SS: Anthapura - Part 18 Upd - Apr 19th - Page 8

You have to trust me though :)

waiting to see what twist this prithvi bring in the lives of ANSH

continue soon

Sometimes when the goings got tough, they also came to a standstill and thus, it fell on me to decide on the one thing that first needed to be pulled out of the inertia that had set around everything.

Between pending submissions and Saanchi going on to claim that I was co-conspiring with her Daadu to bring about her character reform (which in my mind was necessary without question) I succumbed to feverish bouts and it kept me from having a productive hour let alone two.

When I had put off reaching out to Prithvi until later that month, my justified nervousness over upcoming assignments compelled me to make the call. Saanchi will have to wait, I concluded and moved ahead with sociology and statistics which were in dire needs for some erudite guidance.

Over a brief call it was decided Prithvi and I would meet at the lobby of Leela palace hotel, which happened to be not far from where Shiv's home was.

On the said day and time, I showed up at the reception of the Leela palace hotel, which not only turned out to be the upscale hotel in Udaipur, but was also rated high among the nation's prestigious royal chains where the smug, affluent prigs went to.

Whatever was Prithvi Sukumaran, IAS doing here? I couldn't help the wonderment in my eyes as I turned about to get a 360 degree view of the hotel space. It was everything I had imagined and not imagined. Pricey, the hotel took on a contemporary adaption of the antique and it was every bit regal.

Avoiding the cheeky looks of the desk manager - to her credit, I did look out of place: the commoner in the king's court - I left a message for Prithvi and settled myself in a hidden corner of the receiving area.

"Are you Anandi?" The papers in my hand skittered to the floor with his voice having taken an unmistakably deep note and I looked up.

I managed to give him an unsure smile and stood up to shake his hand, but when he appeared busy removing paint stains off his fingers with paint rags, I took the moment to notice him without being candid. Nearly tall, he was among those men who paid a regular visit to the gym. Although he would come across as handsome to many, he didn't leave me fazed with weak knees. His white kurta hung off his shoulders in a way that spoke of stature, a pronounced authority was visible in his swift and short movements. And the rainbow of colors on his kurta made me inquisitive, why such serious artist folks always chose white to be their primary clothing shade, when it was bound to accrue stains. His eyes revealed a hidden back story - that was perhaps customary with artists like him - and in some ways assured me that he would be nothing, if unapproachable even on his best days. Despite the preoccupation that continued to show in his narrowed brows, I knew he was very much in the present assessing me just as I was.

It took him a while before we could shake hands and he flashed a brief smile at me then. After our introduction, I picked up the papers in one-shot and sat back down in my plush chair.

"You know Shiv because'" he drawled and the tightness in his voice conveyed that I was only required to continue the sentence without adding on excesses.

"We worked together in Jaitsar." I answered to the point.

Just then a man in a expensive suit passed our seating area and Prithvi waved, asking him to bring us two cups of chai. Not tea, but chai, he insisted and I pondered what difference there was between the two beverages and it later occurred to me that tea was the dip bag kind that didn't necessarily come with milk. The European types preferred those, I reckoned.

"Colleagues who are now friends, is that it?" he raised his brows with a mild show of anticipation that I already made to be uncharacteristic of him.

"Friends. Just friends." I clarified, quickly. My head then was splitting with a thousand questions, the most important being why he needed that particular detail, before we could discuss anything else.

"I'm not going to pay you. Is that clear?" He said and my eyes popped wide, like they were about to fall out of my socket.

"Sorry?" I prompted him to explain, "I don't get you."

"Didn't he tell you?" he looked annoyed with the additional talking he had to do now, "I'm hiring you to be my personal assistant. 6 - 10 PM. Weekdays and Saturdays are mandatory. We can negotiate the timings for the weekends you come in."

I was certain my features clearly gave away the anger that was surfacing in me, although I couldn't tell who it was targeted at. Shiv or Prithvi? Personal assistant? What the hell?

