Chapter 19

18. Belgian Royal Chocolate Cake

Prasanna was terribly bored. There was only this much time one could spend grappling with their thoughts. Her assignments were complete and she was in no mood of contemplating the new art prints for her bedroom which her mother had asked her to do. They were refurbishing her room, and her mother had asked her to choose between a few options.

‘Diwali, is around beta, we need to remodel the rooms’ She’d said before dialing for Dhanashree. Four years ago, Dhanashree had married the Bollywood star, Susheel Oberoi. At that time she had been only twenty two and had just graduated from St.Xaviers and Oberoi was thirty eight, and had a maid scandal and had two long failed past relationships under his name. It had come as a shock when one morning people had woken up to their couple pictures in Bombay Times. They had been caught at the airport, Dhanashree in white top and a pair of blue jeans in the arms of the suave Oberoi. They were photographed waving, the camera’s focus on her sindoor filled mang and a set of red white bangles filling her wrists. Suddenly the television sets have been bombarded with their pictures, backstories. In dimly lit, smoky rooms, the rumour circulated that Dhanashree, the daughter of a parvenu hotelier, had always been ambitious, that she had the most beautiful long legs, and her waist so thin that it could be spanned with five fingers, had always wanted to be a model and had married for a role in a movie. Four years later, Dhanashree, mother of two children, both boys, there was still no news about her debut. Her husband though, his once dwindling career, had taken off once again. Long forgotten his maid scandal, a family man now, he had given two back to back hits. He had also started an interior decor company for his wife a year ago, the services of which Dhanashree had been trying to press upon Rimjhim on every visit. Finally Rimjhim had decided to avail of it. But it had been a tough decision. There were just so many acquaintances who were into interior designing and fashion houses, most of them actor wives.

After the call, her mother had talked about screen prints, antique figurines, rosewood furniture, and Prasanna had listened to all of it however yawn inducing it was, just to get her off her head. Rimjhim Aggarwal nee Gupta, when she spoke, and spoke a lot she - just an occupational hazard of hers - she needed your acute attention. If not...then you were in for more discourses.

Prasanna could start on her own book, which she had been planning to write since forever but was waiting to chance upon the right muse. To feel inspired she had picked up a book, but it had turned out to be disappointing. The new book she had started with though had been lauded for its portrayal of a Dalit as it’s powerful central character and for the narration of rampant discrimination and life-long oppression of the lower castes that is still a reality in India, Prasanna was finding the leering male gaze of the narrator quite distracting and difficult to get past. The very reason she had given up on so many authors who found writing a means to live their sexual fantasies! The rampant misogyny in literature though often discussed had not completely disappeared from the books. Sad, that even some 21st century writers deemed it okay to draw women as a piece of flesh.

She looked at the other side of the room where her father and brother were in discussion over some publication paper. 

Half frame, vintage oversized glasses over his nose, her brother was immersed in scribbling something. A year ago, he had moved into an apartment that was near his work. On free weekends, he dropped by at home and helped their father with his paperwork and assortment, sometimes even drafted ‘introductions’ for others’ books and recommendations for people. Earlier, her father would have students visiting and helping him but one summer, a bored Prasanna had started what they call a fling with one of those intensely good looking and self aware struggling Finance nerds. In between sipping tea and partaking of Belgian royal chocolate cakes, she’d listened to him unburden his heart, her fingers wrapping around his hand as he talked about his shoddy home, an unwed sister, retired father, and his meagre stipend, but just when things had started getting exciting she been caught by her brother in the act of kissing and undressing. Prasanna cursed his ill timing and lamented the unfairness of it all. If she were to be caught, why did he not walk on her in those weeks when the nerd had been giving her a headache whining about the despair and injustices of life? Or could have just waited a few more minutes discovering them, so that her sexual frustration was released and her itch satisfied. 

He hadn’t tattled but then the swarm of visiting students and her supply of eye candies had been stopped just cold turkey. Her brother had offered to help their father himself. Prasanna could help too, but economics and finance were not her most favourite subjects. She had enough knowledge because there were just so many books on it, a whole room dedicated to them and as a young girl when all were away living their life, she wandered around on her wheelchair devouring any and every book she could get her hands on; but could never develop enough love to be useful to her father.

‘Bhai,’ she called out. He looked up from the paper distractedly.

‘It’s a foul, Bhai. You are here for me, you said.’

‘I am’

‘But you are spending time with Dad. Dad you’re hogging him’

‘Huh?’ Her father uttered before continuing to read.

‘Dad! It’s a Saturday for God’s sake. Give it a rest.’

