Prologue: Spirit of de Grisogono

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Prologue: Spirit of de Grisogono

(Spirit of de Grisogono :World’s largest black diamond, Originally from Africa, mine-cut from India. Multi-faceted, old Nizam style.)

April 12th, 2012. Hotel Taj, Mumbai.


The Dress was simply magnificent. There were no other words for it.Pink shaded japanese silk with a sweetheart neckline and a paler rossette on the decolletage adorned with white swarovski crystals.There were copper rings holding up the wispy sleeves and a matching little purse with the rossette and swarovski crystals pattern repeated on it. The crystal beadings on the bag complementing those on the hems of the dress itself. They dress was draped on an ebony seater, artfully. The actress Madhubala had worn it for her Harper Bazaar’s shoot. Her own pseudo Hollywood debut. Bollywood’s Marilyn Monroe.  Tragic. Beautiful. Eternal. She wanted it. And she would do anything to get it. Her eyes were trained to the front line of seats- her real competition would be from there. She fingered the locket around her neck, her fingers slipping and caressing along the Diamonds studded in a spiderweb pattern around the thumbnail deepest forest-green of the Columbian emerald in their midst. Her thumb stroked the Emerald- once, twice, three times- winding her copper-tipped finger around the highly polished, sleek gold chain before she closed her eyes drew in a calming breath and opened her eyes again- this time with cold confidence instilled in them. The brilliant amethyst cluster with a diamond on the middle resembling a flower, on her right hand ring finger caught light and blazed as she gestured towards the dress to her companion. Her eyes trained themselves on the dress- something that she had been obsessing over for the past three months. She didn’t turn when a Man sat beside her- neither when he slung a casual hand across the back of her chair, his other hand going up to stroke his clean-shaven chin thoughtfully as he followed her gaze.

“Still not going to listen to sense, I take it?” he said, his eyes trained on the dress as well now, and she turned her head towards him. Her eyebrows going up. He chuckled, and shook his head as she turned away.

“Nope. Worth a shot, though.” He shrugged and settled back, winking at the daughter of a wealthy collector who was also interested  in what his friend had been driving him insane over, for the past three months. He smiled as the girl winked back and turned away. Well, the least Madhubala’s Harper Bazaar dress could do for him was spare him a great night!

He looked around the Hall that they were currently occupying. His eyes easily gliding over to the security cameras placed in strategic points, his face tilting as he figured out each of their blind spots, his eyes twinkling as he found them. His fingers played a drum beat on the side of her chair and she looked back at him- slightly annoyed this time. “You could get it without all this melodrama, you know? Clean work. Let Colonel ‘Dungrees’ over there buy it, is what I think...” he trailed off indicating the Man with a slight tilt of his head before turning back to her and resisting from cringing at the look she was giving him.

“Fine.” he said, folding his arms across his chest as he crossed a leg over the other and leaned back. “Do it your way. Be honest with your passion and all that bullshit.” he said, tapping his foot on the floor as he muttered about only wanting to help out a friend, when she shook her head at him and turned again.

“Shut up NK. And Besides, if we do that, Daughter ‘Dungrees’ won’t sleep with you would she?” she chuckled as he sighed and his alert pose relaxed. She had a point. She nudged him and he rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know the stupid auction’s started!” he stage whispered, causing people around them to turn to him and he smiled at them, shrugging his shoulders easily as he leaned back again. “Wish I could have a drink though.” he told her and she managed not to groan out loud. But her attention was back on the dress. She had to get it. And NK was there- even with all his mutterings and sulkings, he never did miss any of these events. She was pretty sure she would get it- what with both her luck charms present with her. She discreetly fingered the locket again- and smiled. After all as the rhyme goes... when she was good, she was very very good... when she was bad - she got diamonds and pearls. Tonight, she smiled fingering a lock of her own curl - she’d settle for silk instead.

She sauntered up to near the stage, looking. Absorbing. It will be hers soon... and damn everyone else who gets in her way, her green emerald and gold streaked eyes gleamed. Hers, The dress was designed circa 1950s by the Haus of Lancome by Louis va Kien; one of his last surviving works and on this particular hourglass actress... it had been a bomb. The whole world thought it and she wanted it. So much! She flicked her hair, now only if she knew where she’d put it.... Khushi smiled,  pearls flashing. Mine.


The bidding quickly got out of hand. Beyond the Thousands and into Lacs. She still kept bidding. Surely she could afford it. She smiled again. She sure could. Colonel ‘Dungree’ seemed intent on being a pain in the ass though.  she’d had it when he climbed beyond 4.
Raising her board, she indicated the auctioneer- a clean climb was what would get rid of the pesky man.

