“Waapis nikalo, waapis nikalo,[9]” she pointed. And like she was making him commit a crime, he scraped most of the chutney off the bread until it was a light minty green.
“Salaad sab daaloon?[10]” He asked sarcastically. Nilay’s vendor, Nilay’s tone.
“Sab, sab, extra salad.[11]”
He started slicing fresh veggies. A whole cucumber; he sliced it on the bread and laid it in a thick bed. Then followed it up with one whole tomato. Ritu’s mouth watered. Then the boiled potato. He sliced a beet and an onion to top of the mountain and it looked like another slice of bread wouldn’t manage to keep it all inside the sandwich. But Ritu didn’t doubt it. She had eaten enough Bombay sandwiches to know that it would all tuck in nicely.
He reached for the sprinkler of masala and she stopped him again — “Masala ekdum kam![12]”
His face contorted. He stared at her — “Taste hi nahi aayega.[13]”
“Chalega. Ekdum kam… bus, bus…[14]”
He dusted the sandwich masala over the mountain of salad and covered it with a plain slice of bread. Then pressed. A perfect square, with all the layers locked tightly inside. Ritu glanced at the man standing silently beside her. His eyes were on her, amused.
“You scared of getting a Delhi belly, Doctor?”
“I have gotten it multiple times this month already.”
The paper plate with a fat sandwich was pushed on the counter in front of her. Cut up into nine pieces — 3X3. Her favourite. Small pieces that became the perfect bites!
“Here,” she held the plate up between them. Nilay’s eyes widened.
“Wait, you got him to make it without chutney, butter and masala for me?”
She nodded, reached for a piece and separated it from its perfect family. It broke away to a whole rainbow between perfect white breads. Green, red, yellow, purple.
“White bread is not something I would recommend eating every day for now, but occasionally it’s fine if eaten with lots of fibre. Eat.”
“Ritu, you don’t have to eat this,” he began to pull the plate from her hand. “Madam ke liye ek sada, teekha sandwich…[15]”
She had already bitten into the piece and held her other hand underneath it to catch the falling vegetables. “Wow.” She glanced up at Nilay and grinned, her cheeks full. At one time, she wouldn’t have been caught dead with her cheeks round in front of him. Now, she didn’t care. Neither did he, it seemed, as he guiltily broke a piece and popped it whole into his mouth. His eyes fell closed.
“Thank you,” he said, already chewed through his piece while hers was still half-held in her hand. She was a slow eater. The slowest.
“What kind of sad food have you been eating every day?” She asked.
“Very sad. Rajiv has taken everything off the table.” He reached for another piece, gesturing his man to make a second round.
“Maybe you can get a sourdough loaf and have your cook make this same sandwich at home. Eat it with this kind of a mountain of salad. Get your chutney made with minimal salt and oil.”
“Hmm…” he was busy eating. “Can I eat the sauce?” He eyed the red bottle with the white nozzle. This was another barrel of heart agony. Kaddu sauce, made out of pumpkin, palm oil, salt and tons of sugar.
“Only a taste.” Ritu reached for the bottle and squirted a pea-sized amount on one piece. He picked it up and popped it into his mouth. And his eyes closed for a whole other reason. She bit her lip. He looked… so good.
His eyes popped open, and she was caught. Deer in the headlights.
She couldn’t even look away now. So, Ritu smirked at him — “Couturier and designer caught hogging roadside sandwich?”
“I’ve got a better headline for you — Couturier and designer caught orgasming to a roadside sandwich.”
She rolled her eyes. At that moment, the sandwich seller pushed another paper plate of sandwich their way and he picked it up in his hand.
“Come here, Doctor.”
Ritu gaped at the butter swiped on top, and the chutney and kaddu sauce squeezed on the side.
“Butter kyu dala, Bhaiya?![16]” She started but was cut off as Nilay popped a piece of that new sandwich into her mouth. “Oh my go…!” Her eyes widened. She had to cover her mouth to chew as she glared at Nilay — “Don’t eat that.”
