Five-Thirty AM - XVIII

Mitul got out of the car and took in the familiar sights, sounds and smells of Mumbai, reveling in the comfort feel of it all. Much as she loved being in Toronto, it was good to be back here. She breathed in deeply and waited while Roshan, their manservant ran to get her bags out of the car.

‘Welcome back, beta,’ said Mr. Imani, hugging his daughter to his side.

‘Thanks, Baba,’ she replied smiling back at him. The familiar, loving faces of her father and her uncle had greeted her at the airport. She was glad to be home. She walked in through the doors of their two-story house and was immediately greeted by a long hug from her mother. Her aunt was standing waiting to greet her, as well as her cousin, Maina, smiles wreathing their faces.

Greetings over, she went up to her room, showered and changed, and came back ready for lunch. She was looking forward to her mother’s and her chachi’s cooking after what seemed a very long time. All said and done, the two Imani daughters-in-law were both excellent cooks!

It was a long meal, the kind that families have when someone returns to the fold, after a long time away. Her favorite dishes had been prepared. Her mother and her aunt made sure she ate properly. Her father made sure she was comfortable. Maina made sure that she didn’t have to get up to fetch even a glass of water. Her uncle made sure the air-conditioner was cool enough for her. In short, Mitul felt pampered and loved. To a heart that was bruising and hurting, this over the top care and concern, was a soothing balm.

Lunch over, she pleaded tiredness and went up to her room to rest. Taking out her phone, she noted down the phone numbers she would need, and changed the SIM card to an Indian one. Finally feeling the effects of the long journey, she fell asleep.

When she awoke, it was already dark. She had a quick wash and went downstairs to find everyone sitting at the dining table having tea. The dining table was the place where the Imani family gathered for socializing. They didn’t use the living room much. That was for guests for the most part. The dining table was where the family bonded.

Pulling out a chair, she joined them, as Roshan poured her a cup of tea, curling up her feet under her.

‘How are you feeling, beta?’ her father asked, lovingly stroking her hair.

‘Much better, Baba. That nap really helped, only thing is, I hope I can sleep tonight,’ she laughed.

‘Mitul di, I wanted to come out to Canada with you this year, you know. But Dad didn’t let me go!’ Maina pouted.

‘You’re not getting any trips abroad this year, you know that,’ her father said a little sternly. ‘She’s been sitting at home with a degree in fashion. We spent money on that, and now she doesn’t want to work!’

‘Not true, Dad,’ Maina protested. ‘I want to join a large fashion house, as a designer, and for that I need to go to either the US or Italy.’ She looked at Mitul. ‘Or at least to Canada,’ she added for effect.

Mitul smiled, humorlessly. Her cousin was really naive sometimes. Did she really think that she would get a job with a large fashion house without any experience? She had to start somewhere, and the sooner she started, the better it would be for her.

‘So, Mitul,’ her aunt turned to her. ‘Didi,’ i.e. Mitul’s mother, ‘tells me you’re working on a biography of some film actor? Who is it? Didi wouldn’t tell me his name.’

She swallowed. Images of that film actor crawled across her vision in slow motion, bare chested, in jeans, kissing her first thing in the morning, the colors of the phoenix glowing on his chest. She swallowed, took a sip of tea and said, ‘I can’t talk about it yet, Chachi. I have a confidentiality agreement with them. Not allowed to talk about it,’ she repeated.

‘Oh, come on,’ said her chachi. ‘Surely you can tell your family?’

‘No, chachi, I can’t,’ mentally blessing her Ma for not revealing the details. She wasn’t aware just how much of the details her mother already knew!

She could trust her mother, not her aunt, who loved to bask in the reflected light of someone else’s glory.

She was a vicarious woman, her chachi. Mitul’s association with Noel would only serve to improve her standing in her circle of equally vacuous friends. And Mitul was far from giving her that satisfaction. Unfortunately for Maina, her mother’s vapid values had rubbed off on her as well.

Mitul made a mental note to change the entry in her phone for Noel’s number.

‘You see, when we start writing these things, we have to make sure that we protect them and their confidentiality, too. If that trust is not there, then it doesn’t work,’ she elaborated, more for the benefit of making it sound much more important than it really was. After all, the Puris had not only met Noel, they’d spent almost a week with him!

‘Wow!’ said her cousin, eyes opened wide. ‘So, do you, like, sign a confidentiality agreement or what?’ she asked sarcastically.

‘Actually, we do, Maina,’ she spoke like a teacher to a child. ‘There are some things that will never go into print,’ she added for good measure.

Like being held close in his arms, sitting on his lap, feeling him hard and aroused under her ... she stopped herself at those mental images, squirming a bit in her chair, aroused at the thought of those stolen moments.

Her mother had been watching her. She knew her daughter well enough to understand that Mitul was thinking of Noel. She was glad she’d never mentioned his name to her relatives. They didn’t need to know about all this. She’d find out sooner or later what was going on with Noel.

‘So, Chachu,’ Mitul turned to her uncle. ‘What brings you to Mumbai this time?’

‘Just like that, beta,’ her uncle said. ‘We knew you were coming back from Canada, so we thought we’d join the welcome committee,’ he smiled at her. ‘Which reminds me, did you get me the CD’s I asked you for?’

‘Chachu, I did better than that! I compiled some CDs for you, and I’m sure you’re going to love them. All the latest hits!’ she replied. Her uncle had a strange propensity for country music and she’d collected all the latest ones into albums for him.

‘Great! I can’t wait to hear them,’ he grinned.

*****

That night, she came out of the bathroom to find her cousin seated on her bed, going through her phone. Or at least trying to. Mitul was glad she had it password protected!

‘What are you doing with my phone, Maina?’ she asked, suspiciously.

‘Oh!’ her cousin was startled, dropping the phone on the bed. ‘I was just ... just ... Looking to see what your new phone was like,’ she stammered.

‘It’s not new,’ said Mitul, glaring at her, snatching it away from her. ‘I’ve had it for the last two years, and you’ve seen it before.’ She put her hands on her hips. ‘So. What exactly were you doing with my phone?’

