Chapter 34 Dina
Dina
‘… Practically unheard of. When I was facing all of this, I didn’t even have anyone that I could speak to about any of—’
‘Does this look crooked to you?’ Deen’s question interrupts me rewatching Maya’s interview on The Warm Up.
I lock my phone, slip it into my pocket and look up to see Deen eyeing the peacock painting that we salvaged from one of the charity shops.
He tilts his head this way and that, frowning at the painting as if this is the crowning achievement of the restaurant, even though it’s a small painting off to one side.
He has been up since the crack of dawn, working on finishing touches, even though everything was already finished and ready days ago.
Still, even as we wait to open up the restaurant, he adjusts things.
‘It looks fine,’ I insist.
‘I’m just not sure. Maybe this is the wrong painting to have here. Maybe there shouldn’t even be a painting. I mean, do peacocks even fit into the aesthetic of the rest of the restaurant?’
I can recognise a spiral when I see one, so I march towards Deen and grab him by his shoulders – which is a little difficult considering he is significantly taller than me, and he’s craning his neck to look up at the painting. I still manage somehow.
‘Deen. The restaurant looks great. Stop freaking out.’
He looks down at me before taking a deep breath. ‘Yeah, you’re right. I need to stop freaking out. I mean, if this doesn’t work, all it means is that my dreams are over, and so are Baba’s, and Ma will be disappointed, and you will be disappointed, and—’
‘I won’t be disappointed,’ I interrupt before he can list a string of other relatives who probably don’t give Deen a second thought most of the time, but Deen will somehow convince himself that he and this restaurant are the centre of their universe.
‘Ma won’t be disappointed. And if Baba were here right now, he would be proud of you.
For taking a risk. That’s what he was doing when he started up this restaurant in the first place. ’
Deen nods, though I’m not sure if I’ve really got through to him.
‘Come on, sit down and take a deep breath.’
I drag him by his hands to the seat that I have just been occupying and he plops himself down on it. Closing his eyes, he takes another deep breath, and when he blinks his eyes open again, he seems at least a little bit calmer.
‘You would tell me if the restaurant looked terrible, right?’ Deen asks, looking around at the place.
‘Yes, I would. It looks good.’ I look around too, trying to see things from Deen’s point of view.
The place is a mishmash of things; it’s difficult to even focus on one specific thing because there’s so much to look at.
There are colourful lanterns strung up corner to corner; they cast a dim, romantic light over the tables.
The walls have been repainted to a dark, sophisticated shade of green, and a variety of paintings line the walls, each somehow evocative of Bangladesh.
Then, there’s the mural on the centre wall, which is visible as soon as you walk into the place.
Against the green wall, in dark red paint, it reads Ekushey in both Bengali and English, each language shadowing the other, as if they’re caught up in some kind of dance.
It’s nothing like the different iterations of the restaurant that Deen and I have discussed over the years, but it’s a beautiful combination of all of those things. Only Deen could have done this; it feels like his vision.
Deen takes another breath and nods. His shoulders relax a little, almost like he’s making a conscious decision to let go of the rest of his worries. ‘OK … I guess we’re ready to open then.’
I give an encouraging smile as he stands up and walks over to the front door. He flips the sign from closed to open, and peers outside for a second, as if he’s hoping for a queue of people. Clearly, he doesn’t find one, because he returns from the entrance, looking nervous.
‘People will come soon,’ I say.
Just then, the door whooshing open sounds. Both Deen and I eagerly turn towards the entrance, but only Thea and Aisha walk in, waving at us hesitantly.
‘Hey, are we early?’ Thea asks.
‘No, you’re right on time, actually,’ I say, glancing at Deen, who looks a little crestfallen that it’s just my friends. ‘You guys want some free samples?’
‘Yes, obviously!’ Aisha says enthusiastically.
I walk them over to the table Deen has set up with samples of a selection of his dishes, offering each of them a plate.
‘How’s your brother doing?’ Thea asks as she piles a variety of foods onto her plate – creamy chingri malaikari, tangy shatkora mangsho and murighonto. I’m not sure she has any idea what she’s actually taking, but she’s always been a fan of Deen’s cooking from the leftovers I’ve supplied.
‘He’s pretty nervous,’ I say.