‘Where’s your Mom?’ Vaibhav Aggarwal was not in the habit of taking his second born seriously. She was a pestering fly that needed to be swatted away albeit gently.

‘Mrs.Khorram is here.’

‘Oh, then it seems we'll get to see your mother tomorrow only.’

‘I don’t care about that. You release my brother right now. I have things to discuss with him.’

‘Go talk to your friends. Even at your age, you can’t be running after him.’

‘If I were capable of running, I’d certainly find some other more deserving person to shower my attention. Too bad that you are monopolizing the only companion I have.’

It elicited no reaction from the men. She made a hobby out of self victimization and they were used to it.

‘Just give me a minute and I’ll be with you,’ her brother promised after a few silent minutes passed.

‘No, you cannot leave me stranded on this paper island, Nishit. You promised that is why I didn’t hire anyone.’

‘You didn’t hire anyone because of your prejudices. I hate to say this but you’re a misogynist, Dad.’ Prasanna said. Her father had rejected all the female applicant students because he was of the opinion that women were just not good with numbers.

‘No female RBI governors in the entire history, no female economist who’s done anything worth talking about. I am not wrong, am I then?’

‘We have a female minister, you know.’

‘Don’t start me on it. I still have to finish these.’

Prasanna opened her mouth to debate but he waved her dismissively, ‘I’ll give your brother back tomorrow. Go now’ 

‘Tomorrow I have to be somewhere.’ Nishit informed.

‘Well keep him with yourself all you want.’ Then listening to her brother’s excuse, she said, ‘Be wherever you want to be.I am having a guest tomorrow.’

She watched a guarded expression come over his face. ‘Who?’ God! One time you get caught, and you’re forever being suspected of frolicking with men.

‘One of my friends’

‘Which friend?’

‘I don’t want to tell you.’ When he continued to stare at her behind his glasses, ‘Kirti,’ she spilled.

‘Singh?’ He asked.

‘That’s the only one I know.’

He nodded his head before drowning in the sea of publications.

XxxxxxxX

It was three in the afternoon and Prasanna had baked a cake, had seen to the servants tidy arrange the theatre room and her bedroom. She had also changed into a black full sleeved shirt thrown over a Gingham skirt. Her mother always said she looked kooky in it but she liked wearing it. She had twined the sides of her hair, pulled them behind, and bound them in a circular gold pin that her mother had got from France.

Her eyes often darting to the clock on her phone, she scrolled through the social media posts of celebrities she followed.

Tejas who had come for lunch had stayed and was now in the living room conversing with her mother. More like begging her to help him convince their grandfather to allow a destination wedding.

She opened her Whatsapp chat and read the last conversation between Kirti and her.

‘I am going to make a Belgian Royal Chocolate cake for you. You are coming right?’

‘Not really sure. My work ends at 2 pm.’

‘Then come after that. I will be waiting for you.’

‘Kirti, pls, pls, pls you have to come. I have even chosen the movies.’

‘Cannot promise. I’ll see.’

‘Here’s something to tempt you,’ and she had sent the cake’s picture.

After that, Prasanna had sent a few emojis and gifs, you coming today but had not received any response. Seeing the last seen , Kirti had not opened her Whatsapp after their last conversation. She tried calling Kirti but the latter did not pick up. Must be caught in traffic.

She was gazing out of the French doors when someone came and tapped her head. She turned around and admonished her cousin, ‘Tejas Bhai, I don’t like it. How many times do I have to tell you?!’

A green popsicle in one hand, he plopped on the bean bag kept at the side, and winked and grinned at her.

‘Who are you waiting for? Boyfriend?’

‘It’s a truth universally acknowledged that a single sister in possession of two older intimidating brothers is forever in a want of boyfriend however little her chances are owing to her handicap, but this species that she so longs for, evade her, and she’s sure she’ll become an embittered ghost and haunt both her brothers.’

‘You must be tired by all the rant, want some,’ he offered her, his popsicle.

‘No, thank you. I’ve decided to share saliva only if it brings some sexual gratification along with it. Otherwise it’s all unhygienic business.’

‘What did I hear? My ears...oh my ears…’ He rubbed his ears.’I invoke Mother Earth to open up and swallow my humble self.’ Prsanna rolled her eyes. ‘Buaaa, ladki hath se nikal gayi hai..laaj sharam kahan gayi? Bua dekh haan dekh teri mundi bigdi jaye’ He started singing.

‘Bua is too busy to care for little inconveniences like horny daughters.’

