Like a Love Song

by Nikita Singh

  Maahi had started this job knowing it had an expiration period. She needed to be here only until she joined college. What she hadn’t realized was that after six months, she would be nowhere close to deciding what she wanted to study. She expressed her interest in English literature, but her mother revolted against it aggressively. She couldn’t believe her daughter had lost all ambition and was considering such a non-technical, unprofessional stream. She asked Maahi what she wanted to do after she graduated with a bachelor’s in English and Maahi said the first thing that came to her mind—teach.

  Maahi was lectured every day for six consecutive days about how the profession she chose needed to align with her personality. Her mom told her that a girl who was too shy to talk in front of a few new people would have no success in a career that required public speaking. Maahi didn’t resist the logic.

  She was comfortable amongst her friends and family, but she had always been that girl in the back who was too shy to talk to new people. In her time working at Fourth Eye Apps, she had learned to talk to strangers, over the phone, one person at a time. Teaching a class was an entirely different world. Ma had a point, but Maahi would’ve appreciated her having a little faith in her daughter, however undeserved it was.

  Maahi was thankful her mother had at least made peace with the idea that she wasn’t going to be an engineer. She made Maahi fill out several admission forms for colleges in Delhi University, from programmes ranging from computer science and physics to business economics and political science. Her hope was for Maahi to figure out what she wanted by the time the results came in and she had options to choose from.

  When they did, Maahi was glad to find she wasn’t offered any colleges in physics. And she somehow convinced her mother to not force her to do computer science again. She had a few options in business economics and political science, and she had to make a final decision. Maahi considered having turned her mother from BSc to BA a feat in itself. But she wished she had done that a little earlier when the option of studying English literature was still available.

  ‘Hard call?’ Prasoon appeared in front of her desk and asked.

  ‘I guess.’ Maahi shrugged. ‘I had to disconnect.’

  ‘Language?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Ugh, good then. Don’t engage the a-holes.’ Prasoon looked around her desk. There was one spreadsheet open on her computer with a list of things she could say to the customers, and a calendar with all meetings and appointments listed. Apart from the computer and the telephone, there was nothing to see. ‘How is everything else going? Good?’

  ‘Yeah, all good,’ Maahi said.

  ‘Great. I’m going to head out now; I’m done for the day. Give me a call if you need me, okay?’

  ‘Sure, thanks.’

  ‘Cool.’

  Prasoon left, and Maahi watched him walk away, wondering about his life and what it would feel like to be in his shoes. Graduating from engineering college, starting his own company—if you could call two app developers and one office manager, who Maahi was, a company. They were making apps that predicted … things. Weird things. Most of these apps were quite unconventional. Apart from The Poop App that was supposed to predict people’s bowel movements, there was The Sex App, which would essentially tell people the next time they were going to get laid. The secret algorithm worked on a simple permutation and combination technique, first asking the user to input their existing data, and then projecting it on to the future, ‘predicting’ it.

  Another popular one was The Breakup App. It would ask the user to enter their entire history of love interests and tell them how long their existing relationship was going to last. Maahi once overheard Prasoon telling his partner to change the app to predict longer or lifetime relationships. Based on the past, the app tended to end relationships more realistically. Apparently, people didn’t want to hear the truth.

  Then there was The Death App, which, as the name suggested, predicted the user’s death, based on their family history. The names of these apps were truly uninspired and obvious, as was the algorithm and predictions. Maahi didn’t understand why anyone would make this their career and concentrate all their energy on it. She wondered how Prasoon’s parents must have reacted to his decision to not take a campus job but start up a wacky app-developing business. And somehow, some of these apps worked, and even though all of them were available for free to download on iOS, they still seemed to be making money. Maahi always got paid on time. It wasn’t an amount to speak of, but she did earn every paisa of it, taking all the strange calls she got.

