Made in Mumbai

11. Uss Mod Se Shuru Karein, Phir Yeh Zindagi

Gautam doubled over, taking a deep breath. The night was cool around him, the hospital parking empty. He took three more deep breaths, something settling inside him. She was laughing when he had left her with her doctor. That meant everything was ok.

He clutched his knees tight, breathing slow and deep, thinking about the last three hours that had been helpless for him. A test of his patience. Getting her to the hospital had been the easy part, standing there clueless as she was helped in and out of testing rooms was… weird. Should he stay, should he leave? But how could he leave? There was nobody to stay there with her in case she needed something. Her parents weren’t here, her ex… the thought of that spineless man made his blood boil.

He straightened, thinking about her finally laughing in that room upstairs. He huffed out into the night. His neck muscles loosened. His back relaxed. He turned to go back in but then remembered her last words before they had zoomed into the hospital gates. And Gautam broke into a jog to where his car was parked. The Police Havaldar, true to his word, had taken care of it and left the keys with the watchman.

This was what Gautam had initially liked about Mumbai. Its sheer ability to stand with you in time of need.

The Havaldar had pestered him for a nice, fat bribe out there, but the moment they needed some help, he was the first to escort them. Gautam had seen heavy rains in this city where locals set up stalls outside their buildings to offer tea and biscuits to whoever was walking home. He had seen flash floods where young boys from their slums came out to ferry people across highly flooded areas on their backs. He had seen a serial set of local train blasts here where taxis, rickshaws, every empty vehicle around had activated and was driving people free of cost so that everybody was away from the train stations. He had seen it all, and yet, every time it surprised him and humbled him and made him proud that he had chosen this city to live in. Now all he needed to do was become a part of its fabric.

He thanked the watchman and tipped him, then opened his car door to search for her precious cake. And there it was, neatly placed on the seat that she had vacated. Even in pain, the company pain-in-the-ass had set her cake safely. He smirked, grabbing it and locking up the car.

He climbed the steps two at a time, a spring in him that made him eager to see her reaction when he presented her with this… what did she call it? Pool of goodness. Where did she get these descriptions? Some day, if he was brave enough, he would get into her head and see how it worked. Nothing had changed about her in that regard. If anything, her eccentricities had escalated. But so had everything else about her.

Not only was she brilliant at what she did as a Textile Designer, but she also had natural flair as a Manager. Something he refrained from telling her or she would sit on a hunger strike outside his office until he made her one. He wouldn’t put anything past this girl.

Gautam knocked on the door.

“Yes?” The doctor called out.

“It’s me… umm, Gautam. Is Maya Kotak still here?”

“Wait a second.”

Murmurs. Then — “Come in.”

He pushed the door open and peeked, wary of the scenes he might be witnessing. But everything was as he had left. The doctor’s consultation office was on one side and Maya was lying on her examination table on the other side, the curtain partition open between them. How did Maya get such special treatment wherever she went?

“He’s the infamous boss?” Dr. Rekha quirked a dark eyebrow. Gautam frowned, stepping inside the room. “I see my reputation precedes me.”

“If one knows Maya, one knows everybody she knows,” the good doctor laughed. She had a very gentle, motherly vibe to her. Even in her green scrubs she looked like she would pull down a pan and begin breakfast for her grandkids. No doubt Maya called her Rekha Aunty.

“What are you doing here?” Maya called out to him. His muscles tautened.

“I drove you here,” he clipped, venturing deeper into the room until he was standing by her high bed.

“I’ll leave you two to it. Maya, rest here for half an hour. I am here until then. Once I check everything again by 4ish, you may go home. Ok?”

“Yes,” she nodded, tiny tears leaking from the sides of her eyes.

The door shut behind the doctor and he leaned over Maya — “Why are you crying?”

She shook her head, using her sleeves to wipe her eyes — “All pent up emotion.” She tried to smile at him — “Thanks for waiting but you go now. I’m all good.”

“So, it is also good?”

Her brows drew together.

