‘But you guys get along fine?’
‘We’ve known each other since we were kids. He’s fun to be with and he’s always there for me. He’s the person I call in the middle of the night when I’m bored or unable to sleep.’
Nitisha turned back to face the road and nodded thoughtfully. ‘Hmmm.’
‘He’s a good guy,’ Risha said. ‘Did I tell you he just did a shoot for Frontier Bazaar?’
‘That’s great,’ Nitisha answered distractedly.
Rohan shot his fiancée a sideways look before glancing at Risha in the rearview mirror. ‘So can we interest you in kathi rolls instead? I personally prefer them vastly to sushi.’
Risha shook her head. ‘Thanks, but I actually have a lunch date with Nidhi. Do you think you can drop me off at Lajpat Nagar on your way?’
‘Of course,’ Rohan said.
A few minutes later, they pulled up in front of Nidhi and Vikram’s sprawling four-storeyed home and Risha asked, ‘Are you sure you don’t want to come in?’
‘No, unfortunately we need to rush back,’ Nitisha said.
‘Nidhi will yell at me for letting you leave.’
Nitisha shook her head. ‘I have an appointment with the make-up artist, so we’re going to grab a quick bite and head back to Gurgaon. Tell Nidhi we said hi and we’ll see her tonight.’
Risha nodded, slinging her backpack over one shoulder. ‘Thanks for the ride.’
As they drove away, Rohan glanced at Nitisha, concerned by her atypical taciturnity. He knew what was going on in that brain of hers, and since he didn’t want to encourage it, he drove in silence.
Last night, after Risha had left, Arjun returned to the table and kissed Nani goodnight. Nitisha had opened her mouth to unleash a tirade but Arjun gave her a warning look. ‘Not now, Chinky.’
She didn’t push him, but as soon as Arjun left, she had turned to her fiancé for an explanation.
Rohan briefly explained that Arjun had met Risha on the flight and that his ridiculous prejudice against journalists was the cause of his uncivil behaviour towards her. ‘But I think it’ll be fine now that they’ve talked about it.’
Nitisha had bombarded him with questions but Rohan didn’t yield. ‘It’s not our place, Nitisha. We should stay out of it.’
‘If there’s anything we can do to sort out their misunderstandings, we absolutely should intervene,’ Nitisha persisted.
‘No, we absolutely should not. Besides, they don’t know each other well enough to harbour “misunderstandings”. And even if they did, their personal lives are nobody’s business but their own. Keep out of it.’
Nitisha had agreed grudgingly, but watching her now, Rohan knew it was still bothering her. With a resigned sigh, he asked, ‘What’s on your mind?’
‘Yesterday I had the distinct impression that Rishabh is not really into Risha.’ Ignoring Rohan’s sceptical look, she continued, ‘And I’m not sure if Risha is aware of his sexual orientation. She seems fond of him, so maybe she’s with him out of loyalty.’
‘Nitisha,’ Rohan said gently, ‘we’re getting married in two days. I really don’t want to spend this time discussing the sexual orientation of a complete stranger, or matchmaking for Arjun. He doesn’t appreciate your mother’s interference in his life and I’m sure he won’t appreciate yours either. So I’m going to say this for the last time: leave him alone.’
Nitisha knew Rohan was right, but something felt amiss. This morning she had barged into Arjun’s room as he got dressed for work. ‘Why are you harassing the photographer?’
Arjun continued working on the knot of his tie and glanced at his sister’s reflection in the mirror. ‘Good morning to you too.’
‘I’m serious, Bhai. She’s amazing, and if she quits because of you, I’m going to kill you,’ she threatened.
Arjun sighed. ‘Chinky, I’m late for work. Can we do this later?’
‘No,’ she said stubbornly. ‘And why are you even going to work? You’re hosting a party tonight.’
‘I’ll be back after lunch. Besides, Tanvi has everything under control,’ Arjun said with a reassuring smile.
‘You need to apologize to Risha.’
