Dawn was peeking through the cream satin curtains.

Madhulika stirred on the plush chair beside her coffee table. She had risen earlier than the sun, ditching her bed when it became impossible to get any shut eye.

She wanted to slap herself for being so affected by Roshan when it never bothered her earlier. In fact, it was convenient. She could get all the good parts of a relationship without taking over any of the responsibilities. But then her heart got involved, and with love came guilt.

He started marking every place she could call home. Her apartment, her room in her father's house and even her office at her father's firm. She couldn't go anywhere without her feelings haunting her. This suite in Jasm Inn had been her home for the past month, she could be at peace here, away from those stifling thoughts, at least until yesterday.

Madhu unwound herself from her cross-legged position on the chair. Plugging in the coffee maker, she inhaled the comforting smell of crushed coffee beans, smiling for the first time after hours of crying. She was usually a chai kind of person but today she needed a stronger source of caffeine.

The hour hand of her wristwatch pointed at five when she finished her coffee, feeling much less drowsy. She had three more hours to kill before breakfast with her father. The time, she decided, would be best spent cleaning.

It was therapeutic, going over the mindless motions of folding clothes, scrubbing dishes and dusting the furniture. She could've called room service, but Madhu had always been uncomfortable with servants, she just couldn't give out orders.

Her mother had been the same.

It took about two hours to go through her entire suite. By the time she was done cleaning, it was seven. She hopped in the shower stall of her enormous bathroom. There was a bathtub too, but for some reason, she was not in the mood for a bath.

Her Nokia was buzzing on the bed when she came back from showering, her father's number displayed on the screen.

"Pranam Papa," she mumbled, holding her cell between her shoulder and head as she pulled a denim pant over her long legs.

"I've just had an idea Madhu!" Mahesh Lal didn't bother blessing his daughter first. "Get here right now!"

"Here" could only mean his office at the firm. "Weren't you supposed to come down to the hotel for breakfast? You insisted on me treating you for some reason."

"Oh, you still owe me that treat, but you'll have to pay it in another way." There was an underlying smile in his words, whatever this idea was, Madhu figured it was something he was immensely proud of.

His excitement was contagious. "Okay, I'll meet you in thirty."

He hung up as soon as she said that. That man couldn't, for the life of him, learn the need to say "bye" to signify the end of a phonic conversation. It was one of the many regular things her father deviated from.

Shaking her head, Madhu pulled on a simple white tee and wove her hair in a loose braid that reached her midback. Two swipes of eyeliner later, her high cheekbones were looking more defined than usual and her look was complete. She smiled at her reflection.

Three hours to suppress last night's BS. Must be a new record.

Deciding to leave early in order to avoid the office rush, Madhu drove to her father's firm in Connaught Place. It was a five-minute drive and she was able to pick up street side vadas for breakfast on the way from the parking.

When Mahesh Lal Thakur had first started his firm back in 1981, it was a small establishment in Lajpat Nagar called Sri Ram Advertisers that printed pamphlets. It was nearly impossible for a business to be built during the socialist governments of those days, but he persisted on. Ten years later, the economy and his business both opened to new opportunities and he was able to relocate to CP, rename it to a more modern-sounding Aurelian Advertisers and even build three more offices in Gurgaon, Mumbai and Ahmedabad. After all, there is plenty of money in advertising once capitalists enter the picture.

Madhu had hated moving to Delhi at first, she hated living in a creaky, smelly rented apartment deep in the alleys of the older part of the city. It was a complete one eighty from the life she had at her grandfather's house amid open fields and plenty of running space. But her father had promised her a good future, and he was a man of his word.

The oil of the vada escaped the paper barrier and stained her hand as she waited for her father outside his office. He was in the middle of a meeting.

His door opened at eight o'clock precisely and he gestured Madhu to come inside, ushering out all his employees.

"So," Madhu said, dropping down on a chair across his table. "What was this grand idea you had?"

