Two sides to every story

Two sides to every story

Vikram's version

Vikramaditya Chatwal. Vikram's liked the sound of his name when it was announced in the courtroom. But when it came to meeting a beautiful girl, especially one who was almost a decade younger than him, the name felt old, ancient even.

 But she didn't seemed to mind. In fact she did not mind anything about him- the extra pounds around his waist, his 70s music taste, his not-so-modern sense of fashion, his salt and pepper hair ( he preferred referring to his hair in that way, rather than the more honest 'grey hair'). She found it all sweet, alluring even.

It's not like it sounds. I know what you are thinking. I am sure terms like midlife crisis are crossing your mind. I know you will find it difficult to believe, but most of these things are not planned. They just happen. And you are powerless in the presence of the force of nature that we call fate.

Because it had to be fated. My meeting Sana. It was in the cards. And I was only playing the hand I was dealt.

I am not much of a reader. My wife Mishka is. Now, now don't jump to any conclusions. Am sure terms  like cheating a-hole are crossing your mind. But as I mentioned before, its not planned. It just happened. I beseech you to hear me out.

So as I was saying, I am not much of a reader. But for a certain case of mine, I needed to refer to this book called 'Not without my daughter', a true story about an American woman whose daughter was taken from her by her husband in Iran. I asked Mishka if she had read it, and her response was the usual eye roll which basically meant 'who hasn't', knowing fully well that I had not. I hated it when she acted like that. If you read books it does not give you a moral right of superiority over non-readers. But Mishka judged me for not being a reader. She never said so, but I knew she did.

But Mishka was a doer. She liked to take control of things. So she told me she will get me the book. And true to her word, in 2 days she passed me an old worn out copy of the book, "I had to get it from the second hand book store, as there were no new copies available at this time" she explained. I did not really mind, as it was merely a reference I needed. But when I started reading it, I was hooked. And the fact that it was a true story, made it even more appealing for me.

I was reading it one Saturday morning when Mishka was scheduled to teach her cooking class. I was glad she was further pursuing her passion for cooking, but having 5 chatty housewives at home on a Saturday morning, drove me up the wall.

So I took the book and left home to sit at my favourite cafe. A quiet  place, which was not very popular, and hence I liked it very much. I ordered my usual club sandwich and black coffee and I continued with my reading.

I looked up nearly half an hour later, to find a pretty young girl on the opposite table. Now usually I would ignore/ politely smile depending on how beautiful she was- forgive me, I am a man, somethings are just in our DNA. But with her I could not bear to look away. It's not like she was a stunning beauty, she was pretty enough for one to give a second glance, but it was because of her eyes. Yes I know you would think 'eyes' are so cliche. But she was crying, her big, beautiful, brown almond shaped eyes were moist with tears. And tears are my weakness. I cannot bear to see any girl cry. My friends tease me that I consider myself a knight in shinning armour out to rescue the damsels in distress- to be honest, I kinda do that, being a family and criminal lawyer. 

So back to that moment. The moment which if I would have let slide, my story would not be today what it is. But the moment did not simply pass. It was in that moment that I went up to her table, and asked her if she was OK. She looked up but hesitated slightly and then haltingly said "No I am not OK". 

Now I have not met many woman who admit such things honestly. Mishka had the annoying habit of always saying she was fine, when it was evident she was not. I was the expected to cajole information out of her and only after that could I console her. It gets rather tiring after a while.

So when this lovely girl opposite me with teary eyes admits to me that she is not OK, what else can I do, but sit down and ask her of she wanted to talk about it.

And that is how Sana entered my life. As I said. It was not planned. It simply happened.

Mishka's version

I always believed I was different. When I saw movies orTV soaps about adulterous affairs, I always blamed the husband, and not the 'other woman'. As he owes loyalty to his wife- she is just a stranger. A stranger with loose morals, but a stranger none the less. But like my mum used to say, it's easy to be idealistic when it's not your life.

We had been married three years. I met Vikram when I needed legal advice as my business was being sued. I can't say it was love at first sight, but I was a smitten-kitten. Vikram's was, actually still is, very handsome and exceedingly charming. So after a year of courtship, we got married. 

And after three years, he fell in love, again. Or may be it is for the first time. May be he never really loved me. Trip- my assistant and good friend (Tripti)- keeps reminding me to not dwell in self pity. She wants me divorce him on grounds of infidelity, take half of his property in alimony, and his future earnings in maintenance and take in a toy-boy for good measure. She even has a short-list ready. Now the thought does seem attractive, but at that point I was incapable of any action.

