Then again, those questions that came to me the moment I heard of this proposal: Why me? Why us?
I am in a bit of a shock and obviously not thinking clearly, but I have a feeling that the answer to that question is a crucial piece of the puzzle. I feel the blood rush to my head. My posture slackens, and my shoulders drop.
The more tightly I clasp the handle of my coffee mug, the more my hand shakes. I put the mug on the coaster. My head is darting in ten different directions; I feel it turn. I want a bag of potato wafers or banana chips. Several bags. I want to be busy, my mouth to keep pace with my thoughts.
When we first started here, I would stash bags and bags of crisps and chips, and each time I felt my nerves acting up, I would bolt the door and stuff my face. A couple of years ago, I had forgotten to lock the door, and Mohit walked into my binge fest. That is the last time I binged in the office.
I kick off my shoes, pull my right leg up on the chair and drop my head on the headrest of my seat.
We are done here!
What the hell just happened? This time, the question echoesa pain from deep inside.
This man, this impoverished (in more ways than one) prince, who had signed some lease papers for a section of their precious palace, thinks Appa and I are trying to take over his however-many-bedrooms palace?
I have to see Appa. If I can somehow pull myself together and get off this chair my bum seems to be planted in.
Just as I dial his number, there is a knock on the door. The number of people knocking on my door in one morning! It is a slow, hesitant rap. I know the sound, but I can’t place it. I shout, ‘I’m busy!’ I don’t want to see anyone other than Appa at this moment.
The door doesn’t heed my shout; it opens, and in walks Raju. His helmet is strapped around his sleeve tattoo; he has a coffee mug in one hand and a half-eaten apple muffin on a plate in the other. I have forgotten about Raju; he had said he would be waiting outside for me.
‘I’m sorry,’ Raju says. ‘I had already opened the door when you said you were busy. I can wait outside until you are done.’
‘No, no,’ I say, waving for Raju to come in and take the chair that has just been vacated by the grasping royal.
I dial Appa’s number for the third time. Still no response. Where is he when I need him?
Raju places his coffee mug on the spare coaster and moves the teacup to the side of the table. He then reaches for the coconut cinnamon cookie and puts it next to the apple muffin and stops to admire his art. The savoury cookie is placed on the side table next to the empty cup and saucer. No place on Raju Mathew’s plate for a savoury cookie.
‘I’ve been wanting to try coconut cinnamon,’ he says, more to himself. My florid expression or heavy breathing haven’t registered on Raju, who gobbles the giant cookie in two bites. That’s how he enjoys his food.
Raju wipes his mouth and neatly folds the paper napkin before he speaks. ‘You should have seen the drama outside.’
‘Drama?’ I ask as I hit Appa’s number again. There are days when getting through to Appa is impossible, and this is proving to be one of them.
‘As soon as the prince walks out of your office, he glares at me first,’ says Raju, plumping himself up like he is a pillow while imitating the look Vedveer gave him.
Among Raju’s many skills, he is not just a good raconteur but an accurate one.
‘Mohit ran after the secretary and gave him a box. It had the rest of the teabags.’
‘What bags? Why is he giving him the tea box? It’s ours!’
‘No! The prince brought his own teabags.’ Raju is laughing hysterically now.
No wonder the tea looked so different from what we generally serve, and also his reaction… He was super pleased that we served him his tea at our café!
Vedveer’s lackey had apparently handed the box of teabags to Mohit when he was getting the tray ready.
‘I wanted to taste that tea, but Mohit gave me coffee.’
I need to learn from the staff how exactly it all played out this morning, but that will have to wait for now.
‘The best thing is that the secretary was speaking to Mohit in Hindi, but Mohit is a total boss,’ Raju says. ‘He said, “Please, sir, I’m not following what exactly you’re saying; please speak in English or Kannada.”’
Good on him!
I’m on my feet. I have to see Appa. I need to figure out what exactly Vedveer is talking about. I look at my watch. If we leave now, my driver could beat the rush hour traffic. I could, maybe, catch Appa before the session starts.
