There’s something to be said for world class hotels, Khushi mused as she expertly rolled her Chantilly lace topped thigh high nude stockings over very well moisturized skin. They evoked the an atmosphere of film noir - of blue smoke. A thousand untold stories and mysteries. Hotels were straight out of the golden age of romance and Khushi would see to it that Raizada Royale and Naivedyam reinforced the image. She knew that this was it. She was Naivedyam. She represented Raizada Royale. Therefore, she had to live up to the hype - both through actions and more importantly, through visuals. It was a consumerist era, Khushi mused standing up in her thigh highs, smoothing her hands over the sheer stockings. It was a culture where brands, vivant and the luxe ruled. She would make a statement for an audience that would remember nothing but what she wore and how she looked, tomorrow. She’ll give the audience all that and more - regardless how uncomfortable it was for her, she sighed. The crystal covered, laser cut Champagne colored asymmetrical pumps lay propped up on their dangerously sharp, icepick heels that had been dipped in copper tones, making them stand out against the more demure colored shoes. Statement she wanted, statement they’d make. Although they just might murder her feet in the process. Statements, she sighed looking over at the full length mirror where a figure clad in a teal ardientemente push up bra, brazilian briefs and garter belt stood, always came with a price. Khushi sauntered over to the mannequin clad in her dress. She had wanted edgy, bold. Instead, somehow Khushi found herself gravitating towards a vintage looking Lanvin dress by Alber Elbaz. It was a Blouson To-the-floor dress in teal blue Canard made up of superfine, washed crepe. Khushi slid it on, watching as the dress slid around her like water before settling on her form. She loved the deep v’d surplice neckline teamed with the short dolman sleeves that enhanced the Blouson bodice. There was a hidden band at the pleated waist that cinched the material in before falling down like a tropical waterfall in a columnar maxi skirt to the floor. The piece de resistance though was the belt. Winged buckle, in design inspired by ancient Egypt, with pave crystals, the Gold Luxor belt was dazzling - transforming a woman into a mysterious princess in the flick of an eye.. It was straight out of the Golden era of Hollywood, where romance and mystery and suspense had once reigned before today's mundane. Where women of mystery held court. It was a dress built for the red carpet when Monroe, Gardner, Hayward, Taylor and Hepburn ruled. It was the dress she would take Mumbai by a storm in, she thought, smiling, trying not to think about how ruthlessly she had resolved the use the image of romance to achieve her means.
Khushi smiled, drifting over to the walnut and gilt dresser. She had eschewed tradition, or rather the modern quotient for her jewelry as well. The women today would be decked in either stuff by traditional indian jewelers - something she hadn’t wanted for this event or, in modern jewelers like Mizuki, John Hardy or Mikimoto with sleek lines and minimalism. Khushi had chosen Harry Winston instead. Opulence and glamour went hand in hand with romance. The Sunflowers had arrived an hour back and Khushi was entranced. The necklace was a cluster of thumbnail sized sunflowers with diamond petals, down to the last details, the centers had been set with Alexandrites - which were green now but in soft incandescent light as the party would surely have, they would turn purple. Mystique again.The gemstones in the necklace itself was set in a symphony of white and pale yellow gold, stimulating tangles of woven flower stalks. There was a pair of matching cascade earrings in the same design, resembling a garland of sunflowers tumbling down towards her shoulders, and a ring of a single blossom in full bloom. Breaking the collection, much to the jeweler's displeasure, she wore a lattice bracelet of emeralds, citrines, alexandrites instead - a splash of color against her wrist. Her lips were the color of bridal blush rose, cheeks peach. Khushi had let her hair hang around her face in a satin curtain held back by tiny gold leaves away from her face. It was a calculated move that made her look fragile, spun glass-delicate and incandescent and therefore, she had set herself apart in that techni-colored world that would be shortly populated by vividly attired, boldly painted women. It was just as Khushi had wanted - in her fragility, and delicacy, she looked striking. Striking was after all what the papers would remember tomorrow, after this three-ringed circus was over. Yet, something rang inside her. Her heart beat hard at her chest - not the kind that stems from excitement but the kind that is steeped in dread. It thudded like a raven, trying to beat its wings out of a cage. Like a harbinger of some forgotten ill omen. It was that nagging feeling she couldn’t be rid of; a phantom ache, she thought, rubbing her hand over her chest. Today being Naivedyam’s launch paired with Raizada Royale’s introduction to a new state. It should have been one of the best days of her life. Why wasn’t she at peace?
