Made in Mumbai

16. Kal Chaudhvi ki Raat Thi

It was the last day of their office before they broke for Diwali. And he couldn’t stop working. Everybody was gathering downstairs after 5 to start Maya’s party, but Gautam was stuck on his phone, finishing the final negotiations with the Turks before he would have to visit Thekkady to see the shipment through. These initial few deliveries he would have to oversee before he brought a logistics guy on.

But it wasn’t painful to see to the nitty-gritties because the money was huge, the profit margins going into six figures. The only pain was the translator in-between them.

“Tell them I cannot do any more,” Gautam pinched his brows, sitting back in his chair. “This is my final offer or I will take my business to Ankara.”

“O soyleyo ki…” Gautam closed his eyes as his translator went on.

“Why hasn’t the king descended yet?” Maya’s angry voice threw his door open. He glanced up, and his throat dried. Because there she was, looking like some nymph from that Coorg pond they had swam in. White looked good on her, but a fine white saree, hugging her gentle belly looked… Gautam had to push himself to follow the conversation on his phone.

“G?” She threw her hair behind her shoulder, striding into his office, her earrings chunky and pretty, peeking through the waves of her hair. “Everybody is down already,” she mouthed.

“Sir, they are saying they need to speak to their partners and can get back to you in 10 minutes,” his translator reported.

“Alright, tell them I am waiting.”

He ended his call and got up to round his desk. “You look beautiful,” he took her hand.

“Oh, thank you thank you,” she tucked her hair behind her ear, giving him her Queen Elizabeth curtsy. “I know.”

He smirked, pulling her closer — “Why haven’t you changed?” She poked a finger in his chest, stopping him halfway.

“I don’t have any clothes here to change.”

“You do! I told you in the morning I am taking them. You only showed me where your kurtas were kept…” she pointed to the bag she had left on his couch.

He closed his eyes. Maybe that had happened. But he had been so engrossed in these final calls that he hadn’t paid close attention.

“It’s ok, now come on,” she began to pull his hand but he tugged back — “I am waiting for one final call.”

“Gautam it’s Made in Mumbai’s first Diwali party!”

“I know,” he caressed the side of her face. “I’ll be there. Promise. Just let me finish this.”

“What is going on? Is there a problem with GK Textiles? You have been quiet about Turkey too.”

“No, no problem with GK Textiles, or Made in Mumbai. I am expanding into the spices industry.”

“Oh… that was your Turkey trip?”

He nodded.

“But why suddenly? Made in Mumbai is doing so well! GK Textiles anyway runs on autopilot.” She grabbed his collars playfully and shook him — “You, my sugar daddy, are a very wealthy man.”

He snorted — “Language, M. Language. MM can’t hear you say all this.”

“Come on, naa… please,” she whined. “How much more money will you earn?”

“Enough to not be taken away.”

He didn’t realise those words had come out of his mouth until her eyes softened. Her palm reached out to cup the side of his neck. “G, you know that money does not get taken away like that, right? You are a smart man, you must have made smart investments…”

“Lots of real estate,” he tried to joke.

“And all of them residences in different parts of Mumbai. I know. The gossip downstairs is real. But G, you have a lot already.”

“Not enough to belong to this city.”

Maya smiled, squeezing his flesh — “Do you know how many people come to Mumbai every day to make their lives? Thousands. And do you know that eventually, they all belong here because that is how huge Mumbai is. If it is not, it expands to make space.”

He nodded, lowering his forehead over hers. “I just need to have homes. I don’t ever want to be on the road again because I don’t have a house.”

She held the back of his neck in both her hands, squeezed.

“Those people who come to Mumbai every day to make their lives, do you know when those people begin to belong here?”

“You are about to tell me.”

“When they start living here instead of just working here.”

His phone buzzed on his desk. Maya patted his shoulder and stepped back — “I know where you come from, G. But now you are here. Take that call and come down. We are all waiting.”

————————————————————

Gautam finished that call in record time. The Turks, obviously, wouldn’t have gone anywhere. They did not see only this consignment but the volume he brought in terms of variety. Variety that they wouldn’t be able to source from anywhere else.

He changed into the white kurta-pyjama she had brought and quickly descended the stairs, hoping the party would be short and he would be able to take her home to start celebrating the beginning of their Diwali break. Maybe they could take a short vacation if her doctor allowed.

“Please put your hands together for our favourite boss — Gautam Kumar!” Maya’s mic voice echoed, making him stall. The Made in Mumbai area had been transformed. The round tables were arranged with chairs and name tags, everyone already seated with starters and drinks. And Maya, the star of any show, stood on a makeshift stage, a hot pink fur scarf around her neck like some badge of honour. The lot of them erupted in a round of applause — both GK Textiles and Made in Mumbai employees, all decked in ethnics.