‘Enough! So who’s coming?’ He asked to prevent her deviation.

‘Kirti’

‘Kirti who?’

‘Kirti Singh’

‘Meri wali? Why is she coming here?’

‘Why? She can’t?’ She asked.

‘If I say no then?’

‘Your opinion doesn’t matter. She’s my friend and I have invited her.’

‘You have your own friends. Why should you go after my best friend?’

‘Do you have a monopoly over her?’

‘If I say yes, then?’

‘Want me to plead with you to share her, Tejas Bhai?’ She mocked.

‘You have enough. Why should I share what is exclusively mine?’

‘Yours? Your sense of possession has gone for a toss it seems or riding on two boats are we?’ Then she angrily swiped her phone and called Kirti. Five long rings later, she threw the phone in her lap.

‘Allow me,’ Tejas gestured grandly and called the number. His phone was picked in the first ring.

‘Hello Kirti...Oh you’re busy. I see.’ Before he could smirk at Prasanna, she had already turned her chair and was wheeling out. 

‘I called just like that. What are you doing? When will you be free? Wanna go dinner tonight?’

A few minutes later, the other brother, who had been sitting quietly, leafing through the pages of a random periodical stood up and left too.

XxxxxxX

‘No not possible. Acha,I am in the middle of work, Tejas. Got to go. You, too.’ Kirti said and disconnected the call.

Then to her customer, she apologised before picking up the pair of scissors.

‘Wah! You waste not even a second in answering his call. Who was the unlucky one then whose calls you were ignoring?’ Shruti asked. They were no other customers so she sat on the chair scrolling through social feeds.

‘It was Prasanna. Nishit’s sister.’

‘Why was she calling you?’

‘She invited me today over tea. She was going to bake a cake and we were supposed to watch movies.’

‘Haww, And you broke her heart. Why you?’

‘Pata nahi. She said she’s bored.’ 

‘Strange.’

‘Strange nahi whimsical fancies kaho.’ Kirti came to stand in front of the customer and with a wide flat comb made a triangle shape of hair to separate the bangs.

‘You know what Shruti, when I was young, I would hear my classmates talk about scrabble, monopoly and other board games. Mind you they were talking among themselves, but to me, who had nothing, they were bragging. You see how the words change. So one day, I went to my father and asked him to buy me a board game too because I was getting bored, I said.’  

She pulled the triangle straight out the head and began angling it at with scissors.

‘You know what he told me,’ She took a pause to look into Shruti’s eyes before returning to the hair. ‘He said, You have so many books and still you’re bored. These words are the whimsical fancies found in the dictionary of rich, child. I paid no attention and walked away thinking he’s just being stingy. But now that I am an adult myself, I know better. Boredom is for the privileged. When you work two jobs, you don’t get a chance to get bored. When you have the responsibility of an ailing guardian and have to support a college going sibling or a kid, even a spare moment is spent fretting over what tomorrow will bring. I simply have no time to be the playmate of a rich kid!’

When the bangs were cut, Kirti moved aside for the customer to survey it. 

And when Kirti realised she might have been cruel to Prasanna, she added, ‘Honestly, I would have gone, but 400 rupaye ka petrol bharao uske ghar jane ke liye, sacrifice a half day’s pay woh alag...itna mehenga Belgian cake kha kya karungi main! Good day ka tuti fruti cake na le lun 10 Rs mein. Us par se unka aisho aaram dekh kar hafte bhar ka depression alag.’

The customer said something about uneven length and Kirti went to mend her remiss.

‘Then there’s her brother.’

‘Nishit is the same guy na jo bajuwale college me tha? Tall guy, disapproving gaze, awaaz dete raho sunta nahi tha.’

‘Same. Hai na? There’s something very intimidating about his elusive self. He talks in riddles, almost as if mocking you. That day he said I'm off to meet the handsomest man in the room...the building. He was making fun of what I'd said earlier about Mayank that he's farrr handsome than the men in the entire room. When he must have met Mayank, he woul dhave realised that I was speaking the truth! But who knows, these rich kids have such inflated egos. Apne aage kahan kuch dikhta hai!'

'One moment you are wary of him, the other you’re hating him Matlab, What did he mean by saying, your ex husband will realize his loss?!’

‘Done,’ she told the customer who took her own sweet time pulling out notes from her bag as if prolonging her stay to eavesdrop.

‘He must have said it with good intentions,’ Shruti said. Kirti did not reply until the customer left.

‘I do not need his good intentions. Period.’ 

‘Did I ask for his sympathy? NO!’

