Chapter 4
A lot can happen over coffee...
Pristine, white froth bubbles...
Apparently very beautiful and bright...
But beneath the farce of tasteless fizz...
Lies the hot yet sweet coffee,
Dark, murky yet light...
That's life :)
A steaming cup of coffee waited for him in his room as soon as Vinay stepped out of the shower. He smiled. His wife was impeccable. Everything was ready for him in the morning before he went out to work. His neat, laundered clothes had been laid out on the bed along with his handkerchief, wallet and car keys and all the things that he kept in trouser pockets. His laptop and his watch had been neatly placed on the cabinet surface. His cuff links had been kept on the dresser and his pen and files that he would want that day was on the coffee table. Anjali knew what he wanted and exactly how he wanted it. She never missed a detail, did she?
He liked things his way, Vinay. He wanted everything revolving around him to be the way he preferred. But that extended to only his professional life and his regular habits. Personally, he was very lenient and easygoing. He didn't believe in stressing others until it was absolutely necessary. Which is why, half of the people in Raizada Enterprises were there in the company for the longest term. He treated everyone as they had the right to be treated, as human. He was calm, composed and very generous and helpful. But when anger struck, he was as fierce as anyone would be. It had to be something really nasty to make Vinay angry. He didn't get angry for all the petty things. For people, Vinay Singh Raizada was a man of substance and rightful indignation and that he was.
He took a sip of the coffee and closed his eyes in pleasure. It was just as he liked and it was delicious as usual. He emptied it in a jiffy and got dressed. As he was about to wear his tie, Anjali walked in with a smile, "I see you are ready..."
"You ask this question every time you come in, Anju..." he smiled.
"Yes, in a hope I would catch you still lazing around," she smiled taking the tie from his hands and doing it herself, "but you shatter my hopes every time, don't you?"
"Shatter your hopes?" he quirked his eyebrows, "so that means you expect me to parade in the towel every morning, do you Mrs. Raizada?"
"Shee!" she smacked him on his arms, "for a perfectionist like you, these dirty talks don't suit..."
"Well, it doesn't for a perfect wife like you either," and they laughed.
"Did you hear anything from Chhote?" Anjali was always anxious about Arnav and he did everything he could to fuel that up. His brother in law was one tough, untamed horse.
"I am afraid not," Vinay sighed, "he has grown up, Anju...he knows how to take care of himself and I don't like seeing lines of worry on my beautiful wife's face. It makes her look old, you know..." he smiled as he pulled her cheeks.
"You know how to make me happy, don't you?" she snuggled into his chest as he hugged her back, "well, people say I am a charmer..."
"Really?" Anjali smirked.
"Of course, it is really tough otherwise to keep your marriage intact if your wife is not happy..."
"I love you," Vinay knew she meant it.
"I love you, too..." he kissed her forehead as they walked down to together for breakfast.
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Starbucks! Khushi's heart fluttered happily as the bright neon sign board materialized in front of her. She had taken for a long walk as soon as she had dumped her luggage in her hotel room. Well slept and rested, she had nothing better to do than savor the beauty of the only area of New York she liked, Forest Hill Gardens.
Having about 800 retro-style-Georgian homes, this little planned community was warm and inviting. Oak trees bordered the sides of the roads, canopying the black path beneath against the sun which was rarely out shining brightly in this city. Birds fluttered around, chirping, a musical environment bubbling with life as the humans lived in perfect harmony with the nature. Albeit situated in an ultra-modern city like New York, Forest Hill Gardens was a rural world against an urban world, paradox, ironical and opposite to the colossal city it was situated in.
Khushi was silently striding in the streets, humming mindlessly when she spotted her much loved caf and she rushed in to buy some hot Irish coffee with hazelnut sauce, her all time favorite, with liberal amounts of whip cream topped up on it. Yum!
Scooping up large amounts of cream in her spoon, Khushi stuffed it into her mouth, relishing the sweet taste of honey whipped cream, as she started walking back to her hotel. It was 9 30 in the night and there was cool breeze tickling her face as New York was gearing up for the change in season. Perfect springtime, thought Khushi as she turned around the corner and bumped into someone very hard, causing her coffee to spill all over her, staining the white t shirt she was wearing a dark burgundy brown. She looked up in anger to see a man staring at her. To her utter annoyance, he was wearing sunglasses.
"Can't you see mister?" she yelled in his face, causing the stranger to cock his head uncertainly.
"Excuse me?" with a hint of unbeatable sarcasm, the stranger's voice was husky and deep, like ocean.
Khushi lost her cool "Oh, you are not excused! You just ruined my shirt! Are you blind? Oh of course you are! Who in the world wears sunglasses at night?"
"I do!" he answered confidently, "that's my wish. Who in the world are you to ask me?"
Khushi stamped her foot in anger and hissed, "look, don't you dare start a squabble with me. You don't know who I am."
"Really?" he looked amused which made Khushi bite her tongue in order to stop herself from doing something stupid. "Who are you?"
"Why should I tell you?"
"Because I don't know who you are..." he smirked "you are supposed to be very important, at least in your eyes...so enlighten me!"
"You sick perv..." she started saying when she felt herself being harshly pushed to the wall of a building. She looked up to find herself very close to the stranger, his breath fanning her neck, as he whispered, yet again in his deep, husky baritone that held a deadly threat that lingered uncomfortably, "Those who don't know me, I don't give them a chance to speak about me..."
Khushi swallowed the rising nervousness. The man, with each passing second, was proving to be more intimidating. Khushi couldn't quite place the emotions that were flowing through her nor could she understand the stranger standing in front of her, holding her as though he owned her. "I..." she whispered only to be silenced by him again, "find the lost confidence in you, then make an attempt to speak to me," she stumbled as he pushed her and walked away.
Khushi could do nothing but stare at his back, disbelievingly, that he had taunted Khushi Gupta and made his way out just as casually as though nothing had happened.
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"Your turn," Mita announced to a shy and nervous, dark haired pale girl as she stood confused behind the line of models at rehearsals. She looked up at once and nodded. Where did Aman pick her up from? Gosh! wondered Mita, eyeing the girl with disdain. ASR would surely eat Aman alive for this mistake.
Aman came in at the right time and plopped next to her on the couch, "how's it going?"
"Where the hell did you pick that girl up from?" seethed Mita for whom perfection was a priority, "she looks more like your house maid than model about to walk a show of AR!"
"No choice, Mita..." Aman sighed.
"ASR is going to blast you off, Malhotra!" Mita warned. Aman simply nodded to say her that he was ready for the battle that was about to begin at AR the next day as ASR came to inspect. Too bad that everything had to go wrong for an event that had been organized with so much hard work and preparations, single handedly by his boss.
"I guess, you've gotta talk to that woman," Mita offered, "something's not right and I am sure she is going to make it worse..."
"Even I thought so..." Aman agreed, "what if we remove her altogether?"
"What are you going to do with the outfit then?" if it was 20 outfits designed, 20 outfits had to have their showdown; that was the unspoken rule of ASR. Hard work especially that he had put in never had gone wasted and never would.
"Oh..." Aman muttered sadly as realization dawned on him. He could never chuck one outfit; that would be horrendous and not to mention, would result in him losing the job. "I guess we are left with no choice but to rely on her. Hope she doesn't trip on her heels or rip her outfit in front of the audience."
"You're right," Mita nodded sadly. This week had been tremendously hectic, with everyone working round like mules to get everything perfect. The wretched date, 4 April to be precise was alarmingly near, causing them to feel extremely fidgety and nervous, wondering how the most awaited event of AR would proceed...
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Payal gupta walked down the aisle neatly but not confidently. She was still unable to comprehend that she, indeed was walking for AR. It was a cloud-9 moment for her, when the manager, Aman Malhotra personally called her for a meeting and explained the need. A dream come true, she was happily smiling when she tripped over her own shoes and fell down on the aisle.
"Oh heck!" someone yelled. A thin layer of tears formed her eyes as she looked to see a very irritated looking Mita standing over her, Aman not so behind her running his hand through his hair in frustration.
"What the hell lady?" Mita admonished the nervous wreck in front of her, "who the hell brought in this modeling world? You don't seem to fit in here at all."
"I am sorry," she muttered before gaining herself back. She stood up and faced Mita, her eyes reflecting an attitude that Mita was sure to have never seen before and she walked back through the length of the aisle only to cat walk again, with poise, grace and confidence. Something that made Aman Malhotra, the CBO of AR and right hand of the Lion - ASR, gape at her in awe while Mita was just too shocked to respond.
"Is this fine?" Mita heard her ask with an air of arrogance and she nodded, ever so slightly, too smug to verbally assure her. Payal smiled in cunning satisfaction that she had been able to make the prominent people of modeling industry shut their faces.
Aman nodded approvingly and said, "Good job. You proved us all wrong. Good going. ASR is definitely gonna be impressed by you."
"This is Payal Gupta, sir," she smiled back, "someone who will do mistakes but never repeat them. I haven't chosen this industry, this industry has chosen me."
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That poor, ill fated shirt, all torn at random places, fell on the floor with a dull thud when its owner unceremoniously ripped it off his body and threw it with all the anger in the world he could possess. Arnav grabbed his towel and banged the bathroom door as he went and stood under the shower, letting the ice cold water seep through him, a remedy for his anger, though admittedly it was doing no good at that time for he wasn't just angry but enraged, his ears literally steaming and eyes spitting fire. She had deepened his wound unknowingly. It gnawed him from all the sides, taking toll on his composure, provoking him to show his vulnerable side, an anger that was slowly boiling, ready to erupt as hot, blistering lava...
Arnav closed his eyes as he fisted his hands into a ball, his nails digging painfully into his palm, as he tried with all his strength to control the anger, an urge to break something, an urge to scream fury at that girl's face who had the nerve to yell at him. What just did that woman think of herself?
Why are you closing my eyes?
Because I don't want you to see anything bad...
What's so bad? Oh the girl?
Yes, the girl!!
What's so bad about her?
AAARGH! My ear!
His eyes snapped open as a shrill ring of telephone sounded somewhere from the hall. Arnav looked around to see that he was still in shower. For just a fleeting second, he was confused but the dam of self restrain broke the next moment, as the tide of emotions gushed in, drowning Arnav within its force, as he slid down the wall and broke down completely. Hot tears of frustration and guilt cascaded down his face. Arnav Singh Raizada, for the first time, completely let go of his inhibitions as he cried his heart out. The first time he let go of his restrains in 15 years... at last, after 15 years of forced resistance, Arnav Singh Raizada wept...
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Somewhere, in some place very close to where Arnav was, someone got up with a start. Those deep green eyes mirrored the pain, helplessness of the heart. The very heart which could feel every pain Arnav was going through...every pain that massacred him...every pain that tore the mighty man into million pieces...
PRECAP:
Are you sure that you don't have any problem in your eyes? You don't seem to be willing to part with those glasses of yours...
It's my wish...who are you to ask?
Nobody, I agree, but I was curious...
Nobody, right...stay as one because I absolutely don't care if you existed or not...
A/N: Ho? I have given a very big hint in this update...I don't know how many of you pick it up though ;) 
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