‘Nothing, Mitul di,’ she whined.

‘Well, then, next time. Do. Not. Touch. My. Phone.’ Mitul enunciated clearly, breathing heavily in anger. ‘It’s out of bounds. Is that clear? My things - my phone, my laptop, my clothes, in fact, any and everything in this room is out of bounds. For you. Am I clear?’ she yelled.

‘You don’t have to yell at me,’ said Maina, her voice rising, too. ‘I heard you the first time.’

‘No. You never do,’ Mitul was still yelling. ‘I haven’t forgotten what a sneaky little thing you are, Maina Imani.’

‘That was just the one time!’

‘Really? You tried to get my Italian pen-pal’s address by going through my address book! Don’t think I’ve forgotten!’ exclaimed Mitul, referring to something that happened from their high-school days.

‘Well, yeah. And besides, why couldn’t you share?’ Maina said.

‘Why should I?’ Mitul was furious. Her sister had always wanted what she had, and this incident had been the icing on the cake. Since then, she’d never trusted Maina.

‘Why not? Why are you so protective of your things anyway? It’s not like you’re hiding a big state secret!’ Mitul sneered.

Mitul breathed heavily through her nose, calming herself down, pausing to time her strike. She searched her cousin’s face and then said, ‘it is! For you. You’re not going to learn it. Now. Get out of my room!’ she pointed to the door.

‘Mitul!’ her mother’s shocked voice came from the door. ‘That’s no way to speak to your sister.’

‘Some sister,’ Mitul sneered. ‘She was trying to break into my phone. To find who I’m working with.’ She looked over at her cousin, who for the first time had the grace to look ashamed.

‘Is that true, Maina?’ Mitul’s mother frowned and looked at her.

Maina stared at the floor. ‘It was just ... I don’t see why it’s such a big thing, Badi Ma. What harm could it do?’ big tears floated in her eyes.

Mitul stayed silent and let her mother handle it, hands folded across her chest, glaring at the sheer stupidity that was her sister.

‘Big thing or not, you don’t touch other’s things without their permission, Maina,’ Mitul’s mother said sternly. ‘We respect Mitul’s privacy, and her phone is a very private thing. So I want you to respect her privacy, too. Understood?’

Maina nodded, silently.

‘Now apologize to her, and leave.’

‘I’m sorry, Mitul di,’ she muttered, glancing furiously at her cousin, before stalking out of the room.

‘Whatever!’ Mitul muttered at her retreating back.

Her mother turned and shut the door, latching it, before turning to look at her daughter, who was standing there breathing angrily.

She took her arm and gently led her to the comfortable four-poster bed and made her sit. She sat down beside her, and hugged her. Mitul hid her face on her mother’s bosom, finding the solace there that she’d always found as a child, a teenager and a grown up.

‘Sorry, Ma,’ she said, sitting up after a while. ‘But she really pushes all the wrong buttons!’

‘I know,’ said her mother comfortingly. She sighed. ‘She’s not a bad girl,’ she echoed what she’d said to her sister a few weeks ago. ‘She just hasn’t been given the right values.’ She stayed silent for a while and then said, ‘I always felt she was jealous of you.’

‘Jealous? of ME?’ Mitul laughed incredulously. ‘Why would she be jealous of me? She’s the pretty one. The boys always fell over themselves when they see her. She was always popular. She never had to do anything for herself. Her father’s well-off. So why?’

Her mother studied her for a long moment and then said wonderingly, ‘have you ever wondered how hard it must have been for her to grow up constantly compared to an older sister who did everything right? You topped your classes. You graduated from a great university with a scholarship. You became a published author at twenty. You got your dream job. You’re independent financially. You travel abroad and support yourself. You’re smart. You’re confident. You don’t let others dictate what you should do. People gravitate towards you because of who you are. That’s kind of hard to live up to!’

Mitul frowned, never having seen herself quite like that.

‘And now, you’re working with a celebrity. Whereas she, she’s still finding her way in the world. She’s still trying to find herself. She’s not confident, because deep inside she knows that it’s only because of her looks that people even look at her. Or her father’s money. I know she’s capable of much more. But she is not as confident as she makes out to be. And you remind her of who she wants to be!’

Mitul sat there, chewing over her mother’s words. She’d never, ever thought of things this way. Her mother patted her head, ‘Go to bed, now. We’ll talk later,’ she said, as she let herself out of the door.

‘Thanks, Ma,’ she called.

Her mother smiled at her over her shoulder. The conversation about Noel would have to wait.

Mitul lay back, pulling the covers over herself. Peace at last. Family. She sighed. You can’t do with them. You can’t do without them. The words of her Literature professor rang in her ears, ‘Friends you can choose. Family is thrust upon you.’

****

Quiet descended on the Imani household as the lights turned off one by one in all the rooms. The only glow came from Mitul’s room. She sat up in bed, not in the least bit sleepy. Pulling out her laptop, she settled herself comfortably in the bed and opened it up. Clicking on the Pictures folder, she opened another folder under it marked Personal. Pictures of Noel. Pictures of her and Noel. Pictures of her. She looked through them slowly, remembering each and every instance when those pictures had been taken, and some when she wasn’t aware of being snapped. She smiled and then sobered up quickly.

She was back in India.

He was out there somewhere, in the vicinity, in the same city, lying on a bed, probably fast asleep

She was wrong.

****

He was in the same city. He was lying on a bed. But he wasn’t fast asleep. He was wide awake. He knew she was back. He’d counted the days till Sunday. Now that she was back, he’d waited all day to hear from her. But she hadn’t called. In fact, she’d never called since that last drunk call.

He was back to work now, and at the end of each day, he’d waited eagerly to hear from her. Everyday. But there had been nothing. No emails. No calls. No texts. No nothing. Hope is a hard thing to keep alive without something to feed it. He was slowly realizing that that call had been a mistake on her part - or at least, that’s what she probably thought.

But...

If it was a mistake, it told him one thing. She’d missed him. As much as he’d been missing her. So he would hold on to hope. For just a little while longer. They still had to meet, and then he’d see.

