Love Digger's husband Ch 33 6/5 - THD 2 LNK - Page 5

Chap 1:

Maan:

Maan was staring at the lady in front of him. She was impatiently checking her watch every two minutes. Her face was for lack of a better word, interesting. Yes she was interesting.

He kept observing her from the corner of his eye not wanting to make it obvious. Her face was over made up. As if she was not used to make up. Her black eye lining was exaggerated and not done in a smooth straight line. Her mascara had caused her double layer eyelashes to clump in a funniest fashion. She had her hair tied up in a bun of all things. And around the bun were deposited artificial flowers. White and marigold. Her lipstick was a funny shade too. As if she had mixed and matched the colors like one would do with paint.

When she was pacing the lobby he had a feeling she might slip and fall any moment. For she was not used to yards and yards of saree clothing being wrapped around her. But that did not seem to stop her. She opened her bag and fetched a cell phone. And made a call. Her face transitioned smoothly from impatience into anger. Her feet ought to have been hurting with the high stilettos. That her poor soles were not used to. She did not seem to care one bit.

Her luscious mouth grimaced into a cute pout. It was kissable. Not in a debauching kind of way. Sort of like pinching a small girl's cheek kind of way. Her face appeared soft and kind. Her eyes had a wisdom and that know it all look. Her forehead was creased in worry as if the entire world was her responsibility. She had a very expressive body language that easily portrayed what was in her mind.

Finally the girl sat down. Oh dear when did she become a girl now? She was a lady just a few seconds ago. He sighed. She was muttering a few phrases. Did she not care what people around her would think about her at all? She was so carefree and joyous. Though her face indicated otherwise.

He imagined himself going closer. And holding her soft body in his arms. Pressing her closer to himself. This was definitely not like a wet dream. He did not feel desire or attraction. It could probably be called a strange sense of melancholy.

But why was he sad looking at the girl? What had she done or said to evoke anything inside him. She was now drowned in her cell phone playing angry birds to placate her own anger. Finding sadistic joy in the cyber world.

Suddenly she looked up. As if her sixth sense had warned her someone was observing her intensely. He did not look away. She turned her face from side to side expecting some sort of reaction from him to conclude he was not really looking at her. But why did he have to back off? His face remained expressionless. And she made a question mark face at the seemingly strange man in front of her.

Her naughty eyes were telling the entire tale. She was now thinking why was this man staring at her. And not even ashamed of it. Even when she had caught him in the act he was not looking away. Her thumb was tapping her cell phone in a bid to aid her brain in thinking. What was she supposed to do about this man? Should she just ignore him. Or confront him. For what? For just looking. A bit more than he was supposed to. She did not seem irritated by it though.

She followed the trail of his eyes. Undoubtedly to check if it landed on her breasts. Of course it did not. Please, why would he stare at her chest of all things?

She sighed ever so slightly after having supposedly decided that he was not some pervert loser who was looking to objectify her. Then her clumped eyelashes flickered. She was now thinking why would any man stare at a woman if not for her body. He would surely not be impressed with her brains or nature. For he did not even know her.

Then her deep brown eyeballs tilted toward one side in a manner indicating clever thinking. May be it was love at first sight for him. Was she looking so good with make up? Then she looked back at him again. And of course would have found he was still looking at her. This was getting stranger by the second now, wasn't it?

He almost expected she would now decide to stand and walk around just to make sure his eyes were on her. And she actually did. She pretended to have received a call and began talking into the phone and walked around a bit. All the while observing where he was looking from the corner of her eye. And this time he let his eyes look beyond her.

Her cheeks went a light tint of red with embarrassment. She was now thinking what had she been thinking! Getting carried away with all nonsense. She vigorously shook her head in micro movements. And came back and sat down in her place. Her face indicating a slight disappointment that she had been unable to enamor the man in front of her as she had thought she had. What useless thoughts!

He smiled slightly. Wasn't she cute? He then stopped looking at her. He had a book signing and release to go to.

His friend Arif got there.

Arif "Hello there Maan, I am so glad you could make it. I cannot tell you how honored I feel."

Maan smiled "Of course I would get here. I cannot refuse such a talented friend and publisher now, can I?"

Arif "Thanks Maan. Please come. Isn't Dev here?"

Maan "He said he will come as soon as possible. He is held up in traffic."

Arif "And by the way have you met Geet?"

Maan "I am afraid not."

Arif "Please meet Geet. Ignore her dressing. She is modeling for us today. The author has written a book on Mumbai prostitutes and wanted someone at the signing who could be you know 'symbolic'."

Maan nodded "So pleasure to meet you Geet. I am Maan Singh Khurana."

Geet smiled, her tooth stained slightly with the lipstick "I am Geet Handa."

Maan was smiling inwardly at the girly woman. Yes she was a woman. He could feel the tenacity in her demeanor. How, he did not know. He saw something in her that instinctively told him there was more to her than that met the eye. A hint of mystery. As if she could portray being a prostitute whilst still retaining that wisdom and purity in her thoughts. For some strange reason he felt sadness again. As if something were lost. Something precious.

He sat down on a reserved chair in the bookstore. The crowd was not much. The author was new. He was here only for his friend. He saw a few ladies who looked like feminists. With their face having assumed a haughty look that oozed disdain. Obviously the feminist critics had to be here. To comb through the book with a microscope and give their 'expert' opinion on what the book was and what it ought to have been.

It was funny how he was here. Or why. He would never read the book that was being released. Never ever probably see the author lady again. But life had a way of creating situations that are meant to be something. And he truly believed that.

And then he saw Geet walking up to the stage. His attention was heightened. Apparently the girl was meant to deliver a couple of dialogues as well. He could sense her nervousness. She was rubbing her palms together and rapidly shifting her eyes. Clear case of cold feet. Probably she was not used to speaking in front of an intelligent well read crowd. Where her every word would be measured.

She stood in front of the microphone and wet her lips. They were getting cracked with the caustic lipstick probably.

She began in a low not so confident voice.

Geet "This is a book about a prostitute. But it is not about prostitution. It is about rising above circumstances."

Maan smirked. A sarcastic great.

Geet "I have not read this book obviously. I just know that it is about a hooker who gets her hands on a diamond."

Maan shook his head ever so slightly. Not happening at all. The book he meant.

Geet "Now I do not know much about prostitutes. But I can say a thing or two about diamonds."

Maan's eyebrows furrowed. Interesting.

Geet "Prism. The most beautiful shape in the world. Why? It traps light internally reflecting it millions of times onto its own internal sides. Generating a sparkle that can be spotted from a far distance. Wars have been fought. Dark people have been debased. Kings have been dethroned. Just to be able to possess this priceless shape.

But the beauty of the prism is borrowed. Turn off the light and the beauty is gone. Isn't that ironic? That the epitome of beauty, a woman's best friend, the most expensive object money can buy is all but a sham. An illusion of virtuousness.

A diamond is hard but is not tough. Is being hard and being tough different? It most definitely is. Hardness just means the surface is clean and does not scratch much. But toughness is something where the object does not break when hit with a hammer."

Now what did a model know about total internal reflection? Geet Handa was intriguing.

Geet "I hope this book brings to light on how futile it is to protect something that is so false. And leaving everything else so exposed."

She went silent. Probably nobody understood what she had spoken. There was no applause at all. She looked at everyone expecting some sort of reaction and got none. She got down the stage with faked great dignity. He had to gulp. The rest of the signing continued as if she did not exist. How sad was that!