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‘Idiot, I know you don’t. Google it for me’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t have time to tell you why.’
‘I won’t Google anything unless you tell me why.’
‘How uncool!’
‘Waiting for the whole story. I have all the time. Remember, you don’t.’
That maniac! I quickly told Pitajee the whole story.
‘Serves you right,’ he said politely.
‘Shut up.’
‘For lying to someone who is like a mother to you!’
‘Shut up!’
‘Don’t ever lie again.’
‘Shut up!’
‘Be a little more ladylike.’
‘Shut up!’
‘Okay. Here is the recipe,’ said Pitajee finally and began to rattle off the recipe that I tried hard to memorize.
‘You want to thank me?’ said Pitajee pointedly after he had finished.
‘No, but I want to say something else...’ I said in a soft voice.
‘Go ahead, darling.’
‘You are a maniac,’ I said politely.
‘So are you, my love,’ retorted Pitajee.
‘And that is why we rock,’ I said, now smiling. I could hear Pitajee smile too as he wished me luck and hung up.
9.30 p.m.
I was sitting at the dinner table, when my cell phone beeped.
‘How did the paranthas turn out?’ Pitajee’s text read.
‘Horrible,’ I replied.
‘Poor you.’
‘It gets worse.’
‘?’
‘My parantha was so bad that…’