He got up and dialed her number, waiting as it rang at her end. Finally, the recording came on. ‘This number is out of service. Please check the number you have dialed.’

He sat there looking at the phone. He didn’t have her number. This was her Canadian number. Obviously, she must have an Indian number, too. But he didn’t have it! For a moment panic gripped him, before rationale took over. Joyce. She would surely know her Indian number.

First thing tomorrow, call Joyce and find out, he thought, stilling his racing heartbeat.

He lay back down. I’ll talk to her tomorrow, he thought, before falling asleep. Peacefully.

*****

Dev was lying in bed, his hands under his head, thinking about Ms. Chanel No.5, as he’d started calling her. Where are you? Who are you?

He smiled in the dark, thinking about those full, plump lips. She had a dimple, he remembered now, every feature on her face etched vividly in his mind. There was something about her, her arrogance, her indifference, her temper, her petulance.

What was she like when she wasn’t angry? Or snarky? What was she like when she was being kissed senseless? Would she purr? or would she moan?

He shifted uncomfortably in the bed, trying to find a cooler spot for his rapidly heating body.

What was she like in bed? and out of it? The curiosity was killing him.

He grinned in the darkness. He had it just as bad as Noel! At least Noel knew WHO he had it bad for. He, on the other hand, only knew her as Ms. Chanel No.5!

What he didn’t know was that he’d have to continue calling her Ms. Chanel No.5 - just for a little while longer.

*****

Mumbai had woken up to a coolish morning. Overnight it had rained, and clouds flew by in what the weather network calls a variable cloudy day. A fresh breeze blew in from the ocean, moving the smogs and the smells inland. As evening set in, the clouds in the sky, and the grey sea below were washed with gold. Along the Marine drive, the spectacular sunset fingered along each of the buildings, turning them to gold, and each window into a flame.

Which is where Dev was waiting for his date.

Yes, for even if thoughts of Ms. Chanel No.5 invaded his mind now and then, Dev still had a little black book filled with the names of girls that he dated. He needed to unwind. It had been stressful last week, but this week had started well. Hump day was finally over, and he felt he deserved a break. And what better way to have a break than to spend it in the company of a beautiful woman in one of the swankiest lounges in town?

Oh, did you perchance think that he was waiting on Marine Drive itself? Sorry about that.

You see, Dev did not believe is making his women walk around in 3/4/5 inch heels when they could barely stand erect in them. He believed in the luxurious surroundings of a lounge, a glass of beautiful golden single malt in hand, and a beautiful woman on/in his arm/arms. At the end of the night, they would be in his/her bed, which ever was convenient.

True love had yet to bite Dev in his cute and tight little rear.

The evening went much as he’d expected. His date was tall, gorgeous, and could barely hold two thoughts together in her pretty little head. Which was okay with him. All he wanted was for her to think of him. All she knew was that she needed to think of him. Perfect compatibility!

He’d just congratulated himself on being able to keep Ms. Chanel No.5 at bay, when he saw her walk in.

He blinked. She couldn’t be here. Could she? Or was he just conjuring her up?

She was wearing a navy sheath, which stopped just short of her knees and still managed to make her legs look long and gorgeous. Her hair was loose this time, falling in a straight curtain down her back. A chunky necklace in red offset the severity of the dress, reflected in the red of the thin strappy stilettos she wore. She carried the contrast into her lipstick and her purse. That and those sexy glasses.

She was walking in with a couple of other girls, all tall, all lissom, all gorgeous. They turned every male head in the room as they strolled languidly over to the bar, and ordered their drinks. The bar stools were high, and their skirts were short. The girls wriggled onto the stools. The male audience lapped it up.

Soon after, that corner of the bar was a beehive of activity. He turned to his date and focused fully on her. She deserved it. She hadn’t even noticed him staring open-mouthed at her!

‘Dev, darling,’ said his faceless companion. ‘Can I get another drink, please?’

‘Sure, babe’ he said, standing up. ‘I’ll get it.’

He walked over to the bar, his heart beating a random tattoo.

She turned her head right then, and saw him coming straight towards her. Her eyes opened wide as she recognized him.

He could read her expecting him to come up and talk to her. He could see the fire in her eyes, starting to light up. Getting ready for a put-down. 

He held her eyes as he moved forward. He held her eyes as he walked past her, smirking, letting her know he’d recognized her, before he looked away. 

He leant to the bar at her left, his suit clad arm lightly brushing the skin of hers, and signaled the bartender. He ordered his drinks and waited till the glasses were placed in front of him, Chanel no.5 giving him a high, but still not making eye contact with her. He could sense her twisting in her seat, trying not to look at him.

Half-way to his table, he stopped a waiter and said, ‘whatever she’s having,’ indicating her. ‘Put it on my tab.’

‘Sure, sir,’ said the dutiful man.

He walked to his couch, and sat down, putting an arm around his date’s almost naked back. She giggled. He watched as the bartender gave her a drink, and said something to her. She smiled and said something back. The bartender nodded in his direction. She turned and froze. He raised his glass to her in a mock salute, watching as she narrowed those beautiful eyes and turned away. She’d seen the arm he’d had around his date and the way he was rubbing her back.

Suddenly tired of this game, he pushed himself away from the woman at his side. ‘Are you done?’ he asked.

‘Oooh! Dev,’ she simpered. ‘You’re in a hurry tonight.’

‘Yes,’ he snapped, annoyed and irritated at himself.

He held her elbow and as they walked past the stiff back of Ms. Chanel No.5, he heard her companion say, ‘Maina, I’m going to the loo. You wanna come?’

‘No, you go ahead,’ he heard her say. He swallowed hard.

Unlocking his car door, he helped his date in, before getting in himself and driving to her place.

‘You want to come in? for a nightcap?’ she ran her finger down his face.

He held the finger, kissed it and said, ‘can I take a raincheck on that? I’m really tired today.’

She smiled at him. ‘I’m sorry. Of course, you know you have an open tab with me,’ and winked at him. He smiled weakly at that.

He waited till she was inside her door, before smacking his palm against the steering wheel.

Maina.

