Bombay Heights- Sleepless in the City of Dreams Read online

  Bombay Heights

  Sleepless in the City of Dreams

  By Adite Banerjie

  Copyright © Adite Banerjie 2018

  All rights reserved in all media. No part of this publication may be used or reproduced without prior written permission, except for brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locales and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to any person, place or event is coincidental or fictionalized.

  To know more about Adite Banerjie and her books, visit her website at http://www.aditebanerjie.com

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  Books by Adite Banerjie

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  The phone alarm sang out the Blue Waltz tune giving Sanjana a rude jolt. She looked up from the computer screen feeling totally disoriented. Grabbing her mobile she stared at the display in disbelief. 6:00 already? She had worked through the night and it was already time to begin a new day!

  She stretched her limbs to give her stiff back some relief and shuffled over to the small balcony of the apartment housed within a complex of high-rise buildings grandly named, Bombay Heights. Looking down from the seventh floor, she saw the city waking up to a new day. The newspaper vendor was biking past still-shut shops. A few cars were about but the tree-lined street was not as crowded as it would be in a couple of hours. A cool sea breeze played with her long tresses and Sanjana mentally patted herself for her decision to move to Mumbai five months ago.

  It was the first time she had made an independent decision in her life. And so far, she had no reason to regret it—never mind her elder sisters’ dire warnings. Her father—whom she and her siblings called Pappaji—had at first fumed that she wanted to leave their hometown, Nagpur. But when he realized she would not change her mind he had alternately fretted and fussed.

  Dilip Kale had always set the rules in their close-knit family and he was more stunned than angry that his youngest daughter—and the apple of his eye—would want to move away from the comforts of home.

  For the first couple of months she would get umpteen calls from Pappaji and her sisters, to ask if everything was alright. Gauri, who was older than her by eight years—and whom she would call Gauri Ma in exasperation—needed blow by blow accounts of her day. Minutes later, Meghna, senior to her by six years, would call to confirm that all Gauri had relayed to her matched up. Finally, Pappaji would phone in with his own little emotional blackmail.

  “You remember how much fun we had during barbeque nights? Come home for a short break and we’ll do it again.”

  At first it had made her homesick and all teary-eyed. But then she reminded herself of why she had left home in the first place. Something her family knew nothing about. Determined to keep it that way, she fixed a schedule: a conference call on Skype at 9 p.m. daily was when every detail of her life in Mumbai was shared and discussed threadbare. Of course, that hadn’t stopped her phone pinging incessantly with Whatsapp messages! It was almost as if she had moved to the frontiers to fight a battle rather than to a new city where she hoped to launch the first leg of her career.

  Taking a deep breath she let the soothing sea breeze blow away some of her tiredness. Her eyes were gritty with lack of sleep but she was content she had prepped well for the meeting. She could always make up on lost sleep over the weekend. Not that her argument would win any brownie points from her room-mate Pinky.

  The very thought of Pinky and she materialized in front of her. Her room-mate had a wardrobe full of clothes in every shade of pink. And here she was, wearing a candy pink nightie, with her hair in tight braids, looking like an adorable adolescent.

  “You’re up already? What time is it?” Pinky stretched lazily.

  “Good morning. I was working on my project.”

  “Gosh! Not again? What’s your problem? You want to kill yourself with work before you hit twenty-five or what?”

  “Isn’t it a bit early in the day for your dramatics?”

  Sanjana walked towards the kitchen to make tea while Pinky trailed behind her. “You know what they say about ‘Hard work never killed anybody’? That’s rubbish. Whoever created that saying is an airhead. Pick up the Times of India and you will find at least half a dozen stories on how work-related stress is the new serial killer in town.”

  Sanjana put some water in a pan to boil and turned to Pinky. “Okay, now pipe down, will you? I’ve been assigned a new project and I was doing some research. It’s just that some of the stuff was so interesting, I lost track of time…”

  “…and your beauty sleep!” Pinky peered at her clucking like a mother hen. “Look at those ghastly rings. You look like those zombies with dark circles and hollow eyes. Ugh!”

  Sanjana burst into laughter as she added tea leaves, milk and sugar to the pan. “Thanks for the compliment but it’s nothing that a dab of makeup can’t cure!”

  As soon as the tea came to a boil, she poured it into a mug. “Here, take this. I will go for a jog and be right as rain.”

  “You won’t have some?”

  Taking a sip from Pinky’s mug, she gave it back to her and dashed out of the apartment.

  She could hear Pinky’s howl of despair. “Woman, at least comb your hair!”

  The promenade in front of the beach was chock-a-block with morning walkers, joggers and yoga enthusiasts. The Laughing Club members were at it—raising their arms to heaven and laughing their guts out.

  Ashwin Deo gazed lazily at the sight around him. If it weren’t for Dumbass, he would be sleeping off his dreadful hangover. The dratted critter gave two sharp yelps. Good God! He had been saddled with a mind reading dog? The Lhasa Apso was peering at him with brown soulful eyes that would melt the hardest of hearts.

