Chapter 2
Brunch was actually a pretty good affair, if I don't count the disparaging remarks Alia threw my way before Dad silenced her with a stern look.
Alia Murthy, Queen Bee of the Indian socialite possessing the Brahmin attitudes of a true aristocrat, is everything I dislike about the blueblood distilled into one 95-pound doe-eyed, bon mot tossing, label-whoring package of girly evil. Alia has always been a well known face in the social circles of India having lead a privileged and prominent lifestyle. Though naturally beautiful, mother has considerably contributed towards her glamourous style- combining vintage and modern looks to earn her the the reputation of the undisputed fashionista in her social circle.
Her effortless style and expensive schooling meant, Alia always extruded a confident exterior although at times or should I say most of the times her ambitions and social circle lead her to embrace a haughty and scheming side. Despite her manipulative and often ruthless behavior she is sensitive and loving, but unless you're someone she appreciates, I doubt you'll ever have the privilege to see that side of her.
Despite a difference of only two years, Alia and I have never been incredibly close. From ever since I can recall Alia always occupied herself in expensive hobbies from horse ridding as a child to hosting incredible parties as a teen to taking aviation classes as an adult. We hardly spent time with each other and the little that we did was spent in passing sneering snide remarks at my poor dressing sense or useless obsession with writing social commentaries and short stories. Alia always had impeccable taste and style, so it didn't come as a surprise when she would always object to my casual tees and summer dresses. I think I've failed to impress her. Its obvious that a woman of her status would want a simpleton like me for a sister.
My sophisticated artlessness probably embarrasses her in front of her well heeled friends, who if they had their ways would turn up in their designer furs and silks at a funeral. Their opulent show of wealth disgusts me, but the few times I've voiced my disapproval for the same has done nothing but earn me some castigation from Mother and Alia alike.
I am unsure why Alia is in a sour mood today. She seemed to be having a great time at the dinner last night while savoring on the continental delights and wine at offer. She even danced with one of her favorite designer friend who came from Paris to attend the function. Anyways I doubt it's because of me, because I was dressed appropriately for the occasion.
The brunch was in honor of all the ambassadors who has arrived this morning. I wore a pastel pink off-shoulder dress and diamond earrings. I must admit the dress is gorgeous; mother surely has impeccable taste. Dakota told me she got this one from Italy last summer. While I feel every bit a princess, the six inch heels are killing me and the long train of the dress doesn't help one bit. It is one of these occasions when my respect for Alia grows by leaps and bound. I can hardly survive in these heels for two hours, but she can dance in those.
She takes it from mother. Alia is very much like her. Mother epitomizes Indian beauty and traditions. Her royal upbringing and amorousness for the Royal trends and traditions meant she has kept the flame of Indian royalty very much alive in our household. Despite this, mother has always had a keen eye for modern fashion and art. She is member of many influential societies especially the powerful ones who campaign for charities and women's rights. She has chaired the society for several years now and has used her wealth and influence to push for many important causes in the society.
She spends most of her time working for the society or travelling, but makes sure her social duties never impact the royal household. Alia often accompanies her to foreign trips, but I just went once. I have never been as close to mother as Alia has, I think its because she is her elder daughter. Not that I am complaining, but sometimes I wish mother and I were close as well. She has never done anything deliberately to make me feel this way, but it is something that has always been there at the back of my mind.
I wrinkled my nose and thoughtfully tapped the rim of the glass I had been holding. I don't want to think about the past, at least not now. although mother didn't have time to meet me when I arrived she made sure to pick out all the dresses and accessories for the upcoming events. I have a feeling she doesn't trust my fashion sense enough to let me make the decisions, but let's be peachy and not think of any such possible reason.
As we near the main event, more and more people have started arriving and every other event is bigger than the previous one. Today's brunch too had a lot of attendees, approximately 150, if I were to not count the butlers and waiters clad in their black and white suits. I remember counting 16 tables when I walked into Rani Bagh' this morning and each table sat 10 people. So there must be 150 people. Yes, I did the math right because some seats were empty. I handed the waiter the empty juice glass and wiped my hands clean with the intricately put white linen napkin next to my plate. I saw Alia's eyes watching me carefully, making me mindful of each move of mine. I'm not sure if it were for Alia's eyes or the general atmosphere of the place that I tried to be as elegant as possible.
