Chapter Five
Bali, Indonesia
‘You know what they say about destiny … the cosmos conspires, whether you wish for it or not.’
Announcing out loud to nobody in particular, Timira flips aside the laws of attraction book she had carelessly picked out of the little corner library of the cafe she, Alice and Bhaskar were spending the afternoon at.
It’s a beach shack only a stone’s throw from their hotel.
They had sauntered in upon listening to the strains of EDM remixes of Hindi film songs as they walked along the beach, Alice and Timira collecting seashells and Bhaskar wondering what the girls intended to do with two kilos of shells.
Alice had refused to dwell on the curious case of the mysterious hunk at the hospital. She is a woman on a mission to make the last couple of days of their vacation memorable for Timira.
‘Tim, do you have a plan for when we get back?’ Alice asks gently between sips of her Malibu Summer Sunset.
‘Recall what I’d told you about Sunaina’s cousin, that guy on that OTT series who got an Emmy nom?
He’s looking for a rep. Have you given it any thought?
This could be a good time to start out on your own,’ Alice’s voice trails off, her well-meaning words drowning in the sound of Timira’s noisy slurps.
She shakes her head exasperatedly and is about to grab Timira’s shoulder to gain her attention, but holds back when she hears her humming under her breath, stirring the contents of her Bloody Mary with a straw that is boldly standing up and fighting on despite having been mercilessly gnawed on for a while.
Timira doesn’t sing often anymore. Nowhere near as often as she used to.
Blessed with rather melodious pipes, Timira used to be the undisputed karaoke queen and designated crooner at parties when Bhaskar first introduced Alice to her.
Alice wonders why Timira doesn’t sing much any longer and her mind wanders off …
Timira is now on her fourth cocktail. As it turns out, the owner of the shack is married to an Indian, and seems eager to treat his Indian guests well.
He has been rather generous with the alcohol in the cocktails.
Her vision is slightly blurry, her reflexes even slower than usual.
Bhaskar throws a book at her and it misses the bandaged side of her head by only a whisker.
‘Shit! Sorry! Did that hurt?’ Bhaskar is worried.
Timira, sensing an opportunity, pretends to be in pain.
Rubbing the bandage lightly, she mock yelps in pain before jumping out of her wicker chair to exact revenge.
She uses all her might to grab a chunk of Bhaskar’s hair with one hand while threatening to pour her drink over his head with the other.
‘Alice! Help! What sort of a wife are you, man? Sitting there, laughing? Dude!’
Alice sticks her tongue out in response and goads Timira on. Bhaskar is about to plead for mercy when his phone rings.
‘Bro, let me answer the call!’ It’s on the fourth ring now. Timira has to relent by the seventh after Bhaskar buys his freedom by promising to get her ginseng and snail cream endorsed by Song Hyekyo from the duty-free shops.
The sun is readying itself to retire for the night. The fragrance of salt and sand hangs in the damp air. Timira is trying to recall the number of drinks she’s had but gives up after a while and decides to call for another regardless.
‘Tim,’ Alice is the first to break the silence.
Timira is fumbling with her new Zippo lighter and trying to light a cigarette with no success.
‘Tim, are you listening?’ ‘Yes,’ Timira answers absent-mindedly.
Alice snatches the lighter from Timira’s hand and lights the cigarette.
Timira blows her a kiss as thanks before taking a long drag and putting her feet up on the table in front of her.
‘Timira, I’ve been thinking …’ Alice blurts out, unable to hold it in any longer.
‘About what to order next?’ Timira laughs louder than her joke warrants and gestures to a hostess to bring them the menu.
‘I’m serious, why aren’t you listening to me? Don’t try to dodge ‘cause I ain’t going nowhere! He may not express it like I do, but Bhaskar is also worried. What do you even intend to do when we go back?’
This is a question Timira has been asking herself since the day she quit her job.
Should I go back to Marbella? They have been asking …
no, no, begging me to come back. But how can I?
Where’s my pride? Alice is right. I have enough experience to branch out on my own.
I owe it to myself to run my own business …
But what if Ma–Apa try to interfere? I don’t want their money.
Oh, God, it’d be so embarrassing if at thirty-six, well, almost thirty-seven, they still have to sponsor me!
They probably think I’m looking for work or have offers already. Should I tell them about my offer here?
