Sari, Not Sari

Chapter 1

Dear Breakup,

Curious… are ALL emails confidential?

Asking for a friend.

Charlotte

If we just have you lean a little more to the left and have your lips lightly touch the mug and… BIG SMILE! I shifted my weight on the kitchen island, doing my best to follow the photographer’s direction. At least the interview was taking place in my own home.

And… He clicked the camera one more time. That’s the one. Beauty. Okay, Maggie, she’s all yours now.

The photographer gestured to the attractive woman walking across my living room in impossibly high heels. She hopped onto a stool, stretching her long legs to the side, and looked straight ahead with a veteran TV host concentration I was not about to interrupt.

5, 4, 3… announced the voice in my ear. We’re live!

Recognized as one of California’s Top Forty Under Forty CEOs, Maggie Johnson read from her cue cards in her anchorwoman news voice. It was deeper than her real voice, the one she used for meetings and dressing down her assistant. "She was just on Cosmo’s list of Top Ten Self-Made Women, and Forbes magazine recently celebrated her company as a multimillion-dollar business. Please welcome back to the show CEO of Breakup, Manny Dogra." Maggie smiled, revealing a set of pearly whites that looked almost too bright against the sedimentary layers of TV makeup.

Good Day with Alex and Maggie was the most-watched morning show on the West Coast. Maggie’s name appeared alongside Lilly Singh, Kelly Clarkson, and Robin Roberts as one of the most successful hosts on TV. But rankings are fluid. Maggie was fighting for more than the top spot on that list—she was also fighting what the blogs referred to as the first signs of aging. It was only a matter of time before the show would be retooled as Good Day with Alex and Someone Else.

"Manny, it is soooo good to see you again," she said, propping the cue cards on her exposed knee.

Thank you, Maggie, good to see you again, too, I said, using my soft TV voice, the one I had honed over several hours of media training.

Breaking news: Maggie was not only a wildly popular TV host; she was also a client. She had split from her husband using one of my handcrafted breakup letters. A few weeks of coaching followed by the letter was all it took. My one-on-one sessions with Maggie were just the push she needed to break things off without, as she put it, hurting Frank’s feelings and invading his privacy.

Breakup was all about privacy and integrity. I had built an entire company—some might say empire—facilitating client breakups. Then there was the follow-up work, such as the no-regrets sessions and the self-confidence boot camps that encouraged people to put themselves back out there.

Girl, you are on fire, Maggie said, trying hard to sound like the twentysomething she was dating now.

Thank you so much, I said, beaming with the TV smile I had perfected.

Right before we sat down, the assistant producer informed me that Breakup has successfully managed more than 150,000 clients, Maggie stated proudly, as if she had shares in the company.

We just hit that number as the company went public yesterday. It’s all thanks to my hardworking team, I replied enthusiastically, knowing they were more than likely glued to their TV screens at this very moment and would appreciate the shout-out.

That is impressive, gurrrl.

I felt sympathy for Maggie, trying to stay up on the latest slang.

A team that is celebrating another anniversary this month, am I right?

Three years! I beamed back at her.

And it all started with just a simple email?

If the emails were so simple to write, Maggie, Breakup would be out of business. I chuckled.

So true, gurrrl, so true. She leaned in as close to me as she could without risking a fall. So, what is the secret to your breakup sauce? You’ve been on our show many times before as our resident relationship expert, but let’s dive into the business of Breakup. Tell us how it all started.

Well, I spent my late twenties coaching friends through crumbling relationships. I guess you could say I had a knack for crafting the perfect email—not only to the men I had dated but also to my friends’ partners, who just weren’t getting the hint that it was time to move on.

I thought back to those emails. The guys weren’t the only ones to blame; some of my friends couldn’t be bothered with proper closure. We’ll always be friends, they liked to say in an attempt to soften the blow. I think we should slow things down, they’d suggest as a way to make the other person feel better. What they didn’t understand was that sometimes the soft touch simply didn’t work. Not that the opposite approach was any better. A swift We’re through! or an intense It’s over, I just can’t do this anymore doesn’t do anybody any good.

But what is that essential ingredient we all seem to be missing in perfecting the art of an amicable breakup? Maggie asked, as if she were considering writing her own breakup emails one day.

