Hazel Eyes:
Smother me with the love of your acceptance.
Mold me in the power of your love.
Hold me or kiss me,
Just be with me.
Dark clouds were beginning to form around the disappearing sun. The last ray of sunshine disappeared beyond the horizon, pushing past the mountaintops. The birds, too, were headed North in search of warmer conditions. Not a soul was in sight. Despite the colder temperatures, she lay awake, painting away the colors of her thoughts. The painting would hold the colors, the feelings, and the pride of her life; they were her very essence. Who knew all that would soon change?
The once empty portrait was covered in the brightest colors imaginable. There were no boundaries, segments, lines or rules to this portrait. It was simply a pleasurable activity. She froze, sensing movement outside her door, and turned her head. "Mama, why are you waiting outside? Come inside," she says. Her mother walks in, sighing, "Geet, why aren't you asleep yet? It's very late, honey. You can always finish your painting in the morning..." She stops, taken aback by the words that slipped from her mouth. Geet smiles softly, "What difference does it make, if I finish it now or later? Anyway, Mama, go sleep. You must be tired. I'm just finishing up the last bit and I'll be off to bed. I promise." Geet's mother wipes the lone tear in her eyes, agrees and leaves, but not before she kisses Geet's forehead and asks God to bless her with the world's happiness.
Elsewhere, the constant tapping of fingers, a computer screen loaded with documents, files scattered here and there, coffee cups replaced by the hour, and the soft ticking of the clock, which read three in the morning, all but completed him. Maan Singh Khurana. His very name screamed the power that he held over hundreds. From a very young age, he and his Dadi, both, had built Khurana Constructions from the first wall and up. Unfortunately, so caught up in the moment of power, wealth, and work, he had all but forgotten the true essence of life.
Other than being THE Maan Singh Khurana, he is a workaholic. His posture holds arrogance; his chiseled jaw drives the ladies insane, and his dark near pitch-black eyes haunt the very soul. He is the victim and tormenter.
Where the hell is the Malhotra file? He murmurs to himself. Impatience gets the best of him. Of course, he only has the patience of a two year old. Bless his soul. "Adi!" He screams, swiveling in his seat, fury lining the shadow of his irises. He screams his name once more, again no response. Taken aback by the lack of response, he storms out of the room, searching for anyone, someone to give him the file he needed. One glance towards the darkened office, and empty corridors he comes to a stop; his jaw tight. He had forgotten the time and the hour. Frustrated, he locks up the office and speeds his way home.
Inside the home, Dadi waits patiently. It was past three in the morning, and her grandson was nowhere near in sight. What if something happened to him? Yes, he was a workaholic but he normally called her hours in advance letting her know if he were to be home late. Pacing back and forth in front of the door, she waits for him. Finally, the sound of an engine pulling into the driveway soothes her soul. He was home.
Maan rushed inside; sleep just beginning to torment him. He glanced ahead and slowed his pace. "Dadi, why are you still awake?" He questions, his eyes laced with the worry that doesn't come to his lips. Dadi shakes her head and sighs, "How many times do I have to remind you? I can't catch a wink of sleep when my son isn't home. You know a mother's heart, especially this old lady. I hear she is a pain." Dadi winks at him and chuckles. She approaches him, glancing at his face, searching for signs of weariness or any injury. Once she is done with her investigation, and is satisfied with what she sees, she asks Maan if he is hungry. He shakes his head no and tells her to get some sleep. She reluctantly nods, and heads upstairs but not before turning her head slightly forward and praying for a peaceful miracle in his life. He needed a wife, a lover, a friend, someone who could always be there for him. He needed to live and breathe again.
Hope you liked it! This is just the intro into what will soon be a romantic comedy. :]
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