Chapter 7: Drölma
Drölma: Tibetan Goddess. Also known as Tara. She had over 21 manifestations in all kinds of colors. "Tara" means "savior", and she is considered a benign being that is always ready to help others and assist those in need. However, she just might resort to different kinds of mischiefs to get things done.
Looking at Payal working on the Y-crystals, Arnav made an executive decision. He wasn’t going alone this time. He called it an executive decision because he was well aware what going alone meant. Women. Beautiful ones. Distractions. He was far too busy to delve into all that right now. So, Payal was going with him. One way or the other. “Payal!” he called out to the woman so lost in her microscope, and when she looked up to meet his eyes, damned if his heart didn’t shudder with a sense of fear. How could someone so beautiful be so scary? “Yes?” came the supremely uninterested reply. Arnav thought for a moment if he should just reconsider his executive decision but at the last moment, decided not to. It was deplorable that he was fearful of a girl so much younger than him. “You’ll be going with me to Abde Manaf Mannan’s son’s party in Greater Kailash. Players involved in this investigation would be present there and I could use a fresh perspective,” Arnav didn’t know how convincing he had been because Payal kept on looking at him. Disconcertingly steady. “I’m not going to buy a dress, Sir,” Arnav sighed inwardly. Of course she wouldn’t. “My sister’s personal shopper can probably take care of that. Just, um... give her a call here,” he quickly chucked the Monikangana’s card at Payal and made a beeline for the door. Less he said now, was better. He heard her mutter something suspiciously like rich frat boy, but deigned not to reply. He could always hold her up for insubordination but hey, he’d never have a forensic investigator as good as her and damned if she didn’t know it.
“Maison Martin Margiella,” Anjali Jha had confidently proclaimed to her leery brother. “He’s very in right now,” Arnav had always been old school; preferring the old to the new. Steering away from what was in. He would much rather wear Savile Row suits over the newer designers anytime. If forced, he would occasionally wear Tom Ford, Hugo Boss and Alexander McQueen, to an extent. Nothing earth shattering. Nothing avant-garde. He wasn’t a very modern man to begin with. Yet, he found himself being coerced into wearing a new label he didn’t quite know about. Arnav had held his breath until his sister had toted the suit in, and then it had come out - one big whoosh! of relief. Anjali had noted the naked relief on her brother’s face and broke into gurgles of laughter, “Can’t have my brother wearing rags at the party my event management firm has thrown now, can I?” Arnav had grinned, relief still very much evident in his eyes. It was a beautifully cut wool crepe two-button black suit, paired with pants with an almost fluid, vintage line to it, one usually associated with Italian wears. He had worn it over an aubergine Stefano Ricci dress shirt, sans tie. The collar of his shirt rakishly popped up, and a pocket square to match his shirt. Anjali had wolf whistled, while a dull wash of colour had stained Arnav’s neck and cheeks. He had then smiled. Investigation, he smiled - what I do for you.
“Di?” He had called out to his busy sister, talking constantly into her phone, arranging the last minute details with military precision. “What is it, Chotte?” He grimaced, he’d always hated that name. Chotte. But who would explain it to his Sister, who still thought of him as the small boy who had cried when she’d beaten him at Chess? “Uh. My colleague. She was going to this shindig as well. Where did you stash her?” Anjali had smiled, knowing her brother well enough not to entertain romantic dreams in her head. He was all business. Not unlike their father to some extent, she thought with a gentle smile. “She’s coming Chotte. Just last minute adjustments,” Arnav had rolled his eyes. What adjustment could Payal possibly need? That girl barely wore lip gloss! That was the last thought in his head before his heart stopped first time for a moment, out of sheer shock.
