I

12

booked Nerai, a highly rated Greek restaurant a ten-minute walk from the BBDO office. I sent
Debu a message after making the reservation.
‘Nerai, 55 East 54th St., 6.30.’
I left work at 5.30 p.m. I had to walk to the South Ferry station and take the ‘1’ train to reach
the restaurant. I decided to take a taxi instead. Heck, I deserved a twenty-dollar cab ride today. The
yellow New York taxi took the FDR drive, a highway along the east side of Manhattan. The cab
whisked me to 49th Street without a traffic signal. From there the taxi drove westwards towards
Nerai’s location.
I reached early and surveyed the restaurant at leisure; Greek paintings on white exposed-brick
walls. I scanned the wine list and ordered a bottle of Greek red wine.
I received a message from Debu.
‘Sorry, stuck at work. Running ten minutes late.’
‘No issues,’ I replied.
‘Order something. Very hungry,’ he responded.
I ordered a watermelon and feta cheese salad along with a trio of dips. The food arrived.
Debu didn’t. I kept waiting.
He entered the restaurant at 7 p.m.
‘I am so, so sorry,’ Debu said.
‘It’s fine,’ I said. I stood up and we hugged.
He removed his long black overcoat and hung it on the back of his seat.
‘Too much work?’ I said as we sat down.
‘Just politics. On who gets credit for a campaign. Ever since my promotion I spend more time
managing politics than doing anything creative.’
‘You are senior, after all. That’s what managers do.’
‘Yeah, I guess. Oh, food is here. How is it? I am starving.’
‘I have not tried. Was waiting for you.’
Debu picked up pita bread and had it with the hummus dip. I ate some salad. His hunger
satiated after a few bites, Debu spoke again.
‘Anyway, how are you? Big day?’ he said.
I smiled. He continued, ‘Not telling me on the phone. Dinner out on a weekday. You do like
your suspense.’
‘Nothing like that. I wanted to share it in person.’
He rubbed his hands together. ‘So, what is it?’