Then She Came Along

By Neha Ranadive

"Then She Came Along

After deciding to be a single mother, her, 35-year-old 35-yea Manikarnika Kulkarni has a chance encounter with an ex-TVstar Jimm Mathew in a restaurant restroom. What initially seemed like a drunken impulse takes an impulse unexpected turn when Mani finds herself pregnant with Jimm's child, a fact unbeknown

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ukiyoto Publishing
• Release date: Apr 5, 2024
• ISBN: 9789362694881

Book preview

Chapter 1

E

ven in the scorching October heat, Manikarnika bounced off the bustling streets of Bandra, filled with exuberance and excitement about meeting her uncle Ali after a long time.

But their rendezvous wasn’t the only reason she was bubbling with nervous energy. She had a proposal to make to him, and before she left her house today, she took a little detour to the neglected corner of her kitchen, where a little Ganesha idol rested, dusted. She prayed with a sincere heart, hoping that her uncle would accept her proposal. She had been thinking about it for the past six months when the idea suddenly popped into her mind—the perfect man she was looking for after all this time was right beside her!

La Salumeria was a lavish Italian uptown restaurant with bright orange light infiltrating the room, a heavy chandelier hanging from glass ceilings, and slow jazz music setting up the mood. Ali had an affluent taste when it came to dining out. As Mani entered, she was swiftly escorted by the uniformed attendee, who had a quaint, permanent smile on his face, to the table where Ali was already waiting for her.

Manikarnika! he exclaimed, rising to his feet and engulfing his niece in a tight hug that warmed her bones. The pleasant cologne waffling through his fabric teased her senses. He was dressed as usual in a classy beige suit on a white vest with a silk motif scarf tied around his neck. Her uncle was always a treat to the eyes!

As she began taking a seat opposite him, he warned, Don’t look, but someone just entered behind you! And like an obedient Labrador, Mani craned her neck towards the forbidden direction that Ali had inadvertently pointed out. She saw a tall guy wearing dark shades swagger in with a hot girl tagging at his arm.

Is that… Is that Jimm? Jimm Mathew?? Manikarnika’s eyes popped out of their socket but swiftly peeled to the back of Jimm Mathew's head as he strutted towards the far end of the restaurant, pulling out a chair for his lady companion before slinking opposite her.

Oh my God, Mamu! Manikarnika gaped shamelessly in adulation, as Jimm was her all-time star crush, thanks to his iconic role as Doctor Khurana, a character that had made him a household name some fifteen years ago. She had even considered pursuing a career in medicine because of him. Rumour has it, many did.

It's really him! She clapped her hand on the open mouth to restrain the giggles escaping from it.

Mani...calm down, Ali said with an impassive tone while casually perusing the menu card. Seven years in this city, and you still flip every time you come across an even remotely well-known personality, he drawled disinterestedly.

Not just any personality, Mamu, that's Doctor Khurana from the ‘Doctor’ series! Remember when I’d stuck a huge poster of him in his lab coat on the ceiling right above my bed? Oh, how I worshipped him! Mani cupped her chin in reminiscence.

Yes, I’m well aware of it, and stop calling me Mamu! Ali snapped before turning his attention towards the waiter that had materialized out of thin air, or perhaps Mani was too busy ogling at Jimm Matthew to notice.

Cheese Tortellini with garlic butter sauce and extra Parmesan alongside a baguette; make sure the bread is brown and crusted; and I want a cutlet right on top of it, which is thinly sliced, along with a glass of Chardonnay, please. Ali finished with a flare and then turned towards his niece.

Ahh, the same, but with Tequila Gold, Mani replied zealously. And keep them rolling in, she said, making Ali raise his brow.

What? She shrugged. Don't you have work tomorrow? he inquired, and Mani let a small puff of air escape her mouth to accentuate the emotion as if she cared.

Although she may have looked all nonchalant on the outside, Mani knew she needed that extra push from alcohol if she dared to make the ludicrous proposal that she was planning to make towards him.

So? Buck out, will you? Ali urged, tapping his fingers on the table impatiently. And before Mani could formulate a response, his attention was diverted by a beep on the phone. Oh no! he muttered exasperatedly, reading the text. Give me a sec, he said, and Mani felt a sense of relief with the distraction, as it bought her some much-needed time.

She quietly observed her uncle as his long fingers moved gracefully across the mobile screen, texting back to whoever was giving him exasperation. It has to be his 'someone special,' Mani thought to herself. As far as she knew Ali, his work was never the one that made his forehead crease in worry, deepening the crow lines around his eyes.

