Tiny Love Stories #3: Being a Chef

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Mishti had never dared to fulfill her dream of being a pastry chef. Why, one might ask? Because her father was vehemently against the long hours, hard physical toil and uncertain pay of the food industry. And Mishti loved her father more than her dream.

Then one evening Kabir asked, "When was the last time you talked about pastries without smiling?"

Mishti opened her mouth to answer.

She couldn't.

Because there was never a moment pastries didn't make her smile.

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(Part of the “Oops My Heart Did a Somersault” universe)

Tiny Love Stories 2: Fish and Chips

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Mishti and Jitin had met for Fish and Chips, just as they did every weekend whenever they were together in London.

“Try the mushy peas,” Jitin said, pushing the tray slightly toward her.

Mishti ignored it for a second, busy pulling apart the fish, watching the steam escape.

“You always rush to the sides,” she pouted once the fish looked good enough to bite into.

“I’m not rushing,” Jitin rolled his eyes. " I thought the peas look good. So I thought we could eat them first."

Mishti looked at her best friend intently. “You pick at everything else first.”

“That’s not true,” Jitin laughed.

Mishti didn’t argue, just dipped a chip into the peas, slow, like she was proving something without saying it. It sagged, barely holding.

“See?” she said, holding it up.

Jitin leaned in and took a bite anyway. “Still fine.”

“It’s not about fine,” Mishti said, finally reaching for the fish. “You leave the best part for later and then act like it doesn’t matter.”

Jitin didn’t reply this time.

Mishti broke off a piece, crisp, still hot, and ate it. With a smile on her face. She knew she was right.

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(Part of the “Oops My Heart Did a Somersault” universe)

Tiny Love Stories 1: A glass of Merlot

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Mishti Mukherjee was a typical British-Indian woman in her 20s, who looked down upon the idea of marriage as most women in her age group did. However, her father (Mr. Abhimanyu) was of the opinion that she had reached a marriageable age and must start being courted by suitors. And he took no time in deciding his friend's (Mr. Dinesh's) son, Kabir, to be the perfect match for Mishti. Point to be noted though, Mishti and Kabir were childhood enemies. Adulthood had not really changed their equation much.

Coerced by their parents to sit together on their first official date, Mishti and Kabir didnt know what to do. They ordered red wine, and tried to initiate small talk. When the wine arrived though, Kabir's hand hit the glass accidentally. A sweeping wave of Merlot escaped his glass, crashing across Mishti's white dress in a violent, blooming shape.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” Kabir gasped.

Mishti froze for a minute. Then she thought she had to rush to the washroom. Before she could get up though, Kabir was there. He took charge, as he dipped a linen napkin into his water and helped her clean herself. His knuckles grazed her sternum and a fleeting, electric heat passed through Mishti's heart. She couldnt define this fluttery feeling.

"Oops did my Heart do a Somersault?" Mishti wondered.

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(Part of the “Oops My Heart Did a Somersault” universe)