He shook his head. “Challenge accepted, Rina.”
Prem marched to the counter. The staff behind the register raised an eyebrow.
“I’d like two of those giant pani puri trays, please,” he said as he pointed to the one at the nearby table.
“Two?” The man balked and pulled at his red collared shirt. “That is a plate for four, sir. One tray can maybe be consumed by two people as a whole meal.”
“Two trays,” Prem repeated. The man’s eyes remained saucer sized as he punched the keys in his register and ran Prem’s platinum credit card.
“We’re about to have ourselves a little pani puri eating contest,” Prem said when he returned to the table.
Her eyes sparkled. “What, just so I could prove you wrong?”
“To see if you know yourself better than I already do,” Prem responded. “Competition stops when someone has enough.”
“You know I was on the debate team,” Kareena said. “I was the reason why our team made it to nationals. I play to win.”
“Then this should be fun, since I was on the varsity tennis team, and we won nationals.”
They grabbed napkins and paper plates and pushed two tables together so they both had enough space. Prem knew he had made a mistake when a server arrived carrying two giant trays of pani puri shells. The hollowed shells looked like a tower of deliciously browned golf balls. They were followed by another server carrying a jug of spiced water, and a smaller tray of toppings. They carefully put everything in front of Kareena and Prem, then backed away. Holy hell, Prem thought. They were both going to spike their blood pressure.
“You’re out of your mind,” Kareena said with amusement.
“If feeding you this tower of perfection is going to convince you that I’m serious about our partnership, then bring it on.”
Prem was very aware that everyone was watching them now. He picked up the empty bowls and filled them with spiced water. It smelled like tamarind and mint with a hint of spicy chili. He poured the second bowl for Kareena.
“Are you ready?” Kareena asked.
Prem passed her a shell and took one for himself. “Yeah, ready as I’ll ever be.”
Prem felt for the thinnest spot on the shell, then tapped it hard with his thumb. The tiny hole formed, just large enough to pour in his toppings.
He grabbed one of the spoons and began to fill. The key to winning this competition was an even distribution of toppings and water.
Before he filled the shell with water, he held it up to Kareena. “To second chances,” he said. “And convincing you that I’m always right.”
She flashed him a saucy grin, then tapped her shell against his. “To renewed friendships. And proving you wrong.”
“Ready?” he asked.
“Set,” she replied.
“Go!”
Prem dunked his shell in his water just like his mother taught him when he was a kid at chaat food parties. Kareena mimicked his actions. Once her shell was filled to the rim, he shoved the entire thing into his mouth.
Favor explosion. The salty, savory water, the tangy spiciness of the chutney, and the soft neutral flavors of the chickpeas and potatoes were like heaven.
He closed his eyes and moaned, then popped them open again when Kareena tossed a napkin at his head.
“You have water all over your face,” she said with a laugh. “Are you already calling it quits after one?”
“Not on your life, Rina, honey,” he said. Prem immediately filled a second shell and shoved it in his mouth.
By the fifth pani puri, they were starting to attract a crowd.
By the dozenth, the owner of the restaurant pulled out a small dry erase board and started counting for them.
When they reached two dozen, Prem’s stomach was cramping, and he felt like he was about to have water gushing out of his eyeballs. But he refused to give up just yet. This was about his honor now.
As Prem pushed another through his lips, he watched Kareena do the same. Her eyes teared up, and she bit down on the shell.
He barely managed to swallow one more and knew that the nausea was a bad sign. The satiety reflux triggered a long time ago and was now prompting vomit if he had any more. Prem had to stop. He collapsed back against his seat.
“I’m out,” he croaked. Someone dabbed a napkin to his forehead.
The crowd that had assembled around him booed.
Prem watched as Kareena’s fingers trembled. She grabbed one of the last remaining shells on the tray and cracked it easily. It took her a few seconds to scrape the last of the fillings out of their bowls and fill the shell. And her forehead was dewy.