‘Who does he think he is?! Have I told him that I have feelings for his brother? That I am heartbroken or something? Did he see me weeping my heart out? Then how dare he imply that?! Show some respect or maybe discretion?’

‘But you reached out to him as well because you felt bad for him.’

‘There’s a way to express something. I did not wound his pride by mentioning his unrequited feelings for Sana. Did I? How dare he wound mine? He’s been like this always.’

‘Always!’ Kirti turned and the long circles of her skirt made a whoosh; Shruti was a little taken aback by the sudden display of emotions.

‘Once I had failed in Computer Science. So he comes and tells me, Don’t cry. It’s not a big deal!’ 

‘That’s kind.’

‘Kind? First of all I hate the word kind. I hate people being kind to me as if I am a rag picking child on the street whom you give a penny or used clothes to feel good about yourself.’

‘You’ve an extremely high self esteem, Kirti! Comparing yourself to a rag picker!’

‘And who do you think is responsible for it?’

‘Isn’t the world self explanatory enough?’

Kirti ignored the quip and continued with her rant.

‘I wasn’t crying in the first place. I knew I hadn’t studied Computer and was going to fail so I was really okay with my marks. I needed no sympathies. So who told him to come and sit next to me, handing condolences? And kind, do you say? He wasn’t being kind, he was just there to rub salt over my wounds. He had got the highest marks! Show off! ‘

‘They say, shared sorrow is a half sorrow. That’s what he was trying to do maybe. Lift your spirits.’

 ‘Shared joy is a double joy. Like when I got the highest in EVS, where were you, Sir? Why didn’t you come congratulate me, then?! These rich people want you to see you beneath themselves. One second you start outpacing them and their insecure asses are on fire.’

‘Tsk. Tsk. You’re so prejudiced.’

‘Aren’t you too? Don’t you hate half the population of society with a vengeance? Aren’t we all prejudiced?Your experience has shaped your opinions, my past experiences have shaped mine! Sorry, but I cannot be at the beck and call of a girl just because she’s bored, no matter how rich her brother is.’

‘When did you become so embittered, Kirti?’

‘Must be when I had woken scared after dreaming about my grandmother dying. The whole night I couldn't go back to sleep. But the problem, Shruti, was not that it made me worry about losing my lovely grandmother, or being left alone after her, I live with that fear everyday. That night a part of my filthy self had worried that if grandmother passed away, it also meant that there would be no pension anymore. How would I make ends meet then?’

XxxxxxX

‘Baby, Belgian Chocolate cake ka kya karun?’

‘Throw it away, aur kya.’ Prasanna shouted at the servant and then pulled out the accessory from her hair and threw it on the bed.

Looking at the gifs and emoticons, the cake pictures that she had sent to Kirti, she felt a shame wash over her. Her fingers hovered over the screen, she considered to delete the whole chat, remove every evidence of her foolish mistake. Instead, she pinned it to remind her never to repeat the same mistake.

Her brother in three fourth shorts and a round neck T-shirt and flip flops, stood at her door.

‘What?! What do you need?’ She lambasted at him too.

His hands crossed at his chest, Nishit asked, ‘Wanna play scrabble?’

‘No! I want to scratch something. Wanna lend your face?’

‘I have a presentation to give tomorrow so it will be a little inconvenient. Will arms do?’ 

She stuck her tongue out.

‘Why are you even here? I thought you were supposed to be somewhere.’

‘Change of plans’

‘When I ask you to change plans, you don’t but when it comes to your mood you can change whenever you like.’

‘It’s all for you.’

‘Liar. Must be some ulterior motive.’

Then when they were in the middle of the board game, she told her brother, ‘I thought she was nice.’

‘You know, Mom, is so right. One should not give so much importance to where it is undue. It’s like opening yourself and inviting people to stab you. Who does she think she is? To think that she must see me as a clingy, has-nothing-to-do girl. Oh Bhai.’ She covered her face.

‘Okay, don’t make it so dramatic. Totally her loss.’

‘Yeah right. She had the option of refusing me. Why agree?!’

‘Nothing new. She’s a perpetual liar.’ 

‘Really?’

He nodded but did not elaborate.

Once Prasanna had won four games straight, she began feeling better and Nishit was all set to leave.

‘When will you come next? Can’t you come every evening?’

‘I will come when I can. Can’t promise though.’

‘Okie dokie. Take care.’

‘Also,’ he said, ‘Don’t call her again. Ever’

‘Who? Kirti? Obviously! I have some pride, dude.’

[MEMBERSONLY]

[NOCOPY]