Kushi Café

By Meera Vigraham

Set in the glamorous world of Bollywood, Kushi Cafs cuisine is a heady mix of ambition, office politics, intrigues, and intricate relationships.
Akansha persuades her mother to allow her to leave their small town and go work as a shop assistant in Mumbai while she secretly has plans of becoming an actress and perhaps meeting her heartthrob, Mega Star Aslam Khan.
All Deep wants to do is to be just like his father and join the police force. But fate has other plans for him, and he finds himself thrust into the center of the entertainment industry.
Clever and ambitious Parvez, the head of UFCL, a successful film production house, is a powerful presence in the industry and is always one step ahead of his crafty competitor Dheeraj, who was his former employee.
Namit and Jivan try to maintain the flimsy foothold that they have managed to gain in the Hindi film industry. Rolls appears far too laid-back to survive the cutthroat competition while Jenny wants to move on and is determined to leave her past behind.
Its the book to curl up with on a lazy Sunday afternoon with a hot cappuccino or cold frapp. The Kushi Caf beckons with its eclectic clientele and cozy ambiance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing India
• Release date: Dec 3, 2013
• ISBN: 9781482814606

Meera Vigraham

Meera Vigraham had started off as a commercial artist in an advertising agency and later joined a Computer Graphics studio that made graphics heavy TV commercials in Mumbai in early 90s' as an animator. She moved on to feature film VFX in the same studio. She later turned freelancer and executed several vfx projects for other facilities, including a few from Germany. She is also associated as a with Spellbound Productions, a company that earlier executed TVCs, Music Videos, and now engaged in Bollywood feature film production. Being involved in the Bollywood film industry, she has been closely associated with several professionals and has an insight into the workings of the industry. She used to frequent a café at Yari Road around which a lot of auditioning studios and film production studios are located. It was while sitting here that the idea of Kushi Café was born. The café's clientele are largely those involved in the entertainment business - writers, actors, technicians. Much of the book has been written while sitting at the café and most of the characters were inspired by regulars at the café, and some by people whom she interacted with at work.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Something exploded next to her ear. Akansha groaned and reached under her pillow. The damn alarm tone, she thought, I need to change it, to something gentler, some soft music… Then she let that thought go, remembering the last time she had done that, and slept through the soothing jingle.

The doorbell rang as if on cue. Jenny, she bellowed are you going to get that? Getting no answer but the sound of the shower in the adjacent bathroom, Akansha waddled to the door. On opening the tiny door within the door, she saw the building watchman standing outside. Madam, water will stop in fifteen minutes he informed her. What? Why? Because no water in tank and he was gone.

Rushing in, Akansha banged on the bathroom door. Jenny, come out fast—the water is going to stop There were some incoherent sounds from inside and after a while Jenny emerged in a bathrobe, with a towel wrapped around her head.

Hey sleepy head, what in the world are you yelling about?

Akansha plunged into the bathroom while updating her about the water issue.

Jenny hummed to herself as she got ready. She pulled on a green tube top and surveyed herself critically in the mirror. She was pleased with the result and dimpled at her reflection.

For her it had been an effort to get a good flat mate. The last one was depressing with her constant whining about health and finances, the one before, a slob who left the bathroom in a mess and her clothes everywhere. Finally she had met Akansha and the two had hit it off well, right from the word go or Hi, actually.

They had met at a coffee shop, both strugglers, both doing the rounds of studios, production houses and directors with portfolios and show reels.

To say Akansha was a stunner was an understatement. She was tall enough to give most men a complex and had a complexion that gave most women a complex. She had a sheet of long hair that hung down to her waist but it was her eyes that startled people. They were an unusual blue green colour. Mostly, she hid behind a serious and solemn exterior, but looked impish and beautiful when she smiled or laughed which was somewhat rare. She turned heads. There was no denying that.

To her credit, Jenny never felt threatened by Akansha’s looks. True, at 5 feet 2 inches she was sometimes referred to as shorty by friends, and she did also have to watch her weight. But she was also one of those people who were born with a side order of confidence. Her huge doe eyes seemed to dance with mischief at some hidden joke. In a land where fair skin was worshipped the reaction to her complexion was contradictory, her honey gold colour almost made women reach for the tanning lotion and head to Goa. Her mass of curls hinted at the free spirit that resided within her and with her seductive body language she had never failed to get the attention she craved.