‘I already did,’ Arjun said tersely.
‘What happened to you yesterday? Your behaviour was so out of character, Bhai.’
Arjun gave his tie a final tug and reached for his jacket. ‘I said I apologized. Now stop lecturing me, I need to leave for work.’
‘Fine. But from now on, if you don’t have anything nice to say to Risha, don’t talk to her at all.’
Nitisha thought she saw a shadow cross his face, but he nodded before leaving the room.
Risha slipped into Nidhi’s dress and gave a little twirl in the mirror. The dress looked nice on her, but it felt a little... scant. Nidhi was a couple of inches shorter than Risha, but even with flats, the dress showed too much leg.
‘Does it fit?’ Nidhi yelled from outside the walk-in closet.
Risha opened the door. ‘Yes and no.’
‘What are you talking about? It’s perfect!’ Nidhi squealed.
‘Well, it’s a little shorter than I usually wear,’ Risha said, tugging at the hemline of the lime-yellow dress.
‘That’s because you only wear jeans,’ Nidhi said dryly.
‘Can you at least give me a jacket or a shrug?’ Risha asked, rubbing her arms.
‘No.’
Risha pouted. ‘Please? I almost froze last night, I can’t go sleeveless again!’
‘Fine,’ Nidhi said, fishing into her closet and coming up with a gold-brocade bolero jacket.
Risha tried it on and stretched her arms to test its snugness. It was super comfortable and the three-quarter sleeves would protect her from the cold. She slid on her gold-and-rhinestone thong sandals and studied her reflection. After seeing Tanvi yesterday, Risha was inspired to put some effort into her appearance. Risha had raided Nidhi’s closet because, as her friend had correctly pointed out, the Venn diagram depicting Risha’s wardrobe and Risha’s jeans was basically a circle. Risha applied some eyeliner and finished her look with a coat of nude lip gloss.
Nidhi gave her an approving nod. ‘Now I won’t be embarrassed by you.’
Risha rolled her eyes at her friend and reached for her phone, glancing through her unread text messages. One was from her mother mentioning another set of matrimonial ads her father had couriered—did her parents care about nothing other than marrying her off? The other text was from Kabir asking about a photographer called Candy.
Risha froze. How did he know? Was he spying on her? Did he know someone at the wedding? He probably knew all the socialites and all the SoLites.
‘What’s wrong?’ Nidhi asked, watching Risha’s worried expression.
Risha filled her in quickly. ‘There has to be a connection.’
‘So what if there is?’ Nidhi reasoned. ‘You’re not doing anything wrong.’
‘I never tell him whose wedding I’m shooting, and he never asks. I don’t want to mix both worlds,’ Risha said. That’s a rule she’d been following even before she discovered Arjun’s dislike of her ‘other world'.
‘Tell him you don’t know anyone called Candy,’ Nidhi said. ‘It’s the truth.’
‘Half-truth,’ Risha said uneasily.
‘No, it’s the whole truth,’ Nidhi said firmly. ‘Stop being a goody-goody and send him the text.’
Risha nodded and sent Kabir a carefully worded text:
I don’t know a photographer named Candy.
Arjun stood at the French windows of his bedroom and took in the panoramic view of the Gurgaon skyline. When he was a kid, his father would take him to the roof of the tallest skyscraper in Gurgaon and ask him to identify all the Khanna buildings. Back then, there weren’t as many buildings and there were only a handful of high-rises. Arjun had loved that game, but always resented that they played it in a building that hadn’t been constructed by his father.
When Arvind Khanna finally lau
nched Khanna Heights, the tallest residential tower in the national capital region, and asked his son to fly in from New York for the inauguration, Arjun had said no. He’d been working 120 hours a week at the investment bank and was due for a promotion; he couldn’t afford to take time off for a trip to India.
Three weeks after the launch of Khanna Heights, Arvind Khanna suffered a massive heart attack. Arjun flew to Delhi immediately, took one look at the terror-stricken faces of Amrita and Nitisha, and made his decision. He resigned a week later, citing personal reasons, and Karan, his friend and roommate, took care of everything in New York.