Excusing myself from the rest on the table, I got up and headed to the century old fountain in the middle of the Bagh. This was build by our great grandfather for his then wife, who loved spend her evening with her friends amidst flowers and fresh air. The fountain is a piece of art symbolic of their pure love for each other. There was no one near the fountain except a young couple taking pictures with the fountain as the backdrop. I scanned the Bagh and saw most of the people either sitting at their tables or near the buffet area.
I dipped my hand in the water. It was cold.
Rajkumari! Mr. Malhotra is looking for you. He waiting for you in the Diwan,' Dakota said in in her usual stern voice, pointing towards the door to the main hall of the palace. My eyebrow rose involuntarily at Dakota, who still stood there motionlessly with her hands lightly folded and head down. I've known Dakota for all eighteen years of my life. I remember she was a young girl barely in her twenties when she used to baby sit me. She tells me she was twenty-one when she came from the States and has been with me ever since. She is more like a mother to me and probably my best friend, although at times she still treats me like the two year she used to play with.
The Malhotra are the Royal family of our neighboring state. They, very much like us, were stripped off their powers under the democratization of India, but they were quick to establish their footing in the world of politics; thus despite having no actual ruling power they still govern the place like their own. However, they do not have ambitions beyond their borders and their party only contests locally with mostly members of the royal family being nominated for the party seats. Their father used to serve as a chief minister as well, that's actually when I came to know about them. The Malhotras have ever since frequented our functions and palace. I have met the Mr. and Mrs. Malhotra a couple of times, but that was a long time ago.
I walked down the never ending corridors of the palace towards the main hall, where Mr. Malhotra was waiting for me. I'm still not sure why he would ask to see me privately, honestly it's a bit strange. I have never really spoken to him, if the infrequent exchange of pleasantries were not to be counted. As I walked through the corridors, my steps slowed down as a sudden gush of adrenaline rush through my body. I stood frozen at the large wooden door that lead to massive hall.
Taking a deep breath and mustering all the courage pushed the giant wooden door. The stillness of the room magnified the crackling of the old hinges.
I peeped through the tiny space between the doors like a curious little child, but couldn't see anyone. I think I had been a little too obvious because before I knew someone from the other side pulled the two doors open. I never felt so embarrassed in my life; it felt like I'd been caught stealing in my own house.
I straightened to my full height mindful of my blushed warm face. I stood there fidgeting with my fingers, intently studying the design on the marble floor and I barely stopped myself from sucking in a deep surprised breath in front of him.
Relax! I chided myself at my silly behavior. I really need to display my best mannerism lest mother calls me on the carpet for behaving childishly in front of the Mr. Malhotra.
The impatient tapping of shoes diverted my attention to the man they belonged to and I got a full affect of his agitation upon having to wait for long. Finally, I forced a deep breath and looked up; what I saw was not something I had expected.
Breathe. Just keep breathing...
It was truly an alluring sight that I would always remember. His intense auburn eyes met mine for the first time, but there was something in them that told me he was in disquietude. Never did I know one can read the floor. Is it an art or a celestial gift?' he spoke with much disdain.
I rolled my eyes. Ah, it's a prowess of people with a remarkable acumen in art,' I answered in a tone brittle with annoyance. I shook my head in a futile attempt to kiss my vexation goodbye, How can I help you, sir?'
Considering we are about to get married, I thought it would be a good idea to get to know each other.'
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Hey guys
Thank you for all the lovely comments. I have responded to all of them and greatly appreciate the feedback. Please hit the like button below and if you like the story do recommend it to other readers. Many of the readers have asked for a chapter sketch but I would like to reiterate I don't write Character Sketches but rest assured the story will provide enough information on each character. If you have any other question do ask and I'll try and respond. You can ask me on Twitter as well: @sightbasis.
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Juju
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