‘I can just imagine,’ Aisha mumbles, though she’s too busy eyeing all the different types of bhortas that Deen has laid out to really pay much attention to the conversation.
Bhortas aren’t fine dining, but considering they’re such a signature Bengali dish, Deen thought he’d go all out.
He basically tried to make bhortas of everything that felt right – aloo bhorta, daal bhorta, begun bhorta, even chingri bhorta.
‘This food is so good,’ Thea says, taking a massive bite of a mix of things. ‘Somehow, way better than the leftovers you always have in the fridge.’
‘You mean to tell me freshly made food tastes better than days-old leftovers that smell like the back of our fridge?’ I ask.
‘Good point.’
Thea and Aisha grab a table and tuck into their food, and I leave them alone to go and sit by Deen again. His legs are going up and down, up and down, and his jaw is clenched tight. He doesn’t tear his eyes away from the door for even a second.
‘Thea said the food was really good,’ I say, in the hope that it will help with his tension.
‘That’s nice of her to say.’ Deen’s voice is tight, and he doesn’t look away from the door.
‘You know what they say, Deen, a watched pot never boils,’ I joke.
Deen finally turns to me and almost cracks a smile. ‘I know, I know. It’s only been a couple of minutes. OK … distract me. You’ve watched that video of Maya like a billion times.’ He turns to me with a raised eyebrow.
Now I wish he was freaking out about the restaurant because I really don’t want to talk about Maya.
‘It’s a good interview.’ I shrug.
‘Uh-huh, sure. And you’re not watching it because you miss Maya. You know, she doesn’t live far away, you could go and see her at any point.’
‘I can’t, we left things … complicated. I just … I’m watching the interview because it reminds me of how wrong I was about so many things.’
Deen smiles – his first proper one in weeks. ‘You often are wrong about many things.’
I roll my eyes and poke him in the ribs. ‘You know the comments on that video are all deriding Maya for saying what she said. I mean, there are comments saying that maybe Bangladeshi women don’t belong in football. How messed up is that?’
‘Pretty messed up.’
‘And then you think about the fact that Maya has been dealing with that for the past nine years. I thought she was living the dream – living my dream.’ I shake my head.
‘Dreams can be complicated. I mean, look at me,’ Deen says, extending his arms to the empty restaurant.
‘They can be,’ I agree. ‘But … Maya turned things around. I mean, despite everything, she went on national TV and told everyone her side of the story. So, if she can do that, we can make this place a success.’
It’s easy to say that, but much more difficult to achieve. Because a full half-hour later, not a single other person has shown up. I know that Jen said she would stop by at some point, and I’m itching to text her or call her and demand when.
If only to help assuage some of Deen’s worries.
‘Maybe this whole thing was a huge mistake,’ Deen says. He buries his face in his hands. ‘I mean, I took money out of my savings, I spent weeks doing all of this – maybe Ma was right. She has way more life experience than us and she knows—’
But he’s cut off by the sound of the door opening. Deen and I both look up at the same time and see a woman at the door that neither of us recognise. She looks around with scrunched eyebrows, before she spots the two of us and a small smile appears on her lips.
‘Hello! I’m here for the … restaurant launch?’
‘Yes!’ I say, standing up quickly and dragging Deen up with me. ‘I’m Dina, this is Deen. It’s his restaurant actually.’
‘Hi,’ Deen says. ‘Thank you for coming. There are free samples over there.’ He points to the table with the samples. ‘But if you’d like a table so you can peruse the menu and order, we can arrange that for you.’
‘Oh, I’ll definitely need a table,’ the woman says with a smile. ‘Can you do a table for six?’
‘Six?’ As Deen asks this, a flood of people appear behind the woman.
Not just the five other people that will apparently be joining her for dinner, but even more people that she doesn’t seem to know.
Each of them scrambles for our attention, looking for a table.
My eyes nearly bulge out of my head at the sight, but I don’t have the time to be shocked.
Deen and I quickly get to work, trying to get everyone seated and served. It’s not long before the whole restaurant is full; every table is occupied, and the free samples are almost completely gone. And there’s a queue of people waiting for tables to free up.
‘I don’t have any more free samples,’ Deen whispers to me.
‘Don’t worry, people will pay full price for your food, clearly,’ I say, just as the first group of people that had come into the restaurant take their leave.
