‘I can’t wait to work on their campaign.’
We had a dark chocolate mousse cake with orange sauce as our last dish.
‘Great choice of restaurant, Radhika,’ Debu said. ‘At first I thought this place too fancy, but
look at the food. Wow.’
We finished our meal and the bill arrived. The waiter handed it to Debu, but I plucked it from
his hands. I had told Debu it would be my treat. I had a quick look. The bill came to 200 dollars. I
placed the cash in the bill folder and handed it to the waiter.
‘Is it a lot?’ Debu said. ‘It is, isn’t it? Why did you spend so much?’
‘Look, I wanted to celebrate with you. My only true friend in New York. So thank you for
being there.’
I held my champagne glass high. He did the same and made a toast.
‘Congratulations. To my talented friend Radhika, who will kick ass at distressed debt and
show the men how it is done,’ he said.
We decided to walk from Aquagrill to the Benjamin Hotel, a half-an-hour stroll. From there Debu
could get a direct ‘4’ train to Brooklyn. I had thirty minutes to get this man to make a move. A part of
me wanted to scream, Oh Debu, just kiss me already.
Of course, a lifetime of brainwashing to be a ‘good Indian girl’ would never allow me to do
that.
He didn’t make any move. However, he did say amazing things on our walk.
‘It’s really important that women do well. It sets an example for other younger women. It
inspires them,’ he said.
‘Who am I inspiring?’ I said, my mind filled with alternate thoughts. Did he notice my legs
yet? Did dinner make my stomach less flat? Are my boobs in place? Can this guy walk slower so I
can keep up in my heels?
‘Of course you are an inspiration. To your younger cousins, for example. I am sure they will
see their Radhika didi and want to be like her.’
I laughed.
‘What?’ he said.
‘I don’t know. My sister Aditi has more fans. She barely graduated. She knows make-up and
clothes way better than me, though.’
That is when Debu said something, something even better than the amazing things he had said
about my work and intelligence.
‘You have great taste in clothes,’ he said.
Oh, I love this man. He must be partially blind but I love this man.
‘Really?’ I said. I found it hard to take a compliment that didn’t involve grades or job
interviews.
‘Yeah. You have this subtle, understated style. This red dress, pardon me, but.. .’
‘But what?’ I said. Is it ripped somewhere? I thought in horror.
‘Pardon me, but it makes you look so hot,’ he said.
Oh Debu! Bless him, gods. Give him any advertising account he wants. For the first time in