Take my heart, forever

Take my heart, forever

Arpit Agrawal

Published by

Omji Publishing House Pvt Ltd

New Delhi

First Edition: July 2016

Second Edition:Oct. 2018

Published and Printed By:

Omji Publishing House Private Limited

Contact No. +918750013201

Mail address: omjipublishinghouse@gmail.com

Website: www.omjipublishinghouse.com

© Copyright with Arpit Agarwal

ISBN: 9789384028000

This is a work of Non-fiction. Names, Characters, Places and

incidents are product of the author’s imagination. Any

resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, events or

locales is entirely coincidental.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or

stored in a retrieval system, in any form or by any means,

electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise,

without the prior permission of the publisher.

The moral right of the author has been asserted. This book is sold

subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or

otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated,

without the publisher’s prior consent, in any form of binding or

cover other than that in which it is published.

To the innocent victims of Mumbai Bomb Blast

(Or any other Blast)

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

Novel

Dear Life, Get Well Soon…

Anthology

The turning point of life

Mighty Thoughts

The incredible Indian stories

Love and Passion

Anecdotes of Love

Arpit Agrawal is a storyteller; this is what he loves to be called. He

can’t say it to the masses, so he writes his heart out.

His handwriting is awful, but he can type 70 words a minute. He

has completed his Engineering in Mechanical in the year 2011

from RCET, Bhilai and went for a decent job to Pune but later he

quit it for own venture.

After all, money is not all you need in life, sometimes you need

more money.

When he was in college, he accidentally turned out to be a writer.

Out of the blue, he wrote a small piece for his college-magazine. It

was cherished by many. ‘I must do big,’ he thought, and he

approached an English Newspaper. They willingly published his

articles and he got emails from readers from all over the State. He

looked into the bigger picture and approached a National

Magazine. They loved his stories too, and it gave him a monthly

readership of almost 400,000 readers across the Nation.

‘I must do big’ he thought again, and hence he got published

through his debut novel in the year 2013 called ‘Dear life, get well

soon…’

Isn’t it nature’s clue for him to write further? And hence this

second book you are holding.

He can be contacted at arpit194@gmail.com.

Acknowledgements

Do you believe in stars, sunshine, luck…?

Do you really think that miracles happen, God fulfills wishes?

Santa comes on Christmas Eve carrying a bag full of gifts. Do

you?

I do. I believe in luck.

I believe that sooner or later miracles happen in life. The book you

are holding right now is no less than a miracle to me.

I feel I am so lucky to have people around me who love me a lot. I

have got friends who motivate me from time to time.

Thanks to my parents for always believing in me, for never

comparing me with our neighbor’s kids.

Thanks Nishant, my brother, my partner in every mischief we did

right from our childhood. And my lovely wife. One could not ask

for a better family than this.

Every time I see a falling star, I close my eyes and make a wish. I

take curd before I go for an examination or an interview. I stop for

a while every time a black cat crosses my way.

I know all these are mere superstitions. I know that it will never

work, but no one wants to pass up a chance for good luck, do you?

Thanks to all those people who cherished my first book. You made

me realize that writing sixteen hours a day on my laptop is not just

a waste of time.

Thanks to my friend Happy. Late night discussions of the plot with

you helped a lot. My office mates in my limited career at

Accenture (IT MNC), somehow you played an important role in

my life.

When I started writing, I never thought that one day I would get

published. Then it happened, and it changed everything.

Thanks, dear Nature for sending me all those tiny signals time to

time.

And at last, thanks to you for picking up this book. I know you are

busy, with lots of work, or in finding some work. No matter what

on Earth you are doing, take my suggestion, wrap it up, take a

break, go out of your tiny house and explore the giant world.

Explore in the search for change, in search of novelty, craft new

ideas and make a new life.

Happy reading.

Arpit Agrawal

1

Mr. Patel, an aged Business Tycoon, reached to his office at Navi Mumbai in

the morning. The memo of his meetings for the day and a cup of hot coffee

with no sugar were kept on his table.

He sat in his black leatherette padding chair, reading the headline from

‘Business Standard’ and dialed a number in his office intercom to call his

secretary in.

‘I want to purchase Hotel Aroma near Juhu beach. Make the deal happen,’

stated Mr. Patel as Rohan stepped in.

Rohan, Mr. Patel’s personal secretary’s job profile includes anything asked

by Mr. Patel. It could be as trouble-free as brewing a cup of coffee for Mr.

Patel or as intricate as settling a deal worth crores of rupees which could put

his ass on fire.

Rohan nodded and continued to take verbal notes in his mind given by his

boss.