Ali was eleven years older than her, an architect by profession—a career choice that deeply baffled her. She had hoped he would pursue something more creative or artsy, like painting or graphic design. Despite his argument that drawing up building structures was nothing less than artwork, it could never come close to those breathtaking portraits he sketched of her, which she proudly adorned in her modest abode. Mani, who couldn't even hold a pen straight, had immense respect for such talented, gifted people and hated to see them throw it all away to chase an empty corporate life, even though it did provide a hefty dinner at this spacious restaurant, she reluctantly admitted to herself.

Jeez! he muttered silently, still engrossed in his phone, unconsciously chaffing at his manicured nails while his jerry curls flocked effortlessly on his forehead.

So? he suddenly cut into her private thoughts as he set his phone aside, somewhat embittered. That chat didn’t go too well, Mani pondered to herself.

"What will get you talking? Let’s hear what’s cooking in that colourful head of Manikarnika…Coooolkarni?" He leaned in enthusiastically.

Nothing’s cooking, okay? Mani got defensive. She hated it when he tried to get into her head, more because she knew he would be more than horrified to see what went on in there.

You said it was a matter of life and death, and you couldn’t wait till Saturday to discuss it? He countered while sipping on the glass of water.

By Saturday, it will be too late, Mani said, absently swirling the water droplets that fell on the ebony table into circles. I might get my period, she mumbled despondently.

How’s work?

Tchh, what work, Ali! Mani straightened herself up so she could physically sulk again. A miserable copywriting job at a miserable magazine agency doesn’t amount to any work or career.

What about that novel? The one you told me about six months ago? Have you started working on it? He wanted to know.

I’m blocked.

You’re just lazy, he brushed her off as the waiter started arranging plates on the table. Writer’s block is real, okay? Mani stated it defiantly.

Okay. Ali conceded, raising his hands in surrender while slinking back, giving space for the waiter. But only to those who sit their butts down to write, he added cheekily.

Touché. Mani knew she had been procrastinating for a few months now. But her uncle didn’t know how depressed and lost she felt these days that it stifled her creativity, making her come up with thousands of reasons not to open that laptop and stare at the blank page.

I’m getting to it, but I don’t want to talk about it, she said, puffing her cheeks out. Only with Ali did she get to act her mental age, which was different from her physical age. She still saw herself as the same person she was ten years ago. Her body, however, disagreed, with an increasing number of grey hairs and her breasts seemingly eager to kiss the ground, and to her horror, she has been experiencing knee-joint pain too. Mani was well aware of what it all meant, which is why it made perfect sense to her that she ask this favour from him right here and right now!

So, Maccha? What’s up? Ali probed again, interlacing those long fingers, which, no matter how much he denied, Mani knew he manicured them regularly. Something is definitely troubling you! He rested his pointed chin on those fingers studying her like she had some exciting theory to reveal to him, which she did! But she needed that damn tequila to calm her nerves!

Nothing’s troubling… Can’t I ask my only relative in the city to meet me once in a while? She expertly evaded the topic again. You don’t have time for me! She whined.

It’s the project, kiddo. It keeps me tied up. And as if on cue, his phone rang again. Ali gave an apologetic smile as he got up to take the call, while Mani’s eyes darted around listlessly.

The restaurant was relatively empty considering it was the middle of the week with just a few patrons around, and she quickly found herself staring at Jimm Mathew. There was just something about him. He wasn’t staggeringly in-your-face handsome like Ali was, but he was a different kind of monster altogether. He had the brightest bottle green eyes she had ever seen on anybody that blended so perfectly into his tanned wheat-toned face. Those remarkable perfectly arched pink lips with a gel-set thick auburn hairdo—God definitely takes His time with some people, or maybe it was his stylist; either way, it worked.

Mani tilted her head slightly to get a clear view of Jimm’s date. She sat elegantly with her arms placed gracefully on the table, and Mani found herself correcting her own posture. She was wearing a bright red coloured dress with a deep, plunging neckline and was talking animatedly with her hands doing half the job. Jimm appeared rather engrossed in what the brunette had to say, his whole body leaning forward earnestly, his stoic face solemn and sincere, and those intense green eyes boring into hers. What a lucky bitch! And people dared to say looks don’t matter. Who are these people? Where does one find them?

Maccha! Stop staring! Ali snapped as he returned to the table; his mood was visibly light and lifted.

Who was it? Zafar? Mani inquired inquisitively as the waiter came along with their order. Ahh, finally! Repeat, please, she said, guzzling down the hard liquor down her throat in mere seconds, instinctively wanting to puke it out. Easy, darling, Ali warned wearily. And stop calling all my boyfriends 'Zafar!' That joke is racist, he said, digging into the tortellini.

How’s that racist? Mani asked, a look of genuine concern crossing her face.

Just because I’m 'Ali', do you have to convert all of them into Zafars? He sounded miffed.

Oh, so you meant fascist?

Whatever! Writer-saheba! Ali rolled his eyes.