You know, it takes the right balance of firmness and compassion to let someone know it’s officially over. My team has figured out that secret recipe. And for now, it’s staying in our kitchen. I smiled. But I will share this. We know that nine times out of ten, you can just forget that nonsense of breaking up in person. It rarely works. Too many tears. Too much sex. Too much opportunity for drama. And texts are bad. Too casual and uncaring. Emails are best—especially when you have an assist. We follow a thoughtful strategy that involves crafting the perfect email and figuring out the best time to send it—

Which is… Monday? she asked, as if emphasizing she had never used our services, so she certainly wouldn’t have read the standard client onboarding email titled Your Essential Guide to What Day of the Week to Send Your Breakup Email.

Monday mornings—no. Holidays or celebrations—double no. Thursday evenings—yes! Our data tells us that breaking up on a Thursday is best—when it’s followed by a sick day on Friday, it gives the client (and the newly designated ex) a three-day weekend to heal and get ready for whatever Monday might bring.

That does sound so compassionate, and I think we all could use some of that in our relationships, too. Maggie paused as if reflecting on her many failed attempts at being a partner. And recent relationship polls suggest that people are breaking up in record numbers?

"That’s right, and those people are calling us in record numbers. Our services have expanded to include an à la carte menu for all your relationship management needs. No one needs the external anxieties often associated with a breakup: ‘Are you sure about this?’ ‘Maybe you should consider settling?’ ‘You’re over forty, it’s going to be impossible for you to start over!’ Not when Breakup can handle all of that for you. I smiled widely, feeling good about our recent addition of new services, which had taken over a year to come to fruition. I like to remind people that Breakup focuses on the real you, not the one who has been filtered to fit the frame of the most popular app."

I thought back to our numerous breakups, realizing that the real you aspect of things was tough for many people. In particular, understanding who they were rather than who they thought they should be, especially when their identities were reduced to a hashtag: #singlegirl #singlepringle #hunkymess #instahot #beautiful #girlswithink.

We encourage our clients to be proud of who they really are, not who they pretend to be. And we certainly don’t want anyone to feel they have to settle.

I love that. The real you. Maggie emphasized real as she tried to move her over-Botoxed forehead. So, let me tell you, I know many people who use Breakup. Here she cleared her throat. "They always say great things about you. But there are those who find your services to be… how should I put this… inappropriate?" Maggie narrowed her eyes as if she had just broken some White House scandal.

Well, Maggie, I said, prepared for this, we’re living in an age when we just don’t have the time—or even words anymore. We use emojis to describe our feelings, and ‘likes’ to slide into DMs. Dating apps can create entire relationships based on a few simple swipes. Unfortunately, far too many people try to break up the same way. How many times have you found out your relationship ended by waking up to a ‘single’ status on social media, being blocked by your ex on WhatsApp, or being dumped through a TikTok video?

Maggie looked directly into the camera and raised her eyebrows as if to say, No way!

I’m not making this up, I continued. These days breakups are like proposals on the internet. Everyone’s trying to find unique ways to do them. I thought about the bride-to-be who had discovered that her fiancé had hooked up with their wedding planner. Three weeks before the big day he posted a picture of the two of them on his social with the caption, Some things you just can’t plan for.

Closure doesn’t come easy these days, but what does come easy is contacting us. I took a well-timed pause, giving the camera a knowing look to acknowledge that I was going into my spiel.

Breakup brings back the honor, kindness, and closure necessary to let go of someone and give them the end they deserve. We also help you get back up on that horse after you’ve been knocked off a few times. Women always laughed at the horse analogy, and Maggie did too, right on cue.

Because sometimes you just don’t want your own friends to help you get back up, she added.

And she was right. People who kept going back to a relationship eventually felt embarrassed and even judged when talking about it with their best friends. And on the flip side, best friends were often exhausted hearing about it. At Breakup, we never got tired of hearing about any relationship.

Consider us a new friend who offers you advice without any judgment, the friend you know will still be there after you break up. Press release words, I thought, making a mental note of my ad-lib and patting myself on the back. Figuratively, of course.

That’s a new service you provide, am I right, Manns?

I grinned at Manns; it was better than gurrrl.

