I got a message last night: 'Aks, I want to see you.'
I stared at the message as if I were dreaming. It was 9.52 P.M. The sender was at that moment in Thousand lights and I in Valasaravakkam. It would take a minimum of one hour to reach my place.

‘Err, can it wait until tomorrow?’ I asked. ‘It’s quite late now. You must be tired too. By the time you arrive and we talk, it would be midnight.’

There was a pause, ‘I’m flying out tomorrow morning, Aks. I don’t know when I’ll be back. I need to see you.’

I didn’t hesitate. ‘Okay, come over.’

I ran upstairs and informed my hubby that we’re gonna have visitors. He looked at me as if he was saying: ‘I’m not surprised. Anything is possible in this country’. I saw him watch me through the floor-to-ceiling mirrors as I got all pretty for the meet. I smiled. ‘In case they take pictures. I don’t want to scare anyone.’

As the minutes ticked by I found myself getting impatient. ‘Where are you?’ I sent a quick sms.

‘Ambika Empire, Aks. I’ll be there in half an hour.’

I forced those lids to stay awake trying to work on my next novel, but the hero was stubbornly doing as he liked and was not listening to me. I grit my teeth as I thought of all those changes I’ll have make to accommodate the whims and fancies of this hero.

My phone buzzed. ‘Yes?’

‘Aks, we’re outside.’

I stepped out in white, feeling like one of those wandering spirits that mom confirmed visited at night, and as if on cue, the street dogs began to howl. I brought the guests inside, told them that my hubby was on his first dream and asked them to sit down while I went to rustle up something.

‘Aks we had a late lunch so we’re not hungry. Just a drink will do.’

I’m ashamed to say I was relieved. I didn’t look forward to using my culinary skills at midnight. Moreover, my husband had just fumigated the house with sweet-smelling lavender perfume. I was imagining how disturbed he’d be if my ginger-garlic ensemble penetrated his slumber.

I came back with soft drinks, and we were warming up for a girl-to-girl chat. Her husband sat there looking at us with a pained expression as if wondering how long he’d have to wait to take his wife back home.

All of a sudden, my husband appeared seeming wide awake. I looked at him with open mouth as he took a chair beside the husband as if to say: ‘I’m with you. Don’t worry. I know about my wife to vouch that this is going to take a while.’

In the meantime, my visitor was digging into her kit and bringing out a plastic bag. My nostrils began to twitch as she drew out an orange color casserole.

‘Aks, remember you told me that you liked my biriyani?’

I nodded. I remembered she was an excellent cook.

‘Well, I made you chicken biriyani, Aks. I wanted to give it to you before I leave.’

I was stunned. She’d been juggling between Bangalore and Chennai giving training sessions in soft skills, conducting prayer meetings, visiting the sick in between, and then there was her sister’s wedding (all this during a four-week vacation) - and she spent her last evening preparing biriyani and bringing it for me?

I was speechless. For a moment there, I just looked at her as my throat worked furiously. I hugged her, and she knew what I was telling her. Something I’ve always told her. ‘You’ll go far in life. You’re a winner all the way.’

Meanwhile, my husband was looking at me, wondering probably if I was going to dive into that casserole and prove my love by eating it all, and then have guilt pangs and keep him awake with loud music while I rocked to Made in India.