“YOU!” Khushi tried to free her hand. “Let me go. I thought you were in a hurry to go on your hot date.”
“Of course my date is hot, but that doesn’t mean I will leave you here to find an auto rickshaw. I am polite that way. ” Arnav replied deadpan. At her fiery look, he freed her hand, while smirking and continued, “So Khushi Gupta, will you allow me to drop you home?”
“I don’t need to be dropped anywhere, okay? You go where you have to go and leave me be. ” Khushi’s eyes spit fire as she said this. How dare he admit he had a hot date,but was only being polite while suggesting he dropped her off home! As if she was a child that needed his minding. She was not going to have any of this nonsense if they got engaged.
Appalled at where her thoughts had taken her to, she turned away from him, trying to get her brain to work sensibly. Her mind was totally a mess, if she could give even a nanosecond of consideration to that fake engagement. She found herself in the next instant, being gently turned back to face him, as Arnav mocked, “Politeness is a jewel in your crown Ms Gupta, don’t lose it. Say yes, and let me do the right thing. ”
“Alright then. If you insist, thank you. ” Khushi gave in, sighing. As he guided her towards his car, he said, “That is a sad sigh. You won’t have to bear my company for long Khushi Gupta. Just until I drop you home. ”
A sharp retort sprang to her lips, but Khushi held it back and closed her mouth shut, her eyes wide. She was completely mental if she was in angry because he was going out with someone else. She just couldn’t be jealous!
“What, no come back? Not even a tiny retort. ” Arnav mocked her.
“No. ” Khushi gave a clipped reply, and heard his breath intake.
Khushi stared straight ahead, walking on, trying to blank out the smell of him. He affected her in so many ways, more than anyone else. He riled her up, made her smile and he made her feel very desirable too. Not that she was going to give in to this attraction. That way lay destruction and heart break. She was not going to fool herself into thinking she was in love; it was plain and simple attraction.
“What are you thinking about? I can hear your brain engines whirring. ” ASR tried to start a conversation.
“Just thinking something, and I really don’t want to talk about it. ” Khushi replied softly but firmly.
Arnav was amused. She had no idea her face was an open book for him. As if he could read her thoughts, Khushi heard him say, “I go out on dates normally with women who are like myself, looking for a companion for society evenings. It doesn’t end up in bed Khushi. ”
Her face red, Khushi mumbled, “What do I care ASR. You can go out anytime you like, with who ever you like. Humain koi fark nahi padta, samjhe aap!”
“Nahi? Now that’s strange, because if you were going out on a date, I would want to beat the guy to the pulp. When I saw you with Jha the first time, I wanted to break his jaw when he smiled at you and break his hand when he caught yours. ” Pat came Arnav’s reply.
Khushi gaped at him for a second, then shook her head saying with a soft smile, “You’ve lost it Mr Rothwell Raizada. I suggest psychiatric help. ”
Arnav threw his head back and laughed. In that single second Khushi knew she would never ever feel as attracted to any other man as this one. He looked at her with a glint in his eye and simply said, “Maybe Khushi Gupta, maybe I have lost it. All your fault though. Now come along; I don’t want to be late. ”
And Khushi blushed to the roots of her hair, muttering “I knew it was going to be my fault somehow.” and meekly walked along with him to the car.
The journey to Khushi’s house was completed in silence as ASR managed through the heavy evening traffic on Delhi roads. Not that Khushi resented the silence. She felt quite comfortable sitting next to him, not talking. Only once did it happen that she looked out the window, away from him that he promptly said,” No, don’t. ” As if she understood him, she stopped looking out the window and stared straight ahead, to hear him breathe in and smile. She felt in sync with him. They reached the house, and for the first time Khushi wished her journey with him would have lasted longer. The next thought scorned her as she remembered, he was in a hurry to get ready for his date and her profile turned icy again. She heard him sigh as she opened the door and thanked him. An eyebrow up, she enquired with an abrupt, “What.”
For an answer, he leaned across the seat to where she had her head inside the window and gave her a swift kiss on her surprised lips. “See you tomorrow at Anjali’s mehandi, my fake fiancee.”
And he drove away, leaving her outraged and open mouthed at her doorstep.
Meanwhile Payal watched what was happening between Arnav Singh Raizada and Khushi and a chuckle left her as he drove away. That man was devious and Khushi was totally wrapped up in him, just like he was in her- thought Payal. She had her suspicions about him being aware of his feelings, unlike Khushi. Only time would tell though, how things pan out. Sighing, Payal turned away from the window and went ahead to open the door, only to have Khushi knocking her on the nose, lost in her own world.
“Khushi di, for God’s sake! ” At Payal’s exasperated chuckle, Khushi looked up and found her hand on Payal’s nose. Her eyes widened at what she had done and then sense of humour took over. She laughed, and she entered the house after Payal, “You should be glad I didn’t pound the door.” Taking in Payal’s appearance, she asked, “Are you going out somewhere?”
“I should have known you’d forget. ” Payal made a face and smiled, “It is quite okay though. We can go another time. ”
And Khushi winced. She could have kicked herself for her absent mindedness. She had promised Payal they would go out tonight; two sisters celebrating life together. Gathering her wits together, she said “Oh no no no. I may have forgotten about our evening plans for a second there, but that doesn’t mean we’re not going! Give me ten minutes and we’ll be on our way. Meanwhile, how about calling for a taxi? I – er may have forgotten to do it this afternoon.”
Giving Payal a sheepish grin, Khushi rushed into her room to shower and change. Twenty minutes later they left the house in the taxi, dressed smart and ready to enjoy their evening dinner at Pind Balluchi, in Connaught Place. While Payal was dressed in a lacy bodycon dress in black and a crocheted cream scarf to go with it, Khushi had opted to go for a sleeveless square neck belted jumpsuit in red with a short jacket in beige. Inwardly she had sighed in relief as she sat down beside her sister in the taxi. At least the restaurant had been booked a week in advance. She promised herself, she would enjoy the rest of the evening with her sister and not once think about Rothwell Raizada.
