5 A Meal with the Devil
A Meal with the Devil
Well, this is awkward
to Ananya
Hi,
I didn’t expect to bump into you here. But I’m hoping we can keep things professional. Think you can do that?
Regards,
Aadar Chauhan
Senior Marketing Manager
Stellar Spirits India
Re: Well, this is awkward
15/5/23 4:05 p.m.
to Aadar
Okay, cut the BS. You can’t seriously expect me to believe this is purely coincidental. You’ve ‘bumped’ into me quite a few times now.
Are you a stalker, Mr Aadar Chauhan?
P.S. Of course I can keep it professional. How dare you question my work ethic?
Best,
Ananya Kapoor
Events Manager
TheManJournal
Re: Well, this is awkward
15/5/23 4:11 p.m.
to Ananya
Oh wow! Sober down, all right?
First of all, I’m not sure how you can call yourself a professional while throwing wild accusations at me. I have neither the time nor the desire to stalk you.
And yeah, it’s not a complete coincidence.
It’s just bad luck. Your biodata indicated that you worked here, and I looked up the website.
It gave me an idea – a professional one.
But believe me, I had no idea I’d actually have to interact with you, or I would’ve never gone ahead with this.
Your biodata said you were a manager. I assumed that was a junior admin type of role. I guess I was wrong.
So if your childish games are over, can we go back to the group email?
Regards,
Aadar Chauhan
Senior Marketing Manager
Stellar Spirits India
Re: Well, this is awkward
15/5/23 4:17 p.m.
to Aadar
I see. That’s a great story you’ve got there. For the record, I don’t believe one word of it. But because I am a professional, I’m willing to put it aside.
For all future intents and purposes, I’m an Events Manager, not a ‘Junior’ Manager.
Best, Ananya Kapoor Events Manager TheManJournal
Re: E-introductions
15/5/23 4:29 p.m.
to Ananya
cc: [email protected]; [email protected]; [email protected]; [email protected]
Hi Ananya,
It’s a pleasure to connect with you. We’re thrilled to initiate this partnership with TheManJournal and are really looking forward to the upcoming event.
Could you kindly arrange for a visit to the venue so @Aadar from our team can vet the bar? Also, do let me know how we can proceed with the paperwork.
Regards, Samar Khanna Marketing Head Stellar Spirits India
Re: E-introductions
15/5/23 4:35 p.m.
to Samar
cc: [email protected]; [email protected]; [email protected]; [email protected]
Hello!
It’s great to meet you too. Very excited to see where this goes.
I’m actually going to the restaurant for a recce tomorrow and I’d be happy to send you photos and videos of the bar. There’s no need for your colleague to come down there.
I’m attaching the contract with this email. Do let me know if you have any questions about it. You can e-sign it and send it back to me afterwards.
Best, Ananya Kapoor Events Manager TheManJournal
Re: E-introductions
15/5/23 4:39 p.m.
to Ananya
cc: [email protected]; [email protected]; [email protected]; [email protected]
Hi Ananya,
I appreciate the offer but it’s imperative that I see the venue in person in order to avoid any logistical last-minute issues.
I can make tomorrow work, although I’m in meetings until 5 p.m. Shall we meet there at 6? We can also exchange the paperwork there itself. Hope that works.
Regards, Aadar Chauhan Senior Marketing Manager Stellar Spirits India
Re: E-introductions
15/5/23 4:45 p.m.
to Aadar
cc: [email protected]; [email protected]; [email protected]; [email protected]
Hi,
Of course, I understand. I will see you there at 6 p.m. Below is the address FYR.
Le Claude, 36,
Defence Colony, Delhi.
Google Maps link here .
Best, Ananya Kapoor Events Manager TheManJournal
Re: Well, this is awkward
15/5/23 4:51 p.m.
to Aadar
Thanks for ruining my week. I hate you.
Best, Ananya Kapoor Events Manager TheManJournal
Today could’ve been the best Tuesday in the history of Tuesdays.
A half-day, a free menu tasting at Le Claude, followed by a date with an undecided but hopefully cute stranger.
Instead, I was stuck at work all day, painfully watching the clock tick.
It didn’t help that I was battling an excruciating hangover.