So I cried. A lot. I have not been much of a crier. I am the 'get off your ass and do something' kind of person. But I felt cheated! Yes I know I was cheated on. So it's right to feel cheated. But I felt cheated because the thought of separating came to me many times over the past few years, but I did not act on it. I persevered,as I believed marriage is for keeps. So I tried, till I guess I stopped trying. But went through the motions. So I felt cheated by fate  as fate intervened in his life and got him to leave. Why could something not have happened to me which made me leave?

All I was interested in knowing was WHY. Was she prettier than me? Younger? Heard she was. But that can't be the reason alone can it? Was she more interesting? More fun? Better in bed? What was the damn reason!? That's all what I wanted to know.

Trip advised me that obsessing about her won't get me anywhere. We always used 'her' and 'she' when we referred to her. Like taking her name would make her real. Except she was real. She was the real reason my husband was leaving me.

Vikram's version

Mishka wants to meet Sana. Seriously! I don't understand it. I have told her kindly, yet firmly that I could not continue living with her. I offered to pay her the rightful alimony and maintenance. All I wanted was a fuss-free divorce. It's ironic, being a family lawyer myself, I know there is nothing like a fuss-free divorce. It always gets messy as emotions are involved. But usually it's about the kid's custody the joint property, the monies. Never in my experience about the wife wanting to meet the girl. Sorry I cannot refer to Sana as the 'other woman'. 

Things had started to unravel slowly between Mishka and I, once the first year of marriage was over. May be even before that. You can never remember the exact time can you? Was it because we had different interests? She loved to read and I loved to hike. She never owned a pair of trainers till she met me. I barely managed to get her to walk to the cr park, let alone climb mountains. Or was it because I kept late hours? I had recently left a firm and was starting on my own, so what did she expect? I reach home everyday by 7 pm and we have the dinner that she had lovingly prepared  together? She was a wonderful cook. It's no wonder as she is the culinary business. But sometimes it felt like I was the one she experimented her new creations on, rather than the husband who simply wanted his favourite sabzi and dal for dinner. 

As I was saying, I don't know when things went sour. Actually they never really went sour. We did not argue or fight too much. But we stopped talking. We spoke to each other more in public, than we did when we were alone together. We drifted apart. I guess, it's the simplest way to explain it.

And Sana walked into my life like the proverbial breath of fresh air. She enjoyed listening to me, she liked sharing stories about herself. Enjoying someone's company...is that too much to expect from the person you are sharing your life with? 

May be its because she is younger than I am, but Sana looks up to me. Not in an idolising way. Just in the simple way that my opinions matter to her. She wants to involve me in her decisions- big and small ones. It was all very new to me...and I realised I liked these feelings very much. Her vulnerability was attractive to me. I wanted to protect her from all the bad and evil things in the world.

We slowly gravitated towards each other.  And before I knew it, I had fallen for her. 

Coming back to the present...I don't know what to do with Mishka's insistence on meeting Sana. Sana says we should get it over and done with. I am still uncertain and frankly, rather apprehensive. 

Mishka's version

So finally Vikram got around to letting me meet with her. We are meeting next week at coffee shop, a neutral environment that no one feels threatened in. 

The day seemed to drag on. Tired of moping around the house, I decided to go to the mall. I am not really a mall kind of person, but that day I felt like being a in crowd of people so I can walk about aimlessly and not be alone.

And then I saw them. Vikram and Her. She was driving the car and he was siting in the passenger seat. She seemed like a pretty confident driver, and was driving slightly faster than the speed limit. They got pulled over by a traffic cop. I know it's silly, but I parked my car on the side, away from sight, and watched them. It was Vikram who got out of the car and apologised to the cop. He discreetly pulled out 200 rupees and handed in to the cop. They were then let go. 

It may seem like an ordinary scene to you all. But it shook me. If it were us, and I was driving, I would have managed it all on my own. I would have looked at any help from Vikram as an insult, like I am not capable of managing a situation. I don't know why, but I am sure that Sana was more than capable of managing too, but she preferred to let him do it. 

After that I could not help myself. Like a car crash that you can't look away from, I could not look away from them. I had to know what happened next. I followed their car, and finally walked behind them as they entered the mall.

Unlike us, they did not split and went different ways to do their own stuff and met 20 minutes before leaving the mall for a coffee. They walked together hand in hand, and stopped at various places, some which Vikram would have wanted- like the ice-cream stall where she did not even take an ice-cream. And some which were obviously what she liked, like the accessory store. Here he indulged her patiently, letting her try different earrings, keep them back, pick them up again. She sort his opinion for every little purchase and he was enjoying the process.