Arnav had no qualms of saying that Payal was a bad ass. Maybe a bigger one than the rest of the men in the department combined. Somehow Monikangana, the personal shopper had captured the essence of her personality in the dress. Arnav stared, googly eyed at the warrior queen lookalike standing in front of him. She had worn a dress that was cut to her upper thighs - exposing one leg, that was the first thing he noted, swallowing. It was a filmy printed chiffon dress - but where one would assume pale flowers paired with chiffons, her print resembled the heart of a fire - hundreds of shades of red with inklings of black thrown in here and there. The A-line skirt framed the smooth expanse of leg that would have made Ms. Jolie proud, while the ruched, strapless sweetheart neckline framed an impressive bre... err... chest... he was thinking chest, that he had no idea she even had. The inky black hair was up in a chignon. She had worn no other jewellery but a pair of brush gold and intense green prasiolite hoops in her ears and a Virgules patterned cuff bracelet in her right wrist that intensified the image of an Amazon standing before him, in spiky red and gold heels. Stilettos, aren't they? They seemed to make those legs even longer. Mile-long. He had stared, speechless. Scared that if he said one wrong word, that she would whip a spear out of nowhere and pin him to the wall with that. He really ought to pay Monikangana more, Arnav thought wryly. The girl was phenomenal at reading a person’s personality.
She walked towards him, the spindly heels clicking rhythmically on the floor. Suddenly, Payal had stood and pirouetted. “Monique Lhuillier,” She had proclaimed and Arnav had quirked a dramatic eyebrow. “That’s supposed to mean something to me, why?” Payal had pursed her almost mauve red lips, nude tinted eye with thick, thick lashes fluttering. “Well, it did cost you a fortune,” she drawled, smoothing her hands down over her sleek hips. Arnav had suddenly felt embarrassed, as if his wealth had, for the first time, created a barrier between him and his colleagues, even though he had never gone out of his way to hide or flaunt it. “Business Expense,” he had proclaimed gruffly, looking away from the Amazon’s knowing smile. She quickened her pace, a black tipped hand clutching a copper and gold Genie Lamp minaudiere. Seeing him staring at it, she smiled. “Yeah it’s a bag. Judith Leiber. Cost you a fortune too. Why lug around a purse that looks like a wishing lamp, I asked? Fashion, I was told. You rich are a weird lot,” she smiled again; a toothy smile capable of striking fear of God into the heart of a lesser man and walked away flicking the riots of curls framing her face, without looking back towards where his car was parked. Leaving Arnav to mull upon a strangely apt statement, the rich were a strange lot. He would know. After all, he was, for all his sins - one of them.
Payal would never admit it under the threat of any tortures known to man but she was intimidated. The dress, the shoes, the makeup and even the stupid minaudiere helped as a shield and she would forever be grateful to her gorgeous boss for them but this palatial home in Greater Kailash had her cowed, no, shaking on the inside. Maybe her poker face was very good, because nobody seemed to realize that the girl walking so briskly on the smoke-like, indigo veined Rosa Aurora marble floor wanted to hide behind one of those Grecian pillars, her knees knocking together. This room alone could fit five of Payal’s family home - yard and all. How could she even fit in? Why were they staring like that? Did they know, like a homing device of sorts for the rich, that she wasn’t really one of them?
She smoothed her hands down the side of her dress again, secretly admiring how the filmy chiffon flew fluidly down her sides, around her legs while she walked in her customary brisk gait. Arnav looked at her, a strained smile on his face, motioning for her to wait a while - he was talking to an older woman, flashing some serious bling that would blind the unwary and what she was sure the latest designer saree off ramp, that seemed eons too young for the woman in question. When the lady started ruffling his hair, the smile turned to an almost grimace. Payal turned her back on him, trying to muffle a laugh, that if she would let loose would reverberate through this huge hall. Was she hysterical? Payal never really knew that it would take so little to unnerve her. Yet, she was spellbound too. The theme of the party, she had been told by her curt boss, was 70’s hindi films - costumes optional. Some, like her and Arnav sir had gone on to dress neutral of any era. While others, she smiled, had thrown themselves into the glamour and the kitsch of that time period. There were Helens, Bindus, Faryals, Zeenat Amans and Parveen Babis. Payal noticed a smattering of Padma Khannas and Aruna Iranis as well. Was that a Kalpana Iyer she saw? Payal was star struck. By the bold, Eastman colored curtains - the waiters and waitresses in the shiny, period appropriate gold lame trimmed costumes, carrying drinks in the quintessential wine goblets. Yes, those wine goblets, that you would see in every film at one point. The rich and the famous converged into one intoxicating body that writhed, twisted and turned, mesmerizing her. A vintage, mirrored disco ball, with multitude of lights, spun overhead, while old, spunky classical beats from the era throbbed in the background. Beautiful women decked in silks, satins, velvets and materials she didn’t even recognize, no doubt designed by names she had just read in magazines and saw on TV, during sleepless nights. Women decked in jewels, who wouldn’t look out of place in the silver screen paired up with gorgeous men, powerful men - all of it befitting the movie reel by itself, she thought with a secret smile on her lips. Payal looked, trying not to stare too hard, taking it all in. Absorbing the ambience. Nobody knew but Payal, the highly feared, no-nonsense forensic investigator and the CBI Bureau was a filmophile at heart. She was after all, a young girl still. One in love with Hindi movies with their heroes, the heroines and the vamps - especially the vamps, she thought, lips parted slightly - more so, the slightly older ones, some from before she was born. Wasn’t this an interesting turn of fate that she would wind up in a party like this?