  She only used The Period App. That one was quite obvious and uninspired too, but she thought it was handy. She was bad at remembering dates—except when it came to Kishan’s birthday, their anniversary and every other time he had done anything sweet for her—and at the very least, the app saved her period-math, so it wasn’t such a bad thing to have. Also, Prasoon had asked her to test it since she was the only woman in their ‘office’ and laughed, but it did get weird real quick and he changed the topic.

  There was another one she thought was funny—The Hunger App. Prasoon had asked her to test it, as a way of changing the topic from The Period App. This one, Maahi thought, was especially inaccurate. It kept telling her she was supposed to be feeling hungry when she wasn’t. She would leave home after having breakfast, and the app would tell her she would be hungry again at lunchtime, then again in the evening around the time she left work, and then again at night when she got home. Sometimes, it also predicted that she should be hungry in the middle of the night when she found herself unable to fall asleep.

  Maahi thought it was hilarious. Normally, if she ate in the morning before leaving for work, she was good until she got back. Sometimes, she would go to a coffee shop near the office during lunchtime to get a cookie, just so she had something to do. Also, because she really liked the place. Just thinking about it made her want a cookie. She checked the time—it was 4.14 p.m. She got off work at 5.00 p.m., but since she hadn’t taken her lunch break that day, she texted Prasoon to ask him if it would be okay if she left early.

  Maahi picked up her pen and notepad from the table and shoved them back into the drawer. She put her water bottle back in her handbag and was ready to go. She sighed at her life again. She got out of breath climbing down the four flights of stairs and was glad she took her break at the end of the day and wouldn’t have to climb back up. She dreaded the stairs and all kinds of physical work. Life was easy but boring at her nine-to-five desk job, answering calls, talking to weirdos, arranging meetings for two people and maintaining their not-so-packed calendars.

  By the time Maahi reached Cozy Coffee, she was in a much better mood. She even began to think of the shitty call as humorous. She walked in through the door with handles shaped like coffee mugs and looked up at the menu displayed above the counter. She didn’t need to; she already knew what she wanted.

  ‘Can I have a chocolate chip cookie, please?’ she asked Naseer at the counter. He was short and fair and the kind of skinny that didn’t look healthy. He had the face of a child and his lips were pinker than Maahi’s.

  ‘Sure. That would be twen—’

  ‘Ask her to get the one with almonds,’ a voice said. A second later, Maahi saw a messy bun tied on top of a head emerge from under the counter, followed by a heart-shaped face with a small, sharp nose and a pointed chin. Maahi was struck by how big her eyes were, how bright they shone under perfectly arched eyebrows, and how upbeat her attitude was. ‘Get the almond one. It’s the cookie of the day. I baked it myself.’

  Maahi’s eyes dropped to the girl’s nametag. Laila. Maahi had never met person with that name. She had never seen her around, but then, she had never been to Cozy Coffee in the evening. She didn’t know how to respond. ‘I, umm…’

  ‘Go for it, girl. You’ve got to trust me on this.’ Laila winked.

  ‘You can’t force customers to get what they don’t want to—’ Naseer interjected, but was cut
off by Laila.

  ‘Don’t. I’m just recommending the cookie of the day. Like you were supposed to.’

  ‘I wasn’t. CJ said there’s no such thing as cookie of th—’

  ‘Ugh, whatever.’ Laila rolled her eyes and her petite frame disappeared under the counter again. She seemed to be just a couple of inches taller than Maahi, but much skinnier. Maahi heard her shuffling under there, but couldn’t see what she was doing.

  Naseer turned to Maahi. ‘I’m sorry about her. That will be twenty-one rupees.’

  ‘Actually…’ Maahi hesitated, and then continued, ‘Could I have the one with almonds? The one she recommended?’

  ‘Oh, no, no. You don’t have to. Don’t let her bully you into getting something you don’t want.’

  ‘No, it’s not that. I always get the same one. Why not try the cookie of the day, right?’ Maahi chuckled nervously. This was the longest interaction she had had with Naseer in all the months she had been going to the coffee shop.

