BALH2 Reimagined

Imagined Interludes: Pehli Rasoi

[Context: One of the first few nights after Priya moves into Kapoor mansion, post-marriage.]

Priya felt her shoulders seize without warning. That fragrance in her room...Old Spice. She knew only one man who wore the scent. His loyalty to the brand spanned decades, a fact he loved to trumpet. Was it the 31st already? Time for the monthly 'Mahendra Sood Shraap Mala'.

Sure enough, his voice boomed through the house, dripping with venom, "Sarah! Why is the collection so low this month?"

"Papa, we-"

"How can the collection be high if there are no customers? Every time I drive past, all I see are empty tables! And why wouldn't there be, when you serve such ridiculous sweets? Cupcakes! Smearing sugar and cream on glorified bread requires no skill. Why, it doesn't even fill the stomach. It's half air! People want lip-smacking food for their money's worth. Not some frippery."

Why wasn't Sarah di saying anything? Priya thought irritably. She had better go out and set his head on straight. The man had no right dictating how their business was run when he didn't even lift a finger.

"Listen to my advice, Sarah and ditch all this nonsense. I'll tell you what to focus on instead. Jalebi, gulab jamun, rasmalai. Start serving some Indian flavours and see how your business will boom!"

Had the man lost it? Priya thought as she scraped back her chair. The cafe was called 'Baked With Love', not 'Sood Halwai'!

"And what self-respecting restaurant doesn't have savoury snacks? Samosa, pani puri, chaat, tikki..."

What in the world?

Priya gasped as her eyes flew open. Where was she? As her pupils adjusted to the amber light, she registered the high ceilings, lush drapes and distinct lack of traffic sounds in the room. Reality crashed into her anew. Kapoor mansion. Her marriage. She was a wife now. Right.

She grimaced at the dream she'd been having. Was Mahendra Sood never to give her a moment's respite? She took a deep breath, hoping to cool the residual anger heating her blood. The dream had been patently ridiculous-some drunken mix of memory, emotion and random suggestion-but it tapped into unpleasant feelings she'd been trying to suppress. Now that she was no longer at home, who was going to stand up to Sir when he descended like a putrid cloud? Everyone in her family was far too nice for their own good...

Suddenly, she noticed the movement at the foot of her bed. Mr. Kapoor was pacing back and forth, head buried in his phone, muttering to himself, "This one's closed, too? Maybe that biryani place delivers?"

It had to be well past midnight judging by the long shadows and the opaque nothingness beyond the windows, "Mr. Kapoor what are you doing?"

He started like she'd jumped him, "Earrgh!! I thought you were asleep!"

He rounded the bed with wide, too-innocent eyes, "Nothing! I was just...taking care of something, and then coming to bed. Are you alright?"

She sat up, clearly not buying his nonchalance. Slowly, the fragments of his mumbling percolated her mind, "You were ordering food, weren't you?"

"Yes. I mean, no! I was trying to order-just a small snack, I was feeling a bit peckish-but everything is closed for delivery!"

"You didn't have dinner?" That was the very reason he'd been late.

"We did. Adi and I ordered some amazing Indo-Chinese. Actually, you won't believe it. It's this place we've been going to since college! They make this sauce....it's to die for," and he launched into a bite-by-bite replay of his meal.