Beautiful name. Just like her. He frowned. He didn’t know anyone called Maina. So why then did Ms. Maina look so familiar? He wondered for the hundred and eighth time.

The week had just been shot to hell.

*****

Five-Thirty AM - XVII

Dev was having a bad day.

Actually, it had started the night before.

He’d been to a party last night. It was the most boring party that he’d ever been to, but had had to attend. Noel had pleaded a headache and refused to go - as usual. So he’d been alone. He’d had a little too much to drink and now he was paying the price for it.

Early this morning, Noel’s director called him. Noel had not turned up for his shoot and wasn’t answering his phone. His headache started at that point.

He’d called Noel, only to find out that Noel was running a temperature, could barely speak, much less get out of bed, ergo, he’d been a no-show at work. Turns out, Noel’s headache had been very real. He’d had to run around calming everybody down.

Back in his office, his engagements were backed up and he had to work through them. On top of that, he had a lunch appointment that he’d meant to, but forgot to cancel. His head was killing him. He just wanted to sit quietly or even better, take a nap if that were possible.

It wasn’t. Instead, he went for lunch.

The sun glared down on him, exacerbating the already heavy pounding inside his temples. His glares hid the bags under his blood-shot eyes. He couldn’t wait to get into the air conditioned confines of the restaurant, heaving a sigh of relief as he entered the cool, dim interior.

It was done in blacks and golds, with red accents. Upscale and trendy, there was a fair smattering of a crowd, but he already had a reservation, and was seated immediately. He asked for a limeade, hoping the freshness of the lime would reduce the number of jack-hammers doing double-time in his head.

He looked around for his companion as he waited.

A whiff of perfume floated by and he turned his head to look as she passed by. Even with a headache, he wasn’t immune to the allure of Chanel no.5.

She was tall, about five-six, he thought, and a figure like an hour-glass. Shapely bottoms were encased in skin tight black jeans, while a short powder blue blouse clung snugly at all the right places. Her feet were clad in ballerina flats, and she carried a book in her hand. A long pony tail slung down her back, the layers curled lovingly.

Following her were two older women, slim, about the same height, dressed in traditional salwaar-kameez. They all stopped at a table within his line of vision, and she turned around to sit.

Dev’s eyes widened. She was gorgeous!

The full lips in a deep, candy red, were pouting as she seemed to be arguing with one of the ladies, leaning over the table. The voice was low, he couldn’t make out what she was saying. The high cheekbones were flushed - whether by the heat or by anger or just plain blush, he didn’t know. Large dark eyes, were framed by a pair of thin black-rimmed, rectangular glasses sitting atop a small, cute nose. Glasses! She wore glasses!

He took a sip of the limeade. Somehow, he’d never thought he’d find glasses sexy, yet here she was, and all he could think about was wetting his suddenly parched throat.

As if aware of him, her eyes snapped to his. She raised an arrogant eyebrow.

He let his eyes travel slowly and insolently down her face all the way to her ballerina-shoe-clad feet, before he turned away indifferently to his Blackberry, ostensibly checking emails. He knew she was watching him. He was used to these games, a past master at it. He smirked to himself, and then suddenly something struck him.

His eyes snapped back to her. What was it? Why was there that feeling of familiarity? Like he’d seen her before? He was pretty sure that if he’d met her, he’d remember who she was. Unlike most men, Dev had a substantial memory bank when it came to girls he dated, even the most casual of dates. He was sure that he’d never met her before.

At that moment, his lunch companion arrived. For the next hour, he focused on the work at hand. Although, his peripheral vision was fully occupied with the table where SHE sat. The question still niggled at the back of his mind.

His companion was in a hurry and excused himself almost as soon as lunch was done. He signaled the waiter for the bill, and sipped his limeade. The waiter brought him his bill and he paid, waiting for him to bring back the receipt.

Ms. Chanel No.5 and her companions passed him on the way out, and he smirked slightly as he met her eyes for a brief moment. A jolt of something passed through him. He glanced over at their table and saw that she’d left her book behind. Perfect! he thought, walking over to pick up the book. The waiter came back with his receipt at that moment and he grabbed it before hurrying out.

He saw the other two ladies walking down the street but no sign of her. He turned back and went into the restaurant.

She bumped right into him as he entered, and his hand automatically grabbed her forearm, to stop her falling.

‘Hey!’ she exclaimed. ‘Watch where you’re going!’

‘Sorry,’ he apologized. ‘I was looking for you.’

‘Really?’ the sarcasm dripped from her voice.

‘Yeah! You left your book behind,’ he held it out to her with a slight smirk. She was something, this girl. Rude as all hell, but he’d love to tame her, he thought.

‘Thanks,’ she muttered, snatching the book out of his hand.

She spun on her heels and was walking away when he said, ‘Excuse me.’

She stopped and slowly turned around, a bored look on her face. Eyebrows raised, a question in them.

‘Do I know you from somewhere?’ he asked the question that had been bothering him all through lunch.

This time she smirked, and slowly let her eyes travel from the top of his close-cut hair, down his expensive pale-green shirt, and the razor’s edge creased grey trousers to the polished toes of his back wingtips.

‘You really need to find another line,’ she drawled.

‘What?’ he was flabbergasted.

‘Yeah. Another pick-up line. That one is as old as the hills.’ She narrowed her eyes.

‘Look, I’m not trying to pick you up,’ he shook his head. ‘I really feel like I should know you.’

She chuckled sarcastically. ‘You need to get a life,’ she snapped, before turning around and sashaying away.

He stood there, looking after her thinking, I will, kitten. Just as soon as I have you in it.

****

Mitul absently picked up the phone ringing beside her, and held it to her ear. She was curled up on the couch, absorbed in the book in her hand, having given up on writing any more that day. The biography was taking shape, but she wasn’t happy with it. Yet.

‘Mitul?’ she frowned at the unfamiliar yet familiar voice.

‘Yes? Who is this?’ she asked

‘It’s Dev.’

She looked at the phone wondering why Dev was calling her. ‘Dev. Hey!’ she finally said.

