Header Credit: Asma
Prologue
"What does that even mean, Arnav? As always you are being fastidious. And it is not a compliment," Payal said as she held two dupattas in her hand, crinkling her nose, even as she tried to decide which was better.
"I thought you said we were going to have a simple wedding, without the whole bells and whistles nonsense. And now we have been shopping for three days for this small wedding?" Arnav asked, raising his voice not so much in anger but because the place was bustling with shoppers and chatty salesmen and it was almost impossible to have a conversation.
"Arnav, I am not shopping for the wedding. Have you ever seen me wear these chamkeeli clothes, ever? Ugh. No. But I can peddle these as authentic Indian stuff to my clients back in Paris. So, relax. I am still all for two witnesses in a sarkaari daftar wedding, okay?" Payal offered a reassuring smile to her grumpy fiance as she handed over both the dupattas to the shopkeeper and began haggling on the price.
"And whose idiotic idea was it to come to Chandni Chowk, bang in the middle of the festive season," Arnav continued his tirade, now dangerously close to a meltdown as his 500 ml water bottle was all but empty and he was sweating. Though it was November and Delhi was already kind of chilly, strangely enough he felt warm. There were just too many people on this street. He almost imagined them running out of Oxygen anytime soon. Why had he allowed Payal to talk him into coming to Chandni Chowk? He could have got a ton of work done by now. Sketched at least one design, approved a few. Heck, if nothing else, he could have watched the India versus Australia cricket match on TV. But no, here he was at Madhuri Matching Centre, where aunties were haggling over price and texture of dupattas.
"God, Arnav, you are such a firang," Payal said as they finally bid adieu to Madhuri Matching Centre.
"Yeah, right. And you son of the soil, were born right here in Chandni Chowk, yes? Very pot. Much kettle," Arnav said.
"First of all, that ought to be daughter of the soil and not son. And ouch! This reminds me of whom you know? The one who was the true daughter of the soil? Remember that behenji in our school? Khushi Kumari Gupta? Her dad was a halwai in Chandni Chowk. Gupta Mithai it was, I think. That girl used to be so ridiculous." Payal said, picking up her shopping bags, all eleven of them and deftly distributed them between her two hands.
Arnav would have chivalrously offered to hold the bags for her, but the mention of that girl, Khushi Kumari Gupta brought with it a wave of memories, many of which made him uncomfortable. Made him feel ashamed. He had been thinking about those days a lot lately and he was sure if he could go back in time, he would have done things differently. It was unlikely that he would have been friends with her, but at least he wouldn't have behaved like the entitled asshole that he had. Being twenty one was no reason to let him off the hook. A truth that he now realised as he was two weeks short of his twenty eight birthday.
"Can you call NK, I can't reach my phone with all these bags in my hand. Where is he loitering? Just ask him to reach the car park, will you?" Payal said, even as she walked rather briskly for someone holding eleven shopping bags, one handbag on her shoulder and a ridiculous English' hat that she had bought from one of the many street vendors.
He pulled his phone out and rather irritably scrolled down his contacts list for NK's number. NK aka Nandkishore, his cousin, business partner and self-proclaimed best friend had agreed to give him company on Payal's impromptu shopping expedition, but had made himself scarce as soon as they reached Chandni Chowk.
"I need to go look for some accessories for our fashion show, you guys go to the bridal store, I will meet you guys in a bit," he had waved cheerfully and left.
Knowing NK, he was probably scouting for an accessory for himself, an incorrigible flirt, always looking at hitting on some poor, unsuspecting woman. Given that he had been gone for an hour and half, he probably was successful, Arnav thought to himself. The phone rang forever, but NK wouldn't pick. Grrr.
"He is not picking up the phone. Let us just get to the car and we will try again. Else let him come back on his own," Arnav finally said, as he had enough of Chandni Chowk for that day. And for the next few months. Payal didn't protest at the suggestion and they were all but about to reach the parking when his phone rang. And sure enough, it was NK.