She turned a bit, her eyes dancing over the numerous rich movers and shakers that she could see flitting around the dimly lit hall, her lips turned up at the corners in a small smile as she gazed at the various beautiful costumes again, her mind supplying her with the names of the actors and actresses that the wearers were supposed to be, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tried to place which movie they had worked in... and then she saw him. Him.
Mocha colored eyes, glinting with the slightest hint of gold... or was it silver? Payal tried to blink her eyes, but for some reason, she couldn’t get herself to. Her eyes drifted down from the Mocha depths that seemed to be imprisoning her, and traced the sharp straight line of his nose, High cheekbones, a hint of a dimple on the left cheek, her eyes stopped finally at those lips... was a man supposed to have as beautiful lips as those? Masculine, yes, but beautiful too. Cut-glass defined. tilted up in a half smirk, a mocking one? Amused, more likely... Was he wondering, could he see that this wasn’t her real milieu? Did he think that she was some sort of crow trapezing around in peacock feathers? Her eyes snapped back to those intense orbs that had finally settled on her. Holding. Her breath caught... as they flashed something indescribable, the smirk growing into a smile... a lop sided flash of pearly white teeth that seemed to have the sole purpose of robbing her off her senses. She stood there, stiff as a statue, Gazing at the man transfixed... her mind grappling furiously for a reason why she couldn’t seem to be able to pull her poker face right now. What the hell was he? Whatever he was, she thought, gritting her teeth, he set her teeth on the edge.
The hand on her shoulder brought her back to her senses with a jerk and she flinched slightly, turning around sharply, her CBI instincts as she liked to think of them, kicking in. “Payal? Its just me.” she heard her boss’s slightly wary yet steady voice and she relaxed a bit. She looked up from her hand that had instinctively gone to clutch tightly at his collar into his face and saw something akin to amusement flash there for a minute second before being replaced by expressionless calm. Arnav stood still, as she slowly let go of his shirt and stepped back, his expressions not betraying what he was thinking, and Payal realized why she respected the man so much. Of Course she wouldn’t admit the fact that she respected him to him even under threat of torture- she didn’t want his already inflated head to fill up with some more air- he might just float off. But for Payal, Arnav Singh Raizada was a Man, through and through. He was calm, composed, witty, intelligent, strong, and Brave. And in his own way, the man inspired loyalty from every member of their squad. She closed her eyes briefly as the image of another Man flashed through her mind, and took a deep breath. It was official, something was definitely wrong with her.
“In case you’re wondering... That’s NK Raina.” Arnav said casually, as he buried his hands in his pockets and looked down at her, the glint of amusement in his eyes definitely pronounced now, and her head snapped up, a hot blush coloring her cheeks and feeling uncomfortably hot around the ears. She desperately pulled the cool look back and raised one sardonic eyebrow at him, her eyes flashing dangerously. “I don’t wonder about Rich wastrels, Boss.” she said curtly, and managed to not shake her head in astonishment as a small sly voice in her head supplied, yeah, and definitely don’t wonder about Rich Men with glittery Mocha eyes.