Jenny had been desperate after her last flat mate had moved out. The saloon the girl had worked in as a hair stylist had shut down, and she had moved to the far flung suburbs of Mira road where she had found another job. Jenny worried about paying the entire rent, but she knew it was impossible to find a cheaper or smaller accommodation in that locality.

Lokhandwala complex was a haven for Bollywood hopefuls like her. It was a stone’s throw away from production houses and shooting floors. It had the additional benefits of inexpensive food in the street side cafés, shops selling copies of designer wear at throw away prices, autorickshaws aplenty—it was too good a location. Agreed, she thought, the apartment was so minuscule one almost worried about stretching. It had a tiny living room and an even tinier bedroom which barely accommodated two small cots and two built in wooden cupboards besides a table. Wedged in a corner was a bathroom which really was no more than a slightly large cupboard. The kitchen was so small that only one person could be inside it at a time. But Jenny was quite happy to call it home for the time being. It had other advantages. It was in a safe location, had almost no water problem except occasionally when the watchman forgot to turn on the motor; the neighbours were friendly but not nosey. They minded their own business but shared sweets and small talk during festivals;

But the landlord, Goyal, was a different matter altogether.

Goyal was middle aged, potbellied, and lived in Bandra with his wife and two kids. He had a peculiar eye problem. Whenever he looked into the mirror he could not see the balding potbellied reflection there, what he saw instead was Aamir Khan. He had bought this flat as an investment from the money he had got as his share from the sale of a large apartment on Charni Road, an ancestral property. He rented this flat out to people whom he felt confident were transitory and who did not have the backing of relatives. He did not want people who would refuse to vacate when he wanted them to and would perhaps have the muscle to fight. He had been renting out the place to Bollywood hopefuls for years. When he came to collect the rent he fancied he was visiting his harem, he spoke ingratiatingly and tried becoming over familiar.

When Jenny had come to Mumbai she had not known a soul. She had stayed as a paying guest initially. She had gone to each and every studio, production house, and independent director with the Bollywood dream shining in her eyes.

Eventually she had landed a role in a B grade horror film. That was a couple of years ago. Now although the Bollywood dream was somewhat jaded she still carried it around, still hopeful. In the meantime there were bills to pay of course and she was happy to land small roles in T V serials, commercials and modelling assignment for catalogues. She faithfully enrolled herself in the cine artists association. Her phone had an enviable list of numbers, of every producer and director in town though they had never heard of her. What she valued more however was the numbers of assistant directors, costume designers, chorographers and other satellites of the main players. They sometimes helped her land roles. All in all she was a true blue optimist who was hopeful that her time would come and this was only a beginning.

28855.png

CHAPTER 2

When Akansha was born, her mother had been one very worried woman indeed. She did not know how she would explain the blue green eyes of the baby to her husband. It had been the result of spending some quality time with a blue eyed hippie who had spoken an unknown language. A fortnight before her wedding the entire family had gone to Pushkar for the camel fair. Shelja, with her caramel skin and sheet of thick black hair, attracted more than her fair share of attention. As she wandered among the stalls, she had caught the eye of the blonde blue eyed tourist and was as fascinated by him as he was of her. In the days that followed it had not been all that difficult for him to lure her into his luxury tent pitched some distance away. Some forms of communications were ancient, but more efficient than languages. Shelja was sharp enough to know that there was no taking the relationship anywhere, but she had made a calculated decision. She had seen her husband to be, a widower fifteen years older than her. There was going to be no romance there. She knew the risks involved and what it would cost her if this little dalliance was ever discovered, but she knew she would regret it for the rest of her life if she held back. Here she took what she got, however transitory it might have been, then savoured the memory before moving on. She subsequently, completely and resolutely put it at the back of her mind in the chaos of her wedding rituals and moving away. In the months to come she honestly believed the child she was carrying was her husband’s.

She need not have worried however as her husband accepted without protest, her explanation that her great grandmother had had light eyes. Further, as the child did not turn out to be a boy, he had no interest at all in it, he simply did not care. When the following year a boy was born and a year later another boy, both the splitting image of himself, he seemed quite satisfied. If at all he had had any suspicions, he didn’t bother with it anymore. The woman had proved her worth, which was more than he could say about his first wife. She had been barren and a nag at that and had fortunately died of dog bite leaving him free to marry again. This new woman was more than what a widower of thirty with a small tract of land and a grocery store, could hope for.