They paid of the taxi driver and made their way to Pind Balluchi. The doorman at the restaurant opened the door with a greeting and a smile, Khushi smiled back at him and greeted him back. A woman dressed in a saree came up to meet them with a smile.
“Good evening. May I help you?” Said the woman.
“Good evening, we have a reservation for two. In the name of -”
“Arnav Singh Raizada.”
Startled, Khushi turned around and found her eyes meeting the amber ones of Arnav Singh Raizada.
“But that’s not– Arnav Rothwell, you clear this right now!” Khushi was too outraged at Shyam’s statement to not speak out.
Arnav looked at her, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “And what am I supposed to clear exactly, darling? The truth shall remain what it is.” He drawled, much to Khushi’s astonishment. Why was he behaving like this?
“You know what.” Khushi replied back, tight lipped.
Shyam looked at them both and sighed, “Why this pretence, Rothwell. You and Khushi have both been hiding this for a year. I had no idea Khushi worked in your company before she moved out here, didn’t know that she had moved to India because you both had quarrelled. ”
“Well, yes in a way, but it was not like that. ” Khushi blurted out unconsciously giving merit to Shyam’s statement and making Arnav’s head turn. His mind, that could calculate complex financial details in a second was not slow to respond to her statement. It latched on to her honest declaration of running away from London, from him, because of that night. A part of him was elated by this knowledge. She had never said she was immune to him, but this – the fact that she was scared enough to run away from him and the feelings he evoked in her gave him a reason now to pursue this train of thought he had been with for some time. Idly, he gazed into his empty cup and said,
“Our reasons don’t concern you Jha, but I am quite prepared to wait until Khushi is over her tantrum and wants to declare what is in her heart, to the world. ”
Khushi turned fiery eyes full of anger towards Arnav at his statement, but never uttered a word of defiance against him. The reason — she had in that moment found her eyes stuck to La’s tear filled eyes. Slowly it dawned on her that the only reason why Arnav might carrying on like a person demented was because he wanted to help La not feel guilty. It was as if a light bulb lit up in her brain. She kicked herself at her delayed understanding. Of course La had blurted out the first thing she could think of when Shyam might have confronted her. Khushi had realised some time back that La was in love with Shyam, and whatever misunderstanding stood between them, she also knew that Shyam had an equal amount of affection for La.
An enquiring brow and a shake of head was all the communication that passed between Arnav and Khushi at this stage. Shyam looked at them both and said, “Look, you guys wish to keep it a secret and I don’t mind. It is your business what you do with your relationship, but I tell you now, I won’t let your sister talk to La about marrying you, Rothwell.”
A flicker of irritation caused Arnav to say, “If you are so concerned about it, why dont you ask La to marry you?”
Khushi heard La give an inward gasp, while Shyam looked a bit dazed. Suddenly he caught hold of La’s hand and got up from his seat. A look of utter happiness crossed his face as he looked at La and he said, “You know what- I think I will do just that. ” And saying so, he turned to La and simply asked, “Marry me, my dear?”
La seemed to have developed wings of happiness, as she went into Shyam’s embrace without delay. Her tears of happiness were her affirmation of her answer to his question. With La in her embrace, Shyam looked at Khushi and gave her a brilliant smile. “Khushi, will you arrange my wedding? I’d like to get married within a week. ”
About to take a sip from the glass of water next to her, Khushi choked on it and stuttered, “A-a w-week! Impossible Shyam. I have other –”
“Done.” Arnav interrupted her, and before she could protest, put a finger on her lips. His mouth curved in a tender smile as she looked at him, her eyes wide and her travelling between his finger on her lips and his own amber gaze. His own turned molten with desire, as she closed her eyes, unable to face the fire. His head swam and his hand on his thigh tightened. This was no time to succumb to desire! She shook his finger off her lips and spoke firmly, “Shyam, you know these things take time. Especially if you want to advertise to the whole world about your love. Be reasonable! I also have Anjali ji’s wedding arrangements to consider. You know I don’t take two contracts at the same time.”
Shyam and La looked at each other, stars shining in their eyes. Without taking her eyes off Shyam, La said, “Let us get married in a civil ceremony then. We can do that this week, and at a later date let Khushi made arrangements for a grand wedding our families will want to host. We can even go back home and do it! Say yes, Shyam.”
Shyam let out a chuckle and gave a conspirational wink to Arnav, saying “How our women hold our hearts, eh Rothwell? In that case, we must do what they say.”
“Hmm” Arnav smiled non-committally.
Shyam took La’s face in his hands and said, “Okay, if that is what you want; that is what we shall do. These two can be our witnesses, eh? ”
“Gladly!” said Khushi for herself, without thinking. Arnav looked at her, one of his eyebrows raised in mockery. Khushi flushed pink and continued, “I mean, I will gladly be your witness Shyam.”
Quite deliberately, Arnav picked up Khushi’s hand and kissed it, sending tingles down her spine. Challenging her to argue, he said, ” If Khushi says she will be there, she knows so will I.” Letting go of her hand, he stood up and straightened his cuff links, “Let me know when I need to come down to the court for the ceremony, will you La? I must take your leave now, since I have a date this evening. I would hate to keep my date waiting.”
Not looking at Khushi, he nodded to Shyam, hugged La and made his exit from the scene. Khushi was left prone to feeling as if he had kicked her in the stomach and left her bleeding. What date? With who? A murderous rage seemed to envelop her; she was upset and she was finding it hard from showing it. Shyam looked at her curiously and said, “So until you decide to let your engagement stay in the dark, he dates other women and you date other men?”
