Chapter 15
Aaditha
JaiPour: COFFEE Before Books it feels familiar, a mix of hard and soft.
TittleTattle would call it ‘pageboy’ attire, not fit to be photographed alongside the Rathores, who, if they wore denims, would come at the cost of all that lay locked in the treasury building. Royal backsides need so much more.
I’m walking to the back of the site, where the restrooms, the staff room and the manager’s cabin are located. I say a small prayer as I put one foot in front of the other. ‘Please, God, please, let some part of this store be done at least.’
I feel my jaw drop as I pause at the entrance.
The room seems to be having an identity crisis; one wall has shiny new tiles, and the other is flaunting industrial décor, raw brick and no more.
I poke at a brick, half-expecting it to shift, but it holds up.
The mirror is leaning awkwardly on the white sink, like it just gave up and decided to sit down. Pipes peep out of walls.
I wanted this store to be different from my others because of the flavour of the city, its distinct pink landscape, forts, palaces and vibrant bazaars. From where I’m standing now, it certainly looks different. It is a horror show.
We were initially supposed to launch in March, in time for Holi, but the work was badly stalled, because of which we were forced to push the opening to May.
We hired Bhanwar Lal, a reputed local contractor, in March, after we found that the initial team we signed with was dragging its feet.
While there has been progress, we are clearly nowhere near where Bhanwar Lal is telling us we are in his daily updates.
He had been briefing Mohit Mohan, my MVP in COFFEE Before Books I feel the distance. I stumble sideways into a stack of chairs that are placed upside down; it clatters onto the floor like an applause track.
The air smells of paint fumes. Sawdust is everywhere, on countertops, in my hair, in my lungs, possibly.
Beside the man who had just called out to me, a girl whom I remember from the group chat as ‘Simi with the coffee skills’ has emerged out of thin air and is standing behind the espresso machine, wearing a random apron and a puzzled expression. She looks as stunned as I am.
She is the only local person we have hired for the café so far. That will, of course, change in the months ahead.
The other baristas and the pastry chef of the inaugural team are Bengaluru-based and will arrive in time to do the dry runs before the launch.
I step over an open box labelled ‘FRAGILE’, only to trip on an extension cord. I steady myself, feeling the sweat beads trickle down my face and settle on my clavicle.
‘Aap kaun hain, behen?’ a male voice asks. I look up to see an older man in a paint-splattered Calvin Klein shirt, grinning at me from behind a stack of unopened boxes.
I look at him blankly. I’m not sure what to say.
‘Kya kar rahe hain, yaar? Sink ko ulta laga rahe hain?’ he calls out to the man in overalls, who is lying on the floor.
The chaos is overwhelming, the noise echoing an unfinished story.
We started rolling out media campaigns last month, and in the next twenty-four hours, we start the one-week countdown on hoardings in prime locations in the city, just like we had done in Bengaluru.
What if we are not ready on the launch date? That looks more like a possibility at this point.
I need a few minutes to myself before I speak to anyone or make any decisions.
I settle on one of the dry paint buckets that has been turned upside down. From where I’m seated, I can see the palace gates – tall and symmetrical, studded with ironwork and flanked by sandstone pillars etched with floral motifs. We are there but not quite there.
I reach for my phone and message Lavanya.
Me: I don’t know when you’ll see this message, but I’m totally panicking!!! I’m not sure if our Jaipur outlet will be ready by launch date!!! Yikes!
Me: Don’t tell me to postpone the opening because the date has been announced in all the major publications, and the save-the-date exercise on social media is done!!!
Me: Fortunately for me, I packed a couple of extra clothes. I’m planning to stay on for a day or two. Will call Mohit. Hopefully he can get here soon and work his magic again.
I decide against calling Bhanwar Lal and instead dial Mohit and tell him that he is needed here.
I shut the phone and exhale.
‘Ma’am,’ Simi calls. She’s by my side now.
Her eyes are glazed. I want to ask if she is okay, but beside her, the man in the paint-stained tee is also on his feet and looking over me.
I do a 180-degree turn and face an open door where Vedveer stands. He is in a fawn-coloured suit, his shirt is open at the throat, and his hands are in his pockets.
This is the one person I do not need to see now. Behind him, a mini army battalion are shuffling their feet like they are preparing to attack.
Fortunately for me, he has the good sense to leave the unit outside. I don’t need any more folks who don’t know what they need to do in this space.
Vedveer walks carefully, avoiding the wires and the floor that resembles an abandoned obstacle race track.
I hear a sound right next to me, a crash, a thump. I swing around to see Simi on the floor.
She is standing next to me one moment and is sprawled on the floor the next.
The Calvin Klein tee, who is standing next to Simi, is bowing to Vedveer instead of helping the girl. ‘Yuvraj Maharaj,’ he says before turning his attention to Simi.