"Don't worry," he said nodding and it wasn't the least bit assuring, I wanted to tell him. "Your only duties are to make sure nobody comes within a 500 meter radius of wherever I'm painting. Remind me about my meals and thirdly pick up those meals from a south Indian restaurant. If you can't find one or if it's closed, then I don't care if you make them yourself at home. No roti business for me. Did you get that?"

I was already scowling at him, when he added, "Do you know to make idli, dosa, vada?"

I wasn't sure which range of motion my head had taken - did I affirm or disagree? - while I had been left incredulous to stare at him with enough anger to burn him to ashes. He once again prodded me with a question that grated my nerves. "Is that a yes or no?"

That was a lot of arrogance to be embodied as one person, I thought. Did men like him ever get married? I was only more concerned and interested in the women who would be meted out such injustice in gaining such men as their suitors.

Right as I was about to get up and leave without so much as a word, he spoke again. This time, his voice showed a restrained calm. "You do this and in exchange I will help you with all that you need to take upon the degree initials that you are hell bent on receiving."

"Oh!" I let out, almost without meaning to and tried to gauge if all his terms had been just a ploy to scare me. "You almost got me there'" I gave a nervous laugh.

"You still haven't answered me?" He said and I met his gaze with a question. "About what?" I asked.

"About the idli, dosa and vada. It's a definite deal breaker." He said finally assenting to a small smile of amusement.

"Well, we'll see about that." I responded in the same vein, when a sudden query took over my mind.

"Wait!" I edged to my seat abruptly and that drew his attention back from the solvent-soaked paint rags he was still rubbing over his arm. "If you are painting between 6 - 9 PM, then how will I ask you questions about my subjects? Wouldn't that take your focus away from whatever it is you are doing?"

Openly studying me, he gave a knowing smile - like I was walking into my death trap and the image brought a sudden cold sweat to my palms. "With time, you will know when to talk." I sensed the curtness seep back into his voice telling me that my time was up.

In the course of our short conversation, he had finished his tea, but I hadn't touched mine and yet, he called for the check.

The man in the suit came closer to him and whispered something into his ears and Prithvi's nose began to flare with inexplicable rage. The next instant, I nearly fell out of my seat when he got to his feet and screamed as if all hell broke loose.

"The tea and food that I order are not part of the contract. Did you hear me?" He paused to draw emphasis. "Once I'm done with the commissions, hand me my payment and that's about it. I don't need your hospitality or your charities." He yelled for all to hear and took out a bunch of notes to drop them on the table in front of us.

"Sorry, sir. This won't happen again." The man in the suit was too flushed to get his words straight and looked only at the floor. I was beginning to feel sorry for the man in the suit and then changed my mind to feel sorry for myself instead. After all, I was soon to be his personal assistant and I couldn't begin to imagine such outbursts that awaited me.

"I hope that is clear to you and her'" he said, before shooting me down with a get-the-hell-out-of-here look. Of course, my mind had picked on the her he'd unconsciously stressed upon and I shelved my curiosity for another day. Within a moment, I was on my feet and made my way to the hotel entrance, after managing to whisper that I will see him the next day.

Once outside, I breathed. I needed to exhale fully to let the tension seep out of my body, for I had not realized I had been withholding my breath during the time I had been with him.

I knew exactly what I had to do next and dug into my purse searching for my cell phone.

"Your friend is a mental. Total nut case. Do you know that?" I roared into the phone right as Shiv came on the other line.

Your writing style is completely different and loved it...

Must say Lahari... You are an amazing writer

and your SS is simply superb 👍🏼

How beautifully you put that down.

The place where she is and where she dissolves into nothingness. No shadow.

Sometimes the dilemma faced rips a person in two and the transition from being one person to becoming another is so scary and yet neccessary.

Beautifully written..

Trying to restrict myself to a chapter a day is like being on the strictest diet.

Always eager to read more.

May I ask why? This is a really short story. I'm not going to leave this one in a cliffhanger. 😉