Once Upon A Hullabaloo!

CHAPTER 9

The seeds in brinjal sabzi always reminded me of bird poop. Yes, bird poop. I never had an explanation for the 'why' this fact raised but the conclusion was that I had a hard time finishing the serve of this sabzi in my plate.

I picked out a visible few with a piece of roti and cornered them to the empty side of my plate. The dining table was awfully silent and all of us knew the reason behind it. The cause was that rakishly handsome man who had introduced himself to everyone in my family in an uptight English fashion( Now, that's the one thing of all he decided to pick up from his long stay in London!) and was sitting next to me enjoying the bird-poop look-alike sabzi.

"Omi, I want to see those leftover vegetable in th corner of your plate also finished." Mummy said firmly as she put a hot roti in my plate.

She walked back to the kitchen before I could protest against the recent addition of roti. 

 "Mummy!" Miral called out for kaki who was in the kitchen, "I can't have this anymore. The vegetable is too oily and if I grow fat, I swear that is going to be the day of apocalypse! How will I fit into my dress then?!!!"

Naitik coughed, probably to cover up his amused laugh. Baa glared at Miral from her seat at the narrow head of the table which clearly portrayed her place and authority over the family. My grandfather's untimely demise in the teenage years of papa had brought a pretty hard time on my family. Baa had sailed through the storm with all the responsibilities on her shoulders  by taking up a teaching job in school and had come out as a strong woman.

Miral crouched back in her chair to finish off whatever was served without any further tantrums. Papa, sitting next to Vipul kaka(Miral's father) hadn't bothered looking up from his plate all the while Miral had decided to put up a show.

He had greeted me with a hug as soon as he returned from the work but had gone to being his old reserved self when I introduced Ksjitij. Of-course Kshitij's unexpected arrival had raised eyebrows in the house whereas mummy had thrown a sly smile my way when Kshitj had acknowledged her with a hand-folded Jai Shri Krishna.  Papa had taken a formal approach in greeting and had soon excused himself with a courteous nod.

"What do you do Kshitij?" Vipul kaka asked biting on a raw green chilli.

Kshitij put the (now)empty glass of buttermilk down, " I am in my family business. Our company has been investing in different sectors of market since past thirty-five years."

"Is it on a global level or national?" Papa looked at Kshitij with interest.

"Majorly on a national level. In India we hold majority stakes in  most of our invested businesses, thus playing a parent company to them."  Kshitj matched papa's interest in a serious tone.

"What are the preferences for your investments?" Papa continued, leaving his food untouched.

"Mostly we prey on soon-to-be-falling companies like the ones with family disputes or financial problems. We take over them before they cripple or the news about their condition is leaked out in the market, thus avoiding any market damage to the product or services it offers." Kshitij leaned back on his chair to conclude, "Business is the game of ruthless."

"I agree." kaka raised his glass of buttermilk to Kshitij. He was visibly impressed by this ruthless businessman next to me.

Papa resumed back to his unfinished dinner and seemed to be lost in his thoughts as kaka and Kshitij continued their business talk. His neutral expressions didn't trick me and I knew he was evaluating and judging the man I had come home with. What kind of responsible father wouldn't, right? It was never easy to make it to papa's good books and the person had to be a genuine gem to impress my old man.