When the Sisters of the Franciscan Missionaries of Mary had arrived in the town and set up school, Akansha and her siblings were enrolled in it. Her brothers eventually dropped out but Akansha proved to be a brilliant pupil. She learnt excellent English from the nuns and was naturally gifted at mathematics. Shelja was proud of her beautiful and peaceful child. It was not simply the love of a mother for her child—it was something more. Akansha was her secret; unlike the boys, she belonged entirely to her, not shared by anybody else. She often took the girl with her to the nearest town Jaipur whenever she went to buy her tailoring material like colourful threads and mirrors for the embroidery jobs she took up. They would go as a group with the neighbourhood women; once the shopping was over they would eat at a roadside Dhaba and then visit the cinema hall to see the latest Hindi film.

There, Akansha would sit entranced in the darkened hall, watching wide-eyed the dancing divas of the silver screen. As she grew older, she began sneaking off after school with friends to a cinema hall that had opened in her own town.

The music, clothes and dancing fascinated her as it was bound to, for a girl her age. She often came home in a glittery daze that followed her about for days. When Shelja brought home a television on instalment Akansha was over the moon with excitement. For the first couple of months she never missed a single Hindi or English film, be it from the black and white era or the present. Without bias she gave equal attention to the film based programs, interviews of stars and starlets, awards function and premier parties. It was only when her report card arrived and established that her academics had taken a nosedive that Shelja woke up to the danger. TV was then rationed much to Akansha’s distress, for now the world of Bollywood had become her addiction. She knew the names of actors and actresses right from the Alam Ara days! She could recite pages and pages of dialogs from her favourite films and sing all kinds of songs from Suraiya to Shreya Ghoshal. In the evenings she would organize unofficial Bollywood dance classes and Antakshari for the younger kids of the locality on her terrace. She became hugely popular for her singing and dancing and was in great demand at friends’ and relatives’ weddings and functions. She badgered Ramu tailor to copy the clothes she saw on the stars but to her chagrin her mother never let her venture beyond the traditional Indian wear, so she made do with backless Cholies and tie up Kameezes. Bollywood was a psychedelic dream that drew her into its folds and kept her mesmerized.

She cut out pictures of Bollywood stars and pasted it on the inside of her cupboard door, doe eyed Pareeta vied for space with Deepika Padukone and Shah Rukh Khan. Parineeti Chopra and Ranbir Kapoor jostled with Arjun Kapoor and Sonakshi Sinha. But the pride of place at the centre was awarded to her heart throb Aslam Khan; he smiled down at her from a huge poster. She even kept a photograph of him inside her book and sneaked a look at it whenever she felt like. His smile enchanted her. Unholy thoughts sneaked into her mind at times and she thrilled and blushed at the thought of running her fingers across his massive, worked out chest or being held in his arms.

It was when she was finished her school and began working in her uncle’s shop that trouble began. Her father finally discovered that there was something to be gained in possessing a light eyed, fair skinned daughter after all. The marriage proposals that began as a drizzle turned into a deluge. In the land of dowries he was being offered a bride price! Every evening he would corner Shelja with details of all the people who had accosted him with proposals. He was determined to strike while the iron was scorching. But Shilja was somewhat reluctant to rush things. For one, she personally was no fan of married life, all it brought was kids and work and to tolerate the nonsense of husbands. She did not want to condemn her daughter to that so early. But the truth was, although she did not want to admit even to herself, she could not bear to let Akansha go, the thought of a home without Akansha, the prospect of a life without her daughter close by seemed terribly lonely. Time enough to think about weddings… we have more pressing needs, now the cow is on its last leg and the house needs repairs… But she knew she could not keep putting it off forever.

One evening after her dance class with the kids Akansha sat brooding on the terrace. High above, kites floated along lazily, the sky was resplendent with the colours of the setting sun. Far away she could hear the shouts and laughter of little children as they played in the small gullies and the Azan from a nearby mosque came wafting by. On the distant horizon one could just about make out the silhouettes of a couple of skyscrapers, the spreading Jaipur city had been steadily creeping up, someday to envelop the little town, grinding their small terraced houses into the ground to make way for high rises.

As the stars began to peep out, Akansha sat staring with unseeing eyes. All the whispered marriage talk going on the front porch at night between her parents disturbed her. Until now she had not given much thought to what she wanted to do with her life but now she felt like a participant in the ‘ten things to do before you die’ program. She could see herself a couple of years hence, saddled with an infant, perhaps one more on the way, a husband who needed to be kept in good humour, and a life devoted to cooking and cleaning. But what terrified her most was that she would never be able to see or be part of the outside world. The world which hosted those dancing divas, the shiny cars, the glittery parties, the excitement of a big city… .