Hastily La broke in, “Shyam, don’t be silly! ASR goes out on meaningless dates to fill his evenings, and most of his dates are platonic; they know the score. ”
Shyam looked keenly at Khushi and then softly whispered, “But does Khushi know the score?”
Forcibly Khushi brought a smile to her lips and said airily, “But of course. Now if you two love birds will excuse me, I shall go back home and get Anjali’s wedding into gear. ” Still smiling, she hugged La and got out of the cafe.
Once outside, she gave a huge sigh and looked about for an auto rickshaw to take her home. She was tired and she really needed some space to think. Luckily, Payal won’t be home until later tonight and she could simply loll about and eat jalebis. Thinking so, she had just taken a step towards the auto rickshaw stand, when she felt her hand being pulled from behind and her whole body jerked back. In shock, Khushi opened her mouth to give hell to whoever had done this, with her other hand raised in the air to strike. It stayed mid-air as her gaze collided with ASR’s.
National Gallery of New South Wales always has so many exhibitions going on all year along. But none had the lure for me, as much as this one did.
Last November, NSW Art Gallery put on show the famous paintings from National Galleries of Scotland, and titled it as “The Greats”. And very aptly named the exhibition was too! 70 outstanding works of world renowned painters, covering 400 years of art from Renaissance to Impressionism, with names like Boticelli, Rembrandt, Leonardo, Raphael, Monet, Gauguin, Vermeer, John Sargent, Raeburn, John Constable, etc popping out of the audio guide.
Now I am no art connoisseur, very much a common man (woman) when it comes to describing or critiquing art. My knowledge of drawing and colours can be put on paper smaller than a chit of paper. My favourite period of art were the impressionism times. I heard Monet was on display and I do love Monet paintings (who doesn’t ?). Anyway, all I knew was- there were some amazing paintings on display and I had to see them. This was a rare opportunity for me to see, contemplate and feel awed of the images on display. And awed I was.
After spending a whole day at the exhibition, I found my eyes being captured by some very distinctive paintings. I decided to try to put in words what I felt when I saw these paintings. And so- here goes, an art idiot’s perspective.
- Rising Mists – Peter Graham (1836-1921) created this one around 1887. Scotland must truly be a place full of magic and mystery if one goes by the paintings drawn by this British (Scots) artist. This painting seems to celebrate the essence of what I think are called Scottish Highlands in all their glory.
The image here is not the actual painting but a print, thus far more clear than the painting I had sat looking at for about two hours. At first glance, the eyes seem to focus on the white mist rising in the air, thus justifying the name given to it. And then, an eye wanders and starts to widen with awe at the details. Both eyes drink in the image. One must sit down in comfort and take their time to gaze their fill at the image and focus better. My eyes saw this:
Once you start covering the painting inch by inch, there is a lot to discover. The whole painting seems to talk; with meanings direct and implied. I now see the grassy mountain from which the mist rises. A shard of light falls, as is I think, intended by the painter, to brighten up patches of grass and rocks, giving the impression that the mist is actually rising out of those patches.
A little below, the river flows fast. I close my eyes and imagine this torrent. I can almost hear it if I open my eyes now and look at it; bouncing a bit, as if dancing. When it comes near the rocks, it dashes against them, and splashes herself noisily, as if laughing. Further ahead, the noisy torrent calms down and flows smoothly over. It put an analogy in my head. Think of a young woman; flirting and giggling with impertinence, as she meets several men (rocks) during the course of her life. As seasons pass by, she becomes mature and calm, not responding to every admirer that comes her way.
Where the river flows fast and fierce, the waters are brown and muddied; looking dark and menacing as you look closer. As it calms down, flowing away and far from the rocks, it seems to given an illusion of becoming white- or should I say pure?
My eyes now stray to the left of the river, where the river bank has been defined. Mr Graham’s hand seems to have been in a mood, for sharp edges and pointy rocks define the cliff. A part of it seems to inch into the river, like giving it a hand to come up. (Laughs)
Coming closer to the painting, my eyes focus on the wild Highland cattle, slap bang in the middle of the painting. Brown and black, and more of it behind them. A patch of grass glistens, and one imagines how much the cattle wants to eat it all. The first of the cattle certainly seem to be eyeing it.
Getting up and moving two steps to the left, and more of the painting became clear. Now I see a sort of trail that the cattle might have followed. How astute of the painter to capture it exactly as it is! The mark of a true landscape artist in my eyes!
Far away, on the top left corner of the image, dark clouds have gathered, and the mist is no more white; but a smoky grey. In fact now that I look at it, I find colours emphasising the landscape are not as white as the mist, not even the mist really. It is eerie in actuality, perhaps the impression that Mr Graham wanted to give, which I only now understand. The painting is steeped in dark colours, red and black and only sometimes green. Looking at the painting, I see the middle now and I find glimpses of white? giving an impression of snow on the mountains far, far away.
There! That is what I penned down when I sat by the painting. What do you think of the painting though? Don’t forget to leave your comments! The next part will talk of John Constable’s “The Vale of Dedham”.
Khushi sat waiting for Shyam at her favourite cafe that evening, while her mind still turned over Payal’s words. Why did Payal think that she, Khushi Gupta could ever fall in love with an arrogant arse like ASR?
She shook her head vehemently in denial, almost spilling coffee from the mug in her hand. The idea itself was mental. She could never fall for a man who had not even an ounce of humility in him. He was – he was-
“An espresso please, double shot. ” The deep dark voice raised the hair at the back of her neck. Trying to reject the voice in her head that said it knew who the voice belonged to, her eyes opened wide with shock as Arnav sat down in the chair next to her and grinned wolfishly.
