Page 70 of Made in Mumbai

“Oh, am I?” She leaned in closer, making him break into a smile. Her mouth twisted too.

“Excuse me, sir,” the hostess broke their moment. Gautam turned. “Your guest is here,” she moved aside and there was Nilay Patel, also known as NiP in his circles. He looked better in person, even at the ripe old age of 40. In a black button down on a black pair of fitted trousers, he wore a white linen stole wrapped around his neck. In this faux-autumn of Mumbai. But such were these designers.

Gautam stood to his feet and extended his hand — “Hello, Mr. Patel. I am Gautam Kumar and this is my Senior Designer — Maya Kotak.”

“Call me NiP,” he shook hands, gesturing Maya to remain seated. His thick heavy beard twitched as he grinned at her — “Beautiful ladies do not stand up for mere mortals like us.”

Gautam eyed the dandy designer as he took a seat in front of them.

“I heard you had to run back from Europe for this meeting?” Nilay sat back, one arm stretched behind his booth. The classic pose for ‘come worship at my altar.’

Before Gautam could, Maya clapped her hands together — “Oh my god! Am I really sitting in front of you…? I’m sorry… please bear with me for a second as I get it out of my system.”

Nilay smirked — “You are a designer yourself, right?”

“Yes, and a big fan of yours. You brought pastels back to the wedding scene, it’s been here ever since! Though I see a lot of designers trying to ape it and fail miserably…”

“They can try, but they don’t find muses like me,” he winked, holding her gaze longer than decent.

“Your work has taken Indian fashion to the West,” Gautam started. “It’s good to see that hegemony brought to their knees when it comes to our heritage fashion and fabrics.”

“What can I say? I do enjoy ‘em on their knees,” he laughed, again giving Maya a look.Alrightthen.

“Shall we order?” Gautam gestured to the waiter and their menus were delivered.

“So tell me about yourself, Maya. Where are you from?”

“Right here. Mumbai.”

“Maya from Mayanagri. That’s beautiful. Maybe it’ll be my next collection’s name.”

“And I’ll catch hold of my grandkids every Sunday to tell them this story,” she beamed. Gautam gritted his teeth.

“I’ll have one of your Kebab Platters with a White Pepper Soup,” NiP placed his ordered.

“Maya?”

“I don’t think I can do spicy stuff today,” she gave him an apologetic smile. Gautam leaned into her — “What’s wrong?”

“Just acidity.”

“It it ok?” He glanced at her belly hidden under the table cloth. She nodded.

“We can order a Khichdi or Peas Pulao for you…”

“It’ll be a huge serving for just me.”

“I’ll eat it,” he nodded. Then turned to relay their order.

“Excuse me,” Maya began to rise to her feet, and he did too, moving out to let her leave. Just as he turned, he saw NiP’s eyes widen. The man, for the first time since his arrival, looked anything close to a ‘mere mortal.’ He peered at a clueless Maya padding away, then back to him. Then made a sound in his throat — “I am so sorry yaar. I didn’t know you two are together. And I kept flirting with her.”

Gautam opened his mouth to deny it, but then stopped. He nodded, still standing by the table, looking for her to come back. If she didn’t return in one minute, he would go find her. Were her cramps back?

“Congratulations, by the way,” NiP gestured with his hand in Maya’s general direction. “When are you due?”

“January.”

“Must be scary.”

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