By then, the sky had turned inky black, and she could hear the bells tolling for the evening Arti at the Mandir. Her mother would be home soon. Akansha sighed and rose; her anklets tinkled as she made her way down the narrow steps into the house.

All night she lay tossing and turning, sleep eluding her. Nothing frightened her more than to be an anonymous face. She longed to matter. The words born, existed and died kept coming back to her. She didn’t want to merely exist; she wanted to live, to experience life to its fullest. Was it wrong? She kept wondering. Was it wicked and greedy of her to want more when she was being given so much? She would have had no way of knowing that it was inherited. That she was the product of this very spirit of adventure, of a man who wanted to experience the exotic and a woman who risked so much for the same.

She awoke just as the sky was beginning to lighten. She could hear the milkmen on their bicycle and the stray dogs barking. An idea had formed in her mind and was beginning to take shape. It took the entire morning to crystallize.

The sun was high in the sky as her mother began kneading the dough. Akansha stood beside her ready to roll out the chappaties, staring into the bubbling daal. She wondered where to begin and finally decided to come to the point directly. Mother, she said turning to Shelja, I don’t want to get married.

Shelja looked up stunned, her hand motionless inside the dough. She stared at Akansha thoughtfully. What has been going on in your mind? she asked at last.

Mother I want to go to Mumbai said Akansha. Shelja relaxed and continued kneading the dough, she looked relived. Why not? If that is what you want I will tell your father that Rajender Singh’s son is not suitable and he will have to find a Mumbai groom, after all people are only too eager… . She rambled on in fact just yesterday Deepali mentioned that her sister’s brother-in-law lives in Mumbai and they are on the lookout, of course they may want a dowry, but we can manage she bustled about happily.

Mother, interrupted Akansha desperately please listen to me, I want to go to Mumbai and work, I don’t WANT to get married now, please

Shelja looked at her irritated. What nonsense is this Akansha, now you are out to prove those morons right, those relatives and neighbours who go on about how I give you too much freedom and how I should not be letting you go to that English medium school. Somebody has put strange ideas into your head, now listen to me; Mumbai is not some picnic area. It is a dangerous city. You are a pretty girl and will not survive a single day there on your own. Besides what work can you possibly do? she said softening a little.

Akansha looked at her mother steadily wondering if she should perhaps not say too much. My English is very good mother and I’m very good at accounts. Don’t I help chachaji at the shop? I want to work in a shop. I hear they pay a lot of money in all the big stores there. Remember Renuji who moved to Mumbai? I met her last week in the market, she was here for Navratri. She told me her daughter works in a place called Shoppers Stop, they pay her Twenty Thousand rupees

Shelja shook her head, no child, it is out of the question. Even if I agree to this, your father will not. He will beat me black and blue if I were to suggest such a thing

Akansha looked beseechingly into her mother’s face. Mother, she said softly are you both going to force me? she asked Force me into this life which I know will make me miserable? Can you not see mother that I’m different, always have been. I will wither away and die if you keep me trapped mother, please she pleaded in hoarse voice trying not to break down.

Shelja looked contrite. She knew Akansha was different. There was no need to be reminded of that. Perhaps she has a different destiny, she thought. It would possibly be a pity to trap her in this mundane life of cooking and cleaning so early. Besides, mused Shelja, times were changing, girls did work these days, and if she could arrange for Akansha to stay at a relative’s place for a year in Mumbai, what was wrong with that? It would make the child feel like she had achieved something. Then perhaps, she would agree to settle down happily. Moreover the money she brought in could not hurt; helping out in a shop did not seem like hard work, or dangerous work.

Shelja had always been a pushover when it came to Akansha; she was the apple of her eye. Shelja always felt the child asked for so little, was always cheerful, hardworking, and a sheer joy to have around.

I’ll think about it, she said to Akansha. Oh mom, cried Akansha blinking back her tears and enveloping Shelja in a bear hug. I knew you would understand

Now don’t get all excited warned Shelja I said I’ll think about it. I’ve not said yes. All the same she felt pleased to see Akansha happy. She hated to make her miserable.

