January 9, 2019, Mumbai, inside an office

The four of them move over to the big conference room at

5:00 p.m. They are working on an important process update

that has to be uploaded on the company’s website the following

week.

After two-and-half hours, one of them announces he needs to

leave. He has a prior commitment, he says. Another raises his hand,

wanting to leave as well.

“Sir, I have to pick up my wife from the station at 8:30 p.m.,” he

says.

Their boss has no objection to either of them leaving. But she

and her boss continue with the project—they are both aware of the

criticality of meeting the deadline.

An hour or so later, she excuses herself to visit the washroom. Her

boss too rises, following her.

“I have to use the washroom as well,” he says.

She opens the common washroom door, and enters the ladies’

room on the right, while her boss continues down the corridor

towards the men’s room.

A few minutes later when she steps out of the washroom, she’s

trembling. She picks up her bag from her desk and hurries out of

the office. She doesn’t see anyone else around, except the security

guard ensconced behind the reception desk, watching a video on his

mobile, who half-rises to mutter good night to her.

She hails the first kali peeli cab, the ubiquitous Mumbai taxi, she

finds.

“Bandra,” she directs the driver.

Chapter 1

“Sam?”

He heard his name. He looked to his left. Then turned to look

behind.

“Sam, here,” Abhishek had jogged up to his right.

“Hey, Abhishek! Nice to see you!” Sam smiled.

“Here on work?” Abhishek asked. He jogged slowly to keep pace

with Sam.

“Yeah.”

“When did you come?”

“Couple… three-four days back,” he lied. He couldn’t explain

why.

“Where are you put up?”

“Art Hotel, near Olive.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen it. It’s not far from Sea Breeze. You must drop

by,” Abhishek invited him. Sea Breeze is where Sam used to stay a few

years back. Abhishek was his immediate neighbor.

“Sure, thanks,” brightening at the possibility of meeting Abhishek’s

wife and daughter as well.

“You have my number?” As Sam appeared tentative, Abhishek

continued, “I have yours. I’ll message you. Anu and Ayushi would be

delighted to see you.”

 “Sure, Abhishek. I’ll try to,” Sam grinned.

Anu was Abhishek’s wife and Ayushi, his daughter.

“Ayushi must be a teenage girl by now? Will she recognize me? It’s

been a while?”

“A hundred percent,” Abhishek assured him. “Okay, I’ll get going.

Hope to see you soon,” and he dashed-off, running at good nick.

Though Sam had known Abhishek for a couple of years, he hadn’t

ever been inside his flat. This was typical of Mumbaikars. They rarely

invited people home, unlike Delhiites, who wanted to drag you home

moments after they met you.

He and Abhishek would bump into each other in the elevator, or

at the gate, and often the corridor. He had even hitched a ride from

him a couple of times and dropped his wife and daughter to market

or school on a few occasions. Yet, he had never stepped inside their

flat.

His wife Anu was a homemaker. Quiet sorts. But she was friendly,

with a lovely smile. His daughter Ayushi, unlike her mom, was a

chatty kid. Sam was fond of her.

He felt he must visit them. Now, he even had a formal invitation

coming his way.

Sam continued to walk briskly

It was early morning. The Carter Road Promenade was full of

walkers already. Quite a few jogged. A few exercised. A middle-aged

man with grey handlebar mustache was conducting yoga

classes, instructing two women and a man stretched on their yoga

mats, something Sam had watched him do years ago as well. Several

others simply sat on the benches, watching the sea. Or enjoying

sunrise behind them. There were a few who walked their dogs as

well.

A jogger from the opposite direction caught his eye. She wore

immaculate tights and matching shoes. She ran past him, panting

heavily. Would she skip jogging if she didn’t have clean, matching attire?

The next minute he found himself at the end of the Promenade.

Should I return, or continue up to Joggers’ Park?

He walked on.

Inside Joggers’ Park, he joined tens of other walkers, taking the

muddy path in the middle lane. He believed concrete hammered

knees. And he was already 35.

He loved Joggers’ Park—the strong breeze, the expansive sea view,

and the one-way adherence—everyone walked or ran in the

same direction. Great idea, but try implementing that in Bangalore

or Delhi! He shook his head.

He slowed down after five rounds, deciding to stop. He looked

for a vacant chair on the outermost circle that was right by the

sea. He ran his eyes over the lawn on his right where a number of

people were exercising. He had been among them many a time,

cooling down post his run. He was part of a joggers’ group. Still was.

