He Loves Me Not
92 pages
English

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92 pages
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Description

Childhood sweethearts, good-looking Jimmy Cooper and plain Jane Mehroo Nasarwanji are now 'grown up' twenty-somethings. While Mehroo is loyal and crazy about Jimmy, Jimmy is anything but loyal and crazy about everything else but Mehroo. So while Jimmy charms his way through life naive Mehroo tries every trick in Pizzazz magazine to seduce her man. Will Mehroo come out of her shell and discover her true self? Will Jimmy look beyond himself? Packed with colourful characters and a racy plot, He Loves Me Not is about two very different people who grow up together, learn about love, and discover who they really are.

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Publié par
Date de parution 22 août 2013
Nombre de lectures 0
EAN13 9788184004885
Langue English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0000€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Contents
Cover
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30

Published by Random House India in 2013
Copyright Vrushali Telang 2013
Random House Publishers India Private Limited Windsor IT Park, 7th Floor, Tower-B A-1, Sector-125, Noida-201301 (UP)
Random House Group Limited 20 Vauxhall Bridge Road London SW1V 2SA United Kingdom
This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author s and publisher s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
E-ISBN 9788184004885
For my Aai I feel your presence around me, Taking care, protecting silently, But it s not the same, for we laughed aloud. I miss you mom, I hope to make you proud.
1
I n Narielwala Mansion s flat C-2, 61-year-old Dinshaw bustled around the kitchen noisily. He was fixing a simple breakfast of bread and butter on a steel plate for his ageless mother. Across the building in the balcony of G-1, he could see the two Mrs Cawasjis, Pesi s mother and his wife as they looked into the courtyard of the housing colony. Dinshaw peered down to see a potbellied 25-year-old Pesi as he set off to work at 10, as was usual, that Wednesday morning.
Dinshaw then hurried with the sandwich. He was in a rush to settle his mother down and then leave. His son, Jimmy, was sleeping in the next room. Dinshaw wanted to get out before Jimmy woke up.
As he buttered the bread, he spoke to his mother, Bapaiji, in a slow deliberate tone, Mummy I am going with Porus, I will be back within two hours.
He then opened the refrigerator, took out a steel glass that had cold milk in it. He set the plate of bread butter and cold milk on the table, as a frail Bapaiji took a seat.
Scratching his bald pate, Dinshaw then walked to the sideboard in the hallway. Narielwala Mansion, a sprawling housing society located in the heart of Worli, Central Mumbai, was built at a time when space in the island city was of no consequence. Two bedroom-hall-kitchen apartments in Mumbai then, were expansive, and Narielwala was no different.
A long hallway stretched from the kitchen to the dining room. The passage could well have been another room.
A room for Jimmy, his wife Havovi would often coo into Dinshaw s ears back then.
But a much younger Bapaiji wanted to keep things the way they were. She did not like change. And back then Dinshaw wanted to please his mother. After all, she had just a few years to live, he had thought. Also, Jimmy was too young for his own room. Havovi could wait, Dinshaw had assumed.
Now, above the sideboard, staring at him from the wall were photographs of his ancestors looking at him. Photos of Jimmy s grandfather, Ardeshir Cooper; Bapaiji in her youth; Little Dinshaw and Puppaji s father, Dinyar Cooper, looking proud in Nargol, their ancestral village by the sea.
In a strange way, he got strength and courage when he looked at the photographs. He nodded at them, then removed a strip of Crocin and Aricep from the drawer, popped a pill out from each, chucked the strips back into the drawer and banged it shut. He came back to the kitchen and placed the two pills on the steel plate. Bapaiji looked at him. While I m gone, have your breakfast and do not forget these medicines. Okay, mummy?
He didn t want to miss his game of badminton, something he started a month ago. An hour at the courts and the camaraderie with childhood friend Porus and other retired men of Narielwala Mansion was the only respite in his otherwise dreary life.
Much against his calculations, his mother had decided she was going to live forever along with her amnesia. Dinshaw also had a 25-year-old son who lived off him. Singlehandedly, he ran the household. He often daydreamed of Havovi, who had left him 18 years earlier. He still loved his wife too much, despite the fact that she eloped with his ex-boss Mr Mehta alias saala paadmaroo.
Dinshaw could never get over Havovi. What compounded his misery further was the fruit of their marriage: Jimmy. Jimmy looked just like his mother. And Dinshaw wanted to leave before Jimmy woke up, which was usually around quarter past ten.
