The night is still except for the sonorous lapping of the waves
against the ramparts of the Lake Palace Hotel. One stronger than
usual surge upsets a peacock, making it gather its spread and
take ight from the overhanging eave of a canopy. It glides clum‐
sily across the lawns and settles by the French window of the
hotel’s agship restaurant. Inside, beautiful people are convers‐
ing at candlelit tables, in a setting reminiscent of the Rajwada.
Waiters hustle across the oor, catering to the guests’ every
need. A live jugalbandi of morchang, khadtal and sarangi adds to
the ambience. On one of the tables by the window—the house
peacock now trotting and nibbling the other side of it—sits
Abhishek Sehgal, a handsome man in his late thirties. Opposite
him, ddling with her pearl necklace, is the bewitching
Nayantara, also in her thirties. A waiter in crisp jodhpurs steps
up to pluck Dom Perignon from the ice bucket and upon receiv‐
ing a gentle nod, replenishes the utes. A second server arrives
with the dessert and arranges the plates before the two guests,
realigning the spoons as a matter of habit. Both soon retreat,
bowing their heads.
Abhishek notices the monogrammed plate. It carries his ini‐
tials. He glances nervously at Nayantara. Oblivious to his stare,
she is focused on her dessert, the signature soué. With the rst
spoon itself, her eyes close in ecstasy. As she whimpers in de‐
light, Abhishek types a quick text on his phone.
‘So far so good.
’
Across the hall, veiled by an ornate Kota jaali, the Michelinstar chef responds to Abhishek’s text with a ‘thumbs up’ emoji.
Abhishek smiles at the reply and glances up. He is hor‐
rorstruck. Nayantara is already done with her dessert and is lick‐
ing the spoon. Her face bears the look of having attained nir‐
vana. She opens her eyes slowly, as though in a daze, and smiles
at him. But her smile turns to bewilderment as she sees
Abhishek tear away his napkin and rush over. The commotion
makes the other guests curious. The music stops abruptly. So
does the clinking of cutlery. Waiters freeze where they are and
turn their stares to the table. The Michelin-star chef emerges
from behind the screen and bounds across the hall, in time to
witness Abhishek grab Nayantara from behind and squeeze her
waist. Nayantara shrieks as she is hoisted in the air. A crowd col‐
lects. Chaos ensues.