‘Hey. Listen. Just wanted to let you know that Joyce will be sending you the appointments we’ve set up for you to interview Noel,’ he seemed to be in a vehicle of some kind. She could faintly hear the honking of traffic behind him.

She frowned. Why was he calling her with this information? She’d already got it from Joyce!

‘The thing is, we might have to change around some of the dates,’ he said.

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah. Just wanted to give you a heads up,’ he was speaking quickly.

‘Okay,’ she still wasn’t sure why he had called up.

‘Are you still returning next week?’ he asked the last question.

‘Yes, yes. I reach there on Sunday,’ she answered almost automatically.

‘Okay. I gotta go. Talk to you later,’ and he hung up.

*****

Dev knocked softly on the door to Noel’s apartment, waiting for Shomu to open the door and let him in. He’d showered, for the second time that day, and was dressed casually in shorts and a comfortable tee, that helped him deal with the sweltering heat of Mumbai.

‘How is Noel?’ he asked, when the door opened.

‘He’s sleeping now,’ answered Shomu softly.

‘Has the doctor arrived yet?’ He’d called Noel’s doctor on the way over, since Noel’s fever didn’t seem to be reducing.

‘Not yet,’ Shomu replied.

Dev nodded and went inside. He let himself into the master bedroom. Noel was usually very private about this room, and he’d rarely been here in it. A soft lamp glowed, and the curtains were drawn, the air-conditioning bringing the room temperature down.

Noel was fast asleep.

Not wanting to wake him up, he reached out and picked up Noel’s phone, when his eyes fell on the picture of Noel and Mitul. He picked it up and studied it.

The body language was telling. They were looking into each other’s eyes and smiling, obviously sharing some joke. His hand was visible at her waist, pulling her closer, as she leaned towards him, one hand on his chest, while he was turned just a little bit into her. This was a couple who were into each other, he saw. He didn’t understand their mutual decision to stay apart - at least, that’s what Noel had told him. Mitul didn’t want the relationship, it seemed. And Noel wasn’t going to fight her decision.

Idiot! he thought fondly, putting the picture back and tip-toeing out of the room.

The doctor arrived a little later, and a check up revealed it was nothing more than heat and exhaustion. Noel needed to rest, at least for the next five days.

Shomu went off to get the prescription filled, while Dev sat with Noel who had woken up and was sitting propped up against the headboard.

‘So. Heat and exhaustion, nothing to worry about,’ Dev said.

‘But what about the shoot?’ Noel’s voice was hoarse and raspy.

‘I’ve talked to the director. They’re reorganizing the schedule, so you can get the rest you need,’ Dev reassured him.

He fidgeted for a while and said, ‘Noel, I’ve got to tell you something.’

‘So tell me,’ Noel invited. ‘I got nothing better to do.’

Dev sighed impatiently. ‘Listen to this. I was at a lunch meeting yesterday. Went to that Japanese restaurant off Grant Road.’

‘And?’

Dev waved a hand to stop him interrupting and said, ‘there was a girl there, having lunch with two other women.’

‘Why is it always a girl with you, Dev?’ Noel groaned.

‘Shut up, Noel and let me finish,’ he snapped.

‘Was she gorgeous? Of course, she was, otherwise why would you look at her?’ Noel smiled to lessen the sarcasm.

‘So anyway,’ Dev plowed on, determined to continue his story. ‘The thing is, she looked so familiar. I asked her, if I knew her, and she...’ he stopped, and then continued, ‘she cut me down to size.’

Noel shook his head sadly, ‘after all these years, that’s the best line you come up with?’

Dev clucked his tongue, ‘that’s what she said. But that’s beside the point. The thing is, that it’s true. I’ve never seen her before. And yet I feel like I should know who she is!’

Noel laughed feebly, which turned into a cough. He drank some water, placed his hand on his heart. ‘It’s a union of the souls, Dev,’ he intoned dramatically. ‘If destiny has made you for each other, then nothing can tear you apart.’

‘Shut up! Noel. I’m telling you it was nothing like that. Okay, maybe a little bit like that. But I swear to you on everything I hold true, I know this woman, and I just don’t where from!’

‘What’s her name?’

‘Dunno,’

Noel nodded. ‘So basically, you met a gorgeous woman in a restaurant, tried to hit on her, she turned you down. You don’t know her name, and you want to find her .... because?’ he asked, grinning, already feeling much better because of this weird conversation.

‘I don’t know, Noel,’ Dev looked at the floor. ‘But I need to find her!’

‘Dude, Bombay has a population larger than Canada,’ he started and stopped, swallowed and brought his mind back to the matter at hand. ‘How’re you going to find her?

Dev took a deep breath, completely and thankfully overlooking the reference to Canada. ‘I have not a clue!’ he stated emphatically. ‘But find her I will!’

Noel clapped his hands. ‘Bravo!’

Dev looked balefully at him and then decided to get his own back. He stood up, his back to Noel and said, ‘Spoke to Mitul, by the way. She gets back on Sunday.’

Silence.

He turned around. Noel was looking at him, his face devoid of any expression.

‘Thought I’d let you know,’ he ended lamely. He drew a deep breath and said, ‘I should get going. Take care.’

Noel nodded. Dev let himself out of the apartment.

*****

Mitul sat with the phone in her hands wondering if she should. Why had Dev called out of the blue? Was everything okay with Noel? She felt dread forming in the pit of her stomach.

She hadn’t been thinking when she’d talked to him, but now that she had - she was wondering about it. Should she call and find out?

She wanted to. But she didn’t want to.

She got off the couch, and paced up and down. It was gnawing at her. She so wanted to hear his voice ... just to make sure he’s alright, of course.

And if she called .... would he ... But she could call him as a ... friend ... though, couldn’t she? She ran her fingers over the buttons on her phone. Just one call, find out how he is and hang up. That’s it.

She caved in.

She dialed his number. The call went to voicemail. She hung up. Sat back in the couch, leaned back, eyes closed. Dammit.

*****

Noel lay staring up at the ceiling. It was boring lying here. He got up and slowly walked to the living room. His phone was on the table, the charge dead. He plugged it in and went into the kitchen to get himself some orange juice. He felt parched.

