#sanyay | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

titaniasfics · 7 years

Text

Sense8 Character Appreciation Days - Kala Dandekar

I missed Kala’s day yesterday which set me back for all the drabbles. I apologize for that.

A million thanks to @thegirlfromoverthepond , who has been such a great support. We’re writing/betaing these drabbles while running a challenge, together with our busy mods, over at @loveinpanem. Her contributions make these drabbles so much better.

Please, if I’ve made some mistake with references to Indian culture or anything else, please message me and I will change it quickly. One of the reasons I took so long was because I was doing research trying to get things right.

And yes, they are organized in some way by geography :).

(Wonder what I’m doing here? Check out the Character Appreciation Days Post here and my post about it here).

A Piece of Mumbai

Kala dropped the plastic bags on the counter in a huff of frustration. While it was reasonably easy to find Indian seasonings in Paris, she was having an impossible time tracking down kewra essence. The city was full of kewra water - every restaurant boasting an Indian meal claimed to feature it. It also enjoyed a reputation for being the best skin toner. But Kala wasn’t interested in the water for cosmetic purposes. She needed it's essence because she was desperate for her father’s shahi tukra. After trying the different varieties available in the Indian shops and restaurants around the city, she had been driven to the extreme of trying to make it herself. She required a very particular type of essence - not the stuff that passed for Indian spices here in Europe.

There was one additional complication - her father’s secret ingredient. Though Kala was sure it had something to do with kewra essence, her troubles were still only just beginning. She remembered in passing that he did something with it once the dish was made. The recipe itself was not difficult and she’d been able to find the basic ingredients, but she was a chemist, not a cook. She had never taken to the food arts the way her sister had and now, she was paying for it. Kala regretted not having figured how exactly her father had made her favorite dish. And now, maybe she would never know.

She sat heavily on the kitchen chair, staring absently at the pretty lemon printed wallpaper of the small Parisian flat she shared with Wolfgang. It was actually theirs, once they’d gotten their lives to resemble some semblance of normal. They did the things everyone else did - they worked, they divided chores, they took vacations, and generally lived their lives, with the tiny exception of the 7 other voices that lived in each other’s heads. It was their normal, the normal they shared with each other.

Kala had never been happier.

But she missed shahi tukra. She missed the way her father smelled when she hugged him after a long night in his restaurant. She missed her sister, with her small, sweet face and silly, big ideas. She missed her mother’s gentle strength. She missed the colors and smells of her city.

She gave herself over to her intense longing and rested her head on her forearm, letting it wash over her.

She sensed Wolfgang before he even pushed the key into the keyhole, turning the doorknob. She brushed the layered bangs from her forehead and stood, rapidly unpacking the bags so that he would not have to see the misery on her face. She felt his arms around her waist and allowed herself to lean into his chest and take courage from his solidity.

“Have you found it yet?” he asked.

She shrugged. “No, but It’s not difficult to order. I’m being very silly.”

“No, you just want it very badly,” he turned her around so she would face him. He searched her face; she did not have his gift of hiding his feelings behind a mask of stone. Instead, she dropped her eyes when she answered.

“I’ll just have to wait.”

Wolfgang nodded, lifting her head by the chin to look at her. “I have it on good authority that some authentic Indian restaurants deliver.”

“Do they?” Kala said, quirking an eyebrow. “How do you know this?”

“I just know,” he said, taking her hand. She sighed, reveling in the feel of his hand on hers. There were a million things they could do together but she loved the feeling of her hand in his the most.

He tugged her by the hand and led her out to the living room. Her curiosity quickly became stronger than her melancholy. On their sofa, the pretty yellow, gold and white sofa she and Wolfgang had picked out from an antique dealer, sat a man. Kala at first could not believe what her eyes told her. But as he stood, with his familiar loose shirt and linen pants, Kala did not pause but raced towards him, nearly knocking him over as she flung herself into his open arms.

“Father!” she said into his neck, now wet with her tears.

“I heard from someone that you were in need of an Indian cook?”

She pulled back, looking over her shoulder at Wolfgang, who leaned against the doorjamb of the living room. “You! You did this!”

He shrugged. “I’ve been talking to your dad for a while. Thought it was fair for him to know who stole his daughter.”

Kala turned to look at her father in surprise. His eyes were suffused with the sweetest expression she’d ever seen. Despite everything, he missed her and she knew he loved her. “How is that?”

Sanyam sat, prompting Kala to sit also. “I did not wish to speak to him in the beginning. I was confused by how you disappeared, how you ended everything so abruptly with Rajan. And this story about…what is the word? Sensates?”

Kala remembered their discussion. “You asked me to give you time and I did. I respected that.”

“Yes, you did. But Wolfgang…it was hard. His English is worse than mine. But he talked to me, man to man.”

“You hung up the first time,” Wolfgang interjected, fiddling with a cigarette.

“Well, yes, and the second and the third…” Sanyam added. “But he was persistent. He called every day. Every day! And one day, I decided I would talk to him, get to know the man in my daughter’s life, who speaks perfect Marathi, by the way.”

“It’s the sensate thing,” Wolfgang said, pointing at his head.

“Right.” Sanyam’s eyes became glassy and he took a deep breath to steady himself. “I missed my beautiful, smiling girl.”

Kala hugged him again, still unable to believe that her father was here, in this city, in her house. Nothing else mattered more than being able to invite her father back into her life again. “How long will you stay.”

“Only one week. Rahul and your mother can handle the restaurant for a few days but it is not the same as when I am there.” He reached behind Kala to a small bag which, in her excitement, she had not noticed before. “This is for you.”

Kala put her hand inside, feeling the cool hardness of the bottle. When she pulled it out, she read the words written in Marathi. “Kewar essence! Oh please, father, I will take you to all the best restaurants in Paris while you are here but tonight…”

Sanyam raised his hand. “Say no more. Tonight, I will cook.”

She let out a loud squeal of excitement that provoked a laugh from her father and even a smile from Wolfgang. When she’d released her father, she beckoned to Wolfgang. “Come here.”

He walked towards her, suddenly very shy and awkward, which made Kala’s heart swell even more. She stood and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly to her. “You are a sneaky demon, you know that?” she whispered in his ear.

He chuckled into her hair. “You can’t hide the way you feel from me. You were so unhappy. You would have done the same thing for me, if you could have .”

Kala nodded. “Yes, I would have.” She released Wolfgang, even though she wanted to kiss him for hours, out of respect for her father, who needed to be eased into her new life. Her father was here, with them. That was so much more than she could have ever hoped for.

“Come,” Sanyam said, getting to his feet urging Wolfgang to follow him to the kitchen. “You haven’t lived until you’ve tried my bhelpuri. It is a secret recipe in my family from generations. If you intend to be with my daughter, you must learn to make it also.”

Wolfgang’s face broke into a rare grin, one he usually reserved only for her. Kala, clutched the bottle of kelwar essence firmly in hand, closer to happiness than she’d ever been. She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer of gratitude to Ganesha as she followed the two men she loved more than anyone else in the entire world.

#characterappreciationday #kalaappreciationday #sense8 #renewsense8 #nosense8nonetflix #fanfiction #canon compliant #canon au #post season2 #titaniasfics #scenes we might have gotten had netflix not been who they are #a piece of mumbai #kalagang #sanyay

66 notes · View notes