Arnav smiled and did the rounds, feeling strangely like the father of the bride in a wedding; except the last family wedding he had been at didn't turn out exactly right and he didn't want to think about it now. It was still early. The launch would be officially announced in another 30 minutes. With Khushi by his side. As should be, he thought, as he smiled absently at one of his pudgy, old-goat Board Member. Pudgy had a high glass of Champagne in one hand and a barely out of her teenage girl on his other. He shook his head, these old goats, he was going to kick their asses out one by one… he just had to wait for the right time. Necessary evils, he mused. Board Members were one of them. He looked around again, keep moving, keep working the floor. That was what he’d learnt and that’s what he’d passed on to Khush. A businessman could never relax and sit back- not even at the launch of his new Hotel. No, they had to move forward. Continuously. Make new contacts. Spread their wings. He saw a movement to the right of him, and turned. And halted.
There she was. Delicate. Glittering. She was all things light. Like spun glass… Gorgeous. Graceful. Beautiful. His. He watched her look around the room, worriedly biting her full lower lip, searching for him. And he waited. Any moment now… and there it was! She had caught sight of him. And the most beautiful smile had lit her face up. Something in his chest seized as she made her way over to him, and he rubbed his hand across it absently. Intently watching the play of emotions in her eyes. Something was bothering her, he could tell. That smile hadn’t quite fully reached those eyes.
“Khush?” he murmured as she reached his side, “What’s wrong?”
And she looked up at him, as if startled that he’d caught on so quickly. The girl would never learn would she? She just couldn’t hide anything from him… he’d had too much practice reading her, like she’d had him. He sighed, gently taking her hand in his and running a thumb over her wrist. Feeling her pulse gallop under it. “What’s the matter, baby?”
She shook her head, and tilted her head towards her right. This wasn’t the time, she would have to fill him in later, apparently. He sighed and nodded. Already there were those who were looking at them, as if sensing they’d sensed the change in their relationship - something neither of them wanted to deal with yet. Swiping his thumb against her wrist one last time before he led her into the crowd. Back to work, it was.
Although now, Arnav could feel a ball of something unroll in his stomach. It wasn’t nerves… No, they’d launched too many Hotels to feel nervous over just another one… no. This was something else. A sense of coming changes… an intuition? He unconsciously pulled Khushi closer to his side, his arm going around her shoulder, as he looked around over the heads of his guests. Not a single thing was out of place… but then what was it that was bothering him?
Payal looked around as she stepped foot inside the Raizada Royale, Mumbai. Sheer Opulence surrounded her, took her breath away… cleared her mind- albeit for a moment- of the mess that it had been steeped in for too long, now. The Lounge was huge, there was no other word for it. Painted in a contrasting combination of Maroon and Peach, with a beautiful Mahogany reception desk and strategically placed couches and sofas, it screamed Welcome. A woman had a hand in this, Payal decided. An intelligent woman. The intriguing Raizada double RR logo was stitched into the breast pocket of the employees busily bustling around the place. They were politely shown towards the Dining Hall, where the party was, before she could examine the striking paintings and statues adorning the walls of the lounge more closely. Original Raja Ravi Varma pieces, she could tell. She would have to come back here before she left, she decided. Anything to delay going back to the monster’s lair.
She winced as her husband gripped her forearm tightly, too tightly- she bristled- as he tried to hurry her towards the venue. She extracted her hand from his grip, and not looking back at his abruptly grim face (no doubt she would have to pay for it later tonight), made her way past the hallway and into the Palatial Dining Hall. She turned her head away, scrutinizing the crowd that cheerfully talked and waved at each other as they waited for the couple of the day to start the proceedings, just as Aakash came to stand beside her. She didn’t want to see that monster’s face. There was a boiling rage that was slowly unfurling inside of her. And she honestly couldn’t say, why it was now, that she was feeling this anger. All she’d felt for the past two years of their marriage- of their disastrous union, she thought derisively- was a sad resignation. Maybe it had been because she’d felt obliged to her Parents. She had to bite back a scoff, as she thought of them. Look.at them now, hobnobbing with other powerbrokers. As long as they had money, all was right in their world - with or without their only child. Look at them now, drinking and making merry! Secure in the knowledge that they had a powerful if uncouth son-in-law behind them if push came to shove. Her father always did play these games well. The renowned Rathores, known for their big hearts and charity! Ha! Lying scums who couldn’t even support their daughter when she needed them, that’s what they were. And here she had been! fooling herself, saying that she’d stayed in the marriage for their sakes! Duty! HA!
She was done, she repeated looking over towards the poolside where two people leaned into each other - the tenderness blinding, if quiet. There was a love between them that seemed to lacking in her life for what seemed like a like a lifetime. She was in a saree, a tiny woman, positively glittering with diamonds. Leaning against her dark, good looking, slightly older husband. There was a shy smile playing on her lips, and a naughty one on his. There was love. What she had sacrificed the first time. What she had lived without for ages. For some reason, that couple seemed to act as a fast acting catalyst inside her. Searing it. Exposing the raw nerves. She kept looking over at them, eyes blurring with a sudden wash of tears. One trickled down her cheek, and she furiously rubbed it off.