Gautam raised his hand, smiling at them and taking a seat at the back. He knew bosses stole all the fun, so he just tried to duck into oblivion.

“Now that the guest of honour’s in the house, it’s time to get to the best part of tonight — The Gundee Awards!”

He let out a snort. Was she serious?

“Now this is the first year of Gundee Awards,” she held up a tiny gold trophy that god knows when she had had the time to commission. “So I suggest you keep these babies safe. They’ll be auctioned for millions in a few years.”

The crowd cheered.

“And, a word of disclaimer — this award ceremony is not inspired, ahem copied , from any American sitcom which is a remake of another British sitcom whatsoever. This is a brainchild of your Senior Designer’s super mind. Also, no Rustoms were harmed during the scripting of this show.”

Gautam didn’t get the joke, but Rustom was laughing on the side. Laughing. What had she done to the people of Made in Mumbai?

“Now,” her voice turned grave. “I would request everybody to please stand up,” Everybody began to push to their feet, “for a standing ovation for your favourite host.”

Laughs, and Leo jumped back down on his seat, folding his hands into his armpits and shaking his head — “I was supposed to be the co-host!” But everyone else was clapping, so Gautam got to his feet and clapped too.

“Hey,” Sahyadri came and stood beside him, clapping and smiling — “Really, Gautam, you allowed all this?”

“They wanted to do it, let them do it. It’s alright.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Maya took a tiny head bow. “Please be seated for the awards ceremony. Let me make this clear — it was gravely difficult to decide the winners. Everybody was so good that it took us a whole night of overtime, which our favourite boss is going to compensate us for, to finalise the winners.”

The audience turned back to him and Gautam shook his head.

“Cue, music!” She pointed to the side, and her sidekick, which Leo had forfeited the right of and Ria seemed to have won, played some fancy award show beats.

“First up, we have the ‘Most Likely to Make Chai Breaks Last Forever’ Award! We all know who that’s going to be…”

Dramatic music and Maya’s drama with her hand on her forehead searching. Then — “Yes, Sim, that’s you! Come up here and get your award.”

Simran rushed up on the makeshift stage, waving both hands at the hoots and applause.

“You’ve single-handedly kept the tea vendors in business,” Maya handed her the trophy. “If they had stock options, you’d be a millionaire by now.”

“Speech! Speech! Speech!” They all hooted and Simran began her speech.

“Can we get out of here?” Sahyadri whispered in his ear. “I wanted to discuss some GK Textiles accounts with you.”

“What’s going on?”

“Let’s talk outside? There’s too much noise here…”

Gautam rose to his feet, leading her out of the office space and into the garden.

“Yes?”

“We have sent all our clients corporate packages and hampers for Diwali. But I think we should also host a private party for them this year. Made in Mumbai is growing, we are venturing into a luxury market. So just, the upper level people. Maybe at your place.”

“We’ve never mixed business with pleasure. Entertaining clients outside is different. I am not getting people into my house.”

“You are shifting out anyway…”

“Sahyadri,” he warned. “I said no. I mean it. If you think it’s important, then arrange something at a lounge or a rooftop. I’ll be there.”

She looked stricken. But nodded. “I understand. What are your Diwali plans?”

He began to walk back in — “The same they are every year…”

“My sister is throwing a house party on Dhanteras night… will you come…?”

His phone buzzed. It was the Turk again.

“Excuse me,” he strode inside the office and directly up the stairs. The sounds from the party quietened as he went on climbing up, reaching his terrace.

“Hello, Mr. Baris.”

“Mister Gautam? Merheba…” the Turk’s thick accented voice sounded in his ear. “I know we finish our talks… but my partner, he want to be there to do quality check. He want to come to Hindistan.”

“Of course. I will be happy to host him. And you. Whenever you both want to travel to India, you are welcome with open arms.”

“He want to go Thekady, is that possible?”

“Yes, we’ll arrange a visit.”

“Guzel, nice… ok. Ok. I will inform him. Thank you.”

Gautam ended the call and turned back to the party. The downstairs was quiet, no mic or music. He frowned, descending the last few steps to Trisha standing with a small group, murmuring.

“What’s going on?”

They turned, their expressions bewildered, then wary.

“Trisha?” He glanced behind them, the party disbanded. “Where’s everyone? Where is Maya?”

“She left.”

“Left?” He frowned. “What happened here?”

“It’s best you talk to Maya.”

Gautam sensed the unease. He began to stride out, the employees gathered in clusters, murmuring, glancing at him then looking away. He pulled out his phone, dialling her number. It went on ringing. His heart rate accelerated as he ran out of the property and onto the road. How long could it have been? He had just gone up to talk… Gautam looked left, then right, trying to locate her. It was dark, darker than usual, some streetlights off even though Diwali lights glowed.