At the food court, he was the one who found the seat, made sure she was comfortable, asked her what she wanted and then got her all that, and more. She was enjoying the attention, but what amazed me more, was that he was loving giving it to her. 

And it then struck me. The plain truth. Vikram needed to be needed. And she enjoyed letting him feel needed. 

He wanted to take care of her. And I never let him take care of me. 

Vikram's version

I was surprised (and relieved) to get a call from Mishka saying she did not want to meet Sana anymore. She was willing to sign the divorce papers too.

I don't know what happened for her to change her mind, but I did not want to dwell on it.

I went over and told Sana the good news. When she rushed into my arms, her eyes brimming with tears, I held her tight. I wiped her tears, kissed her forehead lightly and promised to take care of her forever. She said she could not think of anything she could want more.

There are 2 sides to every story, but there usually is one truth. And here the truth was that Mishka never really needed Vikram. And Vikram  wanted to be with someone who did. 

Top 10 reasons why I CANNOT live in Paris forever

1) I did not see ANY schools. Sanil will probably need to be a chef apprentice at 10

2) I can't have east access to idli/dosa/ chat and Hindi movies in cinema whenever I want

3) I would have to learn about fashion labels and become fashionable ( a pretty inconceivable feat for me)

4) I would be too faraway from Bombay

5) There is a strong probability that I would not survive a winter

6) I would get FAT with the excess carb and sugar intake

7) I would have to learn French beyond, Bonjour, Bon soir, cafe noizette, Oui, non, s'il vous plait, pardon, exucez-moi and c'est la vie

8) I would have to stop being terrified of stunning, slim, glamorous and proud women- which is 80% of the Parisienne female population

9) I would have to learn to live in tiny apartments and climb thousand steps everyday 

10) I would simply miss Asia far too much

Top 10 reasons why I can live in Paris forever

1) My hair will hardly ever be frizzy due to the low humidity. Think of the money I would save in hair products 

2) It is pretty much guaranteed that any half decent boulangerie will serve lovely croissants and pain  au chocolat

3) I could walk, walk and walk in a city steeped in history and beauty. Without sweating/fainting/dying of dehydration

4) I could sleep on the grass in jardins for 'quiet time'

5) I could wear scarves, boots and coats and look glam 

6) I could have a summer house in Nice

7) I could fly to London, Madrid or Rome on a whim

8) I could have a glass/bottle of Chablis and awesome cheese and not pay an arm and leg for it

9) Suave European men :)

10) It's Paris man! I would be living the dream!!

City Crush

City Crush

I am a city girl. I love going on holidays to small towns, beach resorts, mountains, but I need to live in a big city. I cannot imagine myself living in a small town. And it's strange because it's not that I love the fast life or night clubs or crowded streets for that matter. 

But still, I have to live in a big city. I love the feel, the vibe, the energy and the amazing variety of people one can meet. Life is never dull in a big city, there is always something at every turn which surprises you, shocks you even. I love these little surprises and the adventures they bring with them.

My favourite city is and will always be Bombay, or Mumbai as Sanil insist I call it ("because you are Indian and not British, you should use the Indian name"- as he explained sternly to me). I have written a few posts on Bombay- both in poem and prose- so I won't  dwell on that here. 

I remember a conversation with a friend many years ago where he explained how left a city he loved, for his girlfriend. I told him I could understand that it was a tough decision - choosing between a city and a girl, both of which you love. And then I added "The only difference is that girlfriend may leave, but the city will always be there!". He simply nodded in complete agreement. 

There are some cities I knew since I was little that I would LOVE. I had only read fiction novels based in these cities, but I just KNEW. One of those cities is New York. I read 'I'll take Manhattan' by Judith Krantz when I was 15. And I fell in love with Manhattan. I did not visit it until I was in my mid-20s. And it was like I was meant to be there. I could see myself living in Manhattan and loving it.

Then there are some cities which surprise you. I never wanted to visit Hong Kong. As I felt it would be like Bombay only with Chinese people. So why bother, when I have lived and loved the original. I know! Pre-conceived biased notions are not a good thing. But unfortunately, I have a few of them. 

However HK disarmed me. I forgot all about what I thought about it, and allowed it to introduce me to itself. Since my first visit I have been back a few times on both work and pleasure, and city grows more and more on me each time. I have not been to able to go over and say hello in the last few years, and need to change that soon. 