Screw Duty. She. Was. Done.
She looked around again. She had to calm down. However angry she was, her husband was a powerful man. Unsophisticated and a Misogynist jerk that he was, still, he was strong. And she did not want to get another bruise on herself, not when she had finally found her backbone, and was going to try what had seemed only a dream before now. Her hand fisted in the pallu of her saree as she tried to control her increasing rage, as he tried once again to lead her somewhere, forcefully. No, she reminded herself. Her split with her husband of two years wasn’t going to be that public. She still had some dignity left. And she was going to hold onto that. As much as she’d like to bleed the asshole dry, she wasn’t going to lose her cool here. Not like this.
She shuddered as she made her way behind him, over to the table they’d been at, pulling the anchaal of her Pathani saree over her shoulder. Somehow, even the saree seemed to represent her servile life today. Why was it that it took a party to drive the facts of her life home to her, today of all days? The Paithani silk saree gleamed dully in the light, the aubergine and gold details of shaded aswali flower borders and the heavily buttied body, seemed as saas-bahu serialish as ever. Payal hated it. She had an insane urge to rip off her saree, and hand the tattered remnants to one of those passing waiters, exchanging it for those nondescript coats that they were clad in. She would then tear off the mangamali haar, resembling strung gold mangoes studded with rubies and tiny seed pearls and matching earrings and fling them at Akash. Rip off the black beaded mangalsutra and dance on the ripped black and gold beads. Fling off her discreetly heeled blah gold sandals (because Akash didn’t want her looking too tall) at him. Play toss the rings with her ornate gold bangles until each landed in different directions, crowning different bottlenecks and step on her wedding ring - a crass yellow gold ornament that had a elephant stamped on it with strange opaque blue stone studded eyes and real ivory inlaid tusks against a mother-of-pearl backdrop until the gold crushed under the weight of her foot - to signify the breaking of chains that bound her in servitude for what seemed like a lifetime. A elephant for God’s sake! She was quite certain not two of something so horrible existed in this world. Akash made sure to gift her with the only copy available to ascertain her tenure as his slave. It would be the first thing she destroyed when she left him. She would do all that and more - but not today. Payal had her education, she would make something out of herself as soon as she could break free of him. All she had to do was break free and run one of these days. Before that though, she had to get through tonight.
She sipped water slowly from her glass, as she looked around at the filthy rich people that shared circles with her. Would all the people here be as heartless as her parents had been? She wondered, as her eyes strayed over to the Balcony, out to the twinkling stars in the night. Would a wish on a shooting star save her? She shook her head and sipped again, no. She’d had the chance, hadn’t she? And she’d thrown it away… for the people, who had just yesterday told her that whatever had happened to her, whatever was happening to her was her lot in life. That she had to be responsible for it. That they expected nothing less than her making it work, or bloody well staying mum about what unfortunate fate she thought she’d been dealt with. They still thought her Husband was a piece of Gold- she snorted- and that she was going to have to make a life with him. Good luck to them on that. She was out of this ivory tower where she had been shackled to rocks for what seems like eons, like Andromeda of Greek mythology. If he, she smiled fleetingly, thinking of the sweet spirited man she had loved and lost, if he had taught her anything then it was not to be a victim. Maybe she finally stepped up to the plate. Tonight was it. Akash looked at her, bleary eyed, already into his third scotch. She smiled steelily. Chains would be broken. Starting today.
Man, was Khushi going to kill him today. The girl was almost obsessive about punctuality, and she’d warned him that she would be expecting him to be at the Mumbai Royale before they opened it for the guests. And he was more than an hour late. Insufferable meetings. He hated them. He shuddered at the thought of another meeting that would be tomorrow morning. Bright and Early. He shook his head, tying a clean towel around his waist as he dried his hair with another. Well, at least he’d had his secretary arrange for his clothes before hand. He smiled wryly, had to look your best always, didn’t you?
The charcoal Alexander McQueen suit he’d chosen for the occasion came on in a hurry, with matching straight pleated pants. A fine starched linen white shirt. He slid in the platinum and black onyx studs into the buttonholes and matching cuffs into the retro french cuffs of the shirt. A black and platinum pleated tie he tied on next, again in a hurry - inherent elegance of his deft fingers tying the half windsor knot without fail. He slid in a matching pocket square; a nod to his love for retro fashion, and then slid on a Burberry gunmetal check-dial chronograph watch on. There, he smirked. All done. A hand raked through his still damp hair once, and he was ready to go.