“It…” he waved a hand over her belly. And a serene, tender smile stretched across her face.

She was breathtaking. Really, really… breathtaking. It had taken him all these months of her working at his company to acknowledge that fact to himself. That teenage M had been beautiful, of course. He hadn’t seen a modern, fighter city girl before her. So he was bound to be infatuated. But this one, this one was not a girl. This was a woman. And she smiled like that only when her child was mentioned. He had only seen it a time or two on her face. Otherwise she was all grins and naughty smirks, creating chaos where it wasn’t needed and spreading confetti where nobody gave her heed. She wore expensive clothes, carried branded bags, and had lunches with the domestic help staff. She stood up and fought where she was defending somebody else, but also kept quiet when the company was at stake. She couldn’t care less about ‘professional conduct’ with him, but she embodied professionalism when representing Made in Mumbai outside.

Yes, M had been adorable, and beautiful. But Maya, with her large dark brown eyes and perfect wavy hair, her round red mouth spouting perfect nonsense and the sweetest compliments was breathtaking.

“ It is also good.” She chuckled, running a hand over her belly, her dress the only covering over her. He set the box on the nearest desk and shrugged out of his suit jacket.

“What are you doing? Are you not going?”

“Why would I go?” He covered her with his suit jacket. She swallowed.

“You…” she started. Then scratched her forehead. She often did that when she was confused, or out of words, which wasn’t often.

Gautam pulled a stool and sat beside her.

“You want to celebrate now or after you are discharged?” He asked, popping the buttons on his cuffs and rolling them up.

“What celebration?”

“This,” he placed her cake box on top of her face. She laughed, catching it in time. “Shit, you remembered?” She cracked the styrofoam lid and took a deep whiff. Her eyes rolled back in pleasure. He glanced away before that reaction made him think thoughts that were off limits.

“Heaven sweet heaven…” she moaned. “Save it. Please take it away from me or I will not be responsible for my attack on a poor lump of cheese and chocolate.”

“In that case,” he plucked the box back, “let me celebrate.”

Gautam reached inside the box, swiped a finger-full of cream cheese and popped it into his mouth. He smirked as her eyes widened, then narrowed. “I am going to kill you,” she mouthed, thankfully respecting the late night hour and the hospital silence. He went to take another swipe but she snatched the box back and hid it in her side. Her eyes were half angry-half incredulous. No tears left now.

“You ready?” Dr. Rekha knocked, then entered her office. Gautam got to his feet and stepped back as she drew the curtains. Ten minutes later, they both emerged, Maya carrying her clutch and the precious cake box between her hands.

“Take it easy today and tomorrow. You’ll know when you are ready. The cramps have already subsided, haven’t they?” The doctor asked her. Maya nodded.

“Are you driving her home?” This one was addressed to him. Gautam nodded.

“Ok then, see you at the end of the month for your appointment,” she smiled at Maya and sent them on their way.

The drive to her home was made in silence. After the short camaraderie over that cheesecake, they had cooled down in the silence of the Mumbai night. The roads weren’t completely deserted, never were in this city. But there was a peaceful air about them as signals stopped working and people stopped rushing to reach somewhere. The BMC workers took over to repair patches of roads, double lanes turned single lanes, and you almost felt like you were in one of those old Bombay films.

“Here?” He asked, following the last turn of Google Maps that she had set up for him.

“Yes, to the right,” she pointed. He parked the car by the gate and got out.

“Thanks,” she stepped out just as fast as him, her body language urgent. “Thanks for everything, Gautam, really.”

“No problem, come on.” He pointed to the closed gate of her building. It wasn’t a fancy building as he had expected of her. The four-storey structure looked 50, maybe 60 years old. The paint was peeling off and the watchman was snoring.

“I’ll go…” she tried but he rattled the gate to wake up the slacking watchman. He didn’t look fit enough to stop a dog from jumping in, forget a seasoned thief. He startled awake.

“Bhaiya?” Maya waved at his sleepy eyes, trying to cover him from the watchman’s eyes. As if. The watchman unlocked the gate, eyeing him suspiciously as he followed her into the wing and up the stairs.