"Where are you, dude? Payal and I are near the parking. You better get here soon. We are ravenous."
"That is why I called. I am at Tewari & Sons and had about a dozen food-gasms, you guys should come too."
"Don't be ridiculous, NK. I am sure Payal does not want to eat at a place called Tewari & Sons."
"But Arnav, I want to." Payal unhelpfully chimed in and he threw an angry look her way. But she remained unaffected. Where were all those people who would squirm if Arnav Singh Raizada would merely maintain eye contact with them? He really needed to get back to his office where he could lord over a few people.
Evidently NK had overheard Payal in the background and chuckled.
"Bro, you need to get over your South Delhi snootiness and head here. The food is genuinely good."
Payal took the car keys from him and dumped all the shopping bags into it and turned to Arnav, making pleading eyes at him, mouthing, please, please, please, please..'
"Fine. We are coming there. Where is this exactly?"
"It is off Kinaari Bazaar, the lane where they sell laces and zaris. The address is 23, Chandni Chowk. It is next to a police booth. The restaurant is a eighty-year-old place, everyone knows."
So, Payal and Arnav walked back into the giant humanity of Chandni Chowk, in search of Tewari & Sons.
Almost everyone said rather unhelpfully, bas aa gaya jee'. But it took a good fifteen minutes before they spotted the dilapidated signage at the excruciatingly small entrance. This was the food-gasms inspiring place, Arnav thought and rolled his eyes. At the right of the entrance an elderly gentleman was making paranthas on a giant tawa, pouring enough ghee to send his clientele into what was a guaranteed coronary heart disease. But it smelt and looked so delicious that a heart attack was probably worth it. On the left was a huge frying pan where a nervous young man was making jalebis. A little boy who was watching this was chastising him for making the jalebis all lumpy.
Didi ko bulaooon kya, the boy asked the nervous jalebi-maker.
And that is when she arrived, Didi, master jalebi maker. She tied up her hair into a messy bun and secured it with a pencil. She then took off her dupatta, tied it around her waist, tied a towel around her chest as a makeshift apron and took over the jalebi making. And in fluid movements, she expertly filled up the bubbling ghee with tiny little sunshine-shaped batter, so symmetrical that it seemed like she had a mould of some sort. And then collected them all expertly and dunked it into the sugar syrup, before pulling them out and piling them like a mountain on the steel plates. Crispy, golden, sweet. Food-gasmsic. Nervous Jalebi maker looked at her in awe and the little boy looked at Didi with such devotion that it was no surprise that he got dibs on the jalebi pile. The tiny crowd that had gathered around dispersed after this tiny performance. And then she stepped down from the stool that she had to stand up on to reach the frying pan, took off her temporary apron, secured her dupatta properly and casually but expertly flicked her hair, allowing her long tresses to frame her gorgeous face. And that is when she met his eyes.
It had been five and a half years since Arnav had set eyes on Jalebi Didi, aka Khushi Gupta.
"Hi Khushi, how are you? What a surprise to run into you after all these years."
"I am sorry, but who are you?"
**
INDEX
PROLOGUE (^^)
NOTES FROM THE PAST 1 (Page 3 - 14th Nov)
CHAPTER 1 (Page 8 - 16th Nov)
NOTES FROM THE PAST 2 (Page 13 - 20th Nov)
CHAPTER 2 (Page 19 - 21st Nov)
NOTES FROM THE PAST 3 (Page 28 - 25th Nov)
CHAPTER 3 (Page 37 - 30th Nov)
NOTES FROM THE PAST 4 (Page 49 - 4th Dec)
CHAPTER 4 (Page 58 - 9th Dec)
NOTES FROM THE PAST 5 (Page 71 - 13th Dec)
CHAPTER 5 (Page 82 - 17th Dec)
NOTES FROM THE PAST 6 (Page 98 - 23rd Dec)
CHAPTER 6 (Page 110 - 29th Dec)
CHAPTER 7 (Page 131 - 15th Jan)
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