I remember I have a bottle of water in my bag. I pull it out and splash it on her. She flutters her eyelids as I kneel on the floor and help her sit up.
‘What happened?’ That’s my voice.
She is resting her head on my arm and smiling at Vedveer’s clean-shaven face now.
‘Drink more water,’ I say. Simi nods and licks her lips.
Vedveer, who had knelt beside me and looked her over, is back on his feet.
He dials his secretary, who is on the other side of the door, and asks that the lady be taken to the nearest emergency care. He asks Ratan Singh to accompany her, insisting that she be dropped home and that he keep him posted on her progress.
After Simi leaves with Vedveer’s team, he tells the painters to carry on with their work.
‘Are you okay?’ Vedveer asks, his eyes on the hollow of my neck, before turning to the chairs.
He pulls out two from the pile that has crashed and lays them out for the two of us.
I stare at him for a moment before shaking my head. ‘I’m okay,’ I say, smiling. ‘I’m really okay.’
Vedveer’s smile is forced.
‘Apologies for getting here earlier than I had said I would,’ he says. His arms are on his knees, and his eyes are boring into me like he’s trying to reach my soul.
I quickly draw in a breath.
‘I had a business meeting, which finished sooner than expected, and I thought I would swing by and see how you are doing.’
I nod.
Imagine realigning that entire regiment that goes with him everywhere when he has a change of plan. A logistical nightmare for the conductor of the show.
‘Was your journey okay? Did you get here on time?’ he asks, his eyes gentle on mine.
I nod.
My mind goes back to the evening on the terrace balcony, when I almost called him Ved but quickly managed to attach the Veer to it, like it were a surname. He didn’t notice; at least, I don’t think he did…
Over the last couple of months, something has shifted. Maybe it was the interview, but now, in my head, he’s just Ved.
‘Ved… Veer,’ I say. The Freudian slip! Ugh! I notice a flicker in his eyes, a hint of a smile.
‘Vedveer,’ I repeat, forgetting what it is that I wanted to ask him.
‘Vedveer is an intriguing combination for a name – not always easy to pull off together,’ he says as he dips his shoulders to make eye contact.
I clear my throat, scrambling. ‘My mind is all over the place,’ I say, blaming it on the floor around me. ‘I’m forgetting names!’
He chuckles, amusement flickering in his eyes. ‘Ah, yes, the charming mishaps of the mind.’
‘How are you doing?’ he asks.
‘Lost in the usual chaos,’ I say with a shrug.
‘Usual chaos sounds like a full-time job. Does it come with benefits?’
‘Only if you like unpaid overtime and existential dread.’
He grins. ‘Tempting.’
‘I’ll add you to the waiting list.’
‘So exclusive?’ he asks, his brow lifting.
‘Naturally. Chaos doesn’t just let anyone in.’
He nods, mock serious. ‘And here I was thinking I had royal privileges.’
‘Those expired the moment I called you Ved.’
His laugh this time is low and warm. ‘Call me that again, and I might just forgive you.’
Vedveer turns slowly and looks around what will be a café in time. His face is fresh, and his shirt is stiff. The vibe of a presiding deity surveying the ruins around him.
‘This place looks pretty basic,’ he says.
I nod.
‘There’s a lot of work still to be done, but the good thing is that you have a week to go. You still have time.’
‘What are you planning to do?’ he asks, returning to his seat. ‘About today?’
I can’t leave this evening. ‘I called the office and asked them to book a room in the hotel down the road. I will definitely be here tonight, maybe for one more night till Mohit arrives.’
I lied about the hotel booking, only because I don’t want any drama. I was going to ask for a room to be booked when Vedveer arrived at my door.
‘Why do you want to stay in a hotel and risk the prying paparazzi? They’ll be shoving cameras into your face every morning at breakfast. You can stay at Ranibagh; there’s ample space.’
Ranibagh is big enough, I know.
‘Thank you! But I cannot ask my mother to chaperone me,’ I say. ‘You know how these things work.’
‘I don’t know how these things work, Aaditha. I’m not offering you a room; you can have a whole wing. There’s nothing to worry!’
I hear some noise behind me, feet shuffling, and I wonder if it is Vedveer’s army.
‘Don’t turn,’ he says softly, leaning forward, his fingers warm on my arm. ‘There’s a bunch of photographers outside.’
I feel a shiver go down my spine. The interiors of my store is a mess, we are due to open in a week, and the paps are at the door waiting to pull me down.
Vedveer is standing in front of me. The air between us is so thick, it would take a knife to slice through.
It is his bloody convoy that called out to the paps, practically begged them to come snag us.
The Rathores cannot do anything quietly. Wear a wig, dress like a homeless person, disappear into a crowd.
‘What do you say?’ he asks about me staying at his palace.
I nod. I don’t have much of a choice.