After work yesterday, I’d fled to V’s place to fill her in about the latest bothersome developments in my life, and we’d decided the only solution was to drink a bottle of wine each and stalk my perpetrator on Instagram.
Aadar had a private profile, so we sent him a request from V’s account. And voila! He accepted within ten minutes. Why wouldn’t he? The don’t-talk-to-strangers rule didn’t apply if the stranger in question was a stunning woman. Men are so predictable.
We shouldn’t have gone to all that trouble, though.
There wasn’t much to see on his profile.
He hadn’t posted anything in months, and his grand total of eight posts consisted of album covers, artsy black-and-white snapshots of the city and a few group photos from birthdays and family functions.
There was one photo that stood out – a post from 2015.
It was a hazy Polaroid of a young girl smiling shyly at the camera. There was no caption.
Vrinda and I went on to drink until 2:00 a.m., debating every possible conspiracy theory about who Aadar Chauhan was and why he was suddenly everywhere.
My personal favourite was that he was a con man trying to rob me of my riches like Ranveer Singh in Ladies vs Ricky Behl.
Of course, I didn’t have any riches to be robbed of.
I rested my forehead on the wooden desk, groaning lightly.
My head was throbbing, and the coffee I’d just consumed had made it worse.
I desperately wanted this workday to be over, but I was also not looking forward to what lay ahead.
I kept refreshing my inbox every few minutes hoping that he’d email me to cancel.
But I didn’t hear a peep out of him all day, which is how I found myself staring at my reflection in the glass doors outside Le Claude at 6:05 p.m.
I looked terrible. My hair was dehydrated and extra frizzy, there were dark circles under my eyes and my shoulders were slumped like a seventy-year-old’s.
The semi-formal plaid dress I’d thrown on this morning, hoping it’d be my redeeming quality, had acquired a visible coffee stain over the course of the day.
I’m so not prepared for this , I thought as I pushed the door open.
A whiff of cold air hit me as I stepped inside, a welcome escape from the pre-sunset heat.
A narrow but long alley led to the main seating area.
Yellow lanterns were suspended from the ceiling and symbols from French history hung on the wall.
I stopped to examine the area, trying to calculate if it could be converted into a photo booth.
Just then, a man in a dark-grey suit turned the corner.
‘Hello. You must be Ananya?’ he asked, stepping forward to greet me. We shook hands as he introduced himself and said, ‘I’m Jerry, the manager here.’
Jerry was barely two inches taller than me, but he had a broad chest and big arms. He must’ve been in his forties, but his smiling eyes took a few years off of him.
‘Ananya from TMJ. It’s a pleasure,’ I said, returning his smile.
‘Come, let me show you the space,’ he said, ushering me towards the entrance. I asked him to give me a minute and took out my phone to take photos of the alley.
‘Could we remove that podium from there?’ I asked, pointing to the hostess stand at the end of the passage.
‘Of course, I’ll get someone to move it right away,’ he said, not asking why.
‘Thanks. I just want to see if we can turn this space into a mini red carpet,’ I explained and took a few photos of the area the podium occupied. We could definitely fit one camera stand in there, I concluded.
The manager led me inside, where a waiter rushed to offer me a rose-tinted welcome drink. ‘Our special cranberry fizz,’ Jerry said, pointing to the shot glass.
I lifted the glass to my lips and sipped, aware of both men’s eager eyes on me.
‘Mmm,’ I said, tilting my head in surprise, ‘it’s not sickly sweet.’
Jerry laughed, delighted by my response. ‘Yes, we don’t add extra sugar or syrup in this. Takes the fun out of the cranberries, if you ask me.’
‘I agree,’ I said, placing the glass back on the tray.
I was relieved to see that the restaurant was as spacious as it had looked in the photos, and it had movable furniture – no booths, thankfully.
The white walls with gold detailing stretched out in front of me, giving the space a hall-like look.
The baby pink sofas matched the pink tulips at every table, and chandeliers with swooping arms shone brightly above them.
The bar was situated right at the entrance, which was not ideal, at least for us.
We didn’t want the influencers running off to drink before they had a chance to pose with the car.
The Stellar Spirits guys, of course, would be thrilled.
Speaking of, where was the man of the hour?