“I had not thought of you as a coffee drinker, Khushi Gupta. You sound like you would drink gallons of tea, not coffee. “
Her eyes drank in his grinning face- he looked so devastatingly handsome when he smiled!- and then his words registered. More to the point, his presence by her side registered as she came out of her daze. Her doe eyes sparkled with annoyance.
Arnav saw the moment Khushi’s expression changed and his eyes lit up at the expectation of fireworks. He loved it when she looked ready to spit fire, the passion of her feelings plain on her face. He didn’t have long to wait.
Khushi’s chest swelled with quiet indignation. His eyes rested briefly on the heaving chest and then moved to her eyes. They were now furious at his blatant display of interest.
“How dare you! “Khushi spoke with her mouth barely moving. “What the hell are you doing here Mr Rothwell ? “
“I have been called here, by your – who is he anyway? Is he your associate or your friend?”
Khushi refused to calm down. With gritted teeth, she asked, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but you had better leave. I have a meeting and I am not going to waste my energy talking to you. “
“Of course. ” Arnav was brisk, his eyes sharp. He accepted his cup of espresso with a polite smile at the waitress, that seemed to turn her into a silly mush. Fluttering her eyelashes, she asked him if he wanted any sugar.
“He is diabetic. No sugar, thank you.” Khushi spat dismissal at the waitress, who went away with a scowl on her face. Looking straight back at ASR, Khushi said, “Did you hear what I said Mr Rothwell Raizada? Leave.”
“You’re pretty adorable when you’re all fire like this. “Arnav observed amusedly, and then huskily added, “Most of the times, I can’t wait to burn with you.”
Khushi had no reply for such a statement. She sipped her coffee and pointedly looked at her watch. Arnav finished his mouthful of espresso and wiped his mouth with a serviette, calming informing her, “Don’t be mad at me. I didn’t come here myself. I was called by your photographer associate, Shyam. “
Her jaw dropping, Khushi retorted, “Shyam? My Shyam called you?”
“Your Shyam? ” Arnav’s eyes caught fire at her reference to Shyam as hers. He was annoyed.
His entire day had been a pain, so why should he be surprised if evening was the finale of all that he found irksome. He had decided to work from home this morning. His morning had begun with Anjali teasing La at the breakfast table. By noon, La had become decidedly panicky, coming to him with the request that he make things clear to his family. She was terrified they would marry her to him tomorrow if they had their way. Highly tickled by her imagination, Arnav had assured her nothing of the kind would happen. She ought to take the teasing in her stride and be indifferent. After all, she wanted the pretence of being his girlfriend to save her pride. But La had been unable to handle things. Post lunch, she had excused herself with the excuse of a prior meeting with an old friend and got out of the house.
Arnav had breathed a sigh of relief as Anjali had turned her attention to her own wedding matters, and he had finally been able to focus on his work. Things had just settled down, when Shyam called. He had been polite and straight to the point.
“Hi Alex, I would like to meet you this evening. Is it possible?” Shyam had asked politely.
Arnav had observed, “A bit sudden, isn’t it? “
Shyam had been just as adamant, “I’ll agree, it is a bit sudden but imperative. I would appreciate it if you could come to the India Cafe this evening. Khushi will also be there.”
Arnav had tensed at her name, and in a split second made his decision as an unsavoury thought had entered his head. His entire being had rebelled at the idea. As he remembered the thought that had prompted him to come here without a second’s hesitation, his annoyance at his own behaviour grew. He looked at Khushi and suddenly he said, “I might as well tell you since I know you will not tattle tale. I think it is time I got married.”
Khushi looked at him, going pale at his words. ASR planning to get married? To Whom? Or was he simply saying that to annoy her? Well, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. With mighty effort, she ignored his declaration and ploughed on, “Why has he called you here?” Then muttered to herself, ” Is he planning to warn you off in front of me or something? “
Arnav’s mind, that had seconds ago been amusing itself at Khushi’s instant reaction and efforts at non-reaction to his statement, was now outraged at this muttered suggestion. How could anyone warn him off Khushi? Khushi was — and he stopped the thought in his head. He liked annoying her, flirting with her. He had already admitted to wanting her badly. Khushi was his — The point was, she was not for Shyam.
Khushi, unaware of his internal debate continued muttering to herself, “I must talk to Shyam. He has been a bit odd lately, but I simply thought it was due to his preoccupation with–.”
“Still talk to yourself, do you? Old habits die hard. ” an amused Arnav drawled lazily, stretching in the chair. “I can’t wait to hear what milk toast man has to say to me.”
Khushi choked on her coffee “Milk toast man? You are calling Shyam a milk toast man?”
ASR shrugged his shoulders, “What else would I call a man who has been playing with fire recently, but is not able to take the heat?”
“What fire? What heat? What the hell are you blabbering on about ASR?” Khushi snapped, forgetting her intention to stay calm.
She drew back as Arnav leaned forward. Suddenly his eyes were drawn to the door and he took a sharp breath. Khushi saw the change in his face, saw the hardness enter into his eyes and looked at the door too.
Shyam and La had entered the cafe; Shyam with a grim look on his face and La with averting eyes. His gaze zeroed in on Arnav and Khushi and his jaw tightened. They all greeted each other politely. La sat between Khushi and Shyam, her gaze averted from Arnav. Khushi observed this and wondered.
Finally Arnav spoke, “So Jha, what is it you wanted to talk about?”
Shyam put down his coffee and looked at Khushi accusingly, saying “I just wanted to make sure we are all on the same page. You have not trusted me enough as a friend Khushi, or you would have confided your secret in me. ” He sighed deeply, unhappily. Before Khushi could ask him, he raised his hand, “I am not finished yet Khushi. Please don’t interrupt. “
Shyam looked at Arnav and a determination entered his eyes. He said, “La tells me your family spoke to her today about her marrying you. Now is the time Rothwell. You must tell them.”
