Chapter 12
They left Justice Deshmukh’s chambers and Aditi felt her mobile vibrate in her hand. She turned it, only to find it from Aara’s school.
“Hello?” She answered urgently, her steps automatically quickening as they found the staircase and began descending.
Aara’s school had called her a total of two times — once when Aara had fallen suddenly sick with a fever that turned out to be chicken pox later, and second, for a personal invitation to come talk to their kids on World Advocate Day about what a lawyer did.
“Mrs. Daruwala, hello, I am speaking from Kukul Kunj. I am Arzoo Daruwala’s coordinator.”
“Is Arzoo ok?”
“What happened?” Zubin’s hand came to her back. She shook her head, letting him guide her down the rest of the way as her mind split into two.
“Arzoo is fine, but I would like you to come see her teacher, the principal and myself.”
“What’s wrong, Madam?”
“It is a disciplinary meeting. We are waiting for you at 3.30 pm.”
“Is this for all parents or just Arzoo’s parents?”
“Just Arzoo’s parents.”
“Ok, I will be there.”
The line went dead just as they spilt out of the High Court and into bright sunshine.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know, the coordinator just said it’s a disciplinary meeting.”
“She is fine, right?”
“Yes, not sick or anything. Maybe did something naughty… I don’t know.”
“Aara? Naughty?” Zubin slowed down at the gate, pushing out of his gown just as she did. Shashank was right there to take his gown and Zubin came behind her to help her. “Her naughty Daru is only at home. She is a complete Doshi at school. Her teacher adores her.”
“You are a teacher’s pet, exhibit A.” She pointed at the chambers they had just left.
“But you are the real lakeer ka faqeer obedient nerd.” He reminded her. “Besides, Aara may be sharp and argumentative but she is not a bad kid, doesn’t disobey or argue back disrespectfully.”
“I know…” Aditi loosened her collar band.
“Let’s take my car, it’s parked right here.”
“You are also coming?”
“This is the first time our daughter’s school has called up for a disciplinary meeting. Either she has done something terrible, which I doubt, or I have another case to fight.”
Aditi rolled her eyes — “Keep the advocate under control, Zubin.”
“Depends on what they charge Aara with.” Zubin looked back at his associate. “Shashank, I should be back in two hours. Start drafting for Neelkamal Vs Raj Pipla and have Sherlyn research the three case laws I am texting you. Ask Meera to manage my afternoon.”
“Yes, sir. Bye, ma’am.”
“Bye, Shashank.”
Aditi and Zubin turned left out of the High Court as he turned right.
“You got the Neelkamal person to agree?”
“No, but I have left him on such a note that he will call tonight.”
“So your Dubai trip wasn’t wasted.”
“Let’s just say the Neelkamal society people will send blessings and a ton of commission our way soon.
” Zubin strode through the busy street outside the court, grabbing her hand as they rushed to cross at a yellow signal.
Unlike most of Mumbai, this side of town was meticulous about their signal crossings.
She didn’t have to worry, though, dialling Zain as Zubin took care of walking her across multiple crossings.
“Yes, Aditi ma’am.”
“Zain, inform the client that I will take the meeting over call at 5. If he wishes to still meet then arrange for a time in second half and text me.”
“Done, ma’am.”
She ended the call and glanced up in time to see they were headed towards a quiet, shaded lane, looking all cool and breezy in this suffocating heat. Cars were parked in a line on the side.
“How do you get premium parking?”
“I told you to get your car with me and I’d have made it happen for you, too.
” He slowed down once they were across the Flora Fountain and walking down the shaded lane with Pay & Park guys ambling around the Pay & Park boards.
Neither the Mumbai Traffic Police towed your car here, nor did the sun heated it up to burning.
“Dalal Chambers is on the other side,” Aditi remarked. “What will I do with premium parking here?
“I can come there and make it happen there too,” he shrugged out of his black suit coat and loosened his collar band.
“With your big status?”
“With my big mouth.” Zubin grabbed her hand again, crossing the small lane to a line of luxury cars gleaming in mild sun rays bursting in through the thick tree canopies.
The heritage Tata & Sons building and the others built in old sandstone from the colonial era rendered the entire lane in a timeless wash.
Aditi stalled as Zubin left her hand to accept his car keys from one of the many parking guys roaming around the area.
“Dalal chambers side kaun hai?” He asked the boy.
“Aapko waha lagani hai?”
“Tera contact hoga na.”
“Hai na, bolo kab.”
“Roz.”
“Main number bhejta hoon. Kush karke hai.”
“Tera bhai hai kya?”
“Aapko kaisa pata?”
“Tu Luv, woh Kush.”
The boy chuckled.