The girl raised a surprised eyebrow as she indicated her bidding amount. She rolled her eyes. Yes, Really. I’m giving you that much for the dress. Now get on with it. She wanted to snap, but made do with a small nod of her head.

The woman still looked unsure but went ahead anyways. “Not today my love, she is mine tonight,” she whispered. “I get an offer of 5 Lac Rupees.” the woman announced, her slightly nasal voice carrying throughout the suddenly quiet hall. People looked around and she smiled a secret smile. Not willing to pay that much for this beauty, are you gentlemen? Well, Too Bad! she thought, as the woman announced the dress to be sold. Sold at 5 Lac Rupees to Khushi Kumari Gupta.


He eyed the Ring. His Whiskey colored eyes sweeping over the hall once, picking out potential looking buyers. All of them looked from the core of the The Ultra Rich community.  Not Nouveau, no. Rich. Old Money. Sipping their drinks with their bred-in-the-bone sophistication, gossiping about every person they laid their eyes on, eyeing the goods with a greedy glint in their eyes- as if deciding on the story they were going to tell their peers about how they acquired it. And for How much. He wanted to snort in derision. Ah Family. Ah Home. Yeah, that was not gonna happen with The Ring- that was for sure. It was going to be returned to where it belonged- back to the family it belonged to. His family. His. Smiling wryly, he thought, nobody ever said he wasn’t a possessive man. It was a fact he accepted about himself. Liked too. He stood at the very back of the room, his hands buried inside his pockets, back ramrod straight- not paying a whit that almost half the women population in the Hall was eyeing him with the exact same amount of interest that the men in the room were eyeing the Ring with.  He tensed as the auction started. And just as before, went out of hand very rapidly. People standing up in their places to shout out outrageous amounts for the Ring. He shrugged, well he had the money- way too much of it. he could use it for some good couldn’t he? It was the money of his worthless ancestors anyways , he thought- fools- letting such a valuable heirloom go to a mere actress.

He frowned as he searched for the elusive bidder that was still bidding. Why would they pay so much for something like a mere Ring? Of course, it was in no way a mere Ring. An antique Nizam era Poison Box Ring with hollowed interior. Very cloak and dagger. Well suited for the intrigue filled Nizam’s courts. It was made up of burnished antique gold with fused emeralds, sapphires, amethysts, tourmaline and rubies with diamonds instilled around the edges. Enamelled inlays of tiny Mughal dancers. A work of art. A deadly one too. It was a ring some ancestress had used to allegedly poison her faithless, and if he admitted it, worthless husband. Powdered Datura extract. There were no proofs of course. She had worn the ring until the day she had died, never parting from it for a second. When that unhappy day had come, it had gone back to the family vault. Arnav Singh Raizada wanted that ring because another of his foolish ancestors who had given the ring away to woo the beautiful actress who probably didn’t care for it - much. The idiot had never looked to find out if his mother was really guilty or not. She wasn’t punished or caught... but still... He hadn’t even known about the hollowed chamber, reason tells neither did the late actress but,  Arnav was... curious. The ring still held the answer. Traces of Datura poison that would never go away. He would find it. Therefore the bloodsuckers here weren’t having it. No way in hell. His.

He frowned when the bid started climbing again. The bidder was practiced- that was for sure. Climbing in unpredictable leaps and spurts- so that he had a difficult time placing his bid. Well, Arnav Singh Raizada got what he wanted. This time would be no different. He raised his hand, continuing with his amount and sighed when the other bidder upped theirs. This was getting irritating. He raised his voice, he would put a stop to this- once and for all.  “25 Lac Rupees.” He said- and smirked at the silence that followed.

The woman at the podium looked around, her eyes hovering questioningly at the fifth row of seats- was that where the other bidder was?- and then sighing, she raised her voice- “25 Lac Rupees. Once. Twice. Thrice. Sold.”

Arnav smiled. Sold to Arnav Singh Raizada- Back in the right Family.

He strode forward, time to collect the prize, he thought smirking- but stopped just as he neared the fifth row. They had been a worthy opponent, even though whoever they were hadn’t got it. It took guts to bid 23 Lac for an antique ring- and it also took Good Taste and a lot of knowledge. He had to meet this person.  He scrutinized the people there, some standing, some idly sipping their drinks, not one of them seemed to be the kind who would have that kind of taste, though. And just as he had thought that he heard her.

“It’s supposed to be a Poison Box Ring. The woman who owned it before Madhubalaji poisoned her own Husband so she could elope with her young lover.”