Khushi’s eyes strayed to Arnav, shock evident in them. Without looking at her, Arnav kept his gaze on Shyam, “Tell them what, Jha?”
At this point, La interrupted both men, looking at Arnav with pleading eyes. His eyes hardened and she averted hers, saying “I am sorry, Alex. I wouldn’t have told Shyam about any of it, had he not told me about his intention to marry her.”
ASR being who he was, didn’t even blink at her declaration of innocence. He simply nodded at her and then looked back at Shyam.
A frustrated exhale, and then Shyam said, “You must tell your family the truth Rothwell. Tell them that La is not your girlfriend, but mine. You must tell them about your engagement to Khushi. “
After about two months of being tagged on a blog post by a blogger friend, today I am indulging myself in a bit of reveal by giving out answers.
One beauty product you would recommend to your girlfriends
I was not very good at being faithful to one brand of bath soap. And one day, I quit using it altogether!
You see, my skin is high maintenance. Oily sometimes, at times dry and sometimes really dry! Some products made the skin prone to acne, some just didn’t work. I thought it was something to do with the moisturiser I used, and trust me, I tried many!
While browsing one day around ten years ago, I stumbled upon Body Shop’s Tea Tree range of products. Most of them are alright I suppose, but the one that stuck to my life was the Tea Tree Body Wash. Since then, it has been a part of my daily routine. My skin stays clear and hydrated and I feel fresh all day long. It is the perfect regime for clear skin; skin free of acne, even on the most humid days when my skin becomes really oily. What more could a woman want?
Three books everyone must read
In the course of life, one reads and then absorbs some, then reads more. I have done the same. There are so many books! Such lovely, wonderful, mystical, thrilling, sad, happy, philosophical books that to keep a count of it is impossible. To choose any three, even more so. I like classics a lot, but when it comes to choosing any three that I think others should read, I have in my mind these books.
The Seven O’Clock Tales- Enid Blyton This is the one book I have retained from my childhood. It sits on my book shelf, waiting for the next generation to be taken to the magic kingdom.
Childhood is the best time of life. What a wonderful time it was, when all I had to do was snuggle under the covers and be transported into a magical land, where pixies and fairies resided, where Edward, the pink teddy bear could speak, rage and even comfort little Elsie, where little brownies were worried they wouldn’t reach the party on time, where the naughty shoemaker made skippetty shoes for a gnome, and so on. Once I grew up, my love of Enid Blyton books continued of course, with series like Adventurous Four, Famous Five, Secret Seven, and more. I don’t remember names of the children in those books any more, but I still remember stories from Seven O’ Clock Tales.
Gitanjali- Rabindranath Tagore One of my teachers had once said, “Poems are the means through which one human being can glimpse into the soul of another; where outpourings of emotions can become the mirror to one’s heart. ” She was so right!
Gitanjali is a collection of 103 poems, written by Nobel Laureate Rabindranath Tagore. Originally written in Bengali, there were translated in English first in 1912. I had a small pocket book as a young woman, where I had written my favourite poems from the collection. I found them deeply spiritual. Any time I was dejected, disappointed or even bored, I would take it out and read one of the poems. Sometimes written so simply, sometimes in complex ways, they talk so beautifully – giving comfort and at times, even strength. These days, I have a very distinctive and detailed edition of Gitanjali, with original Bengali lyrics in facsimile. The effect of the poems I find, has not worn off. Here is one I always had in my pocket book. It is a prayer from the heart, never to be forgotten.
When the heart is hard and parched up, come upon me with a shower of mercy
When grace is lost from life, come with a burst of song
When tumultuous work raises its din on all sides
shutting me out from beyond, come to me, my lord of silence, with thy peace and rest.
When my beggarly heart sits crouched, shut up in a corner,
break open the door, my king, and come with the ceremony of a king.
When desire blinds the mind with delusion and dust O thou holy one,
thou wakeful, come with thy light and thy thunder.
Under the Tuscan Sun- Frances Mayes I read a lot of romance, and I do mean lots! Yet I have not come across any romance novel/book that matches the romance of the place as much as this one does. Honestly speaking, my love for the Italy, specially for Tuscany budded from this particular book.
This book has been written with love and passion for the spectacular Tuscan countryside. Celebrating, what Frances calls as a ‘voluptuousness of Italian life’, this book can be read and re-read again- maybe in the bus, maybe when you’re picnicking on a lazy summer day. It will bring the scent of fresh cut herbs, ripening olives and grapes on the trees, prosciutto and garlic bread (I feel my nose flaring for scents every time I read chapters in the book describing the countryside or the cooking). You’ll agree with me if you’ve read it, I know you will!
Favourite On-line Shopping Site
There was a time when I used to do a lot of on-line shopping in India. I bought some very good stuff through on-line shopping out there. But things have changed, and the shopping sites are not as simple or as qualitative as they were before. Australia especially doesn’t do a lot of on-line shopping. If you do, your products will come either from the U.S. or the U.K or some such country. So why bother paying extra money for shipping? Not for me. I like browsing through shop windows, and shopping leisurely.
Favourite Phone App
I suck at using phone apps! I like using the phone to make calls, or at best to message people or check one of the social media websites. But that’s the extent of it.
One dish you are really good at making and its recipe
I am not a great cook, but I do like dabbling in the kitchen when the mood takes me. The one thing that is a regular demand in my house is my Cinnamon Tea Cake. It is very easy to cook and doesn’t really need much time or preparing.
What you need:
2 cups self-raising flour
4 Tbsp. custard powder
2 cups sugar
1 cup milk
200 g. soft butter
How to make it:
Place all ingredients in a large mixing bowl and beat them together for 3-4 minutes on medium setting.