I believe that every city has a soul. A soul that makes it what it is. Cities breathe like you and I. They have suffered, they have cried and they have mourned. They have laughed, they have sung and they have celebrated. And it's because of all this, they have a history and they have memories. 

Another city I knew I would fall in love with is Paris. I know it's a cliche, who does not love Paris? But the connection I knew I would feel, am feeling it every minute of everyday that I am here. It's simply magical!

Am sure Paris remembers its plight during the two World Wars. Like New York who still fears that the Great Depression may pay a visit with every recession. Or Bombay which has given as 'dowry' in 1661 by the King of Portugal to King Charles II of England when he married the Portuguese princess, Catherine of Braganza only to find itself now as nothing short of a Bollywood diva.  

Every building, nook and cranny  in every city has a story to tell. Stories of people who lived there, of cafes that were once the talk of the town, of movie theatres that have seen silent black and white films. 

Paris has romance in its soul. That's why even today it's called the city of love. Ambition finds itself as an integral part of New York's soul. And Bombay is like the beautiful but ageing prostitute with a heart of gold. 

When we each visit or stay in any city, we leave behind a part of our souls. Our histories and memories and those of the city become intertwined. Thats why I adore old cities. Can you imagine the number of people who have passed through these cities over the hundreds of years? The cities touched each one of their lives in different ways and the people made the history of the cities a little richer.

A city is capable of love. A city accepts you as you are. A city embraces your eccentricities and makes it it's own. That's how all big cities have a bohemian area which thrives on it's residents individualities. 

There is nothing better than walking through a city that's steeped in history. There is no better way to discover its secrets and enjoys its pleasures. I urge you all the walk the trails that many before you have walked, but trust me, what you will take out of it will be unique and special to you alone.

For now, I am continuing my Paris walks, drinking in every sight (along with an occasional glass of Chablis), savouring every experience (and not just the macaroons), and thoroughly enjoying every step along this walk.

It's great I have packed my pink Hush Puppies shoes.

Written on 30 July 

At Shakespeare and Company in Paris and the Paris Plages

A short story by Seema Punwani

IF THIS WERE ANY OTHER LOVE STORY..

A short story by Seema Punwani

- "Rahul. Naam toh  suna hoga".

- "I am Maya"

- "If it were Simran, it would be so Dilwale Dulhaniya"

- "That would be possible, but you are 'Rahul' not 'Raj' from Dilwale Dulhaniya. You were quoting Dil Toh Pagal Hai, hence 'Maya' and not 'Simran'.

- "Damn! The line has worked every time before. And it's never been this complex!"

- "There is always a first time...'Rahul'. Don't take it so badly"

And that is how Anay and Mishka first met. 

- "So... is your name really Maya?"

- "If your name is really Rahul"

And with that Mishka smiled, tossed her head, turned and left. As Anay watched her go, he felt a strange sense of loss. But pursuing girls was not his style. They came to him. So he turned the other way and walked away too.

A few seconds later he turned, only to catch her look back too. She laughed out aloud, while holding her hair back from the breeze. She then winked at him, with a mischievous glint her her eye... And then...she was gone.

Anay felt his heart skip a beat and he ran to get her real name and number, only to have a red BEST bus zoom past him and stop him in his tracks. It was a 255. He will still remember the bus number many years later.

If this were any other love story, Mishka would be waiting at opposite side of the road, waiting for bus to pass. But this is not any other love story, so here Anay and Mishka met for the first time and parted ways too. It was 4 July 2008.

On her way home Mishka stopped at the vegetable stall at Juhu Church and picked up some coriander and lime. Tomorrows snack menu was wada pau, and she needed to go home and make a fresh pot of green chutney. Upon reaching home she debated between watching Grey's Anatomy or head to bed. Common sense prevailed and she went to sleep as she had to wake up at 5 am everyday.

Mishka ran a 'dabba' or tiffin service and the dabbawala was at her doorstep at 7am to pick up the 50 tiffin carriers that she prepared fresh each morning. Today's menu was chicken kheema, chapatis, raita, moong dal and wada pau for snack.

Mishka made the chutney first thing in the morning and added her own secret ingredient- peanuts. It is not a common found ingredient in green chutney, but it was her special touch. It added texture and gave the chutney a distinct 'Mishka flavor' as she liked to think of it.

Mishka's parents had named her Mythalie and her nickname became Mishti- which meant 'sweet' in Bengali. Mishka had spent her childhood years in Kolkatta and though neither of her parents were Bengalis, her mum was obsessed with all things 'bong'. And thus Mishti was what everyone called her.