‘The food was wonderful, we’ll definitely be back,’ the woman we’d spoken to earlier says with a smile directed at Deen.
She digs into her bag and takes out her phone.
‘I’m actually a food influencer; I talk about new and up-and-coming restaurants around the area.
Ekushey wasn’t on my radar before, but it definitely is now, and I’ve taken a bunch of photos and videos to post. Do you guys have an Instagram account that we can tag you on?
’ She’s already typing on her phone, looking up at us expectantly.
‘Yes. It’s @ekusheyrestaurant,’ Deen quickly pipes up.
‘Great.’ The woman grins. ‘Thanks for everything.’ She waves goodbye, and I turn to Deen with raised eyebrows.
‘We should have got her information so we can look up her account,’ I say. ‘I wonder how many followers she has.’
That’s not the end, though, as more and more people flit into the restaurant, I realise that she isn’t the only influencer who has been alerted to our relaunch. A couple more let us know who they are, and Deen makes sure to provide each of them with at least one free item off the menu.
I can’t help but wonder, though, how they found out about the launch.
I guess that it must have been Jade – she does have a habit of posting about anything and everything on her Instagram account, and considering the amount of buzz she generated about the football game, I wouldn’t be surprised if she went all out to generate buzz about the restaurant’s launch too. I would have to thank her.
Then, Jen shows up with half the team, big grins on their faces. It’s good to see them again. The past two weeks have been such a rush of preparation for the relaunch that we paused training. As I sit them down, I take Jade aside for a second.
‘Hey, you haven’t been posting about this relaunch on your account, have you?’ I ask.
Jade gives me a confused look. ‘Maybe once or twice, but, honestly, it wasn’t getting a lot of traction. I mean, my followers care about me, and now about football, I guess. I don’t think they really care about a random restaurant opening, unfortunately,’ Jade says matter-of-factly.
‘So … you aren’t the reason a bunch of food influencers have been showing up here tonight?’ I ask.
Jade just shrugs. ‘I don’t think any food influencers even follow me. I’m not into the whole food scene. I’m a lifestyle influencer, which is very different from food influencing.’
‘Got it,’ I say, even though I really don’t get it.
Jade goes back to the team, while I continue to be confused about how all of these influencers heard about our relaunch. My confusion ends, though, when I notice Jen deep in conversation with one of the guests. She calls me over when she spots me watching them, and makes introductions.
‘Dina, this is Sallie Fischer. She used to play for a women’s football league in Liverpool. This is Dina, she’s assistant coach to the football team I’m helping to run for the council, and her family owns this place.’
I extend my hand to Sallie with a smile.
‘This is a great place you have here,’ she says. ‘When one of my colleagues reached out to tell me I had to check it out, I wasn’t sure what to think, but the food is top-notch, and I love the decor. Really different from any other Indian restaurants that I’ve been to.’
‘Well, it’s a Bangladeshi restaurant,’ I explain. ‘Everything here is inspired by Bangladeshi culture.’
Sallie nods. ‘Well, it’s amazing. And it’s your place? You run a restaurant and coach football?’
I chuckle, and shake my head. ‘No. It’s mostly my brother’s place, but it used to be my dad’s. I just helped him out a little with the relaunch.’
‘Well, ever since I retired from football, I’ve been dabbling in a few different things, and one of them is helping out up-and-coming restaurants.
I know how difficult it can be – my family used to own one too, back in the day.
’ Sallie takes out a business card from her bag and hands it to me.
‘Give this to your brother – maybe the two of us can get in touch and discuss a few things. Though, he’s already got a pretty good thing going. Maybe he doesn’t even need my help.’
I stare at the business card in awe, already knowing that Deen will be over the moon when I show it to him. ‘Thank you. You said … you heard about the launch from a colleague?’
‘Oh, yes. Kind of. I guess we’re not really colleagues anymore. She played for the Vikings, and I mentored her for a little bit a couple of years ago. We still keep in touch.’
The Vikings – that was Maya’s team. Slowly, everything clicks into place.
Of course, Maya would be the one to get all of these people here – people with connections.
She has been in the public eye, she knows how these things work.
She has somehow got people to come here, to try Deen’s food.
I’m not sure what that means, but it fills me with a sense of elation that I can’t even begin to describe.