  ‘There is no such thing as cookie of the day. She made it up,’ Naseer said, pointing accusingly at Laila, whose bun—with curly hair spilling out unchecked—was all Maahi could see.

  ‘I’ll still get it.’ Maahi laughed nervously. She just wanted to get her cookie and leave. There were three people waiting in line behind her.

  ‘Seriously? Because you really don’t have to,’ Naseer said and Maahi felt as if he was bullying her into not getting the one with almonds.

  ‘Seriously.’

  Maahi heard a ‘Ha!’ from under the counter and smiled to herself. Laila appeared a moment later. She heated up her cookie for a few seconds and served it on a plate. Maahi wanted it in a paper bag, to go, but didn’t want to ask. So she thanked Laila, picked up her warm cookie and sat down at a tiny round table by the window.

  She felt strange sitting alone to eat. It reminded her of her time in Bangalore, when she used to eat by herself every day. Surrounded by people, but alone. Remembering that time also reminded her of Kishan. She wished the couple sitting on her right would stop holding hands under their table.

  She was surprised at how delicious the cookie was. She turned towards the counter and saw Laila watching her. Catching her eye, Laila raised one of her perfect eyebrows. Maahi smiled and nodded. Laila took a small bow.

  Maahi blushed and turned back to her cookie. That was all she had going for her in life. She chuckled at the thought. When did it get so complicated?

  She didn’t want to acknowledge it, but these rude calls bothered her. She had learned to easily tune out and not let them affect her mood, but it wasn’t exactly something she wanted to be doing with her day. She was better than that. She was slightly relieved that she still thought that she was better than something. That she wasn’t desperate enough to settle yet.

  Maahi got up and started walking to the Metro station. The commute from her workplace in Gurgaon to her home in Vaishali took over an hour by train. She had expected to hate it, but it didn’t bother her at all. She found herself squished in the ladies’ compartment every morning and evening, and somehow it made her feel like she wasn’t alone. Admittedly, she knew nothing about these women and their lives, but taking the train ride with them made her feel like she wasn’t the only one struggling.

  7

  A few weeks later, Maahi woke up with a final decision. At breakfast, she told her mom that she wanted to study political science. Her mom said no, it didn’t offer great career opportunities. Maahi asked her about her only other option—business economics, which her mom seemed fine with, so they made the deal. At that point, after having stressed over it for months, Maahi was just glad it was done and over with.

  It also meant that now that her college was starting in a couple of months, she would have to quit her job at Fourth Eye Apps—a prospect she was looking forward to. She would miss the fifteen grand a month she made there. It wasn’t much, but it was the first time she was earning and she didn’t have many expenses anyway. She would hate going back to taking pocket money from her parents.

  She got off the Metro at M.G. Road and walked towards the office. Even though she hadn’t been particularly fond of working at the place, Maahi found herself trying to absorb everything on her way there. The routine she had followed for the past half year was coming to an end. She realized that no matter how bad her job was, she did learn a lot. She had earned experience when people called to know when they were going to have sex next, but it was experience regardless. Maybe someday she would look back at her time at Fourth Eye Apps—her wacky first job—and laugh. She told herself she was being too dramatic about it, that there was nothing to get sentimental about, but allowed herself the drama nevertheless. Just deciding her college and major was a big load off her shoulders, and she found it much easier to walk without it.

  She passed by Cozy Coffee and made a mental note to get a cookie on her way back home. She greeted Prasoon as she walked in and took her seat at the plush revolving chair. The office was basically a big L-shaped storage box—with a high ceiling and a metal garage door at the front. They had two desks close together in one corner, separated from the other end by a plywood partition, and there was a desk at the front for Maahi. She sat down and pulled out her notepad and pen from her bag.

  She had some more time left there, but she thought it would probably be good to let Prasoon know she would be leaving them soon. A warning is always good when you’re going to leave someone. She thought about how Kishan had never talked about breaking up, or even being unhappy with her, and suddenly, one day when she asked him if he wanted the relationship … he hadn’t spoken. He still hadn’t spoken.

