Vanity
Infinite what ifs clogged her instincts. Before she could process, RK had unwrapped the shawl from around her torso.
Fortunately, Rishabh had made the wise decision of instructing her for a change of clothes. But, from the little he saw of her skin, RK knew something was amiss.
"Why do you have dark marks on your arms and neck?"
He gently massaged her wrists, wanting to soothe the pain.
She pulled away weary of the touch. This was an exception to what had become her hard and fast rule of living: every man for himself.
"I fell on my way here. The desert is harsh place sir".
"Sir? Please, this is my first time voting in the elections. I am hardly a sir", he seemed rather offended by the title.
Otherwise accustomed to categories and hierarchical share of respect, RK did not want this village girl to talk formal.
"Let's get you some first aid", he directed her into a mirage in the desert: an artificial waterfall and his very own meditation room.
"Woah!"
Her eyes danced from floor to ceiling absorbing the beauty that possessed a recreation van. Who would have thought aesthetic could be contained in a four by four?
"I know and I take great pride in maintaining this place. Well, mostly I pay Bittuji but hey, my signature on the bill".
She did not understand the joke or simply did not enjoy it. Rather, she was busy guessing what lay underneath the picture frames covered in white cloth.
"Those are paintings. Bittuji scouts artists. I am a collector, ya know?"
The very mention of paintings was repulsive, it brought up red flags in her head. She had to stay miles away from another eccentric paving his way into her life.
"I should go now. You have a film to shoot".
She wrapped her shawl around as he finished dressing her wounds.
"You got a guy?"
He managed to catch her attention just as her bandaged arm reached for the door.
"I said, are you married?"
"I have a loving husband, thank you for asking". She bit her lip and turned around only to be pulled back in with his sharp choice of words.
"I don't doubt his love. I doubt his kindness though. What kind of a man hurts his wife?"
She was distressed by the shameless truth, no leashes of morality holding him back. He was speaking his mind and in that moment, she could worship him.
"You have only known me twenty minutes. You have not met him. Your assumptions and perceptions color him black and I, the powerless white victim. The woman who needs rescuing. I suggest you toss your dichotomous thinking out the window. The world is not black and white, it is all shades of grey".
"So you are admitting to him hitting you?"
As she stepped a foot out the vanity, he tugged on her wrist. She swung around, her braided hair attacking him.
"What you are doing right now could count for inappropriate conduct, sexual suggestion or physical assault. You are pressing on my wounded wrist. Doesn't that make you a criminal?"
RK let go of her hand and she finished what she had to say, "I will leave now. Next time, do not push your ideals and stereotypes on to me. I am a grown woman, my life is my choice".
On her way back to Rishabh, Madhu pondered over the truth of her words. Was her life ever her choice? Passive reception is not a choice; it is a need of the hour. Even so, she had to stick with Rishabh for some unknown reason. She convinced herself that RK was a big city bigot who enjoyed looking down on people. He was not to be trusted or taken seriously.
"Where were you?"
Rishabh leaned against the staircase as she lazily entered the basement.
"The buyers are here and surprisingly enough, they like your half done painting. Want to sell?"
His hands were tender and soft and warm, unlike any other day. A blush pink smile greeted her into the studio. She was charmed by the man who murdered her soul. What was happening?
"Boy, do I have a surprise for you".
He opened the door for her, making sure his arm did not let go of her waist. She was tingling with reassurance and a hope of finding normalcy inside the paint cabinet when she saw RK and his manager seated on her marital bed, admiring her half naked portrait.