Reversing the car, NK again thought of the elaborate invitation card that he’d gotten. An invitation to the launch of Mumbai Raizada Royale and Naivedyam to Mr. NK Singhania. He smiled as he took an intersection and cut in front of some crazy lady driving as if she was on the tracks of NASCAR. What would Khushi have said if he’d demanded she send it to a Mr. and Mrs. NK Singhania? Would she have thought he was insane? Or would she have understood? Weren’t they kind of in the same boat? He laughed again, and shook his head as he climbed out of his car, handing the keys to the valet, almost running through the lounge to the Dining Hall. Well, why shouldn’t he? He was running for his life! He chuckled again, and turned the last corner towards the Hall and had the breath knocked clean out of him. Because there, just inside the doors, stood… her. A vision in a horribly unsubtle Gold and aubergine saree, the jewelry on her looking like ball and chains would look on a prisoner, stood the still most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes upon. NK blinked, stupefied, as his eyes screamed to run hungrily all over her. Payal. His Angel… he looked around and resisted from shaking his head. Looking back at her, he felt half relieved half afraid. She was still there. She was still there! It wasn’t a hallucination. It wasn’t a hallucination! God, would the torture never end?
But then, he wouldn’t want to live without this torture would he? Why, the very reason for the color in his life was standing there! An insane urge to burst out laughing tingled up his spine as he realized, he really had been running for his life...
She stood in the muted tealight in the amrapali shaped pool’s side, admiring the grandeur that the Raizada Royale represented. Shyam smiled. Rani Sahiba was no stranger to luxury - having been raised in it’s midst since she had been born, but she was a woman who enjoyed beauty. Raizada and his intriguing partner had done that and more with their latest establishment. He looked around. The Olympic sized amrapali shaped pool had been ringed with oil lamps of brass, also paisley shaped, studded with colored glass. In the water, golden waxed tealights floated. There was an artificial island in the middle of the pool, also paisley shaped. It was lush with greeneries and fragrant flowers and had adirondack chairs for loungers to sit after a brisk swim. There were brass lamps hanging off branches of the bowing trees and fairylights hidden among the leaves - creating an atmosphere that seemed to scream for romance and magic. He couldn’t do much about the latter but the former he could work with. Shyam smiled, uncaring of who was looking reached to hold her by her stomach, left bare by her waterlike mauve silk saree. It had champagne silk parse embroideries around the edges, set off by tiny clear glass crystal beads resembling flames - sacred to the parsi community. He smiled wolfishly, the fires were however, having quite a different effect on his libido. Smiling, he cupped her stomach, causing his Rani Sahiba to lean against him. He looked at the tiny woman in his arms, hair up in a french knot, wearing a fortune in jewellery and felt his heart swell to a bursting point. The jeweler’s wife, he noted with some amusement had worn another work of art around her throat. It was a belpan vajratik - a traditional maharashtran jewelry made up of solid gold done in bel leaf motif, studded with pink topaz and uncut diamond polkis. She had paired that with Nizami earrings called Bali that resembled a string of half bloomed lotuses studded with topaz and uncut diamond polkis. He smiled. She sure mixed up her pieces. There was his grandmother’s bangles on her hands today, again. He smiled. It never failed to amuse him just how much she loved playing with glittery things. How the cold rocks warmed around her. She was like those jewelry his forefathers had designed, he knew. Beautiful. Intricate. Warm. Precious. Oh, so very precious! Shyam knew that he’d trade everything he possessed, his heart, his soul just to keep her. How he warmed around her! Her eyes glittered with a certain something when she looked up at him. Shyam ran a finger down the side of her face, fascinated by how the color followed. He was her slave, something he wouldn’t admit to even at the threat of death but he was what he was. He would cut out his heart for her, if she wished but what worried him, when he looked at her glittering eyes again, was that he wouldn’t be able to give her what her heart desired. Ever. He cupped her gently rounded stomach again her pulled her closer, eliciting a scandalized giggle from her. Nuzzling her neck, he hoped that what he had to offer would do. Otherwise, something told him that he was to be left in the cold. Nuzzling her neck once again, he looked up to make eye contact with a tall, beautiful woman who was staring at them, looking shattered. Shyam stared. Did her know her? Before he could place the face, she had looked away and striding purposefully towards to ballroom. He shrugged. Women, he stayed away from. Except for the one he was married to. Looking down at her warmly he murmured with a smile on his lips, “Come on now Rani Sahiba. Enough with the pool admiring. It’s making me a little jealous. Why don’t I introduce you to the geniuses behind Raizada Royale and Naivedyam? They did want to see you”. He smiled. Rani Sahiba would love to meet them, he knew. Plus, he wanted to see the Raizada with Rani Sahiba. Call it a professional curiosity. There was something there. A lawyer just had to know.
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