“There’s no lift?” He asked.

“No. But I like the workout,” Maya smirked. Gautam wasn’t convinced because she was winded by the second floor. The steps were high and chipped. Another hazard.

“Which floor?”

“Third.”

They climbed another set of stairs and she stopped at a door, quickly unlocking it and stepping in. Then she turned, the house dark behind her.

“Safely delivered,” she bowed her head. “Thank you, kind sir.” She did her obnoxious queen accent, which didn’t sound as obnoxious now with her grin.

Gautam shook his head, stepped back and closed her door. The girl was home, and he was free to go.

————————————————————

He trudged into his penthouse flat and switched on all the lights. He liked it bright when it was too dark. Gave him the illusion of day, like Kumar bhai used to create while they drove trucks together.

“Din-raat ek karne ka best tareekka,” he’d say when they were night-driving and he’d feel sleepy. They would stop at a dhaba or petrol pump, Kumar bhai would throw the cabin’s interiors in heavy light and make him drink a strong sugary tea. He’d also offer tobacco, but Gautam refused every single time. He had seen the degeneration of human senses under substance. He wouldn’t fall prey to it.

What Kumar bhai also did was put on the loudest songs on the tape deck. Day or night, his truck was never without music. And not the kinds that all other truck drivers preferred — the hot, fast numbers. No, Kumar bhai was all about ghazals. Even if they were slow and mellow. Fact of the matter was, he never felt sleepy listening to them. And over time, Gautam had conditioned to them too.

That is why he tossed his keys, wallet and Maya’s cake box on the kitchen counter and walked to the glossy cabinet by the long wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. They opened to a wide deck that ran the length of his house. He didn’t open the window now but pulled open the cabinet that housed an ugly-looking black tape deck that he had stolen from Kumar bhai’s truck when they had surrendered it to their truck company. He hadn’t been able to steal the cassettes on time and Kumar bhai had laughed with the stash. Even so, Gautam had made a whole collection of mixtapes of his own.

He didn’t even check which one was on as he depressed the play button. The deck began to play from where he had left off, almost two-three weeks ago. He couldn’t even remember now. The last month had been a whirlwind. This Amber Raisingh project had kept him on his toes, even though he hadn’t shown it to his staff. He wasn’t one to display his desperation. Ever. If he wanted something, he acted like he didn’t care much about it. Otherwise, he knew enough about human nature to try and snatch it from him.

“Uss mod se shuru kare, phir yeh zindagi…” Chitra sang.

Gautam popped the buttons of his shirt, shrugged out of it and lowered himself on his favourite reclining armchair by the windows. The ghazal played in the background as he rewound this evening. Or last evening, he squinted at the dark night turning slightly pale. It hit him. He had thrown Amber’s three-year contract in her face. Of course, he did not regret it after witnessing firsthand how horrible her work ethic was. But… there was always a but.

It would mean he’d have to restart in the world of luxury designers. He had an edge now, in that his name was already out in the industry as a master supplier and textile design studio. He hadn’t checked in with Sahyadri yet, but he had pulled up the company WhatsApp chat and seen people celebrating with photos of the fashion show. News articles had also started trickling in with mentions of their brand. Made in Mumbai was making its splash. With time, he might find another designer to work with. Once that was on track to get more designers, he wanted to expand into a whole new industry. He had a massive surplus coming in from this business which was going into passive investments. His money was working overtime for him.

But as a businessman, his fingers were now itching to take on the spices industry. It was a market of volumes, and he knew the routes for local sourcing. In his recent travels abroad, he had also scouted markets. Italy was one, Turkey was another. And Belgium was third. The latter was a completely Indian market, while the former two were European markets slowly turning towards Indian spices. All three untapped. Now, all he needed was the right moment to diversify and move his eggs out of one basket. That’s how one made an empire.