  In almost a year since they broke up, Maahi hadn’t heard from Kishan. She visited his Facebook page on occasion. Some of his pictures were with Payal, but it didn’t bother her anymore. She thought she was finally getting somewhere with her plan to forget about him. Her initial goal had been to forgive and forget, but that was harder to achieve since he never asked her for forgiveness.

  Maahi answered calls all morning, not hating it as much as usual. She attributed it to the load she got off her shoulders that morning. Everything was lighter, easier without that. She was even hungry at lunchtime, which had never once happened in her time working there. The Hunger App was right this one time—Maahi found her stomach cramping with hunger.

  She walked to Cozy Coffee, reading their menu in her mind. There was a ‘help wanted’ sign on the door she pushed open. She had decided on a coffee with a butter croissant. Laila was at the register.

  Maahi had to stand in line to let two people in front of her order first. When it was her turn, she told Laila what she wanted. Laila didn’t ask her to get something else this time. While she served her coffee, the silence felt a little weird and Maahi tried to think of something to say to her. ‘Naseer not here today?’ Maahi asked.

  ‘Nah, he’s gone,’ Laila said, pointing at the ‘help wanted’ sign next to the cash register.

  ‘Oh, yeah. I saw that outside too.’

  ‘Yeah, we need someone to take over, like, today. I can’t keep doing this shit by myself. I can handle it in the interim, but they need to bring someone soon.’

  Maahi nodded and looked back at the sign. ‘How long has this been up?’ she asked.

  ‘A week? Eight days—feels like forever. Don’t tell anyone, but CJ, our manager, is an asshole. He’s an ideal customer service guy on the outside, but when it comes to his own employees, ugh,’ Laila ranted on.

  ‘Who would I tell?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing. I was just…’ Maahi felt her ears get warm.

  ‘Speak up, girl! Who are you afraid of? It’s just you and me!’ Laila laughed. ‘Ah, you remind me of me from like ten years ago. I was quite a shy fifteen-year-old. And then I turned sixteen and everything changed.’ Laila mimed an explosion with her hands.

  Maahi struggled to respond to that, mentally calculating that Laila was five years older than her. She seemed matu
re and well put together too, which intimidated Maahi. Her eyes rested on the wanted ad again. ‘Umm, no, it’s not like that. I was…’

  ‘Oh, are you interested in the position?’ Laila asked, following Maahi’s gaze. ‘It’s a really chill job. All you have to do is take money from people and give them food or drinks in exchange—whatever they want. And spend the whole day with me—which could be a deal breaker, but everything else is quite alright. Scratch that, I already mentioned CJ. He’s not that bad. I mean, as managers go, he tends to be a pain in the ass, but you can take him.’

  Maahi thought about that for a second. She somehow found herself considering it. She was starting college soon and already had a job in the interim. Why was she considering a job at a coffee shop, especially when she didn’t need a job at all?

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Okay?’ Laila raised an eyebrow at Maahi.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Cool. Let me see if CJ is around. Actually, you know what, never mind. He delegated it to me, so I’m just going to interview you. Hi, I’m Laila—I’m the baker and service manager. I basically do everything around here. I’ll be your supervisor. We’re looking for someone for the counter. Don’t worry, it’s not much. You don’t even need to be good at maths, really. But you will need to speak up, because you’ll have to talk to the customers, okay? Are you fine with doing the interview right here?’

  They were standing on either side of the tall counter, Laila resting her elbows on the cool granite and leaning towards Maahi, who was shuffling on her feet.

  ‘I can’t leave the counter unmanned. Unless you prefer coming in later or you want to wait till the end of my shift or until it cools down a bit so that we can talk for a few minutes? But we do need someone soon, and you are already here and like I said, it’ll only take a few minutes, it’s just a formality. Our requirement is to find someone who can stand on their feet and do things that most humans are easily capable of. Unless they are dum-dums,’ Laila said, then added softly, ‘like Naseer was.’