Prepare baking pan. Grease base top with baking paper, then add two more layers of baking paper, making sure each layer has been greased.
Spread mixture evenly into baking pan.
Bake at 170 degrees C for one hour.
While hot, spread the cake liberally with butter
Sprinkle cinnamon sugar (can use a whole jar of cinnamon sugar) and decorate it with vanilla cream or strawberries if you like.
Khushi was in a foul mood and it was the world’s fault, or so she told herself again and again. Had everyone simply gone crazy or was she slowly going mad? She kicked a small stone by the side of the road while pacing on the small section, near a auto rickshaw. The driver of the auto seemed to be busy in changing tyre. The stone wedged in her jutti and refused to be thrown off.
“Arrggh! Devi Maiyya! What is the matter with you ? Lagta hai humne aapko jo besan ke laddooeon ka prasad chadhaaya tha, woh aapko pasand nahi aaya hain. Why else would my day have been such a horrible one? First that La’ad Governor ruining my day, then Shyam acting weird over La and behaving like a fool and now, I am stranded here thanks to this Auto wale bhaiyaji who didn’t check his tyres prior to the journey! Why me Devi Maiyya? Why me?”
The auto rickshaw driver in question looked at her and then up and himself and muttered to himself, “Not you, I always get the crazy ones at the end of the day. Why me?”
Khushi looked at him and narrowed her eyes, “Did you say something bhaiyaji?”
The manic look in her eyes warned the auto driver- this was not the right time to vent out his own frustrations; instead he smiled and said, “I was just saying behanji that it is the end of the day and my auto has a flat tyre. I wish I could say it will be okay in five minutes but I don’t think so. I think it might be a better idea for you to catch another auto.”
Khushi smiled sweetly, too sweetly and said, “Do you see another auto rickshaw on this road right now Bhaiyaji? I wish I could say I will take another auto, but the sad fact is I am stuck here with you because there is no other auto. I am not walking alone on this road to find one! Would you let your sister walk alone at this time of the evening?”
The auto rickshaw driver straightened his shirt consciously and said, “Never! My sister wouldn’t be out of the house at this time anyway. ”
“Exactly!” Khushi went on, sitting down beside him and picking up the lug wrench he had left by the side. “I wouldn’t be out of the house at this hour either! I would be cosy at home, eating hot roti and aallu mutter subzi this evening. But what do employers know or understand about a common man’s plight?”
She lifted the wrench as if to hit the imaginary person by her side. The driver moved quickly out of the way and hurriedly started working while Khushi continued, “I could seriously bop him on the head with something like this, he is sooo irritating! ” She looked at the auto rickshaw driver and continued flailing the wrench about,
“Rich people don’t understand that we need to get home on time. Especially people like him- that horrible la’ad governer. I am late today because of all the extra work I have had to do. And then there was my friend who went crazy today simply because the girl he fancies, or I think he does, was with that idiot ASR. Why was she with him, who knows? But I had hoped La had better taste than that. Meh. ”
She stopped for a bit then while the driver kept on working, his hands sure of his tools. Khushi watched him and then said, “It is good to see that you know what you do so well. No wonder you are good at this. If only everyone was as good at their work as they should be. ”
The ramble continued for another ten minutes where Khushi told the driver how she had found the staff at a big hotel inefficient and unhelpful. She grumbled on about the hotel manager, the mehandi guy, the florist and finally came back again to La’ad Governer and how all today was his fault.
The auto rickshaw driver moved a little away from Khushi, alarmed and trying to not come in the way of her flailing about. ” Err–yes yes.. of course. This is almost done behanji. If you will give me the wrench, I’ll simply fix the tyre and tighten the nuts and bolts. Okay? ”
A relieved smile lit up Khushi’s face, instantly making the auto rickshaw driver feeling mean about his earlier thoughts. Of course the girl must be worried, this is after all not the safest of cities in the country. With a nod, Khushi got up and moved away, still talking, ” I am so hungry, but then I always am!”
Finally the auto rickshaw was ready for the drive. The driver dropped Khushi and received a warm smile and a thank you.
“You are a nice person bhaiya- the nicest person I have met today actually. Thank you.”
The auto rickshaw driver grinned broadly and waved a cheerio while he left her street, inwardly thinking, that this La’ad Governer who ever he was had made home in this poor girl’s brain. It didn’t look like he was going to get out any time soon from the way she kept on about him. His romantic soul sensed romance. The girl had no idea she fancied this “La’ad Governer” and how much of her thoughts were occupied by him.
A similar suspicion crept into Khushi’s mind before she went to bed. ASR seemed to be constantly in her head and she didn’t like it. The suspicion that her body was craving for another contact with him filled her eyes with horror. She quickly closed them, and her mind to such thoughts and tried to sleep. When sleep came to her, her dreams were full of Alexander Sebastian Rothwell and his eyes watching her walking away with Shyam.
“What will you do once I am married and gone? Do you not want to get married Khushi? ”
Payal’s words came back to her the next night while Khushi was brushing her hair before going to sleep. A frown came upon her face that had been scrubbed pink from her recent bath as she thought about it.
Khushi and Payal had gone out today not only to make Anjali’s wedding arrangements, but also to do a bit of window shopping for Payal’s own wedding. Khushi and her had decided that though the wedding won’t be any time too soon, they might need to start preparing for it. Khushi had offered her finances for buying Payal’s modest trousseau as a wedding gift. Emotional at such a gesture, Payal had accepted and also agreed to help Khushi with her current client assignment. This was the only way both the sisters could spend more time together and browse for her trousseau.
While they had been at a cafe, after a hectic afternoon of work on Anjali’s forthcoming functions, Payal had looked into her coffee thoughtfully.
“What is so engrossing about that cup of cappuccino Payalia?” Khushi had playfully asked, to encounter a serious look from Payal.
