“Arre o nalayak!…Abhi tak hua naahi
ka?” [You worthless boy! Aren’t you done yet]?” The usual angry voice commanded from
above him, as the scared little 10 year old looked up from the floor he was
crouched upon, polishing his cousin’s shoes
“Ho gaya chachi…” (It’s done aunt) he said getting up and showing her
the shiny shoes while she glared at him, pinching his ear “Itna waqt lagaoge, toh dusra
kaam kab khatam karoge? Ek toh pata nahi tumhare chachaji ko kya lat lagi hai
tumhe bhi padhane ki! School nahi jaoge toh maroge toh naahi na?!” (If you take
so much time, when will you do the other work? I don’t understand why your
uncle wants to send you to school too…you won’t die if you don’t study) she
said as she pushed him away and picked up the shoes
The little
boy felt his throat burn with unshed tears, as he rubbed his bruised ear,
slowly making his way to the small room at the back of the house, he quickly
washed his hands and face of the black inky polish, and donned his faded school
uniform before making his way into the kitchen.
As per
routine, he picked up last night’s rotis and ate it while leaving the house to
wait for his school bus. He looked on with longing at the small car that was
being washed and prepped to take his cousins to school, while he boarded the
school bus; but it was better this way. He did not want to be any more of a
burden to his uncle and aunt than he already was…
As the bus
came by on its usual time, he got in and went to sit at the back like he always
did and let the held up tears flow down his soft cheeks. His liquid brown eyes
blinked continuously as he wiped his eyes with the back of his hands before
closing them and going back into his dream world…where happier times beckoned
him…
Arnav, or
chote as he was affectionately called, was the apple of his parent’s eyes. He
had an older sister Anjali, who was four years his senior and was always a
guinea pig for many of chote’s pranks…he was known to be a very mischievous and
naughty child, but everyone who knew him, loved him immensely.
The
Raizada’s were a well to do family, with Arnav’s father Akhilesh heading a well
settled and prospering printing press in Mumbai. His younger brother Mithilesh,
worked in a good position at a leading bank and lived with his family in Delhi;
They were not a very regular part of Arnav and Anjali’s lives.
Arnav’s
mother Asha, was a very pious lady and had always believed in giving back to
the society. Her mother Sushila devi, ran an NGO in Mumbai, which took care of
abandoned kids; mostly children of rape victims and unmarried mothers, who left
them at the Ashram’s gate.
Asha and Akhilesh
supported her cause by helping out financially to run the ashram, and also
inculcated the same morals of selflessness in their children. All in all, they
were a very happy and settled family, who only spread love and kindness amongst
everyone.
But tragedy
struck them unexpectedly, when Akhilesh and Asha were killed in a freak road accident,
which left the kids orphaned. Everything happened so suddenly that it was a
shock to both Arnav and Anjali, whose life took a 360-degree turn overnight.
As Anjali
was 14 and Arnav 9, they were too young to inherit anything from their parent’s
earnings and investments at that age. Since Akhilesh had never made a will, all
the assets and personal wealth of the Raizada family were kept in safe keeping
by the court, till the time Anjali or Arnav turned 18, after which they could
exercise their rights on the frozen assets equally.
It was
decided by the court that Anjali would stay with her Nani, who resided at the Ashram
in Mumbai, while Arnav will be sent to live with his Chacha and his family in
Delhi. Though their Nani insisted that she was very much capable of taking care
of both kids, the court did not find her having sufficient funds to care for two
young children at the same time, while also managing the Ashram’s upkeep.
It was a
painful separation for the siblings, who were very close to each other and had
never imagined that their life would change so drastically, taking them miles
away from each other.
The first
few days were very emotional for Arnav. A young boy of 9, suddenly taken away
from the life he knew to live in a middle class existence with his Chacha and
his family; people who he had met only once or twice in his entire life.
He had two
cousins, both younger than him, but his aunt was the one who made his life
miserable. She was anyways bitter about her brother-in-law’s family as they
were very rich compared to them and now, on top of it, she had to look after
their son, who was not welcome by a long shot in her house.