Her father made a show out of dipping his vada into the coconut chutney before speaking, "Bete, I know you wanted to build the next Jasm Inn in Chennai, but don't you think that market is already saturated? There are tons of five stars in Chennai."

"That's true for Delhi too but you didn't stop me from building one here. And we've been planning on expanding there for the past five years, aren't we?"

"Well, yes we are. But have you found a site yet? We don't own any land in Chennai. Wouldn't it be better to expand in an area where we do own land?"

Madhu pursed her lips, swallowing her next argument. "What're you talking about?"

Mahesh Lal shifted in his seat and leaned forward, placing his elbows on his desk. "When your grandfather died, he left me with about 25 acres of land in Bhabra. I always thought I'd sell it, but yesterday I got to thinking. The site is so close to Lumbini, it falls on the Buddhist pilgrimage path, linking Kushinagar and Bodhgaya with Lumbini. The Japanese already dominate the hospitality market in Bodhgaya and Kushinagar, but we can tap on this site."

"You do realise that Lumbini is in Nepal, right? Why would a pilgrim heading that way stay in an Indian hotel?"

"It's an open border!" He waved his hand impatiently. "And a crossing point is a twenty-minute drive away from the site. Besides, it's not just about Lumbini, plenty of Hindu pilgrims also visit Nepal all the time, and even outside religion, the site is very close to dense forests, we can convert it into a proper resort. An escape in nature."

The animated look on her father's face was a rare sight. It was almost unnerving because over the years Madhu had come to view him as a man who was careful about every move, every risk to be taken in business. Yet here he was, suggesting a leap of faith.

There was also the fact the she felt strange about hearing the idea of tearing down her grandfather's home, the place where she was born and had spent the first seven years of her life.

"I don't know Papa; you've just dumped a lot of information on me. I can't say anything before surveying the place first."

"Then go," Mahesh Lal simply said.

This time, Madhu really felt concerned about his health. How could he make such an offhand suggestion?

"Papa I can't just up and leave!"

"Why not?" He removed his glasses to give her a knowing look. "If there's anybody who needs a vacation it's you. You've worked so hard this year, haven't even taken Sundays off. You need this."

"Well if you want me to have a vacation then give me tickets to Switzerland or something, don't send me to some primitive village with Malaria and shit! And who'll oversee the hotel?"

"I will. It's only for a few weeks Madhulika. You'll be back for Diwali, won't you? Just...go there and think about this, I don't know if you remember much, but Bhabra is a beautiful place."

Madhu slumped back in her seat, absently tapping her nails on the desk. What her father was proposing was outlandish, but not entirely off the table. Even if the resort thing didn't work out, she knew they had to sell the property. And if she was honest with herself, she really could use a break.

"Fine," she relented. "But this is the last time I'll allow you to order me, seriously, I'm too old for this."

"Nine months till you're thirty, believe me, your age haunts me all the time," he muttered. "Which reminds me, did you like that Mitra boy?"

"That Mitra boy is Shikha's husband Pa, you need to stop with this groom hunting hobby."

"Who's Shikha?"

Typical of her father to not remember her best friend from school. The man could remember every number she made working for him and yet couldn't be bothered with the details of her personal life. "She's a friend, you've met her like, ten times."

Before he could say anything else, Madhu pushed her chair back and stood up. "If that was all, then please excuse me, I need to pack."

It was later that day when she found herself sipping on a mint flavoured Mojito mocktail of a pet friendly café, smack dab in the middle of Khan Market.

Or rather, chewing the plastic straw raw while her closed up throat refused to swallow. She had been dreading this meeting all day. Her first instinct upon feeling the cool air inside the quaint shop had been to go running back in the Delhi sun.

But she soldiered through and ordered her usual. The girl who served her, the only employee of the café besides the cleaning guy, told Madhu that Shikha, who was also the owner, would be back in fifteen minutes, out of which ten had already passed.

A handful of cats and two dogs roamed and chased each other around the tables, darting around and cuddling the legs of their happily chatting owners. The warm, domestic vibe they emanated felt alien to her.

