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Another year had passed by, rather swiftly. Anuj had moved to the third year. His filling up of 40 forms for various law firms had, surprise, surprise, resulted in three successful summer placement offers. Anuj accepted the one with Chase and Mason, an American origin multinational law firm, simply because they had promised the highest stipend. A princely sum of GBP 350 per week for the entire 3-week placement!
Anuj was thrilled beyond words. He reported on the designated day, dressed formally in suit and tie. The first week was a whirl, with introductions, familiarisation, and a lot of wining and dining with even a play in the Albert Hall thrown in. It appeared that the firm was trying more to woo the trainees than the other way around!
At the end of the first week, Anuj was called by the HR and given the feedback that his performance was exemplary. However, he will NOT be offered a training contract, because the firm had made a mistake in accepting him.
And the mistake was that the firm had presumed (wrongly) that he was a British citizen of Indian descent and so will not be needing a work permit to continue with his training contract the next year. So the HR lady suggested that he should either get a work permit or wait for this firm to come to India.
Dejected, and not knowing what to do, Anuj returned to his studies. The first session always began in the autumn. The leaves had once again turned yellow, red and orange. Some were still green as if in defiance. Anuj loved the autumns—because of its colour, and the cold you could feel only for a fleeting fortnight or so in Delhi and never in Mumbai, Kolkata or Chennai.
The day was special for one more reason. It was his birthday. He had turned twenty-three. He hadn’t “celebrated” his past two birthdays. There was no one in his life—so special—that he could think it was worth celebrating with them.
His parents called up and wished him a very “Happy Birthday!” His mother insisted that he celebrated his birthday this time by taking some of his friends or acquaintances out.
“Sure,” said Anuj and hung up. He thought of making a list of friends whose company he could enjoy. Most of the faces that came up—didn’t excite him. Not even a bit.
Again and again, only one face came to his mind—of Ella. The previous year he had enjoyed visiting Hampstead Heath so many times with her. The two had even been to the Tower of London and Madam Tussauds. He enjoyed her company. It didn’t sound like a bad idea then to ask Ella to join him for his birthday party.
***
Ella was reading a book when her phone rang. It was from Anuj. She picked up:
“Hi Anuj! How’re you doing?”
“Oh hi Ella...”
Anuj’s voice sounded a little hesitant. There was a pause for a nanosecond, after which Anuj resumed speaking.
“Ella, I don’t know if I ever told you, but today is my birthday—”
“Oh wow. Happy Birthday Anuj!”
“Thanks. I was wondering if we could go to some place for lunch. Just you and me. Say to Nando’s?” asked Anuj.
Ella paused for a few seconds. “Ah Anuj... look... I’m a little committed today. So... I don’t think I will be able to make it.”
She knew she was lying. Ella wasn’t so keen on eating out. So many times her friends had taken her to so many restaurants but she just couldn’t enjoy. Even with Anuj, either she won’t eat anything or at the most go in for a Diet drink.
She didn’t want her secret out.
“Okay. No problem,” said Anuj.
His voice sounded disappointed to Ella. Maybe a little hurt. Ella felt bad for him. There was nothing wrong in asking her out on such a special occasion. And she definitely didn’t want to upset such a gentle soul like Anuj.
“Oh wait, Anuj. I may be able to squeeze in an hour around 1. Will that work?”
“Oh, that’d be fantastic. Then see you at 1. Outside the O2 centre, Finchley Road,” exulted Anuj.
“Great. See you then,” said Ella and hung up.
***
At 1 sharp Ella got out of the Finchley Road Tube station. Anuj was waiting at the exit and complimented Ella on her punctuality. Both walked across to Nando’s and joined the queue.
The restaurant had nice pink cobbled floors and cream walls with arches drawn on it. Its roof had a wooden look with some fans dangling from the ceiling. The ambience imparted a very medieval European feel or was it Mexican? Anuj wondered.
Anuj sighed. In Delhi, in a branch of the same Nando’s, you would be guided to your table first and you could then order from there sitting down like a Maharaja. But this was London.
When their turn came, both ordered a plate of half roast chicken and corn cob.
“What spice level would you like?” asked the woman at the counter. At Nando’s you could choose to spice up your chicken or spice it down depending on how sissy you were!
Anuj looked at the laminated menu card. There were four spice levels from bottom to top—lemon & herb without any spice, medium, hot and extra hot. A fiery chilly was displayed on the right side indicated the spice levels.
Anuj hated chillies. Even the name of chillies brought back horrible memories of his experience in so many Indian restaurants.
“Make it lemon and herb please, for me,” said Anuj.
“Me too,” said Ella.
“Sure,” said the woman.
Anuj took out his wallet to pay but Ella held her hand back, with a smile.
“Silly boy, how can you pay for your own birthday? Let me have the pleasure,” Ella smiled and paid up.
Anuj was so flabbergasted. No girl had paid for a treat for him, EVER. He didn’t know what to say.
“Hey, then you will have to let me treat you on your birthday,” he protested.
“That’s okay,” Ella said and picked up the numbered flag, indicating their order sequence, to take to their table.
Anuj spotted an empty table in a secluded corner of the restaurant and indicated to Ella. She nodded in approval and both moved in that direction.
As they sat down and placed the numbered flag on the table, Ella asked:
“Despite coming from India, why did you opt for the less spicy version?” She was dying of curiosity.
“I don’t like chillies. I’m sorry if you wanted it spicier. I can get the order changed,” said Anuj.