That’s right! Now Breakup is also offering the Tidy Up package. Think of us as Marie Kondo for your love life. We’ll help you clean up with our one-on-one consulting services. New place. New wardrobe. New start to your dating life, I said proudly. A whole new beginning.

Breakups are just so darn hard, Maggie said. I remember back in the day wondering if I had done the right thing ghosting—she winked at me, a not-so-subtle way of acknowledging the hip word she had just used—some of the men I had dated. Now, if only your services had been around ten years ago. She shrugged her shoulders as if in reference to the multitudes of men who had been after her back in the day.

I heard a thirty-second countdown in my ear, and my thoughts quickly went to my publicist’s words: Call to action!

Breakup is here now, Maggie, I said, as if to remind her of our repeat client discount. "We understand that regardless of how you decide to move forward, the person you break up with will be thankful that at the moment, we… you—I gave her a sneaky smile—took the time to break up with them tactfully."

She nodded. I could have sworn I saw her wink at me.

Up next, we return to the studio, where Mark and Katie will be talking to one couple who is celebrating fifty years of marriage!

Chapter 2

Dear Breakup,

I never get to see my boyfriend anymore. He’s always working. Our relationship didn’t start this way, and I totally get that he is building a future for the both of us with all this money that he’s making, but I need more than just money.

Also, we are common-law, so don’t I get half his net worth when I leave?

Ralph

I walked to the office, soaking in the warm morning sun, the high of the early TV segment slowly wearing off. I’d been up since four a.m. and was now heading into my regular workday. I needed caffeine. Lots of it.

I was almost at the coffee truck when my phone rang.

B… abbb… ebb…

Adam, I can hardly hear you. Adam, are you there?

Man… eee… Ma… ee… to… see you… his muffled voice continued.

Adam, what are you trying to say? I said, certain I sounded more frustrated than anything else.

Mag… morning… fantas, the muffling continued.

Click.

Call Ended.

Adam always called me after one of my TV interviews, regardless of what time zone he was in. He was a proud fiancé who cared about Breakup and who had helped the company expand.

One of my favorite memories with him was a dinner we shared at Baskin’s newest local steak restaurant on a hot summer’s night a few weeks into our relationship.

You know what it is… I asked as I had just taken a bite of my succulent eight-ounce rib eye.

… lack of confidence. I wish I could just sit some of these amazing clients down and tell them they don’t need to settle.

Then do it. What the hell’s holding ya back? He swirled the whiskey, neat, in his glass. Give ’em what they want. Confidence. You need to cater to your clients with more than letters. It’s time to create services for clients’ needs. It’s time to expand and make some more money.

Maybe it is…

It’s why I love you, Manny…

It was the first time Adam had said he was in love with me. And it was the first time in a really long time I felt like I belonged to something outside of work. I loved that.

We make a good team together. A couple of hardworking babes. He saluted me with his glass.

Teamwork. It was one of the words I emphasized with Breakup clients. Relationships required work from both parties.

Adam did see more than I could when it came to the bigger picture of Breakup, especially in those early days when life felt so dark without the two people I would normally have leaned on for advice. It didn’t feel so empty now, with Adam filling my cup or glass with love, even if it sometimes felt like we were celebrating more of a business deal.

That night after dinner we’d headed home and planned the Breakup menu, with a serving for every client’s appetite. It was what I adored about Adam, how he could get me buried so deep in work that I often lost track of what was going on around me. Including the anniversary of my mother’s passing that day.

I was shaken out of my thoughts by a cheery shout.

Good morning, Ms. Dogra! Rajiv, owner of one of Baskin’s most popular food trucks, greeted me with a burst of enthusiasm and a huge smile. You were superstar of show! I turned up very high, so everyone on the street could see my dear boss friend Ms. Manny Dogra on the TV this morning.

Rajiv’s truck, Aja Raja, was famous for its Indian decor. His family’s business in Rajasthan had served as inspiration. He had shown me a picture of their converted moving van: mismatched string lights flickered orange and red over an array of plastic flowers, a psychedelic paint job, and bold striped awnings.

