Beside the man who had just called out to me, a girl whom I remember from the group chat as ‘Simi with the coffee skills’ has emerged out of thin air and is standing behind the espresso machine, wearing a random apron and a puzzled expression. She looks as stunned as I am.
She is the only local person we have hired for the café so far. That will, of course, change in the months ahead.
The other baristas and the pastry chef of the inaugural team are Bengaluru-based and will arrive in time to do the dry runs before the launch.
I step over an open box labelled ‘FRAGILE’, only to trip on an extension cord. I steady myself, feeling the sweat beads trickle down my face and settle on my clavicle.
‘Aap kaun hain, behen?’ a male voice asks. I look up to see an older man in a paint-splattered Calvin Klein shirt, grinning at me from behind a stack of unopened boxes.
I look at him blankly. I’m not sure what to say.
‘Kya kar rahe hain, yaar? Sink ko ulta laga rahe hain?’ he calls out to the man in overalls, who is lying on the floor.
The chaos is overwhelming, the noise echoing an unfinished story.
We started rolling out media campaigns last month, and in the next twenty-four hours, we start the one-week countdown on hoardings in prime locations in the city, just like we had done in Bengaluru.
What if we are not ready on the launch date? That looks more like a possibility at this point.
I need a few minutes to myself before I speak to anyone or make any decisions.
I settle on one of the dry paint buckets that has been turned upside down. From where I’m seated, I can see the palace gates – tall and symmetrical, studded with ironwork and flanked by sandstone pillars etched with floral motifs. We are there but not quite there.
I reach for my phone and message Lavanya.
Me:I don’t know when you’ll see this message, but I’m totally panicking!!!I’m not sure if our Jaipur outlet will be ready by launch date!!!Yikes!
Me:Don’t tell me to postpone the opening because the date has been announced in all the major publications, and the save-the-date exercise on social media is done!!!
Me:Fortunately for me, I packed a couple of extra clothes. I’m planning to stay on for a day or two. Will call Mohit. Hopefully he can get here soonand work his magic again.
I decide against calling Bhanwar Lal and instead dial Mohit and tell him that he is needed here.
I shut the phone and exhale.
‘Ma’am,’ Simi calls. She’s by my side now.
Her eyes are glazed. I want to ask if she is okay, but beside her, the man in the paint-stained tee is also on his feet and looking over me.
I do a 180-degree turn and face an open door where Vedveer stands. He is in a fawn-coloured suit, his shirt is open at the throat, and his hands are in his pockets.
This is the one person I do not need to see now. Behind him, a mini army battalion are shuffling their feet like they are preparing to attack.
Fortunately for me, he has the good sense to leave the unit outside. I don’t need any more folks who don’t know what they need to do in this space.
Vedveer walks carefully, avoiding the wires and the floor that resembles an abandoned obstacle race track.
I hear a sound right next to me, a crash, a thump. I swing around to see Simi on the floor.
She is standing next to me one moment and is sprawled on the floor the next.
The Calvin Klein tee, who is standing next to Simi, is bowing to Vedveer instead of helping the girl. ‘Yuvraj Maharaj,’ he says before turning his attention to Simi.
I remember I have a bottle of water in my bag. I pull it out and splash it on her. She flutters her eyelids as I kneel on the floor and help her sit up.
‘What happened?’ That’s my voice.
She is resting her head on my arm and smiling at Vedveer’s clean-shaven face now.
