Chapter 7
KABIR
Kabir stayed up all night, sitting in the dark of his room, his eyes shut, head tilted towards the open window to soak up the laughter and chatter that floated in from downstairs. At some point, everyone had left to crash for the night and he’d allowed his mind to slip into sleep too.
He woke the next morning, heavy headed and hungry. Kabir wandered down to the kitchen, praying it would be empty. But as usual, his prayer went unanswered. There was one person who’d woken up before him.
“Oh my GOD!” Kanak gasped, her hands on her chest, right over her heart. “There’s a rockstar in my kitchen.”
Kabir stared at her imperiously. “I don’t do autographs on an empty stomach.”
She slapped the back of her wrist to her forehead. “Oh!” she cried dramatically. “I have the worst luck. How will I ever survive this? May I feed you, Your Famousness?”
He chuckled as he came forward and wrapped her in a hug, allowing her manic yet weirdly maternal energy surround him.
“Scrambled eggs?” she asked, leaning back to look at his face, trying to hide the concern that shone in her eyes at whatever she saw in his.
“Why are you even asking? That’s the only thing you know how to make.” He was careful not to mention that she made it well. Because, well, she didn’t.
“DUDE!” Kanak smacked his arm. “Rude.”
“Dude?” Kabir cracked up, the first real laugh since reaching India bursting out of him. “Really Maasi?”
Kanak laughed, her loud, boisterous laugh filling the kitchen. She reached for the eggs and started cracking them into a bowl. Kabir winced as several eggshells fell into it too.
“I guess it’s safe to say I’m too old for dude.” She chuckled, reaching for the bread to shove a few slices into the toaster.
“I think it’s safe to say we’re both too old for dude,” Kabir said dryly, trying to surreptitiously fish the eggshells out behind her back.
“Oh come now,” she laughed, good-naturedly. The laugh died a quick death when she saw him quickly withdrawing a spoon from her egg and shell mix.
“What are you doing?” she asked, suspiciously.
“Helping?” He gave her his most innocent look, which wasn’t innocent at all.
“You go sit there.” She shuffled him aside, towards the kitchen table and away from her Kanak style disaster egg concoction.
Accepting his fate of crunchy scrambled eggs, Kabir stretched, pulling out his phone and scrolling through the many messages that had piled up. The one right on top had him tensing, a million memories tangling together in his mind.
“What’s going on, Rock On?” Kanak asked, her eyes on him as she briskly scrambled the eggs into oblivion. Kabir feared for their safety.
“Nothing,” he mumbled, putting his phone on the table, face down.
“Bullshit,” she said easily, watching him carefully.
“Maasi-“
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” she cut him off, turning around to chop an onion for some bizarre reason. “But Kabir,” she turned to face him, pointing the knife at him, “if anyone hurts you, you come to me okay?”
“Are you going to stab them?” he teased even as emotion swarmed through him.
“You’re one of mine,” she said quietly. “Have been since the day you walked in to Il Cuore for Christmas. Whoever put that look in your eyes, I won’t just stab them, I’ll burn their fucking world down.”
Almost prophetically, the smell of burning toast filled the kitchen.
“Shit!” Kabir swore as he lunged to turn off the toaster. But it was too late. He dumped the toast in the trash as Kanak dropped the mysterious onions into her eggshell eggs. A wave of affection swamped him and Kabir walked over to where she was and wrapped his arms around her from behind.
“I love you,” he mumbled.
“Love you too, Rock On,” she reached back to ruffle his hair affectionately. “It’s good to have you home. Don’t leave it so long next time, okay?”
Kabir swallowed hard. He didn’t know how to tell her or any of them he had no intentions of coming back to Mumbai after this. The more distance he put between this city and himself, the better his life would be.
“Let go of my woman.” Aakash Thakkar’s voice preceded him into the kitchen.
“You don’t own me Thakkar,” Kanak shouted back.
“Probably the only thing he doesn’t own,” Kabir muttered, stepping away from the stove with a laugh.
Aakash walked into the kitchen and sniffed the air. “Cooking, love?” he asked carefully, looking around for the source of the burning smell.
“Jeez, Kan Kan.” Karam wandered in behind him, looking around grumpily. “It’s too early for you to try and kill us all.”
“I’m not cooking for any of you idiots,” she told him. “This is for Kabir.”
“Rest in peace, my boy.” Karam slapped him on the back. “It was nice knowing you.”
“Don’t piss off the woman with the knife,” Aakash advised, rooting through the fridge for something to drink. He straightened, triumphantly clutching a carton of orange juice. “Juice anyone?”