‘Call the hotel owner and bid him any amount he wishes for. Bring the

cheque book to me. I will sign it,’ ordered Mr. Patel.

‘Okay, sir, I will take care of it,’ said Rohan with all due respect and left. It

isn’t tough to buy anything if you have all the money in the world, thought

Rohan.

‘Hi Sir, I am Rohan calling from Patel group of Industries, Patel sir asked me

to talk to you.’ Rohan searched the owner’s number from the internet and

dialed.

Take my heart, forever…

‘Yes, tell me, how I can help you,’ said the owner of the hotel in a polite way.

‘Sir, actually Mr. Patel is interested in buying your hotel’ said Rohan in a

perky voice.

‘I am sorry; there must be some confusion young man. The hotel is not for

sale.’

‘Yes, I know, sir, but I am here to make you an offer. Mr. Patel lives overseas

most of the time and when he comes to India, he makes big investments. He

can offer you any amount you quote. You can open two new restaurants with

the money you will get.’

‘Money doesn’t matter to me. I don’t want to sell it at all,’ Mr. Joshi

whimpered and disconnected the call.

That’s the irony; money doesn’t matter to only those who already have lots of

it.

Rohan got petrified after the denial. He now will have to face the wrath of his

boss when he will reveal his failure to him. He anyhow gathered some valor

and entered Mr. Patel’s office keeping his head downward.

Mr. Patel was occupied in a telephonic conference with a European client. He

looked at Rohan and took a pen in his hand and directed him to keep the

cheque book on the table. He was confident that Rohan would have been able

to prod him. Isn’t it easy to buy something with someone else’s money?

Rohan was standing there, keeping a hush, staring at the ground.

‘Where the hell is the cheque book?’ hollered Mr. Patel, after he ended the

call.

‘Sir, he is not ready to sell his hotel.’ Rohan knew the rage of Mr. Patel, but

he had to utter out the truth anyway.

‘What?’ Mr. Patel asked incredulously.

2

Arpit Agrawal

‘You bloody fool. You are good for nothing. Have you offered him twice the

market rate? Have you offered him ten times the market rate?

He must be an idiot if he doesn’t accept that,’ mumbled Mr. Patel and snorted

with laughter. Rich people laugh when they are angry.

‘Call him. I will talk to him.’

Rohan dialed the number from desk phone kept on Mr. Patel’s table.

‘Hi! I am Rajendra Patel, the chairman of Patel group of industries.’

‘Hi, Mr. Patel, it’s a pleasure talking to you, sir. How are you?’

‘I am fine Joshi, let’s cut the crap and come to the point. I want your

restaurant at any cost. I want to gift it to someone. I have already committed

it.

Why don’t you understand?’ Pitch of Mr. Patel’s voice was fairly soaring

when he uttered the last line.

Mr. Joshi clearly knew his position as compared to Mr. Patel. He knew that

Mr. Patel is one of the richest men in the Nation and he can actually grant

him a very handsome amount for the hotel. He still denied selling his father’s

only reminiscence.

‘But I can’t sell it Patel Sahib. This is all I have. This is our old and reputed

business which we have been involved in for ages. I can’t sell it to you just

because you want to gift it to somebody,’ replied Mr. Joshi in a courteous

way, trying not to offend him.

Mr. Patel got offended, nevertheless.

‘Please don’t mortify me; everything has its price, you just quote yours and

you will get it.’

Take my heart, forever…

‘You are wrong Mr. Patel. Everything doesn’t come with a price tag. There

are few things in life which are invaluable. My answer is still No,’ said Joshi

hoisting his tone and cut off the call.

It was like a tight slap across Mr. Patel’s face.

He was not accustomed to listening ‘No’ for an answer and that too from a

usual bistro possessor. Being in the top fifty rich people in the world, he had

a habit of getting everything done whenever he wanted.

‘Sir, there is one guy who can help us to settle the deal,’ Rohan said. A

flickering panic passed over his brain.

‘Who?’ asked Mr. Patel perplexed by the unforeseen suggestion by his

secretary.

‘Siddhartha Roy,’ said the secretary keeping his head grounded.

‘I can’t put any political pressure or send any goons to Mr. Joshi’s place. He

himself has very good contacts with the Ministers,’ stated Mr. Patel entirely

ignoring his secretary.

‘Sir, Siddhartha is neither a politician nor a goon, he is a lawyer,’ said Rohan

picking up the most recent issue of India Today kept on the bookshelf

installed on the office wall.

Siddhartha Roy. The Most Influential Indian of the year read the cover

page of the magazine.

‘He is just a lawyer how could he help us? Do you think we have legal rights

to acquire someone else’s property?’ Mr. Patel said and raised his eyebrows.