When she was 18 and moved to Bombay to study, the first thing she did was to re-christen herself 'Mishka'. The name was inspired by her love for Russian literature. While other girls read Mills & Boons, Mishka re-read Anna Karenina for the umpteenth time. While other girls had their noses in crime fiction novels by Agatha Christie, Mishka could not put down her worn-out copy of Crime and Punishment.

Mishka studied Arts and Literature at Xavier's. It was an obvious choice and had received a nod of approval from both her parents. After graduation, it was expected of her to do her Masters and take up a respectable teaching job, followed by marrying a boy- need not be chosen by her parents, but should come from a 'cultured family' and should be a Chartered Accountant or Doctor or at least an Engineer. But Mishka had other plans for herself. She joined Dadar Catering College to learn professional cooking.

Mishka had to fly down to Kolkatta to console her mother and explain that it did not mean she hated her mum's food and it also did not mean her mum could not teach her to cook. 

After the initial shock and heart palpitations that Mishka gave her parents and family, everyone slowly settled down. And Mishka went on with her life. She was happiest when she was in the kitchen cooking, experimenting, tasting and feeding her friends her new creations.

After she finished catering school, Mishka took a loan from her dad and started her tiffin business. She dedicated it to her mum and called it 'Mishti's'. Within a year she had broken even, and within the following year she returned her dad's loan, with interest. By this time Mishka's mum had given up all hope of her marriage, and Mishka was left pretty much to her own devices

That day would have been an ordinary day, with everyday chores and humdrum routine. But that was not the case. It would be remembered as the day Anay and Mishka would curse each other for the rest of their lives.

Per normal, Mishka sent off the tiffins and left to buy the groceries for next days menu. Her phone was on silent so she did not notice the 12 missed calls from her assistant, Tripti. Upon reaching home a surprised Mishka called Trip ( as Tripti ordained she must be called. And well, Mishka always respected people who changed their names and insisted everyone call them that).

Trip picked up the phone with panic in her voice and told Mishka she was coming over as she could not explain what happened over the phone. Mishka was pacing up and down her balcony till Trip arrived anxiously wondering about what possibly could have happened. 

When the doorbell rang, Mishka nearly jumped out of her skin. She ran to open the door to see a rain-drenched Trip with an extremely worried expression. Mishka made her sit down and slowly Trip explained what happened.

One of Mishka's clients, a Ms. Kate D'costa, had called up Trip and informed her that her boss was going to sue 'Mishtis's' as despite giving strict instructions about his allergies, the food in the tiffin contained peanuts. 

Mishka then realized her mistake! She had one customer from an advertising agency whose PA had filled the registration form informing about his allergies. Mishka always prepared his tiffin separately from the rest as he was allergic to peanuts, cashew nuts, almonds- well all nuts actually- and shellfish also. However today as none of the items needed any of these ingredients, Mishka did not cook his meal separately. Except she forgot about the chutney!

The gentleman, named Anay Mathur, was now in the hospital because of Mishka's special touch of peanuts.

If this were any other love story, this day would be known as the day Anay would tell their grand kids  as 'the day when your grandmum nearly killed your grandad'. But this is not any other love story. So here this day will be known as the day when Anay was in hospital while Mishka met her future husband.

Trip assured her that the customer was out of danger, but her business could be in peril. As Mr. Anay Mathur was going to sue 'Mishtis's' for negligence.Trip advised Miskha to get legal advice at the earliest.

Mishka was not even sure where to begin! She has anticipated many things going wrong when running ones own business, but being sued was not one of them. She got in touch with Fixit. His name was actually Farhan, but since college days he was called Fixit as he fixed everyone's problems or at least introduced them to people who would do so.

And that is how Mishka met Vikramaditya Chatwal, Attorney at Law.

To say it was love at first sight, would be a lie. But to say Mishka was not smitten, would also be lying. When the very existence of what you have created with so much affection and passion is under threat, you naturally look to the person who is helping you save it as your messiah. And a wee bit of smitten-ness is only natural. 

Vikram did a great job of defending Mishka's interests, business interests strictly. To be honest, her family lawyer who had drafted her initial business contract had done a good job in CYA (covering your ass) or what's referred to as terms and conditions in legal language. They clearly stated that at any dietary specifications were limited to main food and could not be extended to accomplishments (in this case the chutney). This was drafted as most accompaniments tended to be store bought, and hence out of the business owner's control. The fact that the chutney was made by hand by Mishka herself was a small technicality that Vikram easily exploited.