Gautam got into his car and sped home, trying to dial her again and again. She did not pick up. His temper rose. What was she thinking? What the hell had happened?

He reached home in record time, parked the car and rushed up into his flat, only to find her drinking water by the kitchen counter. Still in her party finery.

“Whew,” she breathed, then noticed him. She smiled — “Seriously, paani ka kaam toh paani hi karta hai!’

“What’s wrong with you?” He thundered. “Are you crazy? Walking out of there like that? Did you walk home all the way? Why aren’t you even picking up your phone.”

“G…”

“There’s a limit to irresponsible behaviour! Everything is not fun and games all the time. You are happily drinking water here when I have been scouting the streets all the way home! What the hell…”

“Will you hear me out?”

“No. Because what reason could there be for you to dramatically walk home in the dark, with so many potholes…”

“So you don’t know?” She raged back.

“What?”

“They all know!”

“Who know what?”

“That I am living in your house!”

“The office people?”

“Yes. They know now.”

“So what? It’s our life, our decision.”

“You are a man, the owner of those people’s jobs and so it’s easy for your to say this. Not so much for me,” she gestured to her belly.

“What is that supposed to mean?” He advanced on her, his temper now going out of his control.

“It means your favourite employee Sahyadri can spend her life flirting with you but you won’t be vilified but she will come and say two things about me and all the respect I’ve earned would go poof!”

“Do not talk in circles,” he gritted.

“I am talking straight! She just wouldn’t stop. And where were you? Did you tell her?”

“Tell her about us living together? Why would I?”

“I don’t know? You share a lot of things with her!”

“B*****d!” His hand banged on the counter. “I did not…”

“Ahhh!” Her scream startled him. And he realised she had turned away, her arms covering her face and stomach. He froze. A second ticked. Two. And Maya slowly recovered, turning back and letting go of her stance, her expression shocked.

“I wouldn’t have touched you,” he clarified in a small voice. She nodded.

“Who hit you?”

She remained silent. Gautam raised his hands in the air, stepping back from her — “Maya, who hit you? Was it your father?”

She hook her head.

“Did…” he stopped, his blood boiling. “Did he hit you?”

She swallowed. His bold, beautiful, fighter of a woman swallowed in silence.

“M?” He called out softly.

“Only twice, and I did not stay after that. I filed for divorce.”

“Twice is not only, it’s two times too much. M…” his face crumpled. “You were the girl who beat up a man that whistled when you passed. How…?”

She shook her head, lowering herself on the sofa. Her head bent. “When somebody you know… you trust, does something like this… the first time I was so shocked I couldn’t even realise for a long time what he had done. The second time, I just didn’t want to prolong it.”

“Did you file a complaint?”

She shook her head.

“Why?”

“He threatened to stall the divorce… and make my life hell. My parents didn’t like that I was doing this. I had nobody to back me up in case he became hostile. So I agreed to not file anything against him. In return, he quietly let me go.”

“Your parents know this?”

She nodded.

“And they think you should get back with him?”

She nodded.

“B**…” he started, then stopped, glancing at her. “Did he abuse?”

She nodded. Gautam’s eyes squeezed shut.

“How long were you with him?”

“Eight months. This started happening, and he was already gaslighting me, putting me down for being too loud, too extrovert, too talkative. I understood all this, I even knew it was abusive, verbally and mentally. But I just…”

“You just what Maya?”

“I don’t know? I thought it was the adult thing to do, to try to pull it through. I know it is not. Now I do. But at that time… I didn’t have any perspective except I was alone and confused, not even working… just being at home, attending Rotaract events and club parties in the evening. Sometimes even those weren’t there and I was talking to the walls, waiting for something to happen, something good to happen,” she laughed at herself, shaking her head. Then her eyes met his — “I am not proud of those months, but I came out of that.”

His eyes misted. How could he be so proud of one person over and over again? How could he want to adore one person and worship at their feet in the same breath?

“Can I sit next to you?” He asked. She smiled, as if realising belatedly that he was keeping his distance for her. Maya nodded, slowly extending her hand to him. It was crazy how she was the one with an open hand and he took it, walking down and sitting beside her.

“You did,” he squeezed her hand tight and rubbed the back of it. “You did get out of it, M.”

Her head fell onto his shoulder and he tipped his chin, letting his body adjust to become whatever she wanted, making grooves in his flesh for hers as she wrapped her arms around his middle and settled into him. Gautam reclined back, taking her with him, lying silently there with her. And then, suddenly, she began to cry. Soft, muted tears, from her eyes into his kurta, soaking his skin. His own eye leaked.

“Oye, M?”

“Hmm?”

“Nothing.”