She showed
her dislike towards him from day one; segregating her kids from Arnav, who
failed to understand why his aunt treated him with so much hatred. She thought
it wasn’t necessary to send Arnav to school, as it was another expense for
them, but her husband insisted on continuing his education as he had social
services to answer to.
When she
could not convince her husband of her wishes regarding Arnav, she started
making the young boy do many household chores, especially everything related to
her children. He was supposed to make their morning milk, wake them up and make
sure they are ready for school, wash their clothes, shine their shoes. At many times,
even do their homework
The poor
boy, took everything in his stride, convinced of the fact that he indeed was a
burden to this family and wanted to pay them back in any which way possible.
His uncle could never take a stand on this against his wife and relented to her
ill treatment of Arnav.
As far as
his sister was concerned, Arnav never let her know the pain he was going
through while living with his uncle’s family. Whenever she called, which was at
least once a week, he told her only good things about the place he lived in.
She never knew the truth behind it all.
Arnav was more
of a servant than a family member in his chacha’s house. He was made to cook
and clean while also taking in the regular taunts from his aunt. Fortunately
his cousins were not bad. They were scared of their mother, but did not treat
him with hatred and indifference like her…this at least made living a tab bit
easier for him.
Amongst all
this, Arnav had picked up a genuine love for food and cooking. He was made to
help the cook with food prepared during two meals of the day, breakfast and
dinner. Somehow working in the hot and stuffy kitchen gave him a sense of
relief and acted like a stress buster to his cruel life, making him happier
than he had ever been since coming to live there.
He was
fascinated by the way their old cook made delicious food, with so much practice
and finesse and slowly his interest piqued in the art of cooking and creation
of tasty dishes from its raw stage to something so different and wonderful.
The
transformation of a few ingredients to such lip-smacking dishes excited him to
no end and his cousins too helped him hone his skill, by letting him secretly watch
cookery shows and other food related things on TV. They also bought him a few
second hand recipe books to practice new stuff and treat them.
They became
Arnav’s critics, who along with their cook, loved to try out all the new stuff Arnav
made and invented. It was such a fun time for all of them, when after school, Arnav
experimented in the kitchen and made yummy things for them.
But all this
came to an abrupt end, when one day his chachi saw him baking a cake for his cousins.
She was livid when she looked at the ingredients he had used up to make it and
forbid him to cook anything more than what was required for their meals.
On further investigating,
she came to know from her children, who in their fear told her about Arnav’s
love for cooking. It made her angrier that the tasks which she thought would
further hurt the boy were in fact making him happy.
She stopped
him from working in the kitchen and instead made him do many other odd jobs,
which were much more tiring and painful; plus the added pressure of higher
secondary studies started taking a toll on his innocent mind and fragile body.
As a boy of
nearly 13 years, this was big blow on Arnav, whose only sense of solace was
taken away from him. It made him very ill, both physically and mentally and he
was admitted in the hospital due to his deteriorating health, which was getting
worse day by day.
When Anjali
was informed of this, she came running to Delhi along with their Nani and was
shocked to see her younger brother in such a horrible state. He looked
emaciated and his young face carried a look of deep sorrow and sadness.
She also
came to know about the inhuman way in which their aunt used to treat Arnav from
the cook, who held a special place for the little boy in his heart. He pleaded
her to take him away from there, since her brother had gotten nothing but pain
and suffering at his aunt’s hand in the last four years.
In her grief
and inability to understand her bothers condition and also from the fact that
she failed as a sister to bring up her chote in the right way, Anjali took
their lawyers help in appealing to the court for handing over Arnav’s custody
to their nani and also proceeded to take legal action against their chachi.
It did not
take them long to get things in their favor as Anjali was anyways few months
shy of her 18th birthday and would be coming into her part of the
inheritance soon, but taking her younger cousins into account, she withdrew her
case against her uncle and aunt, while cursing them to hell and back.
Without much
delay, they packed up Arnav’s meager things and made their way to Mumbai, along
with their uncle’s cook, who wanted to join them too. Once back, Anjali did all
she could from her small savings to make Arnav comfortable and nurse him back
to health.