Mishka did not need to meet Anay or even his lawyers for that matter. Vikram handled it all very admirably. For Mishka he was nothing short of her knight in shining armor. Handsome, charming and extremely attentive...what more could a girl ask for? And he was a lawyer! What more could the girl's mother ask for?

Within a year of wooing (on Vikram's part), swooning (on Mishka's part) and dating (naturally on both their parts), they got married. 

4 Dec 2011. Rustomji welcomed Mishka to Brittania. She was one of his favorite customers. Sorab the head waiter knew her order by heart. So Mishka settled comfortably at her table and started reading 'Persuasion'- it was the only Jane Austen she had surprisingly not read as yet. 

"Kem cho dikra", she heard Rustomji's loud voice yell. She looked up to see 'Rahul' standing 2 feet away from her. She still remembered him as 'Rahul' and thought about that day sometimes and wondered 'what if' to herself. 

It had been 3 years. She did not think he would remember. Little did she know that Anay remembered every little detail of that day very vividly. And he looked back at that day rather wistfully over the past years.

So when he saw her, his face broke out into a huge smile. He went up to her with a cheeky grin and said "Rahul. Naam toh  suna hoga". Mishka laughed out aloud, extended her hand and introduced herself as 'Maya'. 

Anay had imagined the scene when he would bump into Mishka countless times in his head, and in all those scenes, she was still his 'Maya'. He was thrilled that this was panning out just as he had imagined.

"Well this is just like 'Serendipity' with John Cusack and Diane Lane" said Anay.

"You are thinking of 'Must love dogs'. 'Serendipity' had Kate Beckinsale. I can see your movie references are still all messed up". She still had that mischievous glint in her eye, it had not faded one bit, thought Anay fondly.

"Well, I have never met anyone before who has done a PhD in movie lines" retorted Anay laughingly. "Mind of I sit down?"

She hesitated, but only slightly, before extending her hand to the chair next to her.

He sat down and contemplated deeply while reviewing the menu. "Berry pulao. That's the speciality here" advised Mishka.

"Oh I do know that, but I love their boti kebab as well".

"Why don't we order both and share?" suggested Mishka

"Excellent idea! But I won't share the caramel custard later", replied Anay, much to Mishka's amusement.

Suddenly looking up from the menu, Anay said, "You know what I hate"

"You mean besides girls who correct your movie reference pick-up lines?"

- "Yeah besides that. I hate that nowadays there is no mystery in meeting people. You know their life history down to the last meal they ate, all thanks to Facebook"

- "I know! It leaves no room for surprises!"

- "So what do you say, that for today, you be 'Maya' and let me be 'Rahul'"

-"I would really like that!"

With that 'Rahul' and 'Maya' settled into a comfortable conversation about everything under the sun, except telling each other their real names and professions.

After polishing off 2 caramel custards, each, the time had come to leave the cafe. Anay refused to let Mishka split the bill, and then they found themselves in the awkward moment, when neither wanted to leave, but they did not know how to ask the other to stay.

Anay looked up at the December sky and commented how it was his favorite time of the year. Mishka took the bait and complimented the beautiful breeze and suggested an after-lunch stroll. It was just what Anay was hoping for!

They walked towards Gateway of India and sat on the wall by the sea and played 'Spot the tourist'. Mishka explained that it was a game she and her friends had invented when they were in college and came here when they bunked their lectures. Gateway of India had hordes of visitors everyday. It attracted locals and tourists alike. 

Anay began, - "The family on your right, posing for the camera. Definitely out of towners"

- "Umm...good first attempt, but you got lucky. Camera is such an obvious clue!. The teenage couple feeding the pigeons- locals, but from the suburbs like Boravali or Vasai"

- "That is ridiculous! How can you possibly know something so specific?!?"

- "Cause they are too young to come to Bombay by themselves, and the way she has tied her hair in a braid, its obvious she is not from around here. Elementary my dear Watson"

- "So now you are quoting 'James Bond' to me?"

Mishka was about to yell 'No, Sherlock Holmes', but she saw Anay's cheeky grin and stopped herself while laughing out aloud.

Anay felt his heart skip a beat again, just like it had 3 years ago. Except this time he was not willing to let the moment pass. He took her hand and led her down the road. Mishka could not get herself to put a stop to this, even though she knew it was so wrong

They both needed their caffeine fix and went to Gaylords for coffee and cake. Mishka found herself telling him her childhood stories from Kolkatta and how now she could not consider any place other than Bombay home. Anay told her how he could see that. As she had no qualms about calling 'Calcutta' by its Indian name, but could get herself to call Bombay, Mumbai. 