He sank with a sigh of relief into the lazy-boy. Even this much exertion made him feel like an old man. Turning on the TV, he tuned into CNN, catching the news, sipping the glass of juice. He waited till the phone was half-charged and then turned it on. He scrolled through all the missed calls looking for one number. Hoping.

It wasn’t there.

He put the phone back on the charger, and went back to his bedroom, the pills starting to take effect as sleep filled his eyes.

The last thing he saw as he closed his eyes was the picture of them smiling at each other.

I have to put that away, was his last thought as he sank into the welcome arms of oblivion.

*****

Five-thirty am.

She sat looking at the phone in her hand, blearily trying to make out the numbers. She would call him. And God help him if he didn’t pick up the phone, she thought.

She dialed.

The phone rang, twice before she heard his voice, ‘Hello?’ It was huskier and raspier than before.

She shivered and held the receiver tight.

His voice dropped, as if he knew who the caller was, ‘Mitul?’

‘Yeah, it’s me,’ she struggled to form the words. The room was spinning and spinning badly. ‘Noel, I just wanna know.. just one thing..,’ she slurred.

‘What?’ he cleared his throat.

She tried to frame the thought clearly in her head. ‘I..’

‘Mitul, tell me,’ his voice was soft and tender.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked him in a small voice.

He chuckled, and then coughed. ‘I’m okay.’ And he was. More than anything. Just to hear her voice, he could feel life flow through his veins again.

‘Noel,’ she said, drawing out the two syllables. And suddenly he realized. She was drunk!

‘Mitul, are you drunk?’ he asked.

‘No. No. No. nononono. I’m not drunk. I just had a little wine,’ she stopped. He couldn’t stop smiling. She was so drunk!

‘Go to sleep, babe,’ he whispered huskily.

‘Dev. He called. Why did he call?’ she asked him.

‘I don’t know,’ he tried to keep the laugher out of his voice.

‘I wanted .. missed...’ she forgot her train of thought.

‘Did you miss me?’ he closed his eyes.

‘Are you okay?’ She repeated. Of course, she didn’t remember asking him that. But he could listen to her voice forever, he thought, and she could repeat everything twice and he’d still listen.

‘Yes, I am. Now go to sleep,’ he commanded, gently.

‘Sleep?’

‘Yeah. Good night, babe,’ he said.

‘Good night,’ she whispered, falling asleep almost instantly.

He hit the end button and thought about the call. She’d been drunk. Of that he was sure. Would she remember calling him? Probably not. But still a smile curled his lip, tender and amused. She was so cute when she was drunk. He’d have to tell her that sometime, he thought.

*****

Mitul woke up to light streaming in through the windows. She sat up and looked around. Evidently, She’d fallen asleep on the couch! An empty bottle of wine stood on the table, and a single glass, wtih wine still in it, stood next to it. The phone was next to the glass.

Vague fragments of a conversations wisped through her memory. With a feeling of dread, she picked up the phone, and scrolled through the dialed calls. The last call dialed was to Noel.

She’d drunk dialed Noel James Figueiredo at Five-Thirty AM!

*****

Five-Thirty AM - XVI

Noel placed the phone back on the cradle. He’d been amused to hear Piya’s message earlier this morning. Last night, they’d been shooting till the early hours and he’d crashed as soon as he got back. It was only when he was checking messages today that he’d heard the voice mail. And so, he’d called back.

He had not been prepared to hear Mitul’s voice.

For a moment, he’d thought he’d imagined it. That it was really Piya or Jiya answering the phone. He was just fantasizing it was her. But then, she’d said hullo a second time, and he’d known it was her. He’d let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding in a hiss, composed himself and said the first thing that came to his mind, ‘Can I talk to Piya?’

He’d almost banged the phone into his head at that, cursing his own stupidity. A week. A week had gone by without her, and he’d just ruined the first chance he’d got! stupid! Stupid!! STUPID!!!

Then he’d listened to Piya talk about the weddings. They wanted him to come to the wedding. Of course, he was going to accept. How could he not? Not just because of Mitul, he told himself. But because he’d genuinely bonded with the Puris. He liked them.

He threw himself down on the dark brown lazy-boy in front of the TV and stared at nothing in particular.

He was bone-tired. He’d not had time to recover from the jet-lag, before they were full swing into shooting some of the other action sequences. Each stunt was worked out meticulously, with the action director coming up with novel ways to enhance the stunts, and at the same time keeping to the script.

At least the physical exhaustion made him sleep at night.

He wandered into the kitchen and noticed that his man-friday had left a fresh pot of coffee brewed. Pouring himself a cup, he came and sank back into the lazy-boy. He loved this chair, it was worn and well-used, could recline back to a hundred-and-thirty-five degrees and was still comfortable as all else. It was his Dad’s chair, and that’s all he’d asked his father for when he’d bought this two-bedroom apartment.

Despite the fact that he could probably afford something a little better and a little bigger, he’d kept this apartment. It was good enough for his Spartan needs. It’s said a person’s living space reflects their personality. It was neat. Always. Noel was never sloppy, the army teaches you that very quickly.

The walls were a dark mottled cream color, the furniture a pale teak.

The paleness of the walls were broken by the clusters of photographs, all black and white that he had had mounted. There was, however, a new addition in his bedroom. The picture of Mitul and himself smiling at each other at Carlsbad stood on the bedside table.

It was the rich reds and greens of the upholstery and the occasional wall hanging that gave his home color and depth and a cosy comfort. The random potted plants brought in a coolness with their greenery. None of them were flowering plants, but he liked the idea of having something green around him.

Brown and green - earth tones.

Speaking of.

He looked around him, wondering what Mitul would make of it. He wanted her to see it, he wanted to see her in it, because he could see her fit in perfectly. An earth goddess in an earthy room. Would she be earthy all over?

He stopped himself. He closed his eyes, blanking out his mind. Forcing himself to stop thinking of her.

Instead, that last morning in Ruidoso played in his mind.

*****

He sat there with her in his arms, watching the sun come up over the mountains. She frowned as the rays of the sun hit her face. He picked her up, and walked back to the bed, gently laying her down on it and tucking her in. He took a shower, and then clad only in his jeans, walked over to her bed.