Timira recalls how the affable, elderly owner of the sea-front establishment the wedding was held at had offered her a job as a crooner after listening to her sing at the reception party. The memory puts a smile on her face and she feels a little less troubled by her life’s miseries.
Timira’s thoughts have been raising hell inside her overworked brain, like multiple incarnations of the Devil himself wielding miniature pitchforks and an evil smile.
She opens her mouth to say something when Bhaskar, who had stepped out to take the call, waves at her and asks her to bring him a cigarette.
She turns around to leave after handing him his pack of what he calls ‘real cigarettes’, unlike the ‘denial cigarettes’ that she smokes and lighter, but Bhaskar suddenly stops her, the unlit smoke dangling from between his lips.
He grabs her by her sleeve and yanks her back towards him, gesturing for her to hold still while continuing to speak on the phone.
‘… yeah, I know what you mean. It can’t be easy, certainly not at their age …’
Timira has no idea why she is being made to listen to this. She steps on Bhaskar’s foot and tries to wriggle out of his grasp. He tightens his grip.
‘Let me know if I can be of any help, bro … Of course … what else are friends for? By the way, what was that you mentioned a little while back? Something about a client company looking for a specialist?’
Silence at Bhaskar’s end for a minute or so, barring the occasional ‘hmm’. Timira is still uninterested and drawing patterns in the sand with her big toes.
‘Ah, I see. No, it’s just that … remember Timira? My school friend you met at my wedding … yes, yes, same,’ Bhaskar laughs. Timira is suddenly invested in the conversation and leans in, trying to catch the other end of the chat.
‘Yeah, she might be a great fit. It only just occurred to me. Let me connect you guys and you take it from there?’
With that, Bhaskar hangs up and finally lights his cigarette. Blowing out smoke rings, he gently pats Timira on her head.
‘Are you pimping me? What sort of racket are you running? Does Alice know? ALICE!!!!!!’
Timira, in mock shock, runs back inside the café and knocks Alice’s drink over even as she attempts to duck behind her. ‘Your husband is trying to pimp me off!’ she wails to Alice who is now looking at Bhaskar with curious eyes and trying hard to suppress a smile.
‘ Abbe , sunn toh le , drama queen!’
‘Yes, Tim. Let’s give him a chance to explain. I’m on your side, in any case, don’t you worry.’
‘Thanks, wife. Haan , so Ryan had called to discuss moving his folks to Cali to be with him …’
Ryan? Ryan who? Ooooh, Bhaskar mentioned his wedding.
Ryan, Ryan … Aaaaah, of course! Ewww. Why is he pimping me to him?
Eww! Timira now recalls having been introduced to Bhaskar’s lanky, prominently pockmarked, reeking of expensive cologne, and desperately-in-need-of-manners-and-a-haircut university coursemate.
The one whose accent changes in every country.
She remembers rolling her eyes at his relentless show of clout and tu-nahin-janta-mera-baap-kaun-hai.
‘… so I thought of Tim and suggested they connect …’
‘Huh, what? Thought of me for what?’ Timira demanded to know. Lost in trying to place Ryan, she had missed out on the backstory that Bhaskar had only just painstakingly narrated.
‘Freelance job. Publicity and media relations. University degree in English. Senior position. Activewear label. Three-month assignment. Great pay,’ Bhaskar quickly summarizes, with special emphasis on ‘great pay’ before adding ‘in Seoul’ in what sounds almost like a whisper.
‘IN SEOUL?!’ Both Timira and Alice cry out in unison.
‘How does the location even matter? It’s a short-term project.
The company is owned by one of Ryan’s clients.
The money is great! And, hey, Seoul is a fab city, okay?
Don’t go hurting Alice’s sentiments now …
’ Bhaskar trails off, casting a sideways glance at his very-American-but-proud-of-her-Korean-heritage wife.
‘Yeah, I’m sure it’s great. That’s why Alice’s grandparents migrated to the States and grew corn on a farm in the middle of nowhere!’ Timira snaps back. Alice is wondering whether this should offend her, and while she mulls over it, Timira marches on.
‘I don’t know the language. Why do they even want a foreigner to handle media relations? I can’t read or write Korean, I have no contacts in the media there.’
‘Maybe they have a database that they’re willing to share, I don’t know, man! Ryan said they primarily need someone with great command over English and with industry experience of over 10 years. Perhaps they’re looking for someone to interact with the foreign media?’