His gaze fell on the small styrofoam box lying on his long kitchen counter. And all thoughts of business evaporated. Maya came flooding back into his mind. And he wondered if she had realised by now that she had forgotten her chocolate cake in his car.

“No.” He said to himself. “Forget it. Tonight you were friends, Monday onwards you are back to being her boss.”

He had to draw these lines and hold them tight. She had this innate ability to draw him closer and hold him there. Like some magic. And it wasn’t good for his health — the amount of amusement she was awakening in him. Life wasn’t about all this fun and frolic. For him, it was about climbing and moving up the ladder, making his mark on this city, becoming the man who came, conquered singlehandedly and left his flag flying high.

Maybe I’ll call her later in the day… he consoled himself, feeling out of sorts. After all, her doctor had asked her to take it easy. And even though it was Saturday and he wouldn’t see her, he had a moral responsibility to ask after her wellbeing.

Gautam closed his eyes and let sleep claim him, thinking if this cheesecake would be safe to consume tomorrow for her or he would have to order a new one.

————————————————————

He waited until 2 pm to contact her. That was late enough to let her catch up on her sleep.

“Hello?”

“Maya, hi, Gautam here.”

“I know, I have your number saved.”

“Why are you talking so fast? Where are you rushing to?”

“Nowhere, just please tell me what it is, I am a little busy right now?”

“Doing what?”

“Getting shit sorted… nothing serious. What is it?”

“What shit?”

“Gautam!” Her exasperated voice huffed.

“I called to ask how you were feeling.”

“Oh,” her voice softened. “Much better, thanks. Now bye.”

Gautam stared at his phone, then at the blank call screen. Had she hung up on him? The audacity… and after he had spent the whole night at her service? He seethed, reminding himself of that careless teenaged girl who had just as rudely dismissed him. How ruthlessly she had… his thoughts screeched to a halt. He course corrected. That was what he had done these past months with Maya. Written her off just as rudely as she had done to him as a 19-year old. The only difference was, they were 34 now, and he was reacting based on old wounds again.

He took a deep breath. Then glanced at his phone.

No point in redialling. He grabbed his keys and stormed out of his house.

Her building wasn’t too far from his. In effect, they lived just a few lanes away, and she was closer to their office. In the light of day, her building looked even more worn, the compound walls crumbling with age. If thieves didn’t jump the gate near the snoring watchman, they could easily scale these. Gautam parked his car at the same spot and strode in. The day watchman was just as useless. Didn’t even ask him where he wanted to go.

He climbed the stairs two at a time and stood in front of her door, finger pressing the doorbell. She didn’t answer. He pressed again. Still no response. He pressed again, ready to draw his phone out and call her to check if she was home when her screen door opened.

“I told you I will leave, Jafrey bhai…” Maya stuttered to a stop. “You? What are you doing here?”

“Checking in on you. Who is Jafrey bhai?”

“Nobody. You go from here,” she hissed, craning her head to check the alley. It was such a narrow alley that another person would have to half squeeze him to stand there.

“Who are you looking for?”

The staircase thundered from above, that’s how flimsy the building was. And Maya immediately threw open her door and pulled him in. He stumbled inside just before she whirled her door shut with a bang.

“Kal tak ka waqt hai, Mayaji, ghar khaali karo!” An angry male voice yelled from outside. She rolled her eyes, throwing her head back on the door. “Warna saman uthaake phek doonga!” The voice resounded, threatening to throw her things out if she didn’t vacate tomorrow.

“Who was that?” Gautam thundered, turning to her, reaching out to move her aside.

“My landlord,” she whistled through her teeth, standing her ground. “Why are you here?”

“What does he want? How dare he threaten you like that…”

“He saw me pregnant last evening and the night watchman went and opened his big mouth about you!”

“What does that have to…” Gautam panned his eyes around her house. It ended even before it began.

“Like a fool I wore that form-fitting dress flaunting my baby bump. All bad omens came flying like some evil eye…” she continued ranting. But his eyes were stuck on her tiny home. It was kept neat and tidy, her things the only burst of colour. But the large patches of seepage were darkening her walls, even without any rain. What must have this place been like during monsoon?