I need to tackle the old man, she thought. Her husband had his eye on the money they were being offered for Akansha and was unlikely to agree that easily. I must make it seem like this is a better option monetarily, she thought shrewdly. I have to convince him that she is the goose that’s going to lay golden eggs and if we give her away in marriage we would be trading continuous earnings for a onetime payment, she plotted.

CHAPTER 3

A few hours after the train crossed Surat she could begin to see the distant high rises of Mumbai. Akansha felt overwhelmed. She was here, she thought. Oh! How easy it had been! My dream is on the verge of being realized, she thought in delight.

The family friend Renu who was sitting beside her began getting all her things together; the various bags, boxes and baskets were checked and made secure. As I told your mom, I will drop you at Anupama’s. Hope you have the correct address she said.

Akansha was fascinated by the sights; the wide roads, skywalks, the metros… Why, it’s exactly like what they show on TV she thought. However she was disappointed by Anupama didi’s house. It was a tiny two bedroom apartment on the fifth floor in Andheri East. One could hear the distant sound of the local train, the cacophony of the market road below, and the din of a primary school next door.

Anupama lived with her husband and two kids as well as her mother-in-law. Akansha was to share the kids’ room. Anupama had only agreed because she owed a favour to Shelja. But Shelja had insisted Akansha pay for her stay, and Anupama had been grateful for that.

The first thing Anupama advised her to do was to buy a mobile phone. With her help, Akansha shopped for not only a phone but also clothes and shoes. She was like a kid in a candy shop, quite unable to decide, she wanted almost everything she saw. It was to her credit that she managed not to go overboard, developing cold feet on seeing the prices and her depleting finances.

Anupama enjoyed Akansha’s company; married off too early she was overwhelmed by her responsibilities. She did not have too many friends save for the mothers of her children’s’ school mates and a few neighbours. In Akansha, she found a sympathetic listener. She talked nonstop about her life, problems with her mother-in-law, her husband’s inability to stay in a job steadily, the school admission issue, her thyroid problem, and her world in general.

The day after she arrived, Akansha got dressed and left, having informed Anupama that she had an interview at Shoppers Stop, and assuring her that she would find her way around in the big bad world of Mumbai. In truth she wanted to think without interruption.

She took a bus to Lokhandwala market road, having been to it the previous day and being fascinated by its colourful ambiance. She spent the morning going in and out of shops buying clothes, the kind that would not have met with Anupama’s approval, and some make up. But mostly she just drank in the sights. When she spotted Alka Yagnik getting into her car and Gulshan Grover drive past, she was ecstatic. She felt she had arrived.

Bags in hand, she stood undecided, unwilling to go home but feeling hungry and also in need of a washroom. It was then that she spotted the place that would play an important part in her life.

Across the road she saw the little coffee shop that carried the name Kushi Café with the by-line new beginnings over coffee. She smiled to herself. She felt drawn by the smell of coffee to walk in. Having been used to drinking tea she suddenly felt she had been missing something all these days. What a heavenly smell! What shining floors and spotless tables and most of all the warm colours and lovely music! She used the wash room and then settled down happily on the sofa that was closest to the huge glass wall from where she could see the sidewalk, and the street teeming with people and cars.

When the waiter handed her the menu card, she felt baffled by the choices. What in the world was Mocha and Latte? Where was coffee? When the waiter returned she said Er… I just want a hot coffee… OK ma’am one Cappuccino… anything else? When she shook her head, he retreated behind the counter. As she watched the world hurrying by outside, she felt excited and happy. Wonder what is in store for me, she mused.

The waiter returned with her coffee. He also gave her a gift voucher, one cappuccino free with your next bill if it exceeds 100 rupees, he informed her. Thank you, she said distractedly. She had just spotted Deepika Padukone walk in through the door. She stared at her stunned. The waiter followed her eyes and said smilingly in a low voice, it’s not her; she just tries to look like her Gosh! She’s the splitting image, she said still looking at her. Yes ma’am, we thought the same when she first walked in here the first time, he confided. Akansha watched the girl settle down. The girl extracted her laptop from a large leather handbag and began working on it. A few minutes later a middle aged man in a blazer walked in. They greeted each other with loud exclamations, hugged and air kissed. The same waiter hurried to them to take their order.

Akansha emptied the sugar sachet into her steaming brown coffee and watched the pretty heart shape in the coffee dissolving as she began stirring it. She inhaled deeply the heady aroma and felt warm and contented.

How was your coffee ma’am? The waiter inquired as she was leaving. Wonderful, she said and actually meant it. Do come again,