Rest is only for the rich, like the owner of this house who is abroad. Only he could rest since he has already made it in life, not for people like me.
I need to think of something. Anything.
I got up and left the room, my footsteps making a loud sound in the quiet hallway.
I walked, lost in my thoughts, and ended up in the kitchen, where the fridge was humming melodiously and the moonlight was shining in from the window.
The kitchen was thick with dust, as if it hadn't been used in centuries.
I decided to clean it, hoping that while doing that, I would get an idea to help me achieve success.
I searched for a rag, but when I couldn't find any, I went to the room where the man had given me and grabbed my old, tattered saree.
I went back to the kitchen and used the saree to dust and clean every surface.
I opened the fridge, and a pungent smell of spoiled leftovers hit me like a punch to the gut.
I shook my head, chuckling, "What did I expect? A man lives in this house, after all."
I removed the rotten food and tossed it in the trash, then scrubbed the fridge clean too, erasing all traces of the food.
I opened one of the cupboards and found a treasure trove of chocolates and sweets.
I decided to try my hand at whipping up a recipe using the ingredients.
I got to work, measuring and mixing with enthusiasm.
However, when I finally took a bite of my creation, I was taken aback by the overwhelming sweetness.
I couldn't help but laugh at my own culinary misadventure.
The sudden sound of the man's voice made me jump with fright, as I hadn't expected him to be awake at this hour.
"Let's try it with coffee, without sugar," he said with a chuckle, clearly amused by the look of terror on my face.
He walked into the room, his eyes sparkling with mirth, and began brewing himself a cup of coffee without sugar from the coffee maker.
My heart was still racing, but I watched as he expertly prepared his coffee.
He gently took the spoon from my hand, scooped up a bite of my creation, and then took a sip of his coffee to accompany it.
After drinking the combination, he nodded in approval. "Fantastic," he said, his eyes lighting up with genuine enthusiasm.
"How did you come up with this idea?"
My tension disappeared, and it got replaced by relief as I asked, "So, it's good?"
He handed me the cup, telling me to try it for myself.
I took a sip of the coffee, followed by a bite of the creation, and was astonished at how it transformed the flavour of the coffee.
"Wow, this is incredible!" I exclaimed, the flavours dancing on my taste buds. The addition had completely elevated the coffee.
"If you were to market and sell this, I'm telling you, the people of Mumbai will make you a billionaire. They're coffee lovers, and this unique blend will stand out in the crowd."
I smiled wistfully. "I wish it were that simple, but I have nothing—no capital, no shop, no resources. It's just a fantastical dream."
He leaned in, with a smile on his face, and whispered, "I can provide the capital, as a loan, of course. I believe in this product, and I believe in you."
I eyed him warily, my suspicion obvious. "Just a while ago, you were saying it's my parents' duty to take care of me. What's changed all of a sudden?"
"Aren't you Anita, who moved to Banaras after marriage?"
My eyes widened in shock, and I responded instantly, "How did you know that?"
"I did some research; sorry about that," he said, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.
"But I couldn't just take in a stranger without knowing anything about them. Like I told you, I planned to contact your family and reunite you with them."
I nodded, my eyes fixed on him. "So, did you speak to my dad, then?"
His expression turned apologetic. "I'm sorry, Anita, but he said you were dead to him the moment you left your husband."
I let out a heavy sigh, the words piercing my heart. I had expected as much, but it still stung to hear.
"But don't worry; I'm here to support you every step of the way until you buy a house. I have faith in your abilities, and I'm confident you won't let me down, right?"
I forced a smile through tears in my eyes, still digesting my dad's words, and nodded slowly. "I'm doing this not just for myself but for my mother and sisters too."
"Well, I'm Akash Kapoor," he said with a friendly smile.
"Since you'll be here for a while, I think we should become friends." He extended his hand, but I hesitated, holding back my own.
"Why are you being so kind?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.
"Most people I've met in Mumbai have been rude, arrogant, and unwelcoming."
"Not everyone is bad," he said simply.
I nodded and introduced myself, "I'm Anita. Sorry, I can't shake your hand because it's not allowed in my family."
He nodded understandingly and replied, "No worries, I understand. We'll discuss the business details tomorrow. Get some rest tonight, okay?"
I smiled, and he exited the room with a friendly nod.
••••
It was morning.
I woke up early, as usual.
Back in Banaras, I would start the day by preparing breakfast.
At home, I would do the same, followed by sweeping the house.
But in Mumbai, my days began with a visit to the temple to beg.
Today, however, I bathed and changed into one of the sarees he had purchased for me yesterday.
Then, I headed to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.
There weren't many ingredients in the kitchen. In fact, I doubt food is prepared there.
But still, I managed to concoct something eatable.
After tasting it, I was pleased with the result and served it on a plate.
As I entered the dining area, he descended the stairs, looking smart in his suit.
"Woah!" he exclaimed, apparently surprised to see food on the table.
"I've already ordered breakfast. I didn't know you were planning to cook too." He added, and he gazed at the dish.
"How much does the man pay you?" I asked. "Why spend it all on food orders? You ordered in yesterday too!"
He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Enough for me," he said with a smile.
"Well, cancel the order," I continued. "From now on, I'll cook. I don't want to feel like a burden. You're already providing me with a place to stay, so this is the least I can do."
"Never mind that; what's this you've made? And where did you even get the ingredients? I don't recall buying groceries this month," he asked, taking a bite with a fork.
His eyes immediately widened in surprise. "And it's incredibly delicious! Wow." He savoured the taste, loading his fork with another bite.
"I honestly don't know its name either," I replied, while he ate another bite, pulled his chair back, and sat down.
"Your hands are blessed," he said, his mouth still full.
"Hmm," he then suddenly hummed, as if recalling something.
"The boss's friends will be arriving later tonight for a party. Get your coffee ready. They're well-connected and wealthy. If you manage to impress them, they might offer you a contract, which would save you from my loan."
"Really?" My face lit up with excitement.
"Yes."
"But I don't get it. How can they come if the boss isn't here?"
He chuckled in response. "The ways of the people in Mumbai are different, my friend. Just make your coffee, and if you can, recreate this dish again. Leave them utterly speechless, and I'm certain they can change your fate."
He finished everything on his plate, then got up. "I won't be back until seven," he informed me, starting to head out.
"Don't forget to cancel the order!" I called after him,
"Sure, ma'am!" he responded.
••••
After finishing breakfast, I headed upstairs to clean the room he had stayed in.
I narrowed down the search to the room with the open door, which I assumed was the one he had occupied.
And I was right.
The room was a mess. The duvet lay crumpled on the floor, and the space was filled with dust.
The air conditioner also hummed pointlessly with no one around.
I shook my head in disbelief and got to work, tidying up the room.
"But who is the boss?" my mind suddenly wondered, sparking my curiosity.
I headed to the closet to search for his picture, and as my hand rummaged through the drawers, I stumbled upon a photo of him and a woman who appeared to be his wife. Both of them looked over sixty years old, but their attire, including the stunning necklace adorning his wife's neck, exuded wealth.
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