‘Sir, he… he can do anything for money. Legal or illegal,’ said Rohan

stammering a bit, not making an eye contact with his boss.

‘Okay, call him to our office tomorrow,’ said Mr. Patel thinking it does not

cost anything to give it a shot.

4

Arpit Agrawal

‘Sorry, sir, he does not walk off to anybody’s office. We have to go to his

office to meet him,’ said Rohan.

Mr. Patel cocked an eyebrow.

‘Sir, you don’t worry, I will go and talk to him,’ Rohan continued in order to

save his boss from the awkwardness of going to someone else’s office.

‘No. I will come along. I also want to meet this remarkable fellow,’ said Mr.

Patel with a grin on his face.

####

Mr. Patel along with Rohan entered Siddhartha’s office at the Nariman Point,

Mumbai.

The office was so well ornamented that the country’s affluent one got

spellbound. An oil painting of seven white horses running with jam-packed

power was decorating the wall as they entered the office.

It was an exquisite museum-quality handmade painting, not just a print or

canvas transfer. Created by the most experienced artist M.F. Hussain, and

completed to perfection.

The artist had paid special attention to the detailing, which was evident by

every brush stroke of the painting. The horses symbolizing power, a power to

do anything.

Siddhartha was technically alone in his office, no security guards, no private

secretary to remind him of his meetings. He doesn’t need anyone to tell him

what to do. He was accompanied by just an intern of his profession. It was

not that he couldn’t afford to keep staff, but for the fact, he couldn’t trust

people easily.

Take my heart, forever…

There was only one chair placed opposite to him for the visitors which is

pretty bizarre as compared to other offices, but Sid’s intern told Rohan that

Sid talks to only one person at a time.

‘So tell me, Mr. Patel. What can I do for you?’ said Sid as Mr. Patel entered

his office.

‘Ah, nothing much. There is just a small restaurant called Hotel Aroma. I

want to procure it,’ said Mr. Patel in his all-time arrogant voice. For him, Sid

was just a small lawyer who could convince people for money, but Sid was

clearly more than that.

‘So go to any property dealer, what is my take on this?’ asked Sid little

miffed by Mr. Patel’s behavior.

‘I can pay any amount for it but the owner of the eatery isn’t ready to sell it.’

‘So this is the problem’ Sid’s brain started working instantly.

‘Don’t worry, he will sell it to you and also say ‘sorry’ to you,’ stated

Siddhartha in a confident tone as ever.

‘How is it possible?’ it really surprised Mr. Patel.

‘This is what I do here, make things possible.’

‘By the way, what is the approximate cost of the restaurant?’ asked Sid.

‘It is worth rupees ten crores. It is all right, money is not the matter.’

‘My fees will be fifty percent of the deal,’ Sid was frank in his terms.

Mr. Patel nodded, didn’t say anything, mentally calculating how much the

fifty percent is.

‘Let’s go out and have lunch. Aren’t you famished?’ said Sid.

6

Arpit Agrawal

####

Siddhartha and Mr. Patel got into the back seat of a top model BMW. It was

Mr. Patel’s car. Rohan also tried to fit in, but Siddhartha stopped him saying,

‘We two are fine.’

‘Hotel Aroma,’ Siddhartha told the driver as he enters the car.

The restaurant was jam-packed with customers as it was peak time. The duo

took a table at the center of poised and air-conditioned hall of the sprawling

10,000 sq. ft. restaurant.

The sophistication of decor set the tone for the food. The high-ceilinged

restaurant was done to international standards by a renowned Japanese

architect. A wood-fired oven took pride of place and classy piano tunes filled

the air. The place deserved to be liked by Mr. Patel in the first look.

They asked the waiter to bring the menu. It had choicest cuisines of almost all

the countries: French, Italian, Mediterranean, Tex-Mex and of course Indian.

They decided to go for Italian and ordered Charcoal grilled chicken

marinated with herbs and served with olive tapenade mash, caramelized

onion and Barolo Jus for the main course. Tiramisu - Traditional mascarpone

cream and coffee cake for dessert.

‘Your order will be ready in twenty minutes, sir,’ informed the waiter and

passed an extra-large smile. They expect an extra tip with every extra smile.

‘Anything else you want, sir,’ asked the waiter before leaving.

‘Yes, I also want this restaurant,’ said Mr. Patel.

‘Excuse me, sir,’ the waiter just got nervous.

‘Nothing, you may go now,’ Sid completed.

Take my heart, forever…

After chatting for a while Mr. Patel went to the loo. The food he ordered had

arrived before he came back.

The waiter served the foodstuff on imported Italian crockery.

Sid and Mr. Patel started eating the food, conversing Business and Politics