“Usko bol barabar lagaaye, week ka paanch din, main kal baat karta hoon.”
“Yes, sir.”[16]
Zubin led her down the cars to the best spot under a massive tamarind tree. His Lexus was parked there, his precious EV.
“Talk, and you can make anything happen,” he smirked, handing his suit coat to her.
“Unless you do it in Marathi,” Aditi deadpanned. His eyes narrowed, just as a waft of frying batata vada blew their way. He inhaled, freezing with his hand on the handle of the driver’s side. Aditi saw his throat work a swallow.
“Aditi?”
“Hmm?”
“Go get one vada pav, naa."
“Vada pav…? Your lunch!” She froze. “We forgot your lunch in the Bar Room!”
“Forget about it now, I smelled this.”
“What about your diet?”
“The weekend is just ending.”
“How?”
He thought for a second. Then — “I’m still on Dubai time.”
“It’s Tuesday in Dubai, too.”
“Will you go one by two with me?”
Aditi didn’t mind going one by two, or even getting one each for them.
She wasn’t putting on belly fat by just inhaling the good stuff.
But in Zubin’s defence, it was hereditary.
Even his father had been massive, carrying heavy fat on his belly.
The man was now trying doubly hard not to meet the same fate.
“Doshi!”
“What?”
“Don’t lengthen my agony.”
“Say the golden word.”
“Slave,” he mouthed saucily. She began to open her side of the door.
“Please!”
“Louder.”
“PLEASE!!!”
“Good job.” Aditi flipped her head, her ponytail swinging as she opened the back door, stowed her bag, their gowns and his suit inside. “Do you want something else? Half a vada pav will not cut it.”
“It will keep me going for now and hungry enough to fight off whatever this coordinator is planning to throw at Aara.” He slipped inside the driver’s seat.
“Get extra chillies and ask him to stuff it with red powder. And get one chilled water too. If they have Energy then get strawberry flavour. And if they’ve fried bhajiya fresh…
no, no forget it. Just half vada pav. No Energy. ”
“Anything else, Your Eminence?”
“Flash me a smile, Slave.”
She snarled, making him happier than if she had smiled at him.
Aditi slammed the door and marched to the vada pav stall, flashing that smile to the footpath under her feet now.
What was this? Her ponytail swinging like she was a teenager, the wife in her needing to make sure he was satiated with a full belly and the Doshi in her clapping in glee because Daru was going to be a half-hungry lion.
These tiny… what did he call them? Saste nashe, were popping like electric currents inside her.
They had a lot to talk about, but she knew with crystal clarity that Zubin Daruwala was about to bring their old saste nashe back.
————————————————————
“Here,” she pushed the plastic bag of food into his arms as she closed her door.
“You got Kaanga Bhel?!”
“He was just setting up when I went to the vada pav wala.” She pulled her seatbelt on, eyeing him take a deep whiff of the bhel pack. The juicy chutneys had softened the magazine paper while the fresh scent of coriander and chopped onions permeated their car. “What are you doing? Eat.”
Zubin was still taking whiffs like a madman. Aditi smirked, grabbing the packet from him and tucking it open.
“Awwww…” his head fell back. “You are amazing, Doshi.”
“Stop making indecent noises,” she opened the packet fully and held it between them. “It is going to be one by two.”
He grabbed one of the four puris going soggy soaking up the chutneys of the bhel and scooped up a bite. Zubin threw it into his mouth and sighed. “I hate that our Kaanga uncle is getting old.”
“Me too.” She reached for the second puri, scooped up some bhel and bit into it — right with the puri because when had she ever been able to resist?
“Hey!” He tried to push her hand away.
“You said one by two.”
“For vada pav.”
“Calories are calories.” She scooped more bhel. “Puris are also fried, sev also, chutney has sooo much sugar…”
“Fine fine,” he let her eat, too busy inhaling it.
“Drive, I’ll feed you.”
“I don’t trust you.” He scooped more bhel into his mouth, his puri intact.
“Zubin, come on. We have to reach there by 3.30…” Aditi opened her Google Maps with her good hand. “It’s showing red all over. Come on.”
“Don’t eat all the puris.”
“One is yours, three are mine. Actually, two now. I already finished this one.” She threw the remaining piece into her mouth and crunched on it. He wiped his hands on a tissue, took a swig of the chilled water she had bought and turned the wheel, easing out of the parking.
“Hmm,” she held out a scoop of bhel on a puri and he crunched it.
“Zubin!”
He laughed, opening his mouth again, knowing she would have to use one of her two puris. Aditi smiled inside, feeding him most of the bhel. She knew, there was no going one by two with Zubin where bhel was concerned. The man was also starving, even though he wouldn’t admit it right now.