“Good,” came the calm voice that seemed to be whispering right into her ears. “He is way out of the leagues of a naive, sheltered 24 years old... even if you are a praying mantis in training...” the last part came out in a whoosh of breath. Payal turned to stare at him, enraged, but he wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were fixed on Raina. “Plus...” his voice was more serious now. “There are baggages that some men come with. Probably be best if you two don’t meet. Raina’s too fucked up for babies like you...” with a curt nod in her direction, he walked towards another woman, decked in a fortune of diamonds from head to toe - no doubt another aunt. Leaving her alone in this shindig, where she felt like a fish out of water. He had abandoned her once again, she fumed. Granted, she wasn’t Sir’s date and thank the good Parvati Ma that she had nothing for that man - whoever was stuck with him, had a lot of grief coming. Imagine leaving your pretend date alone in a place she had no idea about, unattended. What was she supposed to do? She couldn’t even investigate - she knew nobody here. She was... “Ah, you are the beautiful associate who came along with Chotte as his pretend date,” murmured a voice that reminded her of bubbles escaping from a bottle of champagne. Effervescent. Laughing. She stood out, in the sea of film inspired dresses. Her hair fell in a waterfall of curls, hanging over one shoulder dramatically to compliment her saree; the palest shades of café au lait chiffon. Bordered with coffee, maroon and tarnished copper and cut glass antique lace with bronze and red topaz paisleys, it caught light at every instance. The saree itself was encrusted with antique zardosi, bronze beads, coppery bugle beads and cutdana works. There were embroideries of a queen’s bridal party, replenished with palquins all over the body and the anchaal, with semi-precious stones and crystals, handmade gold lace, resham and sequins work to boot. The blouse itself was deceptively simple sleeveless red with the same embroidery being carried out at the back. A pretty, no, a sweetly beautiful face with doe eyes lined darkly with kohl and bee-stung lips that was tilted in the brightest, most open smile possible, with its very own dimples in each cheek. Hard to believe, she thought, awestruck, that she was the sister to that khadoos. She shook her head, sending the kundan and ruby paisley cut earrings in a tailspin, catching an insane amount of light. Payal noted with interest that she was wearing a haar of the same design around her neck and engraved gold bangles finished off her look. She knew she shouldn’t be - there was no reason to - yet, Payal felt distinctly overwhelmed by the petite beauty in front of her, who wasn’t quite 5’4 in her blingy red heels.
“Payal...” she smiled hesitantly, trying not to let the shine of the woman in front of her blind her, “Payal Sharma. And yes... I am here with erm...” she so wanted to call Raizada chottey right now! But alas, Fate wasn’t with her. As she was interrupted by the man himself. “Hey Di, I see you’ve met Payal.” he said, as he suddenly reappeared beside her, and leaned forward to hug his sister, elder sister, Payal thought amusedly, and kissed her once on the forehead.
“Chotte!” the lady responded, her Light Caramel eyes shining an almost blinding Golden, as they danced with pure joy, and Payal couldn’t help but catch her breath. What was with her and Eyes tonight? She was vaguely aware of Raizada cringing beside her, and amusement at the sweet little nickname of his came back in full force. And she knew he had guessed the reason behind that smile tugging at her lips, because he smiled slightly at his Di even as he murmured for only Payal to hear- “Not one word Sharma. I warn you.” The low voice was husky, dangerous and completely Commander Raizada in character. But This was too good to give up and her smile only broadened, making him roll his eyes slightly, before he turned back to his sister, both of them unaware of the hopeful glint in those golden eyes that had been scrutinizing them.
“Ah. And what are you so happily smiling about, Mrs. Jha?” a low voice whispered in her ear, and Anjali wondered when this novelty of being close to her Husband would wear off. It hadn’t yet, and their marriage was already quite a few years old. She turned, and tilted her head as an even brighter smile lit her face up. “Hey, you.” she murmured, as she felt his hand slide around her waist and pull her ever so slightly against him. She nodded her head towards the now aware duo in front of her and smiled up at him again, “Meet Arnav and his date Payal Sharma.”