  “Okay. I got you here, right? Do me a favour and do what you need to.”

  The dog gave a massive tug on his leash and Ashwin lurched forward, nearly crashing into a woman in canary yellow yoga pants and matching T-shirt. His eyes hurt at the bright colours and he mumbled an apology before being dragged ahead by the dog.

  “Dumbass!” he yelled firmly. And the dog came to a halt.

  “That’s more like it.” He lowered himself on his haunches and peered into the mutt’s eyes. “Let’s get this straight. We keep it civilized. You walk calmly, do your thing and we go back home. Got it?”

  The dog’s tongue lolled out from the side of his mouth as he gave Ashwin a beseeching look following it up with a quick lick on his bare knee.

  “Right. So, slow and easy. No pulling, okay?”

  Another swift lick.

  “Thanks, bro. I think we got a deal. Let’s go.”

  Ashwin raised his towering six foot frame and taking deep breaths kept moving along, his eyes narrowing painfully as the hangover continued to hammer away at his head.

  Barely had they walked a few paces when Dumbass broke into a series of high-pitched yelps and tugged. Before Ashwin had figured out what was going on, Dumbass gave a mighty yank.
The strap tore out of his hand and the dog was hurtling down the promenade at top speed.

  “Goddammit! Stop, Dumbass!”

  Walkers turned around to give Ashwin funny looks as he took off after the dog.

  Every stride sent pain shooting up into his head which threatened to split wide open. The cacophony of screeching tyres, frightened squeals of onlookers and a dashing ball of fur brought him to a standstill.

  He bounded on to the street and came to a halt at the sight of Dumbass lying prone in the middle of the road, his lead tangled under the car tyre.

  Oh no!

  He heard the car door open and someone step out, yelling loudly, “Why in God’s name can’t you control your dog?”

  As Ashwin inched forward to pick up the dog, he heard a woman’s lilting voice, “That was close. The leash got tangled under the tyre but he doesn’t seem to be hurt.”

  Ashwin let out the breath he was holding and reached out to pick up Dumbass. The mutt was winded but breathing. There was no blood and as soon as he touched him, Dumbass leaped into his arms and did his lickety-spit number.

  “You gave me the fright of my life,” he muttered as he got up and turned around.

  The driver was only too glad that the creature was alive and kicking. Getting into the car, he ranted about irresponsible dog owners and drove off.

  The woman whose voice he had heard said, “Poor thing must have gotten such a fright!”

  That’s when he noticed her. She looked like a college student with her long waist-length hair tied casually with a silk scarf. Her big, dark eyes shone with compassion as she leaned slightly towards him to pet Dumbass and a fruity perfume assailed him. Her thick eyelashes swept up and she turned her gaze on him.

  “Never been so scared.” He gave her his best hangdog look.

  “I was talking about him!”

  “Dumbass.”

  “Excuse me? Did you just call me, Dumbass?” Her eyes sparkled with annoyance and he came back to his senses with a start.

  “No…his name.”

  He cursed his blasted headache which made talking such a goddamn effort. She looked at him as if he had some kind of mental disability.

  He smiled with effort. “Perfect name for a dog with no sense of self preservation, right?”

  She glared back at him. “What about the owner who thinks he has no responsibility for his dog’s welfare?”

  He took a few deep breaths. “I can explain.”

  “Never mind. Just make sure you take him to a vet. There might be some internal injury.”

  She gave Dumbass a last pat, bestowed a dirty glare on him and jogged away.

  Chapter Two

  At 10 a.m. sharp Sanjana was at her desk on the 12th floor of Atlanta Towers. Neatly dressed in her regulation white shirt and jeans, her long hair tied in a braid, she was the first to arrive at work every day, and today was no different. Snapping open her laptop she checked her presentation one more time and went through the research she had done. Everything was tickety-boo.

  She was exceedingly lucky to have been accepted for an internship program by the most reputed museologist in the Asia-Pacific region. Shrikant Khandekar—who everyone in office referred to as Sir—was not only a tour de force in the area of Asian artefacts but also a boss who demanded from his staff a high level of excellence and expertise.

  While the pressure to deliver to his exacting standards was enormous, she took it as a challenge. Her aim was to apply for the UCLA Museology program but given the high tuition fees, she desperately needed a benevolent sponsor or a hefty scholarship. If she could get through the internship program with flying colours, a recommendation letter from Sir would go a long way in winning her a scholarship. Perhaps then she could finally muster the courage to tell her family that she had split up with her boyfriend of three years, Chetan.

  The office door swished open followed by animated voices and laughter.

  Plastering a smile on her face she greeted the couple of smartly dressed women who walked towards her. “Good morning.”

  Sunrita Vohra, Sir’s protegée and top performer in the office, smirked. “Ah, the diligent intern! Trying to impress the boss by being the first one in office, eh?”

  Asiya Khan, Sir’s executive assistant, smiled at her. “Morning, Sanjana. All ready for your first presentation?”