Anay talked about how he grew up in America and never imagined he could live in India. And now he could not dream of a life anywhere else. Even though he travelled all over with his job from Budapest to Boston and Melbourne to Milan, Mumbai was still what he considered home. He explained that he came to the city after its rechristening, so calling it Mumbai is what felt right to him, not Bombay.

They went for a stroll to Marine Drive...still holding hands. By this time the sun was setting and it was the perfect time to sit down and look out into the Arabian sea. They sat quietly for what seemed like hours, their bodies closer, hands help tighter and Mishka's head on Anay's shoulder. She felt terribly guilty, however could not bear to let whatever was happening, and probably going to happen,stop. 

Anay could feel exactly what she was thinking. He did not want the evening to end either. But they could not sit like this forever, even though he did not want anything more.

He suggested having the famous sandwich ice-cream at Churchgate. Mishka's eye lit up and they walked towards the ice-cream stall. 

Anay had never seen anyone eat an ice-cream so sensuously. She removed the wrapper with utmost care, and slowly let her tongue caress the ice-cream. She then took a small lick, closed her eyes, and murmured 'ummm'. She then open her eyes to find Anay gaping at her with is jaw hanging. She should have been embarrassed, but for some reason she felt confident, almost brazen. And she simply continued savoring the ice-cream in the same way, while Anay struggled to look away while finishing off his ice-cream.

Short of nothing to say, he blurted, "This is just like the scene from 'For love or money' where Helen Slayter drinks water from the fountain and Michael J Fox can't stop staring". Mishka stopped eating, and shook her head slowly, "Well at least you got the actors right this time, but the movie you are thinking of is 'The secret of my success'".

"Well I give up! No more movie references. Ever."

"What would happen to all those pick-up lines then?" 

"I am hoping I never need to use them again", and with that he leaned forward and kissed her lips. He could taste the sweet strawberry, while she felt her lips feeling the chocolate. Suddenly she pushed him away and tried to move back. Anay pulled her towards him, held her from the waist and for the first time in his life begged..."Please stay". As she looked into his eyes she saw a fervent desire for her that she had never experienced before. She dropped her ice-cream to the floor and rushed into his arms. And stayed there for what felt like eternity.

As the stars came out in the sky, they continued their stroll. This time stopping every few minutes to kiss. And never once leaving each others hands.

They indulged in every cheesy cliche in the book, the Victoria ride, the late night strawberries and cream at 'Bachelors', the long drive back with Kishore Kumar and Lata songs on the radio. 

But the night had to end at sometime. 

Mishka  felt the need to be bound by their initial agreement and refused to let Anay drop her home. She got off at Bandra station, which meant she lived anywhere between Bandra and the end of the Western suburbs. Anay would have no way of finding out where.

Mishka entered her Juhu apartment close to midnight. She could not bear to think about the days events, as she knew she would break down into unending tears. In such cases, routine always helped. She decided to watch the Grey's Anatomy episode which had taped the previous night. And made a mental list of the next days menu. She reminded herself to not marinate the chicken afghani with egg, as one of her customers was allergic to egg. 

Which made her think of the last time she had forgotten a customer's allergies and it had lead to her meeting her now ex-husband Vikram. The problem with having a handsome, charming, extremely attentive lawyer as a husband is that there are many other smitten clients besides the wife.

If this were any other love story, Mishka would be calling Rustomji tomorrow to get Anay's number. 

But because this is NOT any other love story, Mishka shed a tear remembering how Anay slipped his wedding ring off his finger and hid it in his pocket, just before he had approached her table that afternoon. 

Parting note from the writer- There are many 'Rahul & Mayas' and 'Raj & Simrans'. But there are also many 'Anay & Mishkas'. Coz happy endings are not for everyone.

Of nearly missing trains and the DDLJ hangover

If you are in Europe , then nearly missing a train is an integral part of the experience. I blame it on the  DDLJ-Train hangover caused my Shahrukh and Kajol...and well Karan Johar.

I was not going to write a blog post for Nice, as it was a lovely but uneventful few days. No drama, no worries. Spend days walking around old town, lazing by the beach, swimming in the ocean, eating great fish, drinking nice wine, and sleeping in all kinds of places- on the train, on the beach, in a restaurant sofa which was by the beach, on the bus...it was simply perfect. Peace and quiet. Just what the doctor ordered.

Except at the very end...

As usual I had my last morning in Nice planned to a T. Final touches of packing, charging the mobile phone and iPad, having a relaxed breakfast in the balcony overseeing the ocean for the last time. I even had my travel clothes laid out from the previous night, so I could shower and scoot.