She turned when the bell chimed, indicating the opening of a door. Madhu had barely stood up when a large golden retriever came bounding towards her, trying to rest his front paws on her hips and stand on his two hind legs. His tongue came out lolling to the side when he stopped barking. Madhu petted him, hugged him, tried (though failed) to lift him up. Just a few seconds with him and she already felt a bit lighter.

"Are you sure you don't want me to keep him?"

Shikha smiling at the two of them. Just like that, Madhu's stomach turned to lead again.

"No, I don't think I'd be able to survive much longer without Chikki, these last few days have been awful." Madhu avoided her friend's eyes as she said that. The lead in her stomach had travelled to her gut and was twisting it.

Shikha smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I get what you mean. He helped me through the awfulness of all alimony negotiations. I don't even know what I'll do without him now."

Madhu finally looked at Shikha when she said that, only to notice hints of dark circles that couldn't be hidden under the thick layers of concealer, cheeks thinner and devoid of her characteristic dimples, and hair that was hastily pulled back and tied by a rubber band.

I did this.

"I'm sorry Hikka," she whispered, using her friend's nickname from college and meaning the words in more ways than one. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Besides sleeping with her husband and ending her marriage like a classic home-wreaking slut you mean?

Her mind throwing these constant reminders made Madhu flinch internally. Shikha's next words didn't help too much either.

"No, you've done so much already," she said, referring to the flat Madhu had convinced her father to rent to Shikha. "Just hug this adorably dumb dog ten times a day for me and I'll be alright."

But she won't be.

Chikki trotted off to chase the kittens in the play area, leaving the two women alone. Shikha stared at him fondly. "I hope you'd forgive me for not following his proper diet, but I don't think the sugar-free biscuits harmed him too much."

Smiling, Madhulika shook her head. "It's okay, I feed him Parle-G all the time."

"Care if I join you?" Shikha asked, pulling on the chair opposite to Madhu's.

"You know you can."

Shikha ordered a Lemon flavoured ice-tea for herself as Madhu returned to sip her drink. She had an inexplicable urge to crack her knuckles. Her PT teacher in school had hoped that five hits a day on her open palm with a scale would get rid of the habit; yet Madhu almost always resorted to do that under high pressure.

"So how're things?" Shikha said, breaking the silence that had fallen. "You excited about the vacation?"

"Well it's not entirely a holiday. I'm just going to spend some time in my village, sort out the property we have there."

"Like sell it?"

"Most probably yeah." Madhu couldn't exactly pinpoint why she was being so evasive, but being upfront with Shikha seemed impossible now, even about little things.

"It'll still be nice to get out of here." She motioned to her left, towards the crowd of shoppers. "I could honestly use a break too."

Madhulika shifted in her chair. She could feel sweat moistening the cotton of her shirt. "Are things really that bad?"

A sardonic smile appeared on her face. "Worse than bad. Our marriage has been dead for months now but untangling our lives is exhausting. Nothing has meaning anymore, it's just about money. Who'll get the house, would I get to keep my mangalsutra, the balance I have to pay him because my ring was more expensive than his and whatnot." She took a small sip, shaking her head. "Symbols of love my foot."

The walls had started closing in on Madhu as black dots appeared in front of her eyes. A combination of sleep deprivation and shame was making her head spin. She blurted out the first excuse which came to mind. "Hikka I need to go pack; can we talk later?"

The "yeah sure" was a distant sound to Madhu who hurriedly threw a five hundred Rupees bill on the table and dashed out. Chikki, the ever-dutiful dog, followed behind her heels. As she zigzagged her way through the posh lanes of the high-end street, Madhu sucked in deep gulps of air, only to choke and cough when a passer-by blew cigarette smoke in front of her.

Karmic.

Whatcha think of Mahesh Lal Thakur's bright idea? Meh or nah?

Above is a pic of Connaught Place.
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GLOSSARY:

PRANAM - a respectful greeting for elders.

VADA - a savoury fried snack.

MANGALSUTRA - an auspicious necklace worn by married women.