On her 18th
birthday, when Anjali was finally given hold of her share of the inheritance,
she got Arnav admitted to his old school in Mumbai while she herself went for
further studies in Law. Both their lives once again came back on track, but the
scars of the past four years, haunted them for a long time…especially Arnav.
He had
withdrawn into his own world, where he would spend large amount of time in the
kitchen, cooking, experimenting and trying out new types of dishes…his passion
had now turned into some kind of an obsession and though it scared Anjali at
times, her nani assured her that maybe this is what Arnav’s calling was.
He truly was
a culinary maestro at such a young age, and anyone who ate his food, raved
about it. When Arnav turned 17, he had only
one goal and aspiration, which was to one day own his own restaurant. Looking
at his dedication and will, one of donors at the Ashram, who was also an old
friend of their father, suggested Arnav to work part-time at his friend’s
restaurant, to understand the intricacies of running it.
Arnav was
overjoyed at this, and agreed to do whatever the owner asked him to. As fate
had it, he was asked to first work as a mere cleaner and bus boy, before getting
into the much better jobs.
He did not
complain even once and took whatever job he could do, only to keep his eyes and
ears open to the workings of a restaurant. He did everything from Sweeping, to
cleaning dishes and tables and finally after nearly a year, he was given his
first knife to work with.
He never
insisted to cook in the restaurant, simply because he wanted to prove his own
mettle. He learned a lot in the time he worked there, while also finishing his bachelor
in Art’s degree from a good local college.
After his
graduation, being very sure of what he wanted to do, Arnav opted for a course
in culinary diploma from a renowned university in LA. He could easily fund his
own education now, and after taking Anjali and their Nani’s blessings, he left
for the US to complete his further studies.
It was a
grueling course of three years, but he passed out of it with flying colors and
a gold medal. He further got admission at Le Cordon blue in France, to do their
masters course, which he once again aced and came out being one of the youngest
and best chef’s in that year of graduation.
He also got
to work in some of the best restaurants during his two years of internship and
was an apprentice to Jacques Perido, who he considered his mentor and under
whom he finally learned the art of patience and perfection, two virtues that
got him his first Michelin star at the young age of 24.
At this
point, when he could have gone on to become probably one of the best chef’s in the
Parisian culinary society, his nani fell very ill. He decided to return back to
India and be with his family during this trying time.
His sister
was very happy to have him back, but she wanted him to continue his passion and
not put a stop to it. After working out a few legal angles and getting the
relevant licenses, they sold off their father’s old printing press for a very
healthy sum to buy a prime space for restaurant in the heart of Mumbai at Nariman
point.
It took them
a year to get everything in order, but finally Arnav’s dream restaurant was up
and running. Their nani who was now at a very critical phase, passed away in
her sleep, once again leaving both the siblings alone but with a purpose to
live for. They also took over the running of the orphanage, dedicating a good
part of their earnings and time to it.
Anjali had meanwhile
become a very well known civil lawyer, who did a lot of pro-bono work for those
who could not afford a high paying one. This was the time when she met her
future husband, who was a criminal lawyer. They hit it off on their first
meeting and were married in a few months after a whirlwind romance.
They shifted
to Pune after a year of being married, while Arnav got his own penthouse in
Mumbai, very near to the restaurant. The rest as they say, is history!
Perido,
became a place to be and be seen at, by the glitterati and celebrities across
India…the quality and taste of food spoke for itself while the elusive owner,
now known as ASR, became a hot shot celebrated chef in his own right.
With a
little bit of PR and a whole lot of word of mouth, food critics came running to
the restaurant to try out the ambrosial food served by its handsome young Chef,
known for his temper in the kitchen and reserved nature out of it…they wrote
ode’s to his style of cooking and ASR became a name to reckon with.
But even
after all this time, all this success and all the respect and awe he was
showered with, ASR still had that same Chote hiding inside him…a boy who was
loved…a boy who was abused…a boy who found solace amongst the pots and pans and
spices and their aromas…he was still there, lost but very much there.