“No, I’m fine. But I’m surprised you don’t like chillies. What kind of an Indian are you?” smiled Ella.
“The one who doesn’t like chillies,” smiled Anuj.
Ella looked surprised. “I can’t believe this!”
“Ah! So you do think all of us are the same? What happened to my lessons on how India is actually a sub-continent,” grinned Anuj.
“Yeah. Right,” said Ella.
The place smelled of chicken roasting and being doused in peri-peri sauce. It was making Ella’s mouth water.
“The smell makes me so hungry. I’m famished,” said Anuj.
“Me too,” said Ella.
On their wooden circular table, all kinds of bottles were kept. They looked squarish and contained all kinds of peri-peri sauces with different flavours. Anuj and Ella took turns picking up different bottles and looking at their ingredients.
“What kind of cuisine do you like?” asked Ella.
“Just anything under the sun. I like Chinese, Thai, Italian, French, British, and just any other kind—as long as it is not too spicy,” said Anuj.
Ella laughed. “You do have a very sophisticated taste. Did you acquire this because of your travels to all these countries?”
“Not all, but to some, of course,” said Anuj.
“Then name a place I should very much like to visit, in the UK?”
“I think you’ll love the Scottish Highlands,” said Anuj.
“Really? And why do you think so,” said Ella.
“Because you’re quite a nature person. In Scotland, you’ll love getting lost in the mist covered mountains, blue lakes, charming old castles and those yellow shrubs whose name I can’t remember,” said Anuj.
“It sounds exciting, the way you describe it,” said Ella.
“You must visit the Loch Ness Lake. I had visited that place first as a teenager. It was one of the most soothing experiences of my life. I kept staring at the lake for hours. It was so calm and quiet. But I must warn you. Don’t expect any sunshine there,” smiled Anuj.
Ella laughed. “Did you say hi to the Loch Ness monster?”
“No. I didn’t find him. Maybe because I hadn’t fixed an appointment with him,” joked Anuj hinting at the peculiar British custom where even vacant restaurants ask whether you have an appointment before they allow you to dine in.
“You’re really funny! By the way the Loch Ness monster is a myth. I hope you know that,” said Ella.
“So typically rational Ella!” laughed Anuj.
“There you go,” a waiter arrived. She placed a plate each of yummy looking sizzling brown roast chicken on the table.
“Enjoy your meal,” said the waiter, and left.
The chicken looked nicely cooked and smelled of rosemary and thyme. Ella took a breast piece and Anuj did the same.
She used her knife and fork to take a bite. The chicken tasted so nice, juicy and so full of flavour, with the tanginess of lemon and the mild spiciness of the peri-peri sauce. Ella was eating fast. Very fast. She realised how famished she was. She hadn’t eaten anything since morning. It wasn’t such a bad choice coming to Nando’s, she thought.
She looked up at Anuj. He was using no fork or knife, but just his hands to enjoy the chicken.
The corn cob too looked nice. It would have been tricky to use her knife and fork here. So she used her hands and took a bite. The corn tasted naturally sweet and mellow.
When she looked up, she found Anuj patting his mouth with a paper napkin. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes. And then he blurted out:
“Et tu Ella.”
“Actually it is more enjoyable digging in with your hands,” Ella admitted.
“Hey, that’s why, in India even five-star hotels don’t place cutlery on your table with Indian food, unless you ask for it,” Anuj replied.
“India is also a warm country. So there is no problem washing your hands before and after a meal. In fact, if you are too lazy to go to a toilet, waiters will happily give you a wet towel before a meal and a fingerbowl with warm water and a slice of lemon to help clean your hands afterwards.” Anuj added.
Ella nodded in appreciation at the explanation. She also knew that cutlery was invented in Europe to show the superiority of the rich class over the poor. Indians, both rich and poor, had no such hang-ups; so they used their hands with gay abandon.
Both ate in silence thereafter. When the food is good, no one likes to talk. All the focus would be on the food and the flavours.
After a while Ella had to stop eating. Her plate was left with just bones. The chicken and the cob were gone!
“The meal was delicious,” said Ella.
“I know. That’s why I brought you here,” said Anuj.
Ella became serious. She heard her inner voice.
What have you done? Why have you become so weak?
“Ummm excuse me, I will just come from the toilet,” said Ella.
“Sure,” said Anuj.
Ella got up taking her purse along. Anuj was amused at the inherent lack of trust in his integrity that this action implied but he said nothing.
As Ella left, Anuj looked at the celling, and then at the general decor of the restaurant. Ella came back after 10 minutes. She smelled of a mouth freshener—cool and minty. It was clear she had rinsed her mouth with that. Her clothes too smelled as if she had sprayed perfume on them in the toilet.
Okay, so that’s why she had taken her purse with her.
But what was she up to?
Ella opened her purse and took out a lipstick and a compact mirror. She looked herself up and then touched up her lips.
Anuj thought that was a little weird. He hadn’t seen anyone rinsing her mouth with a freshener just after a restaurant meal. Except in South Korea, where his father on an official tour, had observed that everyone in office brushed their teeth with TOOTHPASTE after lunch. As he learnt, this was because they all had Krimchi, a fermented and smelly dish that Koreans just can’t do without.
But anyways, he wasn’t anyone to judge. Everyone to their own little rituals, he supposed.
And if Ella was just trying to be more presentable to her friend, who was he to complain about?
