Chapter 3

The upstairs house had a bed. The rest needed to be bought as well. As they did all this Sanvika stayed in the house itself. On the first day, Sanvika slept on the bed with no mattress. Even when she was used to sleeping on the best of the mattresses, she felt happy and peaceful to be sleeping in her own house.

Shardul did help out Sanvika to set up the restaurant. He worked with Sanvika as they brought in the new tables and chairs and a new couch to be placed on the side of the restaurant. The upstairs house was set up similarly.

“Mr Flower….”

“Hm?”

“What is the story behind that dried flower? You said that it’s important.”

“It was given to me by someone I love.” He looked into the distance.

“Ex-girlfriend?”

“I am not sure if she is an ‘ex’. Because she died while we were still dating.”

“They were quite cute of a couple.” Suchil didi said to Sanvika. “We all thought they will end up married. But fate.”

Sanvika nodded.

“San, you want more prawn crackers?”  Aaron, Suchil didi’s husband asked.

“For free?” Sanvika asked.

“Hey, pay up.” Suchil didi pushed her playfully. “Friendship and business should not interfere with each other.”

“She is just a miser. You don’t need to pay here.” Aaron said walking in.

The next task was to hire a cook. Suchil and Shardul helped Sanvika with it and they took the interviews together. The first guy knew only Indian foods. The second was a drunk. The third woman looked like she will steal something. The fourth seemed good but he said he was just released from prison. Fifth’s food tasted terrible. Sixth was a foreigner – a French girl. She did not know any Hindi, but she cooked really well.

So she was hired. Astrid. 27 year old. She had blue eyes and blond hair. And was beautiful.

Two days later, in the evening, Sanvika saw Shardul sitting on the beach writing something on his small book. She walked to him and peeked from behind casually to know what he is writing. He saw her and hid the page. “What?” She asked. “Can’t I see?”

“It’s not that good.” Shardul closed the book. The dried flower flew out.  Sanvika ran after it and grabbed it from the air and came back to give it to Shardul.

“Thanks…” he extended his hand. “It keeps flying away or dropping lately.” He took the flower in his hand. And they noticed that one of the petals was now broken.

“I am sorry.” Sanvika said.

Shardul looked so heartbroken. He shook his head though. He put the flower back into his book and sat back on the sand. Sanvika joined him. “Maybe you should let it go.” She said.

Shardul looked at her.

“You know like… from inside you as well?”

“Can’t. She is part of me.”

“She can be part of you… But you don’t need to hold on to the pain forever.”

“It’s just been five years.”

“Five years is a long time, Shardul.”

He was surprised and looked at her. “You are not calling me Mr Flower.”

“I can’t call you Mr Flower and ask you to let go of the flower.”

Shardul laughed. He looked at the sunset. And stayed silent. “It feels like…if I let her go… If I let someone else in…she will feel hurt. She was a bit possessive; you see.” He laughed.

“Even then she would want your happiness.”  She said, using ‘aap’, the highest level honorific, for him as usual.

Shardul turned to him. “Can you stop addressing me as ‘aap’?  I have told you to call me informally.”

“You are older.”

“ I am not that older than you. So please…”

“I will call you informally on one condition.”

“What?”

“You will let go of that flower.”

Shardul’s face fell. He sat back thinking hard.

“I am not asking you to forget her. But she would also want you to let go.”

Shardul bent his head down.

“Take your time.”  Sanvika silently sat near him.

Shardul watched her secretly. He already knew that his heart had made some space for Sanvika. She was not just a friend for him. If she was, he would not think that her hair looks so soft or her eyes are bright. I wanted more from her… somewhere inside. And he had begun to recognise that. And he felt, maybe his previous love will forgive him if it is Sanvika.

So he opened the book and looked at the flower. The wind brushed through making it look like the flower will blow off any moment. He took a minute and held the book up the wind. A strong wind blew the flower off. They watched as the wind carried it to the edge of the water. A wave washed it into the sea…

A silent moment.

Shardul felt like crying all of a sudden. It was as if he was letting go of his younger days. Sanvika put a hand around him. “Cry if you want to.” She whispered. He hid his tears and wiped them away. “No. I am okay.” He softly said.

“I am proud of you, Mr Flower.” Sanvika shook his shoulder. “Ah… Can I just keep calling you, Mr Flower? I am used to that and calling you by your name feels unfamiliar and weird.”

