MSWKM (2 – Kapoor & Sons)

Gulgulgulugulgulgulgul- *pause* – akthew.

Saahil sits up in his bed, groggy and bleary eyed. Each hair on his head has decided to point in a different direction as if a sweet jolt of electric current is what has awoken him, and not his father’s very loud, very jarring, morning gargling routing. From the kitchen, he can hear his mother having a loud argument with the maid while Aaj Jaane Ki Zidd Na Karo ironically plays on the Alexa he gifted to her on her birthday the previous month. To add to it all, there’s a ruckus downstairs that’s visible through his window. A large truck, men shouting, things falling loudly on concrete, etc. It’s not a hangover but it definitely feels like one. He hasn’t slept all night and there couldn’t just be a worse start to his morning…or so he thinks.

As he threads his fingers irately through his hair, Veena Kapoor opens the door and barges in unceremoniously.

“Maa. Door. Knock.” He manages to whine.

Privacy and Indian households don’t go well together, so this complaint is wholly and entirely ignored. Instead, his mother gives him a long hard look of disapproval.

“Neighbors are shifting in today. Truck is here. And look at you.”

His face emerges from behind his open palms. “Explain to me what the correlation is.”

“We have to go welcome them, na? Pados se bana ke rakhna padta hai ya nahin? First you go and ask them if they need help with anything. Plumber, electrician, Amul milk shop, newspaper wallah, given them all numbers. Then I will come with tea and paratha.”

This spurs the twenty seven year old into action. “Arre why will we do all this Maa? No one is this extra these days. They’ve just moved in, give them some space. See if they’re even worth maintaining relations with. What is all this tea and paratha?”

Disappointment heightens on Veena Kapoor’s face. “Today they’re shifting in. How will they get a gas connection immediately? What will they think, neighbors didn’t even ask a cup of tea.”

“Maa, there’s this app called Zomato—”

“Han everything is on internet for you. Humanity also go and buy on internet only.”

Saahil sighs. Having an unconventional job means getting to hear things like these every second day. He’s a YouTuber, and quite a celebrity in the virtual world. Two million followers on YouTube, and a million Instagram followers. There’s not a tech gadget that launches in the market, but that a video reviewing it is made available first on Saahil Kapoor’s Technopedia. He has tie-ups with some of the most reputed tech brands in the country. He has a team of half a dozen people working under him. His video on the latest iPhone model remained trending at number five position for a whole two days after launch. That is not all. The fact that he could easily be mistaken for one of the Kapoors from the film fraternity in looks has added vastly to his appeal and landed him marketing and advertisement offers for tech gadgets left, right, and center. At the rate things are progressing, it wouldn’t be surprising if he actually does feature in an ad opposite a filmy Kapoor to sell trendy earpods.

But to his mother, Veena Kapoor, ‘everything is on internet only for you.’

She lies, of course. Secretly, she is extremely proud of her second child and cannot help but smother his passport sized photo she keeps in her purse with generous amounts of kajal so that any and all nazar can be warded off. Truth be told, only the nose remains somewhat visible in the soot covered photograph at this point.  It’s good that Saahil is unaware of this, since he is a little insecure about his nose. It’s a bit…delicate looking, unlike the pointed, aquiline one he would have rather wished for. He’s afraid it’s rather feminine, and despite the comment section on his channel repeatedly assuring him that every square inch of his face is all perfection, it continues to be a somewhat touchy issue. Veena Kapoor is sure that’s it’s the prettiest nose God has bestowed on any male of the human species. But on his face, she remains her unimpressed self in order to keep him grounded. She has convinced herself it is necessary, because what if his head gets too big for his shoulders and he goes off and marries a model or an actress.

“Maa, you don’t get it. I know you don’t understand my job, but people do. I cannot risk going with tea and paratha randomly to someone’s house and have them upload a video with me on Inst—”

“Okay I will just go alone. I would’ve asked Ved, but that poor child woke up at six a.m., took a bath, rushed for office, and will only come late in the evening. But okay,” she paused and sighed, in a way God has only taught mothers to. Saahil shifts uncomfortably.

Ved, the eldest Kapoor child, is the actual star child of the house in more ways than one, and has always been. He wakes up early in the morning and always has; eats healthy and always has; has studied and played hard all his life and now as an adult works even harder. He manages the family business while his younger brother can choose the more unconventional way of life, and all with a willing smile. Legend goes that when Ved Kapoor was born, he took care of his mother, the nurses, hospital staff, and made sure everything went smoothly. He woke up early even then – hour of birth 5:00 a.m., his birth certificate proudly says.

Saahil’s says 11 a.m., which is also very appropriate.

“Okay fine,” he relents, with a defeated, sullen look upon his face. “But I will not stick around for longer than five minutes. I’ll just say ‘hi, I’m your neighbor, and my family shall be here very shortly to scare you with their over enthusiasm’ and come back.”

“Okay but first take a bath. You look awful,” Veena smiles widely, all previous sighing and disappointment forgotten.

Saahil shakes his head at the retreating figure of his mother, then reaches for his phone to check the latest stats on his channel for the day. Simultaneously, he unfolds one leg and reaches for the midnight blue curtains on the nearest window. Sunlight floods in a moment later, and lights up his face in all pleasant ways. He makes a very fine picture of a lean, muscular figure, with a warm skin tone, and thick dark hair (that one has to simply trust looks better than it does at present). He runs his hand idly across his stubbed jaw as his fingers slide on his cellphone screen. Before the little bell notification icon on his YT Studio app can catch his attention, however, a loud thump sounds from outside distracting enough for him to tear his eyes away from the screen and behold the sight unfolding near a large truck down below.

A television screen has fallen flat on the ground. A group of mourners stand surrounding it, much like around a funeral pyre. Then a full ruckus begins with threats of lawsuits and red faced argumentation. A girl, whose back faces him, manages to calm down the red faced figure in the crowd, eventually. Meanwhile, a bushy tailed feline sits and licks its paws near her feet while being as disenchanted by the human species as cats usually are. Said cat pauses to cast a judgmental look at all the humans surrounding her, then goes back to licking itself. Saahil doesn’t like cats and is so busy frowning at the Scottish Fold, that he doesn’t notice when the girl suddenly turns around and looks up right in the direction of his window. She turns back as quick, and when he looks again, only her wavy hair bunched up in a high knot atop her head is visible.

Five minutes, he swears to himself. He would stop at the neighbors’ for no longer than five minutes and then go back to living his life in peace. They had a cat, so maybe two should be enough.

Two minutes, and then he could forget that they exist besides the occasional polite hi-hellos near the common elevator.

With that firm resolve, Saahil flicks his phone aside and ambles his way to the washroom for a shower.