“I worry about you Khushi. You have been stressed since the last few days and I know it is not work that keeps you on the edge. You have stopped confiding in me.”
“My life is an open book honey! What is there to confide about?” Khushi tried to be as nonchalant as possible.
“Khushi, you know that is not true. I don’t know these days why you insist on being an ostrich, burying your head in the sand as soon as this topic rises. And lately, you have been a lot more agitated. I feel like I am so far away from you these days.” Payal concluded on a morose note.
Khushi immediately hugged her and said in a voice as loving as only an elder sister could have, ” Payalia, don’t you ever think that! I am always with you, there for you. ”
Payal cupped Khushi’s cheek and looked at her imploringly, “Yes but Khushi, I don’t think I am there for you. Or that you even need me. Talk to me please. Tell me what is going on.”
Khushi sighed loudly and let her sister go. Then, closing her eyes, she poured it out all while Payal listened. Khushi told her everything about ASR; his family, their professional history, their antagonism with each other, his previous personal association with her, her meeting him again and then as the client’s brother and their skirmishes. She skipped on the more personal aspects but she did mention some of it. Payal in the meanwhile, made tea for them both while she listened to her sister with total attention.
At the end of her tirade, Khushi said,
“So you see, I am stuck. I don’t know what to do, I don’t even know why I feel the way I do and I see no way out of this. ”
Payal sipped on her tea and paused for thought. Then she said, ” Is it possible there is more to this than just physical attraction towards each other? Do you think you are in love? ”
Khushi stared at her sister in horror, at the direct as well as implied meaning and felt totally outraged. “I AM NOT IN LOVE WITH THAT MAN!”
A big thanks to Stephanie for this promotion.
Good morning everyone! I want to welcome you to the 2nd part of Day 15 of the 3rd Annual Romancing September Across the World Blog Tour. If you haven’t checked out Rosie’s post from earlier, then go by https://rosieamber.wordpress.com/ and get caught up.
Now on to today’s featured author, Here’s the question I asked:
What has been the biggest inspiration for your writing?
Emotions are the biggest inspiration when it comes to writing. Every time I go for a walk in the city gardens, I observe people. There are so many different faces, each telling their own story by their eyes, their expressions, their body language. Every face screams a story in my head. With a cup of coffee in hand, and observant eyes, I sit under a tree with a note book and pen in hand, ready to let my imagination soar high in the sky, thinking of what…
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Little advertising never hurt. 😉
Welcome to Day 15 of #RomancingSeptember
Today our guest is Felicia Myers and her book A Fake Engagement A Real Wedding
Where is your home town?
I grew up in a small town located in Gujarat – India, right between the sea and the desert. My heart feels at home in my current city of residence – the wonderful city of Harbour Bridge & Opera House, Sydney, Australia.
How long have you been writing romance?
My first attempt at writing romance was at the age of 13, about a young girl who falls in love with a spy. My friends at school lapped it up and I started writing romance for their pleasure!
What is your favourite sub-genre of romance?
Where is your book set?
Two cities – London, England and New Delhi, India
Can you introduce readers to ASR
Going through various adult emotions early on in…
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” Why is it that every time I try to do something nice for you, it backfires?” Anjali asked her brother, thoroughly put out by his attitude that evening.
Arnav looked at his sister, amusement plain on his face. His sister’s tactics were not unknown to him but to have invited La to be his date for her Mehandi evening without even asking him stretched things a bit far. And he was quite sure that she had no idea what a can of worms she had opened up by inviting Laavanya to India in the first place. He shrugged and said,
“Who knows ? Maybe you should stop thinking you’re being nice to me by giving me unplanned surprises. Unlike you my darling sister, I don’t like them.”
He had been surprised to see La this morning, when she had suddenly come up to his office and announced herself. Politeness and long ingrained teaching of never leaving a friend in need alone had urged him to take her up on her offer of showing him around the city. He had cancelled his appointments for the rest of the day and gone out with her, only to listen to her mooning about the only love of her life- Shyam Jha.
His hand fisted at the thought of him and then the fist tightened when he recollected Shyam and Khushi together, with her hand in his. Unexplained rage had erupted in his head at the sight of Shyam dragging Khushi away from him. He had wanted to snatch her away from Shyam, and keep her by his own side.
It had taken a few moments for such irrational thoughts to fade, and sense to kick in. Recalling Khushi’s behaviour he had realised that she had not objected to Shyam’s hand in hers, nor had she protested when he had led her away. The rest of the day had become unbearable with his head partially filled with thoughts of Khushi and the question of her relationship with Shyam. La had tried to be bright and chirpy but by evening, she had fizzled out; opting out of going to the night club as originally planned.
On arriving home, he had been greeted by Maamiji who had wanted to know if La was coming to the house later on. Initially he had been taken aback by her suggestion, but later on realised if Anjali had organised La’s coming to India, it was quite possible every one thought, he and La were an item again. He had excused himself after firmly dispelling Maamiji’s doubts about his relationship with La.
Once in his room, he shed his clothes and made straight for a cold shower. Unwillingly, he had thought of Khushi. As usual, she had tried her best to ignore him. That had only annoyed him more. Deliberately he had tried to rile her up, only to fall flat on his face as she had dismissed him by calling him ignorant about New Delhi in not so many words. She had even dared to imply that he was one of those men who wouldn’t go out unless he had an escort. Distaste of that thought had left feeling him bitter in the mouth.
Once dressed in casual chinos and a white t-shirt, he had come down to be grumbled at by his sister.
