This content was originally posted by: JalebiJaneEPISODE 1
None who knew Pallavi Deshmukh would characterise her as reckless. From the nuns at boarding school to the matrons at hostel, Pallavi had always behaved in a rational and cautious manner. Indeed, these women had depended upon Pallavi to moderate the behaviour of girls in her company. So how do I begin to explain why we find her this evening at Sagar Lake Resort & Casino throwing dice at the roulette wheel dressed like a high-class escort?
Usually clad in modest sarees, Pallavi now wore a clingy dress in a colour which might ironically be called ‘nude.’ The never-worn dress had been fished out from the suitcase she had packed over a year ago for her honeymoon.
She needed to make a visual impact this evening.
Not that our Heroine could ever fail to make an impact. She possessed the kind of beauty which would still have rivalled every woman in her company had she wore a gunny sack.
The effect was exactly as she had expected from the room: Some looks of admiration mingled with many looks of contempt. You know how some minds work: An attractive woman—alone!—in an alluring dress was obviously here to conduct business. The sort of business that would no doubt conclude in one of the luxury suites of the attached resort hotel.
In part, these narrow minds were not wrong. Pallavi was here on business. It was not that sort of business. She needed information that only the reclusive Raghav Rao could provide—and she had come fully prepared to use her womanly powers to make him voluble. She had dressed with that purpose in mind. She had learnt he made an appearance at his casino every night.
At that very moment, she saw him. He was across the room speaking to an older gentleman. He moved away and then stopped to briefly speak with a couple. No doubt he was attractive. But it was not any particular feature on his face that made him so. It was his demeanour. His deportment. He carried himself with self-knowledge and self-confidence. That is what made all eyes follow him. Many seemed to wait with eagerness to receive his notice.
It is no wonder he comes here every night, she thought. It must be such a boost to his ego. And if she were to accomplish what she had come to do, she too would have to flatter that ego. She gathered her meager chips and left her seat to follow him. He was now walking towards a set of doors which parted as he approached and shut softly behind him.
“No! No! Ganpati Bappa, please!—don’t let him leave before I speak with him!” she prayed under her breath, moving hastily towards the same set of doors. She was not the first—nor would she be the last—to call for assistance upon their favourite deity in a casino but she hoped her prayer would be granted. She would never be at peace until she spoke with that man.
***
The two guards did not move to open the set of doors with the same alacrity for her as they had done for Raghav. She waited. They ignored her. But when she reached for the door handle they immediately prevented her from entering.
“Members only, madam,” one deigned to inform her.
The lie flowed easily from her tongue. “I’m a special guest of Mr Rao.”
The two men exchanged looks.
Pallavi took advantage of their hesitation. “Never mind. I’ll just give him a quick call.” Making a show of pulling out her phone from her clutch purse, she pressed a random button and lifted the phone to her ear, sighing with vexation. That did the trick. The men immediately parted the doors and showed her in.
This members’ sanctuary was in stark contrast to the other room. That vast marble space was shimmering and ornate; here was the equivalent of a grand library composed of semi-private rooms where she sensed some very serious gaming was taking place. It was mostly gentlemen at the tables but a few ladies were present too. None lifted their heads to notice her as she strode past. Their entire focus was on the cards they held. No sparkling conversation. No twinkling laughter.
Pallavi spotted Raghav seated at the bar. He was alone.
Here I go. She muttered another prayer and walked to the bar.
“May I join you?” she asked, approaching him.
He turned his head at her words. His manners were very bad.
“Why?” he demanded.
Well, here was a kick to her confidence. Pallavi had imagined that if she dressed alluringly and spoke sweetly she would have at least been given a warm welcome. Nothing could guarantee that he would respond to her questions but she had not expected this immediate antipathy.
And more to her annoyance—his left hand was tucked into the pocket of his trousers. She couldn’t see whether he was wearing the ring. This entire evening would be a fruitless and mortifying exercise if she could not confirm whether Raghav possessed her husband’s ring.
She decided to ignore his rude question and climbed onto the barstool. He was about to speak again—she suspected he would repeat his earlier question—so she cut him off by saying with a smile, “I’d love a glass of champagne.”
Raghav indicated to the bartender that he should bring champagne.
She had only had alcohol once previously. It had been on the evening Mandhar had proposed to her and at her affirmative reply he had ordered champagne. It was a delicious memory and it seemed fitting to her that this was the appropriate drink to enjoy on this occasion. After all, this evening was all about Mandhar.
“Which member are you accompanying?” Raghav asked.
“None. I was curious what was behind these doors.”
“The guards let you through?” His voice showed anger.
“I said I was a guest of Mr Rao and pretended to telephone you.”
“So you know who I am.”
“You are well aware that all of Hyderabad knows who you are,” she said with a laugh she hoped was beguiling.
He didn’t respond. When the bartender brought the bottle and glasses Raghav waved him away. He uncorked the champagne and poured her a glass.
That is when she saw that he was wearing the ring.
The ring he had been wearing in the brochure photograph that had caught her attention. The ring that had been given to her after her parents’ death. The ring she had guarded all those years until placing it lovingly on Mandhar’s finger on the day of their engagement. The ring Mandhar had been wearing when he left the house on their wedding night a year ago—never to return.
Raghav had been speaking but she had been so fully drawn into her own sad reflections that she missed what he said. She only heard his last words: “You’ll have one drink and return to the main hall.”
She knew when she had prepared for this evening that her task would be to seduce him into a state where he would speak freely. But there was one problem. He appeared entirely unaffected by her.
Pallavi was not vain but she knew her own powers and she knew that she was considered pretty by most and beautiful by some. It had never occurred to her that she would have to struggle to hold Raghav’s attention. Indeed, she had expected her main problem would be to turn off his attention once she had the information she came for. Perhaps she ought to try another tactic. Not to entice but to amuse.
“Why? What harm am I doing?” she asked as she took her first sip.
Draining his glass, he poured himself another drink from the decanter. The ring glittered with his movements as though calling for her attention. “Members pay a great deal of money to spend time in this room. They expect discretion.”
“Believe me, Mr Rao—I understand about men and their need for discretion,” she said. She tried to make her tone playful and light but it was difficult to speak these words without thinking of Mandhar and his secrets.
Raghav did not speak immediately but then said, “I suppose you do.” Again, he tossed back his drink and refilled his glass. She wondered if he always drank this much. He was again silent. It was as though he had forgotten her presence.
Pallavi decided to delay no longer and said, “that’s a very distinctive ring.”
He looked at the ring but said nothing.
She tried again. “One doesn’t see blue diamonds very often.”
Suddenly she had his attention. He turned in his seat to face her and asked, “Who are you?”
“Who am I?” Pallavi repeated. She needed time to think so she lifted the glass to her lips.
“What is your name?” he elaborated.
“My name? Er . . . my name is P—P—Pari.”
“No it isn’t.”
“Mr Rao, women in my line of business don’t share our real identities.”
His lips curled in amusement. “But I am not a client so there is no harm in sharing your real name.”
Relieved she had managed to somehow salvage the situation, she was able to make her reply teasing. “Who knows? Someday you may be a client.”
Raghav gave a short laugh. He turned to refill his own glass and said, “I’d rather be your employer.”
“What?”
He enlarged, “Anyone who can distinguish between a blue diamond and a sapphire in this poor light and from such a distance is someone I want working for me.”
Beautiful narrative..Once he employs her, the next moment, you can see her carrying in arms when she faints.
comment:
p_commentcount