Chapter 2

Prologue

Pratima sat across the desk from her boss, on his direction to take a seat. Anxiously she waited while he reached into his desk drawer to extract the documents and, as a last step to the process, reviewed the portfolios of the potential candidates. She looked down, referring to her own list; not only was this to be a test for the college students vying for an internship, but also the chance for the relatively new PA to make a favorable impression. She would prove her worth if she managed  some commonality between the shortlisted candidates he would choose to interview  versus the ones she believed would be a good fit for the design house.  In this, they would know if her competencies in sussing out talent that would best suit the company direction, and more specifically that her understanding of her employer's way of thinking, had grown.  Neither expected perfection at this point, but at least for there to have been some progress.  Especially now, when he had become more reliant of his staff, Pratima didn't want to disappoint.

She took the opportunity of his attention being on his task to stare at him in open admiration - like so many of her peers she was a huge fan of the man.

Kabir Tripathi: he was amazing in so many ways, not least of all because he was one of India's premier fashion designers, but also because of how decent of a person he truly was. The young woman smiled to herself; like most of his staff their boss' good nature hadn't been immediately apparent to her, but she soon had to come know that beneath the stern facade was an employer who cared about, and treated his staff as if they were family. His high expectations of his staff was equally matched by his empathy for those in his employ and because of this, now that that he was going through such a difficult time, every last one of them were putting their very best foot forward to help his work to go as smoothly as possible. And although new to the company, Pratima was no different.

Kabir stole a look at his watch; he had less than thirty minutes remaining here in the office, as he needed to get back home in time to meet with the physiotherapist before he concluded today's session. The critical two month period was over, after which the therapist had indicated, he would be better able to determine the long term prognosis of his patient. The pending news had had Kabir on edge all day, and had resulted in a massive lack of concentration.  Turning his attention back to the two stacks of applications that he should have handled before now, the designer glanced at his online calendar. Based on the number of interviews he would conduct, he determined that two days from now would have to do for the interviews. He knew it to be short notice, but if the applicants were as keen as they indicated in their flowery submissions, then they would find the time to attend.  However, as he still didn't feel that he had given the presentations his complete attention, he would need to take them with him. This afternoon, after his meeting he would definitely make the time to give each of them their due consideration. His final decision would have to wait a little longer.

"Pratima, I'm sorry, but I'm just not  ready to make my final choices, and now unfortunately..."

The young woman shook her head; she was well aware of her boss' schedule and that he needed to return home.  "Call me KT when you are ready. I will come by and collect..."

Kabir appreciated the young woman's accommodating nature, but declined her offer. She was busy enough with everything else she had to do, to waste travelling time simply due to his tardiness. "Thank you Pratima, but that won't be necessary. I can manage sending an email with the list of names and their contact details, let's say, no later than 2:00PM, which should leave sufficient time for you to reach out to the shortlisted applicants to schedule their interviews. I have an open block in two days," he concluded, before smiling appreciatively at the eager young woman. "Tomorrow we will compare our lists; although I'm certain, that we will be of one accord once I provide the names this afternoon."

Pratima nodded, thankful for his confidence in her.  Ten minutes later she handed him his jacket and briefcase containing the portfolios and watched as he dashed to make his next critical appointment.

************

"Surely what you are suggesting is not feasible so soon...are you certain that she can do without it now? What if she tires; what then..."

Daadi smugly approached her grandson utilizing the newly fitted forearm crutches.

"Should I tire Nanhe, then I will find the closest seat and avail myself of it. Is that clear, beta?"

She for one was glad to see the back of the collapsible wheelchair that her personal torturer had now folded up in preparation of taking it with him. She was bolstered by the progress she had made, and would not allow her grandson's worry to take away from her accomplishments.

"Beta," she began, "Didn't you insist on the very best so that I could fully recover? Well, let this serve as proof that you found the very best person for the job. You should be thanking Dr. Bully for his expertise, not second guessing him. Today is a good day."

The therapist raised one eyebrow at the moniker his elderly patient had given him, and then turned back to her apprehensive grandson. "She is right and you should be very proud of her progress. Daadi will only get stronger as she becomes more mobile, so this is the natural progression in her therapy. However  I would like to reiterate that for now, she should avoid the staircase, so it's still the lower bedroom for you Daadi...I insist."

Kabir nodded, realizing that Daadi must have inadvertently spilled her plans of returning to her upstairs suite to the physio. He thanked the man and then walked him out. He would be back in two days for Daadi's next session. Listening to the tapping of the crutches on the tile floor behind him, Kabir made a mental note to reiterate to both the nurse and the house staff  to keep a close eye on Daadi when he was away from home.  About to shut the door, Kabir paused when his harried assistant called out to him as she rushed up to the home's entrance: a portfolio in hand.

"KT Sir," she called frantically.

He was certain that he had collected all of the Intern applications, but since he wasn't infallible, he invited the young woman in.

"KT this arrived shortly after you left the office, I figured you would want to consider it along with the others before you schedule the appointments."

Already shaking his head, Kabir answered, "I'm sorry you felt the need to come all this way, but no. The deadline for applications has passed, and this was succinctly detailed on the notices sent out to SVC."

"Yes, but..."

"Nahi Pratima, no exceptions - if this student couldn't see clear to meet the requisite closing date, then..."

The PA interjected, "It's not from a student; I mean to say, it's not from a current student. But she did attend SVC and...please Sir, just take one look."

 Not understanding what could have caused the young woman to become so excitable, Kabir grabbed the portfolio impatiently and opened it. His eyes sidestepped the cover letter instantly drawn to the sketch immediately behind it. Right away, he recognized the skill, the style, and for that matter, the design itself, and hastily he turned for the work-shop not far from the home's front entrance.

There was a single worker there, busy referencing a nearby design-board as she pinned trimming onto a fabric draped mannequin. She looked up when the door swung open and greeted Kabir; puzzled when, so occupied by whatever he held in his hand, he failed to acknowledge her. Arpita watched as he untacked the detailed sketch she had been working with and replaced it with one he removed from the folder in his hands.

"Come here Arpita...Please," Kabir asked tentatively, needing confirmation that what he was seeing was true and not wishful thinking on his part.

Confused, Arpita obeyed and when she did, Kabir handed her the Banaras Beauty design.

"Tell me what you see," he asked.

He waited while the design assistant looked from one rendering to the other, and back again. There were subtle differences between the professionally executed sketch, and the rudimentary black and white sketch which hung in its place, but there was no mistaking the similarities either.

"It's her design," Arpita responded incredulously.

"Haan...she's drawing again," Kabir uttered softly, before hailing his PA, who he was certain had followed him. "Pratima, when you call, give her the final interview available, and then make sure to clear my schedule for the remainder of the day. Cancel everything: no matter what it is."

"Yes Sir," She replied, accessing her boss' calendar on her tablet, before walking out and dialing the contact telephone number she had immediately noted after she had received the portfolio.

By this time, Daadi had caught up to her grandson.  "Nanhe: what is it; what is going on?"