Anjali continued, stuffing flowers into an already neat flower arrangement. Arnav winced for them as Anjali said, ” I thought having La here would cheer you up. I wasn’t sure if you were together any more or if you have moved on to pastures new, but she’s a nice girl. I like her. “
The last was said in a defensive tone. Arnav stopped her from putting a rose in the arrangement, chuckling, “Any more in there and the entire arrangement will be choked to death Anjali! ” He put the rose down on the table and said, “La is a good friend, has always been. But there is nothing of the kind of relationship you think between us. She has her sights set very firmly on a man since she was a teenager.”
At Anjali’s raised eyebrows, he had to defend La, “The time in London was a smokescreen! She needed a fiction and I did too.”
“Did you now? Hmmm.. it must’ve been to keep the horde away I’m sure.” Anjali gigggled at her brother’s frowning face and said, “Imagine that! La prefers someone else to you! Who I wonder is this guy?”
ASR scowled as he recalled Shayam and with him, Khushi. He growled out the name in annoyance, “His name is Shyam; the son of Manohar Jha; the owner of Manchester Cotton Textile .”
Anjali’s face took on a speculative look. “That’s not a bad choice. I remember the guy from the corporate parties I had been forced to attend last year, as a board member. You joined hands with his father for a project, didn’t you?”
“That’s right. His father is a good businessman, so I am quite sure he won’t be averse to the match between his family and La’s. However it is this man himself who has been a bit shaky on commitment.”
Anjali absorbed this and Arnav continued, “Coincidentally he is also here these days and we bumped into him today. He was with that girl; Khushi Gupta.”
The last words came out really bland in tone. Anjali looked at her brother, realising that he was hiding very strong emotions under the bland voice. She pretended ignorance about Shyam being Khushi’s photographer and said, “Our Khushi- the wedding organiser and your ex-employee? How does she know him? “
“I have things to do for your wedding. I’ll see you later, okay?” Arnav said and walked away instead of answering her question. Anjali observed the taut profile of her brother walking away from her and smiled slowly. Things were definitely taking a very desirable turn, small thanks to unprecedented luck on her side. She might just be able to pull off her stint and finally fulfil her mother’s dying wish.
Anjali sat down on the chair by the flower arrangement on the table, her eyes misting. She still remembered her mother’s deep sigh and her words, spoken to her when she was only eighteen and Arnav was twenty-three. Anjali had been crying of guilt because Arnav hadn’t eaten for two days; they had fought bitterly over her latest crush who had been paid off by Arnav. He had shown her tender teenage eyes the real picture hiding behind the object of her infatuation’s charm; a man ten years elder to her and only after her money. It had been too much to bear then and in rage, Anjali had lashed out at her brother.
Her mother had been travelling with her father to Paris for a business event that weekend when the incident occurred. Upon return, she had taken the matter into her own hands and had the matter resolved in minutes. She was the only one Arnav ever listened to, without any argument. When he had gone back to his room (after accepting Anjali’s apology with a smile), Anjali had asked her mother why her brother had been so brutal with the truth. Her mother had given a sad sigh and said to her,
“My darling son and your brother is a complicated character. When your father died, I married Sebastian and sometimes I wonder if that is what started his cynicism of relationships. He knew; he was six, old enough to know that I had married Sebastian not because I loved him, but because we wanted companionship, and also because I wanted financial security to raise the both of you. He had already seen what his own father had done to us as a family. Your father had thought he would climb the social ladder by marrying me and he did so too, by squandering my inheritance and betraying my father’s trust. Arnav had loved your father dearly, made him his idol. Sadly his love had never been returned. Your father was not the one to love anyone but himself. One day Arnav realised the truth. Turned out his charming idol had feet of clay. That was his first disillusionment. When I married Sebastian for financial security, it was his second disillusionment. Later on, as he grew up he realised there was a lot more to our relationship that that, but it did give birth to the cynic in him.”
Lost in her thoughts, she had then smiled, and proceeded to say, ” I have never regretted my decision to marry Sebastian, and I was very happy the day you and Arnav decided to accept him wholly and call him your Dad. Sebastian truly loves you as his own.”
Anjali had smiled brightly, held her mother’s hand and kissed it. Her mother had squeezed her hand in return and continued,
” I think its was the greatest sign of acceptance when Arnav decided to accept his new name. I know that he loves being called Alex by Sebastian, but he is also aware of how different his life might have been had he not been given the life and love he has, by Sebastian. When you father died, all I had was you as a toddler in my arms and Arnav, and a whole lot of debts that his womanising and gambling had left behind. My mother couldn’t forgive me for choosing such a man, and I couldn’t forget that I had chosen such a man. Yet I had loved him wholeheartedly. I can never regret meeting him or marrying him, because he gave me you and Arnav.
Anjali, I sometimes wonder if there would a woman brave enough to love him and fall in love with him, despite his weaknesses. I am not blind to his faults darling, nor am I unobservant. He is clever and brilliant at what ever he does, and your father says he will go far when he joins the business next week, as his successor. I have no doubt about it. But I have seen bitterness reflecting in his attitude, made only worse by his broken affair. His eyes are already of a man of thirty, cynical. He is the son of a prestigious businessman, has money and he is aware of it. He knows that girls-women may like him only because of his wealth. So many girls flock over to him, and I have no doubt he has his share of girlfriends and fun. What man his age wouldn’t? My fear is, even if he does fall in love one day, he is so pig headed, he might just screw things up, to run away from his one fear- disappointment. Remember my words, darling. If I am not around at the time, you make sure your brother finds his soul mate.”
Tears ran down Anjali’s cheeks as she remembered this conversation with her mother. This was the last close conversation they had had together. Two weeks after, her parents had been killed in a plane crash, while travelling across the Atlantic. Mr Rothwell senior had happily named his successor, given a party for the occasion, and decided to take a holiday with his wife. They had been travelling to America when the plane had crashed.
Anjali wiped tears off her cheeks and sniffed, going into her bedroom, more determined than ever to ensure her brother’s happiness. She knew what she had to do next.