Knight on Ninety Horses
Chapter 3
Maan had easily found the Handa residence after enquiring its whereabouts in the marketplace on the way there. The Handas seemed to be a well-known bunch and a young boy had brought him along and pointed Handa sir's house to him before taking off.
Maan had been looking at the house covered on both the sides with neatly kept flower bushes and a small wooden structure on which a jasmine creeper was blooming abundantly and spreading its perfume.
Just as he had been about to step on the verandah, his eyes had been drawn to a pair of bare feet balanced precariously on a tin box. He'd been about to grab the unsteady box when he'd seen a girl come tumbling down with a cat and what seemed like a broom. A mangled shape that looked suspiciously like a roti had also landed at his feet. She had a fat pony tail swinging mightily just like any self- respecting horse's bushy tail. He had a profound moment of epiphany. So this was the reason they were called pony tails...hmm. He grinned and focused back on her.
She had been holding on to the cat with a death grip and the poor creature had scratched her arms all over in a desperate attempt to free itself.
After a dazed moment, her eyes had slowly trailed up his legs and unconsciously his breath had caught in his throat. Her eyes had widened slightly when they saw his upturned shirtsleeves which to him were the height of current fashion and her mouth had curled in disdain. Then her eyes had snapped to the bag on his shoulder and she had gone on a tirade about sarees and sanitary napkins. Eww!! Did he look like a guy who sold sanitary napkins? What the hell!! He shuddered at the thought.
Her eyes he noticed were beautiful, though spitting mad at the moment and probably not much different from the cat's who'd just made a hasty escape.
His gaze slowly traveled to the broom and he realized that her arm was bleeding where the cat had probably scratched her. In that moment for the first time in his life Maan found himself bombarded by a slew of emotions all at once. He was amused and outraged. He felt intrigued and mesmerized. He was fascinated and he was irritated. He wanted to sooth her and he wanted to tape her mouth shut. A little devil inside him prompted him to provoke her and so he pointed out her obvious injury and the unseen injury to her behind.
She looked properly outraged at his remark but fired back at him without missing a beat. He decided to ramp up the provocation and walked up to the main door when the front doors suddenly opened and a woman who looked to be in her mid-forties opened the door and welcomed him with a gentle smile and warm hands. He felt immediately at ease with her.
After a few minutes of hushed conversation between mother and daughter, he had been introduced to the teenager whose eyes had turned from suspicion to shock and she had been about to throw the "F" bomb.
However before she could complete the word he heard another voice.
"Geet!!! I told you what I was going to do the next time I heard that word from your mouth didn't I?" This came from the mouth of a serious looking, pretty young woman.
Geet lowered her gaze, trying to look contrite.
"Sorry Di. Kasam se. It just slipped out of my mouth. Never ever again. I swear, I won't swear." She grinned.
Aunty sighed.
"Sorry Maan bete. Just ignore those two. Come inside and freshen up."
He heard a fierce whisper from behind him.
"Di did you see the sleeves on that shirt. Upturned sleeves on scarecrow arms? He's so not cool Di, so not cool."
"Shut up Geet. What if he hears you?"
"Do you suppose he will fix those sleeves if he hears me?"
"Geet Handa forget him and focus on yourself. You promised me that you don't hang out with Sasha any longer, yet that foul language you learnt from her, which you so very wrongly think makes you sound so cool, still lingers on your tongue. You know what that means."
"Oh no, Di!! You can't do that to me. You promised that I could start reading them this summer once the finals were over. You can't do this to me."
She stomped her feet and walked away. She stopped on the way glared at Maan and pointed a finger at him.
"It's all your fault Bombay duck."
He looked at her older sister in confusion.
"Why am I a Bombay duck, when I'm from Hyderabad?"
"Umm...actually it's a ...well never mind. I am Meera, by the way. Welcome to Goa. Are you having fun with your friends?"
He allowed her to change the subject, though he kept the word at the back of his mind to research on later.
Geet the brat had disappeared into one of the rooms, probably to sulk off, as her sister was not going to allow her to read whatever it was that she so desperately wanted to.
A few minutes later she rushed outside.
"Mamma I am going to the bus stop to let papa know that Bombay...I mean our guest has arrived."
Maan stood up immediately.
"I will come with you."
"No!! She shook her head vehemently.
"I insist, since uncle is waiting there because of me."
She looked ready to argue back, but then narrowed her eyes at him.
"Ok, but on one condition. You have to fix those shirt sleeves. I am not walking beside a fashion disaster."
He thought about it for a moment and then nodded his consent to that demand. He had more important things that he needed to find out and conceding this small victory to her was acceptable to gain that. However, before he could lift his hands to fix the sleeves, she grabbed hold of the offending garment and smoothed it down his arms one after the other and then grinned at him happily looking mightily pleased with herself.
"Much better. No longer a Bombay duck or a salesman selling hygiene products.
He looked at her with startled eyes and burst out laughing. He tugged on her pony tail and nodded his head towards the door.
"Lead the way Miss. Fashionista."
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