His eyebrows rose, as he turned, his interest piqued. It was a woman. And she knew about the interesting history of His Ring. Nobody had known. Not even the celebrated Madhubalaji herself! Of course, the woman in question hadn’t eloped with her younger lover. Just stopped her worthless husband from squandering the family fortune on gaming and prostitutes but hey, he’d give his great-grandmother that thrill. She can have her young lover to the people but... And then he stopped.

The owner of that voice and that knowledge was standing a mere few feet in front of him- Ivory skin complemented beautifully by the curve-kissing floor length brilliant Flame Orange Bottega Veneta Gown that darkened to an almost burnished Red around the edges. It had a beaded bodice with a cowl-neck decolletage and beading at the edge of the filmy, almost insubstantial skirts. Her slender yet beautifully feminine frame shown off elegantly by the dress she wore. Copper pumps on her feet twinkled beguilingly. Sipping a glass of Dom Perignon, her full lips looked almost inviting as she told her companion more about the History of the Ring. “set with enamels, on gold filigrees are emeralds, sapphires, amethysts, tourmaline, rubies and brilliant almost white blue diamonds - all mined in India during the Mughal Era...” But what had drawn his attention was the Emerald choker she wore around her neck. A brilliant Green thumbnail sized rock in the middle, it was surrounded by a number of diamonds in a weblike pattern, hanging on a thick looking golden chain, the locket nestling quite magnificently in the hollow of her throat. “There are tiny, perfect mughal dancers enamelled on the top, dancing...” He raised his eyes and they clashed into those almost equally brilliant pair of Emerald Green eyes. Flecked with gold, dancing with impatience. The eyes just... he stared. The eyes... Framed by thick eyelashes. They were shuttered. Mysterious. Intelligent. He felt captivated. A willing slave. He had to meet her. He had only taken a step forward, when she turned away from him and to her companion.

“We should go.” she said, her voice a husky melody, “We have a flight to catch.” And before he could introduce himself- even think about it, really- she was gone.  His.

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4 comments

  1. AnonymousSeptember 14, 2013 at 10:36 AM

    Ok. How do I even begin…. I just stumbled upon this and I swear woman I have come back everyday just to read the chapters at random all over again… I really think that this is perfection… I mean your writing is at so high a level I seriously implore you to consider it as an avocation.

    Your descriptions are just fantabulous… Whether it be the costumes or the jewelry or the characters or their feelings, you do such a damn good job that I am literally left spell bound and tongue tied… Take for example your detailed analysis of the dress Khushi was after or the ring Arnav wanted, the outfit she wore and her statement neck piece… It was so beautifully described that it hurt to try to imagine it. I am stupefied as to how you come up with all this stuff??? How can your imagination be so vivid, how do you dream up the colors, the style, the brand, ALL OF IT??? HOW??? And in such perfect harmony with everything too… It is just stupendous…

    Then come the characters, their traits, their expressions, even the minutest of reactions and subtle body language is spelled out in magical ways… I profess you have me enthralled.

    The way Arnav and Khushi are possessive is plain hot. And boy you are so good at giving us an insight into the characters’ thought processes. I appreciate that a lot.

    And then there is the beginning of every chapter. You use such unheard of and mystical words, giving us the meaning and then going on to link the chapter very subtly with the word at the top that it simply makes me light headed.. I have learnt so much thanks to the unique and rare words that you have used till now and the symbolism and linking is a treat to read.

    My dear, this is just the beginning. I shall comment on every chapter because they are so amazingly written that I’ll go bonkers I if don’t get the words out of my system…

    Please do post the other chapters. Pretty please.

    I'll comment on all. But please give me some time. My exams are coming up but I can't resist reading the 11 chapters again and again.

    Thank you for writing and posting this.

    See you soon,

    the_breeze

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  2. AnonymousSeptember 26, 2013 at 7:15 PM

    What a beautiful, beautiful chapter!! I stumbled upon this blog by accident and am so very glad I did! It is such an amazing introduction and I hope this is an active blog because I intend to finish all the chapters you have here and hope to keep coming back to see your updates. One word: amazing!! Please keep going and don't ever stop your writing. It's descriptive as it should be, mysterious as it needs to be and elegant as it is meant to be. Thank you!!
    -Maya

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  3. napkSeptember 27, 2013 at 9:41 PM

    Just started reading this story. I missed it on IF.

    Very interesting start. Love your writing. Can't wait to catch up.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Abhi229December 7, 2022 at 10:37 AM

    Sigh these exquisite auction goods are fictional aren't they? I couldn't find Madhubala's iconic dress anywhere. And the way you have written about it I would give an arm and a leg for just a glimpse;)

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