I’m not being racist. It’s the ‘love story’ for me. If there are epics like Veer-Zaar and Heer-Ranja, it’s time someone writes an Ali-Zafar too, she hammered with dramatic flair.

Why don’t you do the honour? Ali chuckled. But anyway, there’s no Zafar left, he said, nibbling on the crusted bread.

You broke up? Mani asked incredulously.

We weren’t even official. It was casual, Ali brooded while spreading the tomato ketchup on ravioli.

"Ali! Don’t you lie to me, baby." Mani did a little arm-swinging dance. She could dance anytime, anywhere, if she wanted to, and she didn’t need music or alcohol for that.

Why would I lie? Ali looked up indignantly. You know nothing about it. You didn’t even meet him.

I did! Outside Phoenix Mall, remember? Ali, why do you act as if I’m going to steal all your boyfriends away from you? I mean, I wish I could, she said truthfully.

Don't you wish now? He gave her his dimpled smile and asked, What’s his name, by the way?

Whose?

Zafar’s. Let’s see if you even remember his name? He playfully interrogated her while chewing at a slow pace.

Of course, I remember his name! Mani tried to remember his name. Ritesh? Ganesh? She quirked her brow, Suresh! exclaiming out loud!

Ali blinked amused, Yeah? How about Nitesh? Mukesh?

Sheesh! Mani guffawed.

Anyway, there’s nothing wrong with any of those sheeshs, but it’s over. He slow- ghosted me. Oh, how I hate this cyber world, Ali said, biting on the morsel while reevaluating the whole ghosting scenario in his head.

But wasn’t it just a fling? Mani attempted to soften the blow.

We’re not talking about me! Tell me what’s happening with you. Has Aditya gotten back at all? A look of concern crossed his face, and Mani wished they had remained on the subject of his love life.

That chapter is closed forever! she declared, taking another shot and squinting as the acid burned down her throat. She gestured across to the bartender for a refill. After wasting nine years on a guy, three out of nine getting over him, that bartender better be quick, she glared across the table!

Not seeing anyone currently? No random hotties sliding into the DMs? Ali pestered.

Uhhu-hu She shook her head vigorously while sucking on the lemon wedge as her head swirled in rancid. She had hoped the vertigo induced by the lemon would clear the mental images triggered by her ex's name, along with his new chick. The chick, he went down on one knee for, in Amsterdam, on the trip they had so zealously planned to take together. Her throat burned with the memories.

What about that dating site ‘forever young?’ No one young on Forever Young? Ali chuckled, his dimples deepening in his cheeks, which Mani desperately hoped would be passed down to her progeny.

I’m done with guys, Mamu. Mani declared and bit her tongue as it slipped inside her mouth. She realised she had to broach the topic soon before she got too high to remember what she was saying or for Ali to brush it off as a drunken whim.

Done with guys? Don’t tell me you’re joining the dark side. He winked cheekily, as if it were a matter of choice.

Wish I could! Oh, by the way, do you think my voice sounds like a man’s? She asked, recalling a recent incident.

What? he laughed guardedly. Your voice doesn’t sound like a man’s. Who told that to you?

This guy I chatted with. He seemed decent enough, so I gave him my number, and the first thing he said to me was….You don’t sound like you text; you sound like a man!’

How are you even supposed to sound like you text? Ali wondered out loud. Where do you even meet such douchebags?

Forever Young! Mani rolled her eyes. Ali snorted, You have some knack for attracting the wrong kinds.

They all are wrong, Ali! They all are fucking wrong! Mani emphasized with her head held in her hands, and the floor began to move beneath her.

You haven’t met them all yet Ali consoled while patting her head gently. You’re still young.

That’s what I used to say to myself! Mani suddenly jerked her head up, banging her fist on the table, making Ali jump on his place. He was aware of how dramatic his niece could get with little fuel in her body. I’m not young anymore! Time is slipping away from me! I’m turning thirty-fucking-six years old soon! Y’know, what that means? She asked rhetorically, while Ali waited patiently for her to answer her own question.

I don’t need any man or anyone, Ali. I’m flying solo, Mani declared, crossing her arms over her chest as a matter of fact.

An unexpected ball of laughter leaped from Ali’s throat. It was a hearty laugh that came from the deep pit of his stomach and burst out in full force from his mouth. It was Mani’s favourite sound on earth. She loved making him laugh, adored those dimples on his cheek that went deeper when he smiled, or how he would absently rake his fingers through those thick, dark curls, the way his eyes crinkled into tiny slits when he smiled, and the way his purest heart shone in those black diamond eyes. She loved everything about him, with her every fiber of being, truly madly deeply! Mani knew being in love with her gay uncle was wrong, but she couldn’t help it either, even if she wanted to.

She made no