Rajiv knew that gaudy decorations would lure just as many customers as his world-class chicken tikka masala dosa, which is why he set out to make his truck and food one of a kind. A unique wrap design adorned his truck inside and out, featuring old Bollywood actors from the ’80s, like Amitabh Bachchan, Jackie Shroff, and Rajiv’s not-so-secret crush, Madhuri Dixit. Sure, the Bollywood-mobile (as it was affectionately known) attracted foodies who wanted to try something more exotic than Outback Steakhouse, but they really came for the photos. Rajiv loved it when his customers posted Instagram pictures of their food. He even liked the corny captions exclaiming Don’t worry, eat curry or Paneer death experience! or about having to sign a naan disclosure agreement just to take a picture with him.

Rajiv was proud of his business and happy in his work. When he wasn’t tending to customers, he was cooking, singing, and watching Desi movies in the back of the truck. And when the movies weren’t playing, loud Indian music was, songs like Om Shanti Om, I Am a Disco Dancer, and Ek Do Teen Char. He smiled every time his favorite track came on, which seemed to be every single one. Ooh, this is my favorite, he would tell me as he poured me a hot cup of Indian coffee. He was always shaking his skinny hips with the music.

Just listen, Ms. Dogra, Rajiv would say, pointing a dancing finger to the air like in a scene from one of his beloved movies. Listen to love in this song. This is true love, because it makes your heart sing, he would say and sing along while he popped the collar of the striped cotton shirt that never quite seemed to match his pants.

He was doing that right now. His voice became louder, his accent thicker, as he touched his chest and shook his head side to side to the beat of the music.

What did you think, Mr. Indian Sir? Oy, you, green jacket. Look over here. What do you think about love? Rajiv hollered to a passerby. Where you going? Come have cup of Baskin’s best chai with me and my beautiful also Indian TV boss friend Ms. Manny Dogra, CEO of…

I widened my eyes in a vain attempt to get him to stop. Why did he persist in embarrassing me like this?

No thanks, man. Love is overrated, the man shouted back. Don’t bother falling in love, you hear me, ‘Indian boss friend,’ whoever you are. Forget about it. If you’re Indian, you have no chance of it. Especially when it comes to telling your Indian family. Ain’t happening… The man continued scoffing at the idea of love as he walked away, and his words trailed off into the wind.

"You ain’t happening. You overrated dumbo businessman," Rajiv murmured under his breath.

Rajiv was all the things my mother and father hadn’t been: Bollywood movies and music, saris and kurtas, and Indian celebrations of all kinds. He was also my morning cup of cheer, and I felt lucky that his food truck was always a few steps away from my office when I needed a jolly refill in between breakups. In fact, if it wasn’t for Rajiv’s loud—more like shouting—introduction on the day of our big move-in, I don’t know if I would ever have made my way over to Aja Raja, since I was more of a Starbucks girl. But Rajiv made it difficult to ignore his loud introduction. Oy, Indian businesswoman. You come here for best coffee from your brother. Come over now, he said, and I quickly converted to the coffee he was serving up. Rajiv also showed me that he was in touch with his American side as much as he was with his Indian side. He was a proud US citizen and always reminded me that he wanted his three Indian daughters to be raised Indian first, then American.

I am a hardworking man. I am on the Chamber of Commerce. I do the vote and wear the sticker to show the world. Sometimes I even listen to country music of sexiest man alive Blake Shelton. But my girls must know that being Indian is just as great as being American. It is same, he would say sharply in an accent infused with English and Hindi.

It was his way of reminding me that I should have been told this growing up.

Everyone has a story, Ms. Dogra. Each single one of us. One day you will have even bigger story than what you have now.

I had no idea what that meant, but I liked to hear it nonetheless.

Here you go. Rajiv reached down to pour a spoonful of Splenda into my coffee.

I didn’t care much for the Indian coffee/chai he made, so he always had a pot of regular coffee brewing in the back for me. He claimed it was Indian coffee, too, but it tasted suspiciously like Dunkin’ Donuts.

And one more thing before I don’t forget. Rajiv grabbed a small red box, hand-painted with gold swirls and tied with a red string. Happy Diwali, Ms. Dogra. Make sure you eat and put some good weight on, and give some to your weighter. He meant trainer.

I smiled back and said, Oh, shoot, as if pretending to know what day Diwali fell on or what it even meant.

There was a hint of disappointment in Rajiv’s laugh. "Every year it is the same month, and every year you say