Payal considered herself a good judge of character - she could read even the slightest change in the atmosphere - something that had made her a very good investigator at a comparatively young age. Her boss, usually so poker-faced, stayed the same - certainly. Yet, the tension in his shoulders, the barely perceptible way his nostrils flared told her that there was an uneasiness here. An old wound that hadn’t healed - and had, thus been festering. Even the polite smile on his lips had a razor edge to it. “This is Mr. Jha, Payal.” Payal almost shivered at the sheer iciness that exuded from the man standing beside her. “My Sister’s husband. And also... the current CEO of Raizada Enterprises.” The way the word current was emphasized, left no doubt in Payal’s mind that Mr. Raizada did not approve of Mr. Jha’s position. Not in the Family Business... nor in his Sister’s life. And by the look that his Sister had just shot him, she knew it very well. Payal stepped back, unwilling to get embroiled in the rich and the famous’s family dramas. They were here to investigate - that’s what they would do. But first, she shot her cold eyed boss a wicked smile - she would tweak the tail of the dragon.
“Mrs Jha,” she drawled causing Arnav to look at her warily. He had come to fear and respect that tone. “Yes Payal?” smiled Anjali, the ever sunny. “I was wondering... there was this gentleman here - NK Raina. I need an introduction,” she stressed the last word. “I think,” she looked at Arnav and winked, very visibly, “that he might help with our investigation,” Payal was sure that her statement was taken at it’s face value by the happy Mrs. Jha but the darkly gorgeous Mr. Jha quirked a brow at her direction, eyes twinkling while Raizada stared at her, eyes wide. Fuming. She could see that he was fuming because there was a stain of red that was quickly spreading over the top of his ears. She wondered if she pushed him enough if there would be smoke coming out of his ears. Thought, then decided to leave that particularly pleasurable discovery for another day. Payal hooked her arm around Anjali’s smaller one and turned her back on her furious boss, sauntering towards the general direction of where they had last seen the fucked up Mr. Raina.
NK stood, eyes taking stock of things all around. The mics had been set a long time ago and so had the cameras, his eyes twinkled as he nodded amicably at Shartaaz... His target. His eyes travelled after the target, up the stairs and along the balcony as he watched Shartaaz step inside a room on the first floor. It would be hard, not to be spotted walking alone along those corridors with the whole crowd standing here, just below. But wasn’t handling such challenges just something that endeared him and his Partner to their Job? He smirked, his hands buried in his pockets, as he turned around again, shrugging casually to a question an associate of his Father’s threw at him. That particular problem was where Khushi came in. Cue Blackout, with a sole Spotlight. And he knew that Khushi could keep their attention for as long as she wanted. She had that charm about her. A Magnetic Charm.
“NK?” A sweet voice from behind him, jolted him from his thoughts and he turned around, to come face to face with Anjali Raizada Jha... or like she preferred to call herself, Mrs. Jha. Anjali was one of those genuine persons in his society that NK had the highest respect for. Born in the Raizada Family, the Raizada siblings had had to be brought up by their grandmother, after the tragic accident that took their Parents’ life. Word had it, that Shyam Jha, the current CEO of Raizada Enterprises and Anjali’s husband, had been a poor mid-level executive-promoted-to-right-hand-man of the Late Mr. Raizada, someone Mr. Raizada had kindly taken under his wing, and honed into a highly intelligent and shrewd Man. Rumours also had it, that there had been a lot of strife in the Raizada family over Anjali marrying a man 12 years older to her, and even after she had married the Man, and it had been made clear to everyone that the Man was genuinely in love with her, there still was some disagreement on the issue between the siblings. Oh well, Nk shrugged mentally, even as he smiled at the prettily dressed sweet beauty in front of him, Gossip.
“Hey Anjali,” He bent forward to kiss her cheek, as she climbed to her tip-toes to do the same to him. “How are you?” She smiled again, flashing those unique dimples, and nodding her head to indicate she was good, before she turned to the woman who had been standing beside her. “Actually, I wanted to introduce you to someone.” she smiled at him and he returned it, turning to face the woman he was supposed to be getting introduced to...
And then, Everything around him, Stopped.
Just like that.
It was as if, Time had ceased to exist. As if everything but them had ceased to exist.
A small voice somewhere in his mind seem to whisper distantly, speaking of Magnetism...
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