Over the next two years, Arjun threw himself in his new job as the interim CEO of Khanna Developers. With time, he dissolved the bureaucratic culture of the company by hiring young graduates from top management schools, whom he paid handsome salaries and empowered to take decisions. In turn, they repaid him by committing themselves to the growth of the company, as wholeheartedly as Arjun himself.
In addition to human capital, Arjun invested heavily in marketing—revamping Khanna Developers as a young and vibrant brand, instead of a trusted but boring establishment. Watching his son assume his former role with natural ease, Arvind took early retirement, and Arjun took over as the CEO. In the four years since Arjun had joined Khanna Developers, the turnover of the company had more than doubled. Arjun had earned the trust of the board and shareholders on his own merit, and not just because he was Arvind Khanna’s son.
Arjun thought of the two-hour-long meeting he’d had with his leadership team earlier today. They had done the math, and a strike on a plot that size would set them back by millions. Since it was an affordable housing project, there was no way Arjun could pass on the cost to the buyers, and the damages would have to come out of his bottom line. He was tempted to call Yadav and threaten to fire him, but he knew that would only do more harm than good. Not only because it was too expensive to hire a new contractor six months into construction, but also because his father would never let him fire Yadav. Yadav had been their contractor for years, and he was, according to Arvind Khanna, a ‘bharosay ka banda’[50].
‘It’s very difficult to find a person you can trust, Arjun,’ his father always said. ‘And if you find such a person, it is stupidity to lose them over trivial matters.’
Arjun sipped on his Cabernet Sauvignon and turned his attention to the swimming pool. Tonight, he was hosting a party for the couple and fifty of their closest friends and family. They had basically invited everyone under the age of thirty-five who was willing to stay up till the wee hours of the morning drinking, playing games, and playing drinking games. Arjun had picked retro video games as the theme of the party, and Tanvi’s team had done a brilliant job transforming his penthouse into a full-blown gaming arcade.
His home theatre was connected to a gaming console, and the living room was set up with life-size arcade games like PacMan, Space Invaders and even a pinball machine. Tanvi had recommended upgraded versions of the games but Arjun had vetoed that. ‘The whole point of the party,’ he explained to Tanvi, ‘is to help people revisit the leisure activity of their childhood. It won’t work without bad graphics.’
‘Purist,’ Tanvi had muttered before shouting more instructions into her Bluetooth.
Arjun walked out of his room and was blown away by what he saw. A large Tetris-esque backdrop stood behind the pool with Tetris shaped blocks forming a platform. Guests could choose a foam hat in one of the many Tetris shapes and have a picture clicked on the platform as they walked in. Backlit Ls hung from the trees and Line-shaped benches surrounded Square-shaped tables.
The terrace and barbecue area had been converted to a scene from Mario, with tables in the shape of green tunnels, and poufs upholstered like red bricks in place of chairs. The tops of the stirrers looked like toadstools and Mario moustache sticks were placed on each table as props for photographs. Tanvi had come highly recommended by Vikram, and she had outdone herself.
Arjun’s thoughts drifted to the other person Vikram had recommended and he took a long sip of his wine. He was appalled by the way he had treated Risha yesterday. He had not been raised to disrespect a guest in his home, let alone a woman. His actions yesterday were deplorable and, for the life of him, he couldn’t understand why he had behaved in such a boorish manner. And even though he had apologized, his apology had felt insufficient, more so because she had accepted it instantly.
He remembered how long he would spend apologizing to Karishma for small things like forgetting to call or rescheduling a date. She used to make him grovel over the phone and only forgave him when he sent her an exotic bouquet of flowers or an expensive bottle of wine and, later in the relationship, a piece of jewellery. So him for being shocked when Risha immediately said ‘It’s okay’. Especially given how he had almost manhandled her.
At twenty-nine, