FF: Pyaar in the Pink City Pt32/Pg106(Concluded) - Page 8

Part 4 Idol

"It is said some lives are linked across time.

Connected by an ancient calling that echoes through the ages. - Destiny."

~ From the movie Prince of Persia -The Sands of Time.

Cold dread churned in Ajay's stomach as he ran from store to store searching and seeking. He had stopped a moment longer at the cash register to respond to an old friend that he had bumped into. When he turned around she was gone. Heart pounding and sweat trickling down his spine, he sped on long legs, praying for her safety. Suddenly the microphone crackled and brought him to a standstill. " May I have your attention please. If you are the parents or relatives of Natasha Rathod, please go to the ice-cream parlor next to Music World. Thank You! Agar aap Natasha Rathod ki '."

Ajay barely heard the rest of the announcement; he whipped around on his heels and ran towards the ice-cream parlor mowing down the slow-pokes that did not get out of his way in time. His mind conjured a million calamities along the way and the hair at the nape of his neck prickled as he literally flew towards his destination. His shoes screeched to a halt at the ice-cream shop and he nearly collapsed with relief at the sight that greeted him. Seated cozily amidst three of the prettiest women he had seen, was Tashi licking a humongous ice-cream cone without a care in the world.

"TASHI!" the booming voice had four heads lift up and whip around in his direction. "PAPA", she screamed and ran into her father's waiting arms to be enclosed in a bone crushing hug followed by a "Tashi, don't. You. Dare. Do this to me again. Do you understand?" and a stern lecture about staying close and not wandering off in strange places. Suitably contrite, Tashi apologized and led him towards Anjali.

"What a handsome hunk Di. I didn't know ki Delhi mein, ASR ke alava bhi itna handsome koi hoga." Whispered Lavanya. "Don't mind haan Chamkili" she added quickly as an after-thought.

Anjali looked at the approaching man. He was a towering man of about six foot two, ruggedly handsome, and oddly familiar, like a celebrity of sorts. "Where had she seen this face? Gorgeous chiseled features as if they were carved out of the finest of sandstones and a sensuous mouth. Was he a movie star? No' No' A sportsman? Perhaps, judging by his tan." She wondered as he continued to approach her, his gaze fixed on her face. "Why was he staring at her? Surely he did not think she had kidnapped his daughter?And that gait, so regal like he was accustomed to having people fall at his feet, kind of like chotte's gait but different somehow" Anjali absently ran her fingers through her hair and fiddled with her earring trying to shake off the sudden acute self-consciousness that threatened to drown her.

"This is entirely absurd. He is probably just in a shock, she told herself". Nonetheless, disconcerted by his unblinking stare, she stood up, her gaze alighting on the magazine she had bought at the bookstore and the picture of the man that graced its cover. Nervousness instantly gave way to excitement when recognition dawned. He was none other than Ajay Singh Rathod, the renowned painter who had been creating waves over the past decade and a half with his bold blend of traditional realism and post-impressionist styles with the more modern and contemporary ones. To say that she was an ardent fan of his works would be putting it mildly. He was an intensely private man and shied away from the media, no wonder she found it hard to tell right away. Besides, he looked way too tanned and entirely too masculine to fit her mental portrait of an artist.

"Thank you. For taking care of my Tashi and the announcement" he said holding out his hand. A dimple magically appeared on his left cheek as he smiled.

Anjali smiled in response and held her hand out tentatively "Koi baat nahin. Waise kya aaa aap?" Her heart was picking up speed at being face to face with 'The Ajay Singh Rathod' and it took her all of her self-control to not pinch herself.

" Haan, mein hi Tashi ka dad hoon. Ajay" he said simply. "May I?" he gestured towards the empty chair.

Anjali's brain seemed to have slowed down to a snail's pace. She knit her brows trying to comprehend what he had just said, when Lavanya cut in, "Yes of course you can join us. I am Lavanya by the way, and this is Khushi" she said pulling Anjali unceremoniously down into her chair and smiled brightly at Ajay.

Ajay nodded grinning, and turning to Anjali he asked in a voice faintly laced with amusement, "Aur aap?"

"Mera naam hain Anjali. Aur aapki beti badi hi pyaari hai and so are your paintings. I love all of them." she gushed like a giddy teenager.

"Ah----Hah! I see." He said, his expression suddenly guarded. "Well Thank you! Muje khushi hai ki aapko mere paintings pasand aaye. I would love to chat par Hume return Jaipur ka flight pakadna hai. We gotta run. Chalo Tashi. Thanks once again", he said in general and left in a sudden haste.

"Hey Devi Mayya. Ab inhe kya hogaya jo achanak chaldiye?" wondered Khushi aloud.

"Well, Well, Well! Lagta hai Di ne painter babu ko daradiya Khushi." Chuckled Lavanya. "Shaayad aap jaise kahi fan girls ki experience ho chuki hai Di" she continued teasing mercilessly.

Anjali gave her a stilted smile while shooting daggers at Ajay's retreating back. How could he just brush aside her genuine praise? She had drooled over his paintings for as long as she could remember and now, to have been snubbed thus by her idol, was downright humiliating. "Kya samjte hain yeh apne aap ko. Fans ke prati itni berukhi. Insufferable egotist" she fumed silently, crushing the wafer on her ice-cream to dust and scowling darkly at the magazine cover.

Ajay's eyes flew open and he turned his head to gaze at his sleeping daughter's curled up form in the plush leather seat of the first-class section of their flight back to Jaipur. He shifted in his seat and gazed down at the clouds, a twinge of regret twisting his heart. "Did I over react? She was just a loyal fan and was appreciating my works. Besides she had just saved my daughter. Great! Just great going Ajay;this is how gentlemen behave. Keep this up and you will drive yourself to oblivion, when you are all set to make a comeback." He winced as he recollected his hasty retreat and the expression of utter confusion mingled with embarrassment that had colored her face.

"What had triggered his erratic response? At first, he could not take his eyes off her face even under pain of death, and yet when she waxed his praises, he had fled as if she had her talons sunk into his flesh." Ajay sighed and closed his eyes again. "And there was that face. She was beautiful, in a classic sort of way. But it was not just that, it was the expression on her face. She must be in her mid-thirties and yet her face had held an aura of untouched innocence that was like a siren's call. Damn! He had deprived himself of female company for way too long. He had rusted indeed if he could not even discern and handle the sudden attraction he had felt."

Five years had passed since Mrinalini had passed away leaving him all alone in this big bad world, and Ajay had shunned all thoughts of a woman in his life since. He had drowned the first couple of years in sorrow leaving his parents to take care of his Tashi. He lived like a recluse; he did not meet or speak to anyone. His paintings ended up being distinctly melancholic, and he barely spent any time with Tashi, since she reminded him of his lovely wife. Then his mother's illness had forced him out of his exile.

A year later he had lost his mother and then his father too. With no one left to fend for them, Tashi and he had grown inseparable, offering each other mutual love and support. Finally, about nine months back he had decided to return back to his home town, Jaipur. He was yet to return to his paintings though. His agent in New York already had a long list of requests from rich clients. He needed to focus on his priorities. He did not need a woman in his life right now; most certainly not one with a siren's body and the virginal face of an angel. That variety almost always spelled complication.

Blowing out a quick breath he gently shook Tashi awake as the plane began its descent.

********************************************