving the over-all-in charge-of-everything ones, still smelling of crackers and gun smoke, looking about four years old...'
I flushed. 'And you were giving the I-am-the-Indian-captain ones,' I said defensively. 'Look at me, Ye Mighty, and be afraid.'
He choked into his glass. 'What rubbish!' he said, 'I did no such thing!'
But I was in full swing now. 'Of course you did! And the next day you totally
mangled
me under the big Bong tree! "Do me a
service
and lay off my boys!" And then, of course, in my hotel room you were so...'