“Because you are not old. Now, start?”
“Fine.”
“What is your favourite season?”
“Really?” She asked incredulously. “What will you even do by knowing it?”
“Addition to the rules: you cannot make smart-ass comments.”
“Youmake smart-ass comments, not me.”
“Oh man, trust me, Ritu, you cut, burn and don’t even show mercy when you start to fire.”
“Really?”
“I have a transcript,” he tapped the side of his head. “Right here. But that’s not the game. What is your favourite season?”
“Winter.”
“What is your favourite food?”
Her mouth watered as she thought.
“Chole-rice… no, wait, pizza… no, no, hang on, not the most favourite. Umm… veg toast sandwich! Yes, veg toast sandwich but only if it is charred on that open fire. On the road. You should smell the coal on it.”
“The one that has burnt edges and char marks on it?” He supplied helpfully.
“Yes! With butter on the top that’s melting and soaking into the crispy bread.”
“And kaddu ka sauce?”
“Yes, yes, yes!”
“For now, I can only dream about it but you are absolutely having that when we go back home. Third What — What is your big dream?”
“Umm…” she thought hard. She was kind of enjoying this game now. “Big dream… MM! To have a baby girl like MM is THE dream. Oh my god, I miss her. I saw her this morning before leaving and I already miss her. How will I survive when I leave for New York and she will keep growing and Maya will keep sending me photos and videos of all the cute milestones?”
“You like kids?”
“Yes,” she chuckled abashedly. “But they are good in dreams only.”
He frowned.
“Next?”
“Hmm? Next — What was your worst moment to date?”
Ritu froze. Then immediately broke free of the rope that had begun to tie her body and mind.
“Leaving Mumbai,” she lied. And didn’t lie. It was all tied together, after all. He didn’t seem deterred by her answer, though.
“You’ve lived in the States for what… 20 years?”
“Give or take.”
“Then how do you not have an accent?”
“Oh, ya mean, dis accent?” She did her best open-mouthed East-Coast spit. His beard twitched.
