After his angina though, he felt like he had regressed 30 years. Back to school days when everything was planned. Timetables, periods, home, playing, tuition, TV — everything had a set time. He had hated it at first. Hissweet-naturedcardiologist hadn’t made it easy on him either with her ‘list of lifestyle changes.’ But as weeks had passed and his reports, along with his daily BP, had begun to stabilise, he had started valuing the virtue of routine, safer choices, and a set life. He just hated that this realisation had come at the cost of his health.
Nilay was out of the shower, dressed, and in the kitchen, grabbing an apple and quickly dicing it before his clock struck 7.15. His juicer was prepped with spinach, tomato, mint, kadi patta and cucumber already. He hit churn and snacked on the apple. The juicer worked out his first breakfast and he didn’t even balk at the green goo anymore. Ritu’s recipe in her ‘list of lifestyle changes.’ He had been gagging himself through this drink all of the first month. Now, it reminded him of her and he gulped it without any salt or a wince, with a smile that he wiped off his face the moment he realised he was acting like a maniac.
Nilay grabbed his mobile and pressed for the internal elevator. It pinged open and he hit the button for the floor below his. He checked the time. 7.30 am. Too early to contact her. But what would he contact her for now? He had exhausted his report-reviewing.Idiot.He should have sent her just one report yesterday. He could have pulled an entire week on those reports. Nilay started to calculate when his next test was due when the elevator door slid open and he found Rajiv swinging on his single jute swing. He glanced up at his wall clock.
“Dot at 7.30. I am impressed again.”
Nilay slipped his phone inside his pocket and unbuttoned his cuff, rolling his sleeve up while Rajiv reached for the BP machine he had kept ready on the side table. He got to his feet.
“Nilay, should I brew green tea?” His wife hollered from the open kitchen. He could hear her just fine but Meena Bhabhi had a penchant for keeping her house alive with her loud hollers. They were both in their 50s, enjoying early retired life without actually retiring. Rajiv ran his practice for two hours in the morning and two in the evening. The rest of his time was spent at home or at the Pickle Ball court, his newest obsession.
“I just had my smoothie.”
“You are still having it?”
“Doctor’s orders,” he sat down on the sofa as Rajiv started cuffing his arm, dark bushy eyebrows furrowing down at him — “Since when do you listen to doctor’s orders?”
“I always listen to doctor’s order.”
The quiet hiss of his pump, the fall of the mercury on his machine and the tick of his stethoscope. “120/80.”
Nilay slapped his thighs and got to his feet. He had stopped panicking now every time the reading was taken.
“Ritu said it would hold now that the reports are good.” He pulled his sleeve down and began to button his cuff. He had also temporarily given up on wearing cufflinks, his one secret obsession, to make it easier for daily BP checks.
“Dr. Kaapadia became Ritu?” Rajiv packed his machine. “Since when?”
“It was weird to call her Dr. Kaapadia outside of the clinic.”
“Lo, he is meeting his cardiologist outside of the clinic now.”
Nilay shut up, making Meena Bhabhi’s tinkling laugh even louder in their spacious home.
“Dr. Shravan is my cardiologist.”
“Then why meetRitu?” Rajiv grinned.
“You said she is one of the best on the East Coast for non-invasive…”
“I said a lot of things. When did you listen to me? Three months ago you came to me with headache after driving and I asked you to take it easy because 140/90. Did you listen? Last year when you had jaundice, I told you to take your dose exactly on time. You got a relapse because you didn’t. Did you listen? When…”
“Fine, fine, I did not listen. This time I am listening.”
“ToRitu.”
“Thank you, Rajiv. I need to get going.”
“At least have some breakfast, Nilay! It’s upma…”
“I’ll come back.”
“At dot 9 tonight,” Rajiv laughed. “If he doesn’t get his BP checked byRitu.”
————————————————————
The Nilay Patel House of Couture was his India flagship store located in the prestigious lane of Juhu Scheme, now rebranded JVPD. When he had bought this piece of land seven years ago, it was worth the value of gold. Now, it was worth the value of gold, oil and dollars combined. With the real estate appreciating in Mumbai, especially in this area of the suburbs thanks to a mass movement of Bollywood, production houses and PR agencies, the value of his property had skyrocketed.
Doubly so because it was just three storeys — the ground floor for the store, the top two for his workshop and office. Developers had been knocking on his door for rights to redevelop this already immaculate property, bring it up to triple its FSI and rent out the spaces he didn’t need. Nilay had held steady. It was not a great business decision to reject the real estate wave in Mumbai. But from a brand perspective, it was the right bet — to keep this building under his brand name. Retain its flagship value that tied it to panache, luxury and singularity.