The WhatsApp group helped the joggers stay in touch, but more

specifically, it helped members get together for pre-planned runs,

especially over weekends. The group had around 50 members. Most

were his age, but there were a few teenagers as well, and even a couple

of 50-pluses. Sunday is when they generally ended up meeting, as

someone or the other would suggest a starting point and time. A chat

would invariably follow, till there were enough ‘Ayes.’ Not everyone

who consented showed up though, but at least seven to 10 would

make it. But most, unlike him, were irregular. Their default ending

point was Joggers’ Park. Post their cool down, in the lawn, they would

step out to have fresh coconut water. They would chat a bit and then

split. This routine made their Sundays different, sometimes special.

Sam didn’t see anyone he knew in the lawn.

He looked around for an empty chair. He couldn’t see any. Then

he noticed someone vacating one at the other end. He rushed to grab

it. Suddenly he noticed someone familiar.

“Diya?” he called out.

Diya turned to look at him. “Sam? Hi!”

She rose from the chair. They hugged each other briefly.

“Long time! What are you doing here?” Diya asked.

“I was in town. Staying not too far, so decided to take a walk.

Aren’t you jogging?” he asked. She was dressed casually.

“No. Not today. Taking it easy. Sitting by the sea and enjoying

the morning.”

“But you aren’t the one to miss jogging? You were madly regular.

Far more than me.”

“Yup. Today I didn’t feel like. Rather, it’s been a while I jogged,”

her voice trailed off.

Sam had an uneasy feeling. “Everything alright?”

“Kind off,” Diya looked away.

“Anything I can do?”

“No sweat, Sam. Thanks.”

“Hey, come on! I think there is something. I’ve never known you

to be down.”

“No, no. It’s fine. As I said, nothing to worry,” she forced herself

to smile.

Though he felt something was wrong, he stopped himself from

pushing anymore.

Diya changed the subject, “Are you still in that food company?”

“No, not strictly food. Fitness food,” he corrected her.

 “Wohi!”

“Not anymore. I’m on my own now.”

“Entrepreneur? Start-up? You are a big shot. Cool!” Diya teased

him.

Sam laughed. Loudly, making fun of himself. “Yes, big shit,

businessman, a start-upper, with millions of dollars chasing me… I

wish… I wish…”

“Why? Start-up is the in-thing now. Even our Prime Minister

pitches for start-ups!”

“All that is fine. But I’m still at an early stage. Just losing money,”

he sighed. “That’s why I’m here. Trying to convince investors to drop

something into my begging bowl.”

“But what’s your start-up? I mean what are you into?”

“I’m sticking to food, but in distribution using technology. Food

Tech is what we call it.”

“How does tech come into distribution?” Diya was curious.

“Actually… actually…” Sam paused as he remembered something.

“Listen, I have to meet someone for breakfast at 8:00 a.m. Why don’t

we catch up later in the day? Coffee? You still stay close by?”

“Sure. Sounds good,” Diya was pleased to accept his invitation.

“Yes, I still stay close-by. The same place actually. It’s been six years

now.”

“Ah. Lucky flat owner,” he grinned. “I’ve never stayed anywhere

for more than two.” He shrugged.

“Apni apni kismet, rather laachaari,” Diya smiled. “Shall we

meet at CCD, or would you prefer Bagel. By the way, there’s also a

Starbucks near Almeida Park, if you prefer that?”

“Umm… Let’s meet at Bagel. It’s been a while I had a bagel.”

 “Done,” Diya raised her hand to give him a high five.

Sam returned the clap. They smiled at each other, and he left.

Sam hailed the first autorickshaw he saw. “Union Park, bhaiya,”

he told the driver.

As the auto raced along Carter Road, his thoughts drifted to

Diya. She was one of the simplest looking women he’d met. Slender.

Medium height—about five feet and six inches or so. Neither fair nor

dark—rather what we Indians call medium or wheatishcomplexion.

She was a typical girl next door, a picture of simplicity, charm,

and modest beauty. Yet there was something about her that was

captivating. Her smile? Compassion? Her unhurried speech? Her eyes?

Her warmth? Or was it the lack of effort she exuded, almost suggesting

she was doing nothing to attract you to her.

“Sir, kahaan roku?” the auto driver interrupted his thoughts.

“Oh, aa gaye?” he looked to figure where they were. “Haan, thoda

aage. Left main,” he instructed the driver to stop on the left.

As Sam walked up to his room, looking at messages, he saw one

from Vishakha. She confirmed she’ll be at Salt Water Café by 4:00

p.m. Sam raised his fist to celebrate the little win.