  “Ready, but hugely nervous.”

  “Careful, don’t swallow your tongue while presenting,” Sunrita cackled as she walked past them and headed for the washroom.

  Sanjana’s smile vanished and she fidgeted with her braid.

  Asiya winked at her. “You’ll be fine. All the best.”

  “Thank you.”

  Gathering her wits about her, Sanjana calmed herself down with the ‘all-izz-well’ mantra. Her sister Meghna, a die-hard Aamir Khan fan, believed that the incantation from the movie 3 Idiots had magical properties. While she would never admit to her sis that she actually used it in situations when she was nervous, it always did manage to calm her down.

  The opening of the office door heralded the arrival of Shrikant Khandekar. In his mid-forties, Sir always had a quick word of greeting for all his employees. As usual he wished her a cheery good morning on his way to the corner office.

  A few minutes later Asiya called out to them to assemble in the conference room.

  The presentation began with Sir giving a short overview of the task at hand. They needed to bid for a multinational assignment which meant they would be competing with top notch firms from all over the world. The first to present was Sunrita and as usual she made a cracking good job of it. Sanjana marvelled at the confidence she oozed and her ideas were cleared after a short discussion.

  Sanjana’s turn came next. Her brief was to develop a marketing strategy which would focus on their core skills and expertise. She offered multiple approaches and gave her reasons for each. They debated and discussed each of her proposals but she had kept her best strategy for the last. It was time to unveil it.

  “Let’s create an animation video that showcases each of the steps involved like a video game. We can develop fictional characters to show how each stage of the assignment would be tackled, the possible challenges they would face and how those can be resolved.”

  Sunrita was the first to voice her opinion. “You want to bring our prestigious project down to a ridiculous video game?”

  Fumbling for a response, Sanjana looked at Sir who was deep in thought. She glanced at her other colleagues who were looking pointedly at their laptops.

  After a few seconds of tense silence, Sir said, “Hmmm….I like the idea.”

  Sunrita’s lips tightened. “But Sir, it will be tough to find a professional video game designer at such short notice!”

  “I know the right guy for the job. In fact, as luck would have it…” Sir glanced at his watch. Picking up the intercom phone he spoke, “Asiya… will you check with…”

  Before he could finish his sentence, a rat-a-tat-tat sounded on the conference room door and it swung open.

  The tall guy who stood at the door looked vaguely familiar.

  “Hello, Mr. Khandekar. Sorry I’m late.” He strode in with a supremely confident swagger.

  He didn’t look the least bit sorry, thought Sanjana.

  “Ash, you’re just in time,” smiled Sir.

  As the introductions began, it suddenly dawned on Sanjana where she had seen him. Except she couldn’t for the life of her believe that the man in khaki cargoes and sleeveless T-shirt with a hoodie she had met on the beach this morning was the same guy who was standing before them in formal shirt and trousers. If it hadn’t been for the lopsided grin and the lock of hair that refused to stay firmly in place, she would never have made the connection.

  Their eyes met. And his had the same befuddled expression that must have been in hers only a few seconds ago.

  Moments later, something clicked and his mouth made an involuntary ‘O’ before the lopsided grin reappeared, “Ah, the
Saviour of Dumbass!”

  Sanjana was fuming by the time she had finished at the office. Ashwin Deo—aka Ash—was perhaps the most infuriating person she had ever come across. What was worse, everyone at work—including her normally reserved boss—seemed to think the sun shone out of his tight butt! To give the Devil its due, he was particularly blessed by the Gods (or perhaps a great physical trainer) when it came to a superb anatomy. His business-casual attire added substance to his style without turning him into some kind of filmstar eye-candy.

  He had insisted on narrating the whole embarrassing incident about the confusion over his dog’s name in excruciating detail and had made it out as if she was responsible for the fact that the mutt was still alive and breathing. She had swung between wanting the earth to swallow her up and landing a mighty kick in a part of his gorgeous anatomy where it would hurt the most!

  She heaved a sigh of relief when Sir was called away for another meeting and she could escape the spotlight that Ash had managed to keep focused on her all through. But the bad news was there would be no getting away from the wretched guy. Everyone seemed to think he was the one who could execute her idea to perfection.

  The insistent ring tone of her mobile cut through her musings. Meghna was at the other end, sounding like an excited child who had been gifted a toy she had been yearning for.

  “Get ready for your best Diwali ever,” announced Meghna.

  “What’s happening?” Sanjana grouched.

  “It’s all been finalized. We’re coming to Mumbai for Diwali. We’re gonna have a blast!”

  This could not be for real! Even though she loved her family to bits, this was simply the wrong time for them to land up.

  “Hello…hello…are you there?” Meghna’s insistent voice broke through.

  “Yeah…”

  “Doesn’t that sound like fun? I have already started packing. So let me know what you want me to bring from Nagpur.”

  “Meghna, could we postpone this to…uh…Christmas?”