Shardul laughed. “Okay. Call whatever you want. But no ‘aap’ business from now on.”

“Okay. Okay… Tum. Fine?”

That was when there was a scuffle in the restaurant. Sanvika and Shardul got up and ran to the restaurant. Someone was inside and Astrid was pointing the knife at him. Apparently, the guy was talking in Hindi trying to tell Astrid something and Astrid was shouting in French. Both unable to communicate with each other.

“San. Thief.” Astrid said.

The guy turned to Sanvika. She recognised him. He was interviewed for the place of the chef. The guy who had been released from Prison. “You are Tariq or something, right?” She asked in Hindi. Tariq was 28, a dark-complexioned young man with sharp eyes.

“Why was I not selected?” He asked.

“Excuse me?”

“Why was I not selected?”

“Isn’t it the owner’s decision who to select?” Shardul asked. “And how can we trust you… Astrid is saying you are a thief.”

“I was just looking.”

“He was looking into the counter. Near the money drawer.” Astrid said.

“I thought you did not understand Hindi.”  Tariq turned to her.

“I can understand a bit.” She said in broken Hindi. They gave each other look of contempt.

“Tariq ji…” Sanvika started. “It’s nothing personal. Astrid here cooked better food.”

“But are you planning to serve only foreign food in this place? What if someone asks for paneer?”

“I think Astrid can manage Indian cuisine as well.”

“This English girl will cook Indian food?”

“I am French.”

“All the same…”

“Tariq ji… What do you want?” Sanvika asked before things get worse.

“I want the job, Madam. And if not, I want to know why I can’t have the job. It’s because I served time in prison, right.”

“Well, we can’t say it is not.” Sanvika felt bad. She shifted from one leg to the other. “And can’t afford two chefs.”

“Just give me food and a place to sleep, Madam. I can even sleep on the hard floor. But I really need a job now. I don’t have anywhere to go.”

Sanvika really felt bad for the guy. She looked at Shardul for assistance. “Why did you go to Jail?” Shardul prompted. “What was your crime?”

“I won’t hide it from you all. It was murder.”

All three of them, including Astrid, was shocked.

“I was 18… Hot-blooded. Parents passed away when I was 8. I was raised in an orphanage. Near a church. People made fun that the Muslim boy is living at the church. I was always bullied. When I was 18, I liked a girl. She was Christian. Nobody would let me like her. Some guys cornered me one evening. Began to bully me, call me names… For the first time, I fought back. Broke their jaws. But…” he looked down. “one of them died.”

“I did not want to kill him. I don’t know how or why he died. I was horrified. So I did not even resist and surrendered to the police and did not fight back in court. Got sentenced to ten years in prison. I came out last month. I am lost since. I have no place to go. The money I earned from prison is also about to finish. I was in charge of cooking in prison. Everybody loved what I made.”

“But aren’t prison food just simple dishes?”

“If there is a recipe, I can make anything.”

“Can you read if the recipe is in English?”

“Of course. I can read English. I grew up in Goa. Just… I lost touch because no one talks in English in the prison. I bet I will be able to make foreign food too.”

“Okay, come with me…”

“San?”

“Let him try…”

They led Tariq to the kitchen. Sanvika took out the recipe of butter chicken masala on her laptop and left it on the counter. “The ingredients are in the fridge and in cupboards. Try making it.”

Sanvika and Shardul waited outside on the restaurant chairs. “What are you thinking? Are you going to hire him?”

“I want to give him a chance.” She said.

When Tariq bought out the food, he was looking at Sanvika with such hopeful eyes. Sanvika looked at the plates. Tariq had also made butter naan with the chicken curry. And it looked good. She dipped her naan in the gravy and ate. Shardul too.

“How is it, Madam?” Tariq asked.

“You really just need a place to sleep and food?”

“Yes.”

“You can sleep on the sofa. And eat 3 meals. And I will try to give you a little salary. And… It’s not Madam. It’s just ‘San’.”

So, that is how the crew was made.

The crew near and around ‘San’s’ – the restaurant name was rather simple. Sanvika designed the signboard herself. With a pink Pride of India flower’s picture on the side of the name.

For a second, she wanted to name it Vicky’s. But she did not need any reminder of that mild heartache. ‘He will be just fine’ – she thought.