Chapter 2: Masala Calls and Filmy Roasts

[Barrage: Young man with a perky bum, that’s spot-on hahaha.]

[Barrage: Can he pop a Limca bottle with it? Meera toh full filmy ho gayi, yaar!]

[Barrage: What are these Meera-fans so proud of? That contact name is so disrespectful. Like idol, like fan.]

[Barrage: Can’t friends joke around? And didn’t Meera say it was from truth or dare?]

[Barrage: Why’s everyone missing the sweet part? Ritu knows Arjun’s schedule, even when he’s sleeping...]

[Barrage: They’re totally dating. I don’t care, they’re together.]

[Barrage: A friend of mine has a cousin in the business—Arjun and Ritika have been together for ages, just not public. Apparently spent Diwali together this year.]

[Barrage: Meera is so shameless, calling in front of his girlfriend and flaunting a flirty contact name. Desperate much?]

[Barrage: Ye toh next-level drama hai, boss.]

Indian reality TV, na—always more entertaining than any soap. Saas-bahu who? Our shows have their own full-on masala.

Finally, the call connected.

“Hello?”

A man’s voice—gruff, tired, a little hoarse—echoed through the studio, his breath raspy enough to make the front row aunties blush. I could practically see him sprawled on his bed, hair a mess, eyes still shut.

I eyed Ritika. She was all shy smiles and coy glances. Kya scene hai, yaar? Are they really dating? Whatever. Your taste, your problem, Ritika. Like stuffing everything into a dosa—messy, spicy, but somehow the crowd can’t stop watching. All that was missing was the sambar!

Note to self: After this, treat myself to a crispy ghee roast dosa with extra aloo masala.

Arjun’s voice dripped with attitude. “Miss Meera, it’s eight o’clock in Mumbai. I’ve only slept two hours. I hope this is actually important.”

He only calls me ‘Miss Meera’ when he wants to show off. The studio crowd giggled, and I felt like a bug under a microscope.

Time to deliver the line. “Can you lend me twenty lakhs so I can buy a piece of clothing?”

Come on, Arjun, roast me. Quick.

There was a pause, then his voice—deadpan as ever: “Bas, Meera, mere kapde chahiye? Mere skin bhi le lo, kya? Tum toh kamaal ho.”

I nearly lost it laughing. I could picture his sleepy smirk, eyes half-shut, hair everywhere.

The host and guests exchanged grins, and the barrage went wild with laughter and memes about my ‘cold’ tactics.

I wasn’t backing down. I cranked up the drama. “Even if you were standing naked in front of me, I’d still dig through your jeans pockets and transfer the money to myself using your phone.”

He shot back, “Sorry, can’t do a man that dirty, but your little bit of money? That’s mine now.”

The studio erupted. Some aunties looked scandalised, covering their mouths, but a few younger girls whistled and clapped. The camera caught Ritika rolling her eyes, pretending to be more interested in her nails.