“Me please,” Kabir said. He could wash the eggs down with it, he thought. He sensed the air shift a second later and he knew she’d entered the kitchen even before she spoke.
“Morning everyone.” Tani’s voice was still husky with sleep. He forced himself to take a sip of his juice, his gaze fixed on the condensation on his glass. He’d count the beads of water endlessly before he looked at her.
“Morning baby girl.” Aakash held up the juice. “Want some?”
“No, thank you. I need coffee.” She stepped deeper into the room, stopping somewhere behind Kabir’s shoulder. His skin prickled almost like it was physically reacting to her proximity. “What’s burning?” Tani asked.
Kanak growled, as she turned from the stove to dump the eggs into a plate.
“What are we doing for breakfast?” Aakash interjected hastily.
“Well, I’m not cooking for all of you,” Kanak announced.
“Praise the lord,” Karam muttered.
Kanak glowered at them mutinously as she placed the eggs in front of Kabir. No bread. No sauce. No nothing. Not even cutlery. He realised the entire room was watching him with fascination, waiting to see what he’d do next.
Kabir smiled up at Kanak, caught her hand and kissed it, murmured a thank you and then stuck his fingers into the half raw, half burnt scrambled eggs and scooped some into his mouth.
“Best eggs ever,” he announced, his eyes watering a little as he forced them down his throat.
Kanak’s eyes softened. She leaned over and tapped his phone, which was still lying face down on the table. “Whatever or whoever it is, you let me know. Whichever bridge we need to burn, I’m down for it. I’ll bring the matches.”
He grinned up at her. “We ride at dawn.”
Kanak ruffled his hair one last time before walking over to Aakash and grabbing the juice from his hand. He made a squawking noise but didn’t argue.
“Is that a new tattoo?” Karam asked from where he’d been watching the shenanigans.
Kabir started. He’d completely forgotten that he’d wandered downstairs in his tracks and vest. “Umm yeah,” he said, flushing slightly and standing. He picked up his plate and glass. “I’m going to take this and eat outside, get some sun and all that.”
They all turned to look outside at the burning sunlight streaming across the open fields.
“You’ll fry,” Karam said succinctly, cutting off his escape route.
“What’s the tattoo?” Kanak asked, coming closer to peer at his arm. He had a whole sleeve of tattoos that crept over his shoulder and down his chest. He shifted uncomfortably as she peered at his vest trying to get a better look. “I can’t make out.”
Acutely aware of Tani’s gaze on the back of his head, he cleared his throat. “It’s nothing special,” he mumbled, a dull brick red climbing his cheeks.
“I don’t see what the fuss about tattoos are,” Aakash announced from the other end of the kitchen. “Why would you want to mark your skin like that? Permanently at that.”
“They’re sexy,” Karam said mildly. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Karam rolled his eyes, taking a sip of the coffee he’d made. “It means some bodies are art. Yours is…a user manual.”
He pushed away from the counter and walked over to Kabir. “I got this six months back.” He pulled his sleeve up to show Kabir an armband around his bicep.
Kabir hummed in appreciation at the intricately etched design.
It was a loop of artistic s’s. The tattoo over his chest burned like a brand.
He wished fervently he’d worn a covered t-shirt when he’d woken up this morning.
He was starting to sweat now as Karam frowned, wondering at his hesitation to show him his new ink.
Resigned to his fate, Kabir was about to yank his vest off, when a shout went up outside along with the hungry roar of engines. Karam swore under his breath as he stormed out of the room.
“Shit, Reh.” Tani winced. “What’s he done now?”
They all filed out to find out. Kabir used the opportunity to discreetly feed his eggs to a plant that he passed on the way to all the noise. He hoped the poor thing didn’t die.
But it wasn’t Rehan who was stirring up shit outside. Kabir stood beside Tani and watched as Jay and his friends rode up the farm’s avenue. Well, Jay sat pillion and clung on to his friend for dear life, so riding was a term Kabir used a bit loosely with regards to him.
“He’s trying to impress his father-in-law,” Aakash murmured, laughter vibrating through his voice.
“And are you impressed?” Kabir couldn’t help poking the beast, struggling to keep his own amusement from showing.
“He looks like he’s going to throw up,” Karam said, smirking. “I have to be impressed by that, right?”
Tani threw them all an annoyed look. “That’s the man I’m marrying. I’d appreciate it if you would spend more time getting to know him and less time making fun of him.”
She stormed off towards the approaching motorcycle club wannabes leaving the rest to stifle their laughter and follow.