to come?’
‘I have to finish the merger model spreadsheet,’ I said.
‘You are still a muggu,’ Avinash said, referring to me as someone who mugs up, or studies, all
the time. My IIMA reputation would not leave me so easily.
I had lied to Avinash. I had a haircut appointment. After moving to New York, I had decided to
leave my nerdy, unfashionable days far behind. An associate trainee in my class had gorgeous
shoulder-length hair with waves, exactly how I wanted mine. She had made a booking for me at a
salon on 32nd Street.
Of course, I couldn’t tell Avinash this. Muggu Radhika doing her hair? He would laugh in my
face. The news would spread like wildfire in the IIMA alumni groups.
‘You are in New York, will you live a little?’ Avinash said.
‘Where are the drinks?’ I said.
‘At Whiskey Blue. It’s a bar at the W Hotel. Right opposite the Benjamin Hotel, where you are
staying.’
Some problems in the world seem to exist solely for women. Like not having anything to wear.
I realized I had nothing nice for tonight.
‘I am not sure, let me see,’ I said.
‘What let me see? Just come, Muggu,’ he said.
For the rare breed of girls like me that hates shopping and has serious retardation in the areas of the
brain that help you pick a dress, Banana Republic is the answer.
‘Hi, miss. God, you have a gorgeous colour,’ one of the African-American female sales
assistants said. Say that to my mother. She stays up at night wondering who will marry me with this
skin colour.
‘I have to go for drinks, with some friends,’ I said, ‘and I suck at shopping. Can you help?’
When you have no clue, best to surrender. The only shopping I ever did in my life was for
textbooks.
‘I’ll take care of you, girl,’ the shop assistant said.
She picked a navy-blue lace dress for me. It fit well, but ended mid-thigh.
‘Too short?’ I said.
‘Not at all. It’s summer. You look lovely,’ she said. Even though she was paid to say it, it felt
good. ‘I would wax those legs, though,’ she added.
Ouch! That hurt.
‘Unless you like it natural,’ the salesperson corrected herself, switching back to classic
American political correctness.
I entered Whiskey Blue at 9. The plush bar and lounge had decadent leather sofas and dim lighting.