“Now you wait here until he goes away…” she finished, marched across him and towards her window. Even pregnant, she braced one knee on the granite seating of the window and leaned out. Thank god for the grill outside. Gautam strode behind her and followed her line of sight.

“Get down!” She screamed, pushing his head down just as a massive giant of a man strode out of the building wing. Gautam peeked over the ledge as the man turned and gave Maya a death glare. He began to rise but she whacked him over the head.

“Why are you hitting me?” He poked.

“Stay down or I will hang you out of here. Don’t make this worse,” she muttered through closed lips. Gautam seethed. He kept poking her and she kept kicking him. It was crazy, hiding in her one-room flat, waiting for her landlord to scuttle away.

“Is he gone or what?” Gautam asked, keeping his head tucked.

“He went two minutes ago only,” her amused sputter sounded. He craned his neck and she schooled her laughter. He glared.

“What?” She stuck her tongue out. “It became a little fun after one point.”

Gautam pushed up to his full height — “Instead of resting you are playing hide and seek here and like a fool I came to check on you…”

“Go now, he is gone…”

“Now you are also coming with me,” he cut her off.

“What?”

“It is clear your landlord doesn’t want a single pregnant woman with male friends living here. And he is intimidating you. Are you still going to stay here?”

“Yeah, planning to sneak in every night once the giant goes to sleep,” she rolled her eyes, her top bun waving with her head. If he took an objective second to look at her, she looked cute in her loose baby blue T-shirt and a pair of white linen pants. No makeup, some crazy cow print hair tie in her messed up bun, eyes big and pretty as they waited for him to go. Stupid, if she thought he would leave her unprotected with a man like that on the prowl.

“Save all your jokes for when we are out of here,” he pulled her bicep away from the window she was too close to. “Help me pack up.”

“Gautam,” she clutched his wrist that held onto her arm, her voice serious now. She smiled — “Thanks. But I have it figured out. I spoke to my only bachelor friend from college and she has a flat where her roommate just vacated. I am shifting there.”

He nodded. “Ok. Let me help you then. I’ll pack and drop you off today itself. Where does she live?”

“Peddar Road.”

“Excuse me?”

“Peddar Road,” she kicked her toe, trying to act nonchalant when she was anything but.

“Ok,” he put things into perspective. “You are shifting to South Bombay. And how do you plan to come to work every day?”

“Train,” she gave him that incredulous look. No way. He had seen enough of the crowd in Mumbai locals at all times of the day to know that Maya wasn’t safe in that madness, least of all with that pregnancy. The people weren’t a problem, never a problem. But the amount of people gave him tiny heart attacks on her clumsy, pregnant behalf.

“There is a bachelor friend of yours living just a few lanes away with two extra rooms,” he reasoned. “You are shifting in with him for now.”

“You mean you?”

“Who else?”

“No, Gautam…”

“Who are you scared of?”

Bullseye. Her nose flared. He watched amused as Maya turned into the firecracker M and pointed a bright fingernail right into his chest — “Listen, I am not scared of anyone or their father. I just don’t want to become a burden on you. Even for a few days. I will be apartment hunting but I wouldn’t want to invade into my boss’s personal space… and now with the baby and everything…”

“I am the other party and I get to rebut now — I do not live in that flat for more than 8 hours a day. I come home to sleep and eat dinner. Sometimes not even that. So it is all yours. Stay as long as you need, search for a new house and I will help you move again. Now come on. If I am here by the time your landlord returns, you might discover that you are not the only one who has beaten people up.”

She snorted, as if that was funny. It was not. He meant it. But he let her believe it as she went around her apartment collecting things.

As her room began to pack up, Gautam realised all this would unravel in his space. The impulsive offer was already coming to haunt him. But just as soon he saw Maya separating ladles and spoons as she threw them into a box where they were inevitably getting mixed up again. And the ghosts of his thoughts left him. A day with her had ruined and rebuilt him. This was more than a day. What would it do to him?