Sitting down, he ran his fingers lightly over her lips, her forehead, her eyes, watching as she scrunched her face up, before fluttering open those eyelids and letting him see the deep gold of her eyes.

They were smudged and bottomless and he could feel himself drowning in them. Leaning over, he kissed her forehead, ‘Good morning, Mitul,’ he growled, not knowing he’d sent vibrations along her spine.

She smiled sleepily up at him, her arms coming out of the comforter to run along the bare bones of his ribcage. She was dressed in the comfortable, modest cotton pajamas that she’d changed into somehow, the night before.

He held his breath as she slowly sat up, their faces mere inches apart. She seemed to be looking for something in his eyes, before she whispered, ‘Good morning, Noel,’ in her sleep-husked, raspy voice, and his body reacted almost instantaneously at that.

‘I need to brush!’ was the next thing that came out of her mouth, before she jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom.

He sat staring after her, before chuckling in amusement. ‘I’m ordering breakfast,’ he called. 

‘Okay,’ she yelled through the door.

He smiled at that - it was so domestic! She’d enjoyed pancakes the first time they’d gone out, he remembered. So pancakes with fresh cream and fruit, and coffee it was. He packed up while he waited for breakfast and once it came, he placed it on the table in the seating area, settling down to wait for her.

When she finally came out she was wrapped in a robe, her hair lying in damp tendrils, still dripping water, and looking freshly scrubbed. She joined him in the seating area.

‘Sit,’ he said, gesturing to the seat next to him on the couch.

She sat down gingerly, shyly peeking at his half-naked state. He reached out a finger and touched a droplet of water snaking down her neck, and trailed his finger along it. She looked at him round-eyed.

He dropped the arm, snaking it around her and pulled her close, aware that she had nothing on under it, and that she smelled deliciously of shampoo and shower gel and her. Holding her cheek with his other hand, he kissed her. A soft, good morning, I’m so glad you’re here with me, kiss. His tongue brushed lightly against her lips, his hands finding their way to her damp hair, holding her head as he deepened the kiss. Her hands had come up and tugged at his hair, gently, before finding their way down to the nape of his neck and rubbing along his collar bones. They flittered down his bare chest and brushed on his nipples. Which is when he drew back. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself if they didn’t stop right there.

He smiled into her eyes and husked, ‘now that’s a good morning kiss,’ watching as she blushed delightfully.

*****

The front door unlocking broke into his reverie and he opened his eyes.

Shomu, his man-friday was back, his arms laden with groceries. His mother had found Shomu in Goa. The man was loyal and had been with their family for over twenty years, moving with him to Mumbai when he’d needed domestic help. He could also cook a mean vindaloo. In his late forties, he still looked practically the same as he’d done the day he’d been hired by his mom.

‘Noel, baba, have you showered?’ he asked Noel.

Noel shook. ‘Thanks for the coffee, Shomu,’ he said, raising the cup.

‘Go shower, then. Dev baba called earlier, he’ll be coming in a bit. Are you going out for dinner?’

‘No, Shomu. Can you make something light, please? A fish curry and rice, maybe?’ Noel loved fish. It reminded him of home.

‘I’ve got some fresh pomfret, baba. Dal, fish fry and a cauliflower curry work for you?’ Shomu asked.

‘Perfect,’ Noel smiled. He loved the simple home-cooked meals. He headed into the master suite for his shower.

When he came out, in jeans and a tee, Dev was already there, playing Skyrim on the XBox. ‘Hey!’ he raised his glass of coke to Noel. There was no alcohol or tobacco allowed in Noel’s home. Not even for guests.

‘Hey, Dev,’ Noel sat down next to him. ‘What’s going on?’

‘This game is fucking awesome, Noel,’ he said, saving it and shutting down the console. ‘The graphics are unbelievable!’

‘Yeah, I know. Not that I get to play it too much,’ Noel grimaced.

‘Wanna go out tonight?’ Dev raised an eyebrow, although he knew what the answer would be.

‘No,’ Noel sighed. Then he looked over at his friend and said, ‘Piya had called.’

‘Oh yeah?’ having heard all about the Puris from Noel, already. ‘How come?’

‘The weddings - both Piya’s and Jiya’s - are in two months. They’re registering the weddings this Friday and then the entire family is coming to India a month before the wedding,’ he added. ‘They’re having a double wedding. They wanted to invite me.’

Noel went silent.

Dev waited.

‘Mitul was at their place,’ Noel finally said, a red hue rising up his neck.

Shomu called them just then to come for dinner. They moved over to the dining table, and sat down to the simple meal.

‘Noel, baba. There’s yogurt in the fridge - don’t forget to have it. I’ve set up the coffee pot. Leave the dishes in the sink, I’ll do them tomorrow,’ Shomu instructed, before leaving for the night. He stayed with his family - a wife and a son - close by in a small flat.

‘All right, Shomu. I’ll see you tomorrow,’ Noel said.

‘So did you talk to Mitul?’ Dev had impatiently waited while Shomu took his leave.

‘Sort of,’ Noel muttered. Dev narrowed his eyes. Sort of? What the heck did that mean?

‘Piya had left a voicemail, so I called back. Mitul picked up the phone and all I could say was, can I speak to Piya. That was it!’ Noel exclaimed feeling a little disgusted with himself at his complete flub!

Dev’s lips twitched with amusement. Charming, flirty Noel seemed to have flown out the window when it came to Mitul.

‘And you didn’t ask to speak to her after that?’

Noel shook his head.

Dev shook his head at his friend’s stupidity. ‘By the way, she’s coming in three weeks,’ he told Noel casually, before putting a spoonful of rice in his mouth.

Noel looked up sharply.

‘Joyce called. Mitul wants some more time with you, so I’m getting your dates cleaned up a bit, for the interviews.’

Noel nodded. It was something he was dreading and contrarily something he was looking forward, too. He knew that at some point he’d have to talk to Mitul. ‘Can we set them up at either Joyce’s or your office?’ he growled, taking the pragmatic way out.

