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Almost a month had gone by since Amit and Naina had joined the firm. It was lunch time again and Amit couldn’t help but notice that Naina was still having the same menu for lunch: papayas and unsweetened plain yoghurt.
That day, Amit saw a man, probably from a nearby eatery, asking lawyers sitting at the dining table as to whether they wanted to order some South Indian food like idli, dosas or uttapam. He noticed Naina’s face lighting up. She looked at her papayas a little hesitatingly, and then decided to order a plate of dosa and coconut chutney.
Amit felt strangely relieved that this time Naina was going to have something proper. Watching her eat those papayas made his stomach grumble, as if he was going to starve himself.
The dosa and the coconut chutney soon landed at Naina’s table. Amit observed that the dosa was brown but not crisp the way it should be. Probably the condensation while bringing the dosa from the eatery to the Mauryan Estate had done the damage. However, this didn’t appear to deter Naina. He could see her, somewhat uncharacteristically, pouncing on her dosa and coconut chutney with absolute abandonment.
As if this was the comfort food she was missing till now! Amit could notice a big change in Naina’s facial expression. Her eyes became wide with joy and a subtle smile creased her cheeks. She tore a piece of the dosa with her hand, dipped it in coconut chutney and put it in her mouth. She was eating rather fast, as if she hadn’t eaten for days.
The watery coconut chutney would at times flow from her palms to her wrist. Instead of dabbing that with a paper napkin, as Amit would have probably done, Naina would lick the chutney in one go, just as any expert South Indian diner would do. Her tongue would lick her wrist first, then move upwards towards her palm and her fingers.
Some people would find the sight disgusting but then some people find eating without cutlery also somewhat ungainly. Back in London, Amit would remember explaining to his British friends as to why Indian food was neither amenable to chopsticks nor to forks and knives. In fact, in the Indian restaurants in the five-star hotels in Delhi, there will be no cutlery on the table unless you asked for it.
Naina was a highly sophisticated girl, who could speak perfect English, and dress and walk like a model. She was fully aware of all the latest fashion and make-up trends. She, of course, had an attitude, and Amit had had a full dose of that first-hand. But now he realised that deep inside her, Naina was a simple girl, who missed her South Indian comfort food.
And the best part was that she could unabashedly use her hands to eat and lick the way only a South Indian could. Amit liked that, the fact that she was proud of her roots and her culture, and that included her way of eating. She didn’t forget who she was and where she came from.
Naina continued to lick her wrist, palms and her fingers totally oblivious of the discomfort on the faces of some other obviously North Indian diners on the table. The faint smile of satisfaction too continued to crease her face.
“Hey Naina. How is it going,” someone said joining her at the table. It was Priyansha, Naina’s friend from her university days in Pune.
“Hey Priyansha. What’s up?” said Naina.
“Do you remember Kanika from Pune?” asked Priyansha.
Naina paused to gather her thoughts.
“Yah. What about her?” said Naina.
“She is getting married,” said Priyansha with a big grin.
Naina was about to snort out all the stuff she was eating.
“Oh my God! I can’t believe that. She was the one who changed her boyfriend every week saying that it was not in her nature to remain committed to one fellow. What happened to all that?” asked Naina.
“Well. She said that she has changed. She wants to settle down and be a home maker. She finally wants to be committed,” said Priyansha.
“I can’t believe that. I can’t. Oh my God, I just cannnnnnnnnnnn’t,” Naina said and started laughing almost falling off her chair.
Amit was taken aback. This was the first time he was seeing Naina laugh. And what a hearty laughter, it was. In that moment, she seemed so full of life. Her face was glowing. Her eyes were sparkling. And her mouth was wide open as if it was never going to close.
She resembled the bubbly girl that Amit would sometimes imagine in his dreams. Watching her laugh, he couldn’t control himself and burst out into a laughter. Naina turned around and looked at him straight into his eyes.
“So you have been eavesdropping on our conversations, you one hell of a naughty boy,” Naina said with a big grin on her face revealing her front teeth.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you were so loud that the entire cafeteria could hear you without a problem. I didn’t need to stretch myself at all,” Amit said somewhat apologetically, yet with a smile.
“Very smart. But may I ask you something?” Naina said.
“Yah. Go ahead?” Amit said not knowing what was coming next. Was she going to be mad at him as always or was it going to be a friendly gossip?
