Never Kiss Your Best Friend by Sumrit Shahi

Author:Sumrit Shahi [Shahi, Sumrit]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rupa Publications Private Limited
Published: 2016-04-05T22:00:00+00:00

So you’re a rich kid. And you completely hate that. And everything mainstream and commercial. Like malls. And anything musical that flows in regular beats. So what do you do then? You scoff at the Gucci moccasin-wearing junta, those with their turned-up Burberry collars, you wear your Aldo slippers and your Rohit Gandhi linen shirt, roll a joint— nothing less than Manali maal—carry a jhola with a MacBook Air in it while you chuck daal roti and butter chicken for falafel and hummus and come celebrate your ‘brave’ ‘uncorrupted’ existence at HKV.

What’s HKV, bro?

You don’t know HKV? That painfully put together bohemian (oxymoron, anyone?) market in South Delhi with ‘shady’, terraced restaurants and ‘desi’ cafés that serve decaf coffee for nothing less than a grand and designer stores that sell khadi at a price that would leave Gandhi naked if he were to come back to life?

C’mon, let’s not bitch about the place. After all it’s the mecca for hipsters.

And have you been to Hauz Khas Social?

Arre, this place with the completely chilled-out scene, with crazy food, crazier drinks frequented by crazy amounts of crazily good-looking and well-turned-out people who are crazy enough to sing along to songs they don’t have a crazy idea about.

We reached Social. And it being a Saturday night, there was a decent-sized crowd waiting to get in.

If Sumer had been there, he would have thrown a drama queen tantrum about how hot it was and said, ‘Let’s just fuck this shit and go somewhere else.’

‘Now what?’ I wondered if Kabir would annoy me equally.

Kabir smiled to dispel my apprehensions. ‘We make our way through.’

He took my hand, guided me through the crowd and smiled at the manager taking down names at the door. And the manager opened the door for us. I got a few envious looks from the girls around me. Maybe because I did look hot in the sleeveless pink-and-blue Zara dress I had worn at Sumer’s insistence. Maybe because I got to get in before my body mist and make-up could give way and I didn’t smell like a tuna sandwich from Subway. Maybe because my accessory was hotter than the ones they were holding onto. And no, I’m not referring to the bags they were carrying.

Every girl deserves to feel like a queen. And today, I was with royalty.

Kabir said ‘hi’ and shot smiles at quite a few people as we made our way to our table. Yes, he was connected.

Or maybe he just brought you to a place where he knows everyone, Tanie, I imagined Sumer saying while scratching his balls shamelessly in front of me as I told him about this night.

I had to stop thinking about that ass. And comparing them.

‘Tanie?’

I snapped back to the present and smiled as Kabir pulled out the chair for me.

Wasn’t this getting too much now? This after he picked me up on time, looking bloody hot in a white linen shirt—teasingly unbuttoned enough for me to secretly glance at his sculpted chest—with blue denims and smart loafers.

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