“ Jo hoga so hoga. Life happens, na ?”
Sam reached out, covering her hand with his and giving it a squeeze. Suddenly, he was the one offering comfort and words of advice. “ Nahin , Priya- ji , we make life happen. We fight for it and defend it and never let it go. I had to learn that the hard way. So, if you want this comeback, if you want to make something of yourself… you make it happen. Samjhe? ”
Yes. She understood. Far better than Sam Khanna, or anyone else, could possibly imagine.
Chapter Nine
Rahul’s place in Bandra was a monstrosity, a sprawling multilevel affair that would’ve bordered on obnoxious had he not redecorated after his father took off to Delhi. He lived along Bandstand, within a rock’s throw of a dozen A-Listers, all of whom had entirely more beastly mansions. Some with floor-to-ceiling pictures of themselves on the walls. He had ego in spades, but he drew a line at staring at his own shakal all day long. Nahin , his favorite thing about the house was the ultramodern kitchen. It was purely his domain. He didn’t keep a cook and only trusted his housekeeper to clean and shop for groceries. If he wasn’t dining out, he made his own meals.
Tonight, it was dinner for both him and Davey, who was perfectly content to sit at the center island with a glass of Pinot Noir and critique his methods. “It’s so gauche to cook for yourself,” he mocked. “You’re putting some poor thakur out of work, you know.”
Rahul stopped chopping cilantro just long enough to gesture emphatically with his knife. “Says the man with the Domino’s number committed to memory. Yaar , it’s not just American pizza in India, it’s shite American pizza in India. You’re pathetic.”
“ I’m pathetic? I’m not the one upsetting the Bollywood apple cart just so I can be in movies with my ex-girlfriend. There’s one enormous snag in your cunning plan, by the way: Priya’s secretary told us to sod off.”
His brows rose in amusement. From what he knew of Kabir, the man was far too well mannered for such inventive directions. “Those exact words? Really?”
“Creative license.” Shaw smiled the thin-lipped smile that had always made their university professors nervous, because it usually preceded some brazen act of mischief. “Suffice it to say, your heartwarming onscreen reunion is off the table.”
“For now.” He shrugged and tapped his fingers on the countertop, thoughtfully. Rahul was a long-range planner, not so concerned with the short-term successes and failures. For instance, when he was in second year and Davey in his last term, hadn’t they spent four months plotting how to get the vice-chancellor’s desk out into the cricket pitch? They’d managed, of course. Brilliantly. “Remember old Grossy’s desk?”
Shaw chuckled, sipping at his wine. “Oh, so it’s to be that sort of a rout, is it? My deepest sympathies to Ms. Roy. She hasn’t got a chance. I hate cilantro, by the way.”
“Who hates dhania ? That’s just unnatural.” Rahul knew Davey was just taking the piss out of him but couldn’t resist repaying it in kind, scowling at him like a disapproving parent. “You’ll eat it, and you’ll damn well like it.”
The simmering rogan josh just needed the artistic garnish, the bulk of its flavor from the ground dhania he’d put in the lamb curry’s initial spice mix. In any form, coriander was Rahul’s favorite spice. It was rich and earthy, but with a surprising kick. Like Priya…
“Oh, do stop mooning over her.” Shaw shuddered. “You’ll make me lose my appetite.”
“As if you’re not lighting incense at your Sunita shrine every morning? And, since I’m on the subject, what about her? What are those chances, yaar ?”
“She loves me. Naturally. Who wouldn’t?” Sarcasm weighed down the answer like rocks sending it to the bottom of the sea. “Sunita’s got walls as high as the Qutb Minar, Rahul. I’m damned lucky that I’m a climber and used to
Sam reached out, covering her hand with his and giving it a squeeze. Suddenly, he was the one offering comfort and words of advice. “ Nahin , Priya- ji , we make life happen. We fight for it and defend it and never let it go. I had to learn that the hard way. So, if you want this comeback, if you want to make something of yourself… you make it happen. Samjhe? ”
Yes. She understood. Far better than Sam Khanna, or anyone else, could possibly imagine.
Chapter Nine
Rahul’s place in Bandra was a monstrosity, a sprawling multilevel affair that would’ve bordered on obnoxious had he not redecorated after his father took off to Delhi. He lived along Bandstand, within a rock’s throw of a dozen A-Listers, all of whom had entirely more beastly mansions. Some with floor-to-ceiling pictures of themselves on the walls. He had ego in spades, but he drew a line at staring at his own shakal all day long. Nahin , his favorite thing about the house was the ultramodern kitchen. It was purely his domain. He didn’t keep a cook and only trusted his housekeeper to clean and shop for groceries. If he wasn’t dining out, he made his own meals.
Tonight, it was dinner for both him and Davey, who was perfectly content to sit at the center island with a glass of Pinot Noir and critique his methods. “It’s so gauche to cook for yourself,” he mocked. “You’re putting some poor thakur out of work, you know.”
Rahul stopped chopping cilantro just long enough to gesture emphatically with his knife. “Says the man with the Domino’s number committed to memory. Yaar , it’s not just American pizza in India, it’s shite American pizza in India. You’re pathetic.”
“ I’m pathetic? I’m not the one upsetting the Bollywood apple cart just so I can be in movies with my ex-girlfriend. There’s one enormous snag in your cunning plan, by the way: Priya’s secretary told us to sod off.”
His brows rose in amusement. From what he knew of Kabir, the man was far too well mannered for such inventive directions. “Those exact words? Really?”
“Creative license.” Shaw smiled the thin-lipped smile that had always made their university professors nervous, because it usually preceded some brazen act of mischief. “Suffice it to say, your heartwarming onscreen reunion is off the table.”
“For now.” He shrugged and tapped his fingers on the countertop, thoughtfully. Rahul was a long-range planner, not so concerned with the short-term successes and failures. For instance, when he was in second year and Davey in his last term, hadn’t they spent four months plotting how to get the vice-chancellor’s desk out into the cricket pitch? They’d managed, of course. Brilliantly. “Remember old Grossy’s desk?”
Shaw chuckled, sipping at his wine. “Oh, so it’s to be that sort of a rout, is it? My deepest sympathies to Ms. Roy. She hasn’t got a chance. I hate cilantro, by the way.”
“Who hates dhania ? That’s just unnatural.” Rahul knew Davey was just taking the piss out of him but couldn’t resist repaying it in kind, scowling at him like a disapproving parent. “You’ll eat it, and you’ll damn well like it.”
The simmering rogan josh just needed the artistic garnish, the bulk of its flavor from the ground dhania he’d put in the lamb curry’s initial spice mix. In any form, coriander was Rahul’s favorite spice. It was rich and earthy, but with a surprising kick. Like Priya…
“Oh, do stop mooning over her.” Shaw shuddered. “You’ll make me lose my appetite.”
“As if you’re not lighting incense at your Sunita shrine every morning? And, since I’m on the subject, what about her? What are those chances, yaar ?”
“She loves me. Naturally. Who wouldn’t?” Sarcasm weighed down the answer like rocks sending it to the bottom of the sea. “Sunita’s got walls as high as the Qutb Minar, Rahul. I’m damned lucky that I’m a climber and used to
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