“What type of rice do you eat? It has such a lovely flavour,” asked Naina.
Amit took it as a compliment and replied, “It is Basmati, from Jammu.”
“I have seen that you always bring food from home and never eat anything from outside. Any specific reasons? Are you very health conscious?” asked Naina.
“Well I actually love my home food. It makes me feel good. I have realised that eating out makes me sluggish,” replied Amit.
“You got to be kidding. Nobody is like that. Are you saying that you don’t eat junk food?” said Naina, her curiosity growing even further.
“Most of the time I don’t. But sometimes I don’t mind having a pizza or a hamburger,” said Amit.
“Why be so health conscious all the time? We all love junk food,” said Naina.
“Well, well, well. Look who’s talking. For the past month, I have only seen you surviving on cut papayas and unsweetened plain yoghurt. What’s that?” asked Amit with a chuckle.
“Oh it is only sometimes, when I’m in a hurry to pack my lunch box. Not always,” said Naina blushing.
“Really? I have seen you having that day after day. And you are accusing me of being health conscious? Nice!” said Amit with a mischievous grin on his face.
Priyansha broke into laughter. “Why don’t you tell him that you are on a 700 calorie diet? And the things you were telling me. ‘I want to be thin, I want to fly, I want to look the hottest girl for my sister’s wedding next year, blah, blah, blah...”
Naina’s face turned red with embarrassment. “It’s nothing like that,” she continued. Priyansha looked at her with disbelief.
“Is that so? But you look great, Naina. You look exceptionally well-toned and exercised. You don’t need to be on a 700 calorie diet. You should eat normally,” Amit said.
Naina looked at him with surprise. Nobody had told her that. She had only heard her boyfriend saying all the time that she should look thinner.
She took out her mobile phone and asked if she could add Amit to her BBM circle. Amit nodded and did the same with her number. Amit was amused how in this world of Apples and Windows, corporate lawyers were still addicted to their BlackBerrys in the name of security.
“Let’s go up to the roof top,” Naina said and got up. Almost everyone trooped out of the cafeteria into the long corridor that led straight to the roof top. It was a bright and sunny winter day. Most of the skyscrapers of downtown Delhi were nicely visible from there. Amit could see the Inter-Continental on the left and the Statesman building on the right.
Naina took out a cigarette that she was carrying in her purse and lit up. Watching her smoke put Amit off. He didn’t smoke, drink or do drugs.
“When did you start smoking?” asked Amit, barely able to hide the disgust in his voice.
“When I was in college. My friends used to smoke, so I also picked it up,” said Naina.
“Why do people smoke I’ve always wondered?” Amit asked.
“Hey that’s a good question. Why do people smoke? Even I am curious to know,” said Priyansha.
“I don’t know. I thought that smoking made me look smarter. It was more of a fashion statement to me,” Naina said.
“I think you are right,” Amit said.
Naina continued, exhaling smoke.
“What’s your favourite colour?” she asked.
“Mine. I don’t have any. How about you?” Amit was taken aback.
“That’s smart. You always ask a counter-question when I ask a question. Red is my favourite colour,” Naina said with a smile.
Amit listened. She continued:
“I like everything red. I have a red car. I carry a red bag. Even the colour of my mobile phone is red...”
“And red roses?” Amit asked.
Naina’s facial expression hardened. “I don’t like red roses. They drive me mad.”
Amit burst into laughter. “Are you kidding me? Who doesn’t like red roses?”
“Why don’t you tell him how you crushed that bouquet under your stilettoes to teach your boyfriend a lesson?” said Priyansha breaking out into a laughter.
“I think he deserved it,” Naina said unapologetically.
“Really? You sound like a bull ready to charge snorting and steaming. The only difference is that a bull needs to see a red cloth and you red roses,” Amit said with a grin.
Everyone burst into laughter, including Naina.
“Okay. What’s your favourite flower then?” Amit asked.
“White Gladioli. It is also called Gladiolus White Prosperity,” Naina said.
Amit looked puzzled. “What’s so great about White Gladioli?”
“The Gladiolus flower signifies remembrance. It is a way of telling your lover that he pierces the heart. It also stands for strength of character, faithfulness and honour,” Naina said.
She asked Amit about his birthday and he asked her about hers. Amit then accessed the calendar feature on his Blackberry and entered her birthday’s reminder a day before her actual birthday, which was 21st September.
