Currying Favour
"So you're in show business?"
"No, not exactly. We've done a few movie songs and film awards here and there but it's not our roz ki roti. Besides, those chances don't come too easily in Mumbai. I mean, let's face it; everyone and their chai wallah are talented in Mumbai so being chosen for the glamorous engagements is more of a matter of luck and connections than anything else."
He nodded understandingly. "The woes of being a small company in a big city. It can't be too great."
"Hm, it's not so bad. Sometimes I get the amazing opportunities, sometimes others do. Everyone who has come to the city with an armful of dreams has had to make sacrifices along the way. So how can I be angry at others for taking the same chances I would?"
He watched her speak in awe, surprised at the depth behind the pretty face. He felt ashamed at having written her off as such. This wasn't home, he reminded himself, where almost all of the women he met knew who he was and - more importantly to them - how much was in his bank account. This was India, where his business and his family were well known, sure, but recognising him outside of the elite business circle took a bit of probing.
The woman beside him, for instance, didn't give a damn about who he was and he found that to have its own appeal.
"So there's no competition with others?" He asked. "No claw sharpening in the rat race to make it big?"
She laughed. "Who said there's no competition? There is always competition and I love the thrill of it. It's great motivation. But if I don't win, it's not the end of my world, you know? It just means I'll work harder to kick the winner's ass next time."
"An admirable approach," he interjected with a grin.
"Thank you. I have drive, I have ambitions and they are already pushing me to new places. But as for making it big... I suppose everyone goes to Mumbai to make it big. But that alone means different things for different people. I came to Mumbai with the dream of being a dancer. I wanted to live out my passion every day. And I am. So in my eyes, I have already made it big." He detected a glimmer of pride in her happy smile.
"Now if fame and fortune were to come knocking on my door," she continued jokingly, "I wouldn't necessarily push them away..."
"Aha! I knew it. A woman after my own heart. See, I know my kind when I see them!"
She laughed. It was true. In the short time she and Dev had spent together on the plane, she had already recognised a lot of herself in him. The same sense of humour, the easy temperament, the casual flirting and the mutual desire to laugh their ways through life.
She was frighteningly comfortable with him and was already afraid that she had shared too much. There was an image associated with Heer Perera: an easy going, fun-loving woman but a thorough professional; admirably and often irritatingly strict about work.
She demanded nothing less than perfection and more often than not, she got it.
But her critics never wondered why she didn't just fire the weaker dancers or why she could actually tolerate mistakes from anyone but repeat offenders. The truth was that she only demanded perfection so that others strived for their very best. She hated wasted potential.
Up until now, it had only been Geet who knew about her true approach to work and failure... and now, Dev...
She settled back in her seat and picked out an arts supplement from the pouch in front of her, aware that Dev had begun to read it along with her. She turned the pages, her heart stopping in shock and then running in double time as she stared at a double spread's headline.
"Heer Perera - A Star in the Making." She turned to look at Dev in surprise but he simply scoffed before continuing. "See, this is exactly the reason why there aren't any fair chances in Mumbai!"
She blinked and made a vague noise, wanting to see where he was going with this.
"I mean, take you for example. Gorgeous, hard working and no doubt a brilliant dancer. People should be begging to work with you! But instead, you get kaamchors like these," he stabbed an accusing finger at the picture of a woman's silhouette - hers - , "who don't even make the effort to lift a finger, unless it's to pull strings and get free publicity for jobs. And come on, de Broglie Dance Academy? What a la di da name!"
Thoroughly amused, she decided to pitch in. "I agree! I have built my dance career from the ground up for the last six years and yet haven't had a national article printed on me. And this woman?! Really, such people are a shame to all professionals!"
"You are absolutely right!" He replied so passionately to her words that she couldn't help but smirk. Clearly, this Dev Khurana was used to resorting to theatrics in order to flatter women. "And what's with not having a real photograph to go with the article? She might as well have gone whole hog if she wanted to get ahead in the industry like this."
"She probably looks like a chudail," Heer lamented.
"Ha! Exactly. And I swear, if dancers were given jobs based purely on beauty alone, you would get every offer in Mumbai."
* * *
The air hostess watched the pair with a displeased pout.
On more than one occasion, she had wanted to tell them to keep the noise down on the pretence that other passengers had complained. Unfortunately for her, the flight manager was watching the hostesses keenly for any slip ups and besides, she had heard from her colleagues that he was Dev Khurana - millionaire businessman and extremely sexy, to boot.
You simply did not tell such a man to keep the noise down.
She wanted to think that the woman talking to Dev was unattractive - plain, at best - but she couldn't even do that. She was merely jealous, after all, not blind. The woman was just as good looking as Dev. Perhaps even more so, she grudgingly allowed.
Well, whatever. Such people belonged together and she had no care for either of them.
Despite telling herself this repeatedly, she found that she was edging closer to them to find out just what it was that was so interesting about their conversation.
"Now see, how's that fair? We've been speaking to each other for so long now. Hell, we've been sharing the same oxygen for two hours of lives. Isn't it time I knew your name? I mean, you know mine."
The woman smirked; no doubt she was feeling smug at having caught a Khurana's interest, the hostess thought bitterly.
"If you insist." She stuck out a hand towards him. "My name is Heer Perera. It's been nice talking to you, Dev."
The hostess momentarily forgot her envy and rushed over to the pair when, instead of taking Heer's hand, Dev Khurana began to choke on his champagne.
Edited by kaamchorni - 12 years ago
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