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“Are you all right, Deep?”
He frowned at me over his glass of water.
“Of course. Why do you ask?”
I looked at him as if he had sprouted horns on that cabbage-like head.
“You just ordered a salad. At the Club. Why would you do that when we have so many delights to sample from?” I asked, waving a hand over the elaborate menu.
“Ah, Jayshree, my life has changed so much since we met last. I took a long look at my lifestyle and realised that my obsession with food was holding me back from achieving my goals in life. That’s when I discovered this famous nutritionist from South Africa. I spent six months at his centre, and he changed the way I looked at food. Earlier, I used to live to eat. Now, I eat to live. I only eat as much as my body requires, and I do not eat anything in excess. Everything is measured out in exact amounts - proteins, carbs, fat, macro and micro-nutrients. And the result is here for everyone to see,” he said, waving a hand at his body.
I murmured noncommittally.
“I lost twenty-three kilos in one year, and my trainer watches my waistline like a shark. If I gain more than a kilo, he puts me on a detox diet, and within no time, I’m back at my goal weight. Do you remember how I used to be under-confident and shy? Not any more,” he said proudly.
I bit into a masala papad to avoid commenting. While I was happy for him, it sounded like a miserable life, where your sense of worth was measured by the numbers on your weighing scale and measure tape. Still, it wasn’t my life. I had no right to judge. So I forced a smile and tried to look attentive as he droned on and on about his favourite protein drink.
He looked askance at my plate, as the waiter served me some of the lip-smacking Nihari.
“That’s going straight to your arteries, you know,” he said, with a grimace.
“I know,” I said, calmly, as I tore off a piece of roti and dipped it in the rich gravy.
By that reckoning, I should have keeled over a long time ago. I’d been gorging on the Club’s Nihari since I was a little girl, and I was sure that my arteries craved it as much as my tongue did.
Deep forked up a bit of his dry and boring salad, and chewed thirty-two times before he swallowed. I counted.
I took a deep breath and told myself that his new obsession was a quirk, not a fault.
I decided to focus on the plateful of joy in front of me, and took another bite, closing my eyes to savour the taste and silken feel of the meat on my tongue. Suddenly, the nape of my neck tingled, and my eyes shot open. Deep was looking at his phone, not at me. So why did I get the feeling that someone was staring at me?
I turned my head around slowly and froze when my eyes fell on Aryan, sitting at a table diagonally opposite ours. He was staring at me, and the look in those stormy brown eyes made my breath catch. Hunger. That was the only word I could think of. But why would Aryan stare at me so hungrily? I knew for sure that he didn’t want me.
I dragged my eyes away and tried to focus on the man sitting in front of me. If only he’d take his eyes off his phone and talk to me, I could forget what had just happened.
What was Aryan doing here anyway? Wasn’t he supposed to be schmoozing Arshia’s parents? My eyes widened in horror at the possibility of bumping into the lot of them if the Club was the venue for said schmoozing. But he had been alone when I had locked eyes with him.
I bit my lip and dropped my napkin. When I bent to pick it up, I snuck a quick peek again, and he was still alone. Now he was staring at his plate resolutely, but as if he could sense my eyes on him, he looked up and gave me a tentative smile. I bared my teeth in a parody of a smile and looked away immediately.
I had to say something… anything… to take my mind off Dr Clueless.
“So, Deep, tell me, do you still enjoy sticking pins in butterflies?”
I could have bitten my tongue off as soon as I said that.Why?Why would I say something so weird? It was all my mother’s fault for putting ideas into my head, I decided.
Deep looked at me as if I was nuts, and I didn’t blame him.
He wiped his lips and smiled nervously.
“Hehe… that was… that…umm…” he stammered.
Then his expression turned serious, and he leaned forward to grab my hand.
“Jessie, I swear I’m not the person that I was. I’ve left all that folly and immaturity behind,” he swore.
“Umm, I’m sorry. I had no business saying such a thing, Deep…” I began, but he cut me off.
“No, no. I want it to be your business. Hear me out, Jessie,” he begged.