My train for Aix-en-provenance was for 10.57 am. So I decided to leave at 9.45 am. And woke up by 7.45 am. Now it all would have been more than sufficient time, had I not checked with the B&B hostess. She mentioned it would take 20 to 25 mins to the station, by tram, so I decided to leave slightly after 10 am. Also I came to the B&B the same route  so what could possible go wrong, right? WRONG!

Now if only I had relied on simple logic, rather than my memory, I would have been fine. I remembered the email from the B&B saying 'tram stop Pont Michel'. So I assumed the stop I took the tram FROM was Pont Michel. So I took the tram towards it. But it did not seem right...as I remembered coming in this direction, so while going back, I should be taking the other direction no? Like I said, I should have relied on logic. And not my failing memory.

I still took that tram and the second I entered, I knew I had taken the wrong call. So after some serious internal debate, I decided to get off at the next stop. Crossed over, bought another ticket and this time took the train towards the station, aptly called 'Gare Theirs'- which should have given me the hint, as 'Gare' is French for station.

By this time I was terrified of looking at the time. And little good would that do, as I would either make it, or not.

So I waited patiently in the tram, taking in the beautiful Nice sights for one last time, and as soon as my stop came, I ran. I said 'pardon' a lot which can be used for 'sorry' or 'excuse me' and ultimately reached the station...almost breathless.

Now I am extremely anal when it comes to travel instructions. I read carefully, I check, I double-check, I cross reference, I ask, and as I am from Singapore, I also 'double confirm', before I make my way towards the platform/gate. And then I follow the same process before getting on the train/bus.

But there was no time for any such protocol today. I had memorized my train and coach number while on the tram. I looked up at the giant screen, found the train number but it did not say Aix, it said Marseilles. Now I took the leap of faith that the train would have multiple stops and Aix would be one of them. I saw 'voie B' which I safely assumed to mean platform B. I looked for the way to it, and it was surprisingly easy to locate. Went down 2 flight of steps, ran through a seemingly endless corridor- had a worried mum move her little boy out of the way, as I yelled 'pardon', and found my way to the platform. Now of course, with my luck my coach was the last one, and the previous one had a bunch of 15 school kids trying to get in. Seriously!

I finally got in, put my suitcase away and found my seat. And then it stuck me, because I had not followed my strict protocol, what if I was on the wrong train? So I asked the girl next me if this was the train for Aix. She was very sweet, but her command of English was rather poor to say the least. I think she thought I was telling her that she was on my seat. So she showed me her ticket and I cross referenced the train number- it was the same. I gave her big smile, said  merci beaucoup and sat on my seat heaving a big sigh of relief!

The train journey was beautiful, managed to get a window seat and saw the stunning French Riveria coastline and watched the landscape slowly change to green plains as we got closer to Aix.

It's embarrassing to admit...but I nearly missed getting off the train. I only managed to  within seconds of the door closing.  The queue for the restroom was too long, so I almost could not get off. But thankfully the stars were in my favor, and I jumped off the train...literally. 

So that is the story of how I nearly missed getting on (and off) my train.

Of course, if I hadn't got on, there could have been a DDLJ opportunity with a younger SRK. (He was tolerable in his younger days, to the extent of being pretty cute).

But well, we would never know now will we? :)

P.s. for my non-Indian readers (may be I am being presumptuous that I have any), but if there are, here is the link to the famous DDLJ scene- it has become one of those defying Indian cinema moments.

When he helps her get on the train- http://m.youtube.com/watch?feature=plpp&v=wSXVqZi98qg

When they both miss their train- http://m.youtube.com/watch?feature=plpp&v=Mz0qxJIqy8Q

Just Be- dedicated to Unni

Just Be

Dedicated to my friend Unnati who constantly reminds me to 'Just Be' and live in the present


Don't dwell on the past
Don't  worry about the future

Just Be

Give nostalgia a miss
Send it off with a kiss
Think about the next day's survival
Only after its arrival

Just Be

FEEL the breeze
Let it tease
SEE the sky
Watch the clouds drift by

Just Be

Savor every bite
Take in every sight
Relish every hour
Caress it like a flower

Just Be

What is today
May not stay that way
What will come tomorrow
May be joy or sorrow

What could've been, should've been, would've been
No one has really seen

So why think of it now?
When we simply don't know how
We didn't know then
We won't know when

The only thing that's certain
Is this very minute

So I hope you can see
Why you simply need to 

Just Be

(Written on the beach in Nice, France)