Bapaiji sat at the kitchen table and stared at the toast. Dinshaw collected his badminton racquet and turned toward the front door.
Just as he took the first step out of the threshold, he heard, Puppa!
He looked back to see his disheveled son rubbing his eyes as he yawned. Most people look horrible first thing in the morning. Even in that messy state, Jimmy was downright handsome. Fair, tall, with a chiselled face and a dimpled chin, Jimmy ran his hand through his wavy hair. How much he looks like his mother , thought Dinshaw.
Gritting his teeth, Dinshaw said, How many times have I told you not to call out to a person when they are going out the door. It s bad luck! Don t you understand, you idiot?
Dinshaw was not a superstitious man, but there was something about Jimmy that made him lose his cool. Even if Jimmy breathed near him, Dinshaw would find a reason to get pissed off at his son.
Dinshaw s ire had no effect on Jimmy. Nonchalant as ever, he stretched his well-cut biceps and said, Puppa, I need some money. He then yawned and Dinshaw could feel his blood pressure soar.
Saala , 25 years old you are and you still live off your retired father!
But Puppa money is not everything!
Then why you keep asking for it? Try earning some, Dinshaw said. He then removed a ten rupee note from his pocket and handed it to Jimmy.
Jimmy put the frayed note his pocket. That won t be enough Puppa. I have to go to the theater tonight. There is a charity premier.
Dinshaw smiled sarcastically. You want to spend my hard earned money on a movie?
Calm as ever, Jimmy explained, Puppa, I am going for a fundraising premier. It means the money you give me will go towards a noble cause. It s your chance to do your good deed for the day.
I see, added Dinshaw dramatically. Why don t you do a good deed, son? Get a job, no?
Jimmy had no time for his father s theatrics. You don t understand Puppa; this could be my big chance to meet a director
What for? May your father have the pleasure of knowing what is it that his son wants to do now ? Dinshaw folded his arms in disgust.
I am waiting to be discovered, Jimmy stated emphatically and then continued to explain his game plan, And to get discovered I need to be seen at the right places like tonight. Some big director or producer may come to the premier, see me, and realize that I am the star that Bollywood desperately needs.
If you are really going to meet a director, go get a haircut first, ordered Dinshaw.
Puppa, long hair is in vogue. Not everyone has the lan to carry it off in style, though, said Jimmy.
It looks shabby, you fool! yelled Dinshaw.
Drooping his neck, Jimmy explained, It s called the out-of-bed look, Puppa! Women go wild over it. And bed-head takes a lot of work and some good hair product, mind you.
Without a word Dinshaw turned around and banged the door shut on his son and his mother, who was staring in front, her breakfast lying forgotten as always.
2
W hen Dinshaw got out of C Block onto the sprawling courtyard he looked around for his friend Porus. The rectangular expanse of land which had the capacity to host a grand Indian wedding, was bordered by 5 storey buildings starting from Block A all the way to Block O. Built in 1946, Nariewala Mansion was one of the first co-operative housing societies of Bombay (now called Mumbai). It was as stunning then, as it was today.
Porus was waiting for Dinshaw at the little red gate of a tiny garden in the nook of the courtyard. Dinshaw caught up with his childhood friend and immediately started recounting the spat he had had with his son Jimmy.
Porus began to laugh heartily as the two friends started to walk towards the badminton courts situated in the far west corner of Narielwala Mansion. Dinshaw s complaints about Jimmy amused him to no end. In his starched white shirt and crisp shorts, Porus Nasarwanji looked fitter and happier than his bald and slightly hunched-back friend Dinshaw.
Porus had always been well-kept, seeing that he d had a very successful life as an airline pilot. He d travelled the world, built his farmhouse in Karjat, and loved his daughter and wife. He missed Monaz after her untimely death but he never showed it. Unlike Dinshaw, he had happy memories of his lovely wife and a bon vivant disposition.
And you say you don t have a sense of humour! You are very funny, my man Ten rupees for a film, Dinshaw?
All rubbish! grunted Dinshaw and continued, He is lying. Must be wanting money for one of his hair gels. Those product names are longer than Rapunzel s plaits!
Porus grinned as he tapped his friend s bald pate. Jealous?
Before Dinshaw could retort, a young woman who looked like a boy, in her cap, sneakers, jeans, and tucked in men s T-shirt, stopped to greet them. It was Guru Sareen.
Good morning Porus uncle. Good morning Dinshaw uncle.
Dinshaw nodded back with a half-hearted smile. However Porus was cheerful. Guru! he said. Long time! Where have you been?
I was shooting in Jaisalmer, she said.
Hmmm that explains the tan. I ve been to that beautiful place. Isn t it grand? Rajasthan is one of my favourite states in the country.
Guru nodded as she took her c

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