Dev looked over at him and noticed the sharp pinched look around his eyes. His friend was suffering and he’d promised Mitul hell if she made him suffer. But first, he’d have to see what state Mitul was in, before he did anything.

*****

Friday was a beautiful day in Toronto. Mitul had stayed over the previous night at the Puris, and helped Jiya and Piya get dressed for their registration. Both wore beautiful elaborate anarkalis, appropriate for a morning wedding, with light jewelry. Jiya shone in cream with an accent of fuchsia, while Piya chose pale yellow with an accent of olive.

The two sisters arrived at the wedding chapel to find their two grooms waiting for them, looking dapper in morning tuxedos, with small carnations in their lapels.

The ceremonies were short and sweet - a promise to love, honor and cherish each other all through their lives.

Piya had chosen a traditional gold wedding band for Anuj, while Jiya had gone with a flat gold band for Rajan. Rajan had in turn chosen a platinum band for her, set with tiny diamonds, while Anuj had gone with one that fitted into the engagement ring, he’d put on Piya’s finger. It was the other half of the ring.

Mitul took pictures and the Puris smiled in delight. Each of the four had brought a friend along as witness and once all the paperwork was done, they headed out the door.

They were walking across the wide, sweeping expanse of Nathan Phillips Square when Mitul’s phone vibrated. She excused herself and walked a little apart as she answered it.

‘Hi!’ came the last voice that she’d expected to hear. Noel.

Her heart jumped and a smile broke across her face. She opened her mouth and then shut it. Remembering. Why? Why did he have to do this? she thought, closing her eyes.

‘Mitul?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ she breathed.

‘Is the wedding over?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ was all she could say.

‘Can I talk to Piya and Jiya?’

She nodded, and called Piya over, ‘Noel. He wants to congratulate you guys,’ and handed over the phone. She stood watching silently, her heart bleeding as her sisters and new brothers-in-law talked happily to him.

Rajan finally handed the phone over with, ‘he wants to talk to you.’

She took it, wondering why her hand was shaking so much. She cleared her throat before speaking. ‘Hi!’

‘Hey,’ he was quiet and then said, ‘how are you?’

‘I’m good,’ she replied. ‘Good. And you?’

‘I’m fine. Just tired a lot. Shooting non-stop now,’ he rambled and stopped. ‘Dev was here the other day. He was asking after you. You’re coming back to India in two weeks?’ he made a question out of it.

‘Yes,’ baldly.

‘I’ve asked him to set up some time with you, if that’s okay with you,’ formally.

‘That’s okay,. Thank you,’ equally formally.

‘Mitul,’ her aunt was calling her.

‘I’ve gotta go,’ she said.

‘Okay. Bye. Take care, Mitul,’ his tongue lingered over her name.

‘You too. Bye, Noel,’ she said.

She walked over to the group, as they headed out for an early celebratory lunch, a bright, happy smile pasted on her face.

*****

The newly weds had gone off for the weekend. Now that they were legally married, they didn’t need chaperones.

So, Mitul was left to her own devices and was finding it hard to concentrate on work. She’d worked out. Done all her household chores. Paid all her bills. She needed to start packing, she thought.

She sat down after a solitary cold salad lunch and turned on the TV, flipping through the channels as she usually did, trying to find something brain-numbing so she wouldn’t have to think.

His face was on the Hindi channel.

She stopped.

It was one of those Parda Faash segments that she hated.

He was dressed in a black suit, his hair ruffled. His jaws were still shadowed with a dark stubble, and the crisp white shirt showed off the strong muscles of his throat. She swallowed as she looked it, filling her hungry gaze with it.

Next to him stood one of the top TV actors in India, simpering in a red sari, looking absolutely gorgeous with her flawless makeup. Long hair, glossy and shining that she tossed over her shoulder from time to time, a big toothy grin, framed in perfect glossy lips, and a chirpy voice.

‘So when do you start shooting for this serial?’ the reporter asked him.

‘I still have to finish the movie I am working on. Once it goes into post-production, we start shooting full-time for the serial,’ he replied.

‘Yes, Noel is the hold-up,’ laughed the actress, leaning slightly towards him, as he held the mike towards her.

‘What’s the story about?’

‘Oh! It’s a love story mainly - but with a difference. Well, Indian audiences always need their romance, but its more a social drama,’ the actress replied, putting her hand over Noel’s to hold the mike closer. Noel nodded, his green gaze fixed on her, smile firmly in place.

‘We provide the romance,’ Noel laughed huskily, looking at his co-star.

‘Noel, you’ve already had two films, one a hit, and you’re shooting your third. So why are you coming back to TV?’ was the next question.

‘First, it’s a good story, strong screenplay. My character is very well thought out. Secondly, the ensemble cast is fantastic, and lastly, it’s a weekly serial. The thing with daily soaps is that they get really exhausting. You’re working over 60 hours a week and it can really burn you up. This is a weekly one-hour show, it won’t be rushed, so it’s quality will be better. And we’ll be able to give our best for the audience,’ Noel replied.

‘Have you met the other cast members?’ asked the reporter.

‘Yes we have,’ she replied, once again leaning into Noel to answer, her voice beginning to grate on Mitul’s nerves. ‘And we are looking forward to working with them. It’s a fun group of people.’ She laughed happily up at Noel.

‘You know your fans are looking forward to seeing you both together on screen,’ the reporter was obviously winding down.

‘Yes, and we are also looking forward to having them back with us, again,’ it was the actress who replied once again, with her signature toothy grin.

The screen cut to the reporter. ‘Well, there you have it. Noel James and Malavika Bose are coming together for new serial on Love OK Channel - the hottest channel for romance. The promos will start to air in two weeks time, we are told. Watch out for it, folks. It promises to be fantastic!’ With that, the screen cut to the next segment.

Mitul sat there, chewing on her nail. She hated Malavika Bose and her perfectly made up face. She hated her toothy grin and her simpering smile. She hated her grating voice and her perfect hair. She hated her from the bottom of her heart, she decided.

And she hated Noel for making her hate a woman she’d never even met!

*****