ArHi SS: Swayamvar | COMPLETE | 31/7 - Page 3

"Well, well, well if it isn't little miss Chashmish. What a pleasure."

"Arnav Singh Raizada. I'm afraid I can't say that I feel the same."

"What are you, the picture taker?"

I grit my teeth, attempting to control my temper. He smirks at me, the half smile quirking up the corners of his mouth and revealing perfect, pearly white teeth that sparkle under the glare of the fluorescent lights.

"I prefer the term cinematographer."

"Shouldn't you be filming some... big movie, Chashmish?"

"I have a name you know."

He pauses a second too long, and my eyes widen as I realize that he doesn't know it.

"You don't know my name?! You sat in front of me in math all the way from freshman year of high school."

"I didn't recognize you without the rainbow braces and the heavy textbooks."

I turn bright red at the mention of those days, the uncomfortable memory of an awkward teenage girl staring starry eyed at the head of the boy sitting in front of her appearing in my mind.

He pulls off his aviators, and I feel the heat pooling in my body at his penetrating gaze. His eyes burn me as they travel over my figure, pausing just a little too long at the swell of my breasts.

I squirm uncomfortably under his gaze, fidgeting with the edges of my oversized NYU sweatshirt. I'm aware of the long strands of hair coming loose from my tight bun and the way these yoga pants make me look nice and "healthy", as my grandmother would put it.

When he looks up, his eyes are darker, clouded over as he stares at me. I cross my hands over my chest.

He looks sinfully attractive, with stylishly mussed hair that looks like someone has run their hands through it in passion, the day old stubble emphasizing the angular lines of his jaw. His maroon button down is rolled up, revealing perfectly tanned forearms, and his jeans are incredibly well fitted to his body.

Not that I notice that.

"You've grown up, Chashmish."

I shoot him a glare, whipping around as I sit back in my seat. I attempt to refocus the camera, but find that my hands are sweaty and that they slip against the shiny lens. I draw in a shaky breath, attempting to calm my frayed nerves.

Damn him.

"Arnav Sir! How are you?"

My head whips around at the sight of NK addressing Arnav as Sir, and I catch his satisfied smirk as he turns to face my director.

"NK, seriously? No need to address me as Sir, director."

"You are my boss now."

"What?!"

I can't stop the screech that comes out, and I smack my hand over my mouth as NK and Arnav turn to face me, the former with a confused look on his face and the latter with a ridiculously over confident smirk.

"AR Corporations recently acquired Triangle Plus, Khushi. He's our new boss. Since Mithun quit, he kindly offered to be the replacement."

He smiles sweetly, an impish grin on his face.

The guy has always been insufferable.

They lean over and give each other the standard awkward "bro hug", before fist bumping each other. I'm tempted to to turn back to my camera, but I'm also curious to see how they know each other so well.

"How have you been?"

NK shrugs his shoulders, a pained expression on his face. I see Arnav lean over and murmur something seemingly reassuring, and NK smiles gratefully. I strain to listen, catching the last bit of what NK says.

"Thank you so much, Arnav. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't agreed to do this."

I realize that I'm intruding on a private conversation, and step away immediately, feeling incredibly guilty. I turn back to my camera hastily, twisting it in frustration as it refuses to cooperate.

I finally get the camera to focus where I want it to, zooming in on Shyam's face just as he finishes his lines.

"And now, I'm delighted to introduce this year's Bachelor, Arnav Singh Raizada!"

I roll my eyes as he makes an entrance, the arrogance radiating off of him as he strides in, a cocky smirk gracing his features. NK hastily gestures at me to hit the fake applause button, and I barely restrain myself from smacking it with all of my force.

Does that man ever actually smile?

"Hi Shyam, I'm so happy to be here today."

I barely stifle a giggle as Shyam places a hand on Arnav's bicep, rubbing it in barely visible circles.

"Well, hello to you too. You look absolutely dapper today in that... Armani suit."

Arnav squirms out of his grasp, smiling uncomfortably as Shyam steps closer once again.

I snort as Shyam runs his hand down Arnav's arm, a predatory smile curving his lips as he shifts closer and closer, getting right up in Arnav's space.

NK shoots me a warning glare, and I hastily cover my snickers, attempting to focus on the scene at hand without bursting into laughter.

"I'm really excited to meet these lovely women! How about we start?"

Shyam reluctantly steps away from Arnav, and I see him breathe a sigh of relief, plastering on a fake smile for the host of this godforsaken show.

"First up is the lovely Manorama, who loves to wear makeup and-"

A sudden commotion bursts the scene, and a rather portly young woman makes her way onto the stage, her rounded face complemented by a rainbow plaid shirt and black and white striped skirt. Her lips are lined with loud red lipstick that fails to remain within her lip line, the heavy mascara clumping together as she blinks her eyelashes in an attempt at seduction.

"My name is Manorama. But you, darrrling, can call me Manu."

She sways her hips as she walks towards the couch, leaving a stunned Arnav in her wake. I bite my lip to rein the laughter in, grinning at his plight.

Revenge, is sweet.

"So Manu, what would you like from this show?"

"Well, I am a beautiful woman who does not need no man. But Maasi wanted me to shaadi, to a good, successful Indian boy. And who better than Arnav to be this man for my beautifulness?"

She sidles up next to Arnav on the couch, and I see his eyes widen imperceptibly as he straightens up, attempting to put distance between them without seeming uncomfortable.

"And our next bachelorette fighting for the affections of our incredibly handsome bachelor," Shyam winks at Arnav at this statement, failing to notice the constipated expression on his face, "Is Puja, who loves to cook aloo and rotis for her family."

I hit the fake applause button once again as a woman in a perfectly tied saffron sari walks in, a bindi on her forehead and a pile of jasmine flowers peeking out from the pallu over her hair.

I strain to hear her as she folds her palms together in a namaste, keeping her eyes downcast as she stares at the floor, refusing to meet Arnav's eyes.

"Namaste, Arnavji."

She lifts the side of her pallu, using it to shield her face from his eyes.

"Please, call me Arnav."

"Ji, Arnavji."

"Arnav."

"Of course, Arnavji."

He closes his eyes in frustration, and calls for the next woman out.

"Hi hi hi! My name is Jeena but you can call me Jiji! I'm like, so excited to be here, and like, you're so hot. I thought all Desi boys were like, super nerdy and unattractive, but clearly, you like, proved me wrong!"

She snaps her gum and smiles brightly, before turning back to her phone and typing furiously.

"I'm Sonam, and I'm so thrilled to be here. I've always wanted a perfect husband and a perfect little family with twins, one boy and one girl. Love should be magical, you know? I love romantic walks on the beach and the Notebook. I've always wanted a fairytale, and I want a big house with a white picket fence and rocking chairs so you and I can sit on the chair and rock back and forth as we watch our grandchildren. "

I wince at her sugary sweet tone, the pastel pink dress and the shiny, most likely fruity, lip gloss.

"Hi. I'm Happy."

Her dark hair is cut in jagged layers, piling around her face. She's wearing generous amounts of eyeliner, dark and heavy, that are less than smoky and hinge on the depressed punk band look.

"H-h-hi. M-m-my n-name is R-Radha. I-I'm really ex-excited to b-be here."

She shoves the rounded glasses up her nose, clutching the books to her chest tightly as she makes her way to the couch. She lifts her fingers to her mouth, biting her nails nervously as she sits on the edge farthest from Arnav.

"Oye! My name is Rajjo. But I go by Raj. I want a nice, strong man so that we can all wrestle together as a family. I hate cooking. You better be able to cook. Oh and-"

She steps closer to Arnav, towering over his sitting form as she leans into him. I can see the combination of shock and terror in his eyes, and barely hold back the giggles threatening to overflow at the comical expression on his face.

"You will love me."

I hear a squeak from the corner as Shyam shifts away, his beady eyes wide as she turns to glare at him.

"My name is Anisha, and I've come here to find someone I can spend the rest of my life with. I love romantic comedies, Starbucks, and rainy days."

I smile at her as she sits down, and she gives me a small smile back, gently brushing her hair behind her ear. She seems to be the only relatively sane one here, and I mentally thank the stars for giving me one sane girl on this godforsaken set.

The entire room falls silent as the next girl walks in, her long, endless legs encased in small shorts. She has dark hair and perfectly lined eyes, and holds a Gucci purse.

"Hi, I'm Lavanya. I'm a model."

She pauses for a minute, and I glance over to Arnav to see his reaction. His eyes linger on her figure, and for a moment, their eyes meet. I can see the beginnings of sparks form between them, and I roll my eyes.

She's clearly already the front runner.

"I'm Sheetal. I'm a single mom with a five year old son named Aarav. My husband was killed in a car accident, and I'm here to find a man who will be willing to be a dad to my little baby."

She's dressed in tight skinny jeans, and her hair falls in perfect waves to her waist. I see Lavanya's eyes narrow as she focuses on the new woman, who also seems to have Arnav's attention.

I glance over at NK, and we both seem to have the same reaction.

Plenty of entertainment is guaranteed.

I turn off the camera, and NK signals me to grab the champagne, and I grab the cheap, plastic bottles. The liquid barely bubbles out of the tall stem as I pop the cork, reflecting the poor quality of the drink.

Arnav winces as he takes a sip, glaring at me over the cup, as if it's my fault that the alcohol is bad.

The girls all stare at him silently, like he's the exhibit in a fancy showroom. He's clearly uncomfortable, with a tight smile and a tight grip on his glass.

"Well, why don't we get the party started?"

He smiles a brilliant smile, and within seconds, the girls are putty in his hands. I look on as they swarm around him, talking animatedly and each attempting to get closer to the man they're trying to woo.

Arnav revels in the attention, flirting with every single one of them without fail. He's constantly milling around, chatting with them casually and flashing them smiles. I can practically see them swooning in his arms as he holds out a hand to one, taking her out to the center of the room and spinning her around.

I stand in the corner silently, watching as the people around me party at finishing the first episode. The champagne glass sits uncomfortably in my hands, and I feel left out in this room with giggling girls solely focused on getting the attention of a man.

I roll my eyes as Lavanya steps up to him, resting her hand lightly on his shoulder as she giggles. He doesn't miss a beat, laughing along with her as he brushes a strand of hair behind her ear.

I'm about to turn away when his eyes look up, and for a split second, they meet mine. My face heats up, and I quickly spin around, feeling uncomfortable. I wish NK a quick goodbye as I leave, making an excuse about having to go home and work on my script.

As I walk out, I feel his eyes on my back, and it takes everything I have to not turn around.

Damn him.

-***-

I step into my parents' house later that night, and am greeted by the sight of a rainbow of Indian aunties milling around. They glance at me with a pitying expression as I walk in.

I plaster on a fake smile, ignoring their blatant staring as I walk over to my mom.

"Amma, you never told me we were hosting a party...?"

I attempt to keep my voice low as my mother continues to calmly set out the food, before cupping my face gently.

"Khushi bitiya, how are you? How was your day?"

I wrench my hand out of her grasp, glaring at her angrily as she smiles uncomfortably at the stares we get.

"Khushi, don't make a scene now."

"Amma, stop trying to set me up! That's why you're throwing this party, isn't it? So you can get me married?"

She tugs me into the room off to the side, turning to face me as she attempts to calm me down.

"Bitiya, you're 28, and-"

"So? Do I have to be forced into a marriage before age 30? What is wrong with me being single?"

"Bitiya, there's nothing wrong with you being single, I just think that-"

"Garima, let me explain."

My father walks into the room, his eye impassive as he stares at me.

"Khushi, we have always been supportive of you. When you wanted to go into film school instead of something more stable, we supported you. You were fantastic at math and science- you would have been a great engineer. But despite all that, we've never attempted to force our dreams on you."

"You've never attempted to? Babuji, that is the biggest joke I've ever heard. You know just as well as I do how many times we've fought over this."

"Khushi bitiya, we understand that you want to do something you love. And we want you to do it too. But films and scriptwriting is just not stable enough. You cannot make a living off of it."

I feel the tears sting my eyes as I step back from my parents. No matter how many times we have this conversation, the hurt and betrayal of having my own parents doubt me is something that never goes away.

"Why can't you understand? I am trying! It takes a while to get established in the film world."

"That's exactly what we're saying, Khushi! It takes a long time, and you may never get established. We just want you to have someone to support you in case-"

"In case I become a failure?"

My mother opens her mouth to counteract my statement, but the split second hesitation tells me enough.

I storm out of the house, allowing the door to slam behind me as I walk out. I can hear the quiet murmurs of the guests, commenting on my future as if it is their own.

-***-

I sit at the bar, staring down into the amber liquid in the murky glass. I feel hot, salty tears hit the skin of my wrists as they spill over, and within minutes, I'm "that girl" at the bar that everyone feels sorry for.

Khushi, this is a stupid idea! You'll never make it! Be an engineer, be a doctor- why are you majoring in film studies?

Did you hear? Shashi Gupta's daughter is majoring in film study.

Did she not get into any good schools? That must be why she's majoring in something like that. She's never going to make it in the world.

So much for her being smart. Her parents always acted like they were better than the rest of us because their daughter was so good at math and science. Dekha ab kya hua?

I told you that you wouldn't succeed. This is what comes of all these arts fields. Do something serious with your life, for God's sake. Be productive- make a change! Anyone can write a little story, take a camera and shoot a video. What's so special about you?

My father's words ring harshly in my ears, a never ending echo that refuses to let me go. I feel anger bubbling up inside of me, tainting any rational thoughts I might have had. The words of the aunties, disapproving and mocking, only incense me further, and I squeeze the glass tightly and dump the contents down my throat.

The bartender hands me another drink silently, and I can't bring myself to look up into his gaze. I know I'll find pity there, and that's something I don't want to see. I look like a mess, with red eyes, a runny nose, and a ratty sweatshirt, but I can't bring myself to care.

The fact that not even my own parents believe in me is hard to come to terms with, and I find myself wondering whether they're right after all.

Am I really... a failure?

I down the drink in one go, relishing the feel of the burn. My body feels lighter, and I don't hesitate to get up and go onto the dance floor.

I have one more drink, and then another, and then before I can realize it, I'm more drunk than I'd like to be.

For once, I let go of the constant stream of self doubt in my brain, the worries of disappointing my parents, and the fact that I'm broke and single. I forget that I have bills to pay, another script to write, and the fact that I have absolutely nothing in the fridge that I can eat except for moldy bread.

I stumble into a hard body, blinking up blearily at him. His hands rest gently on my waist, and they feel warm and comforting. I vaguely hear him saying something to me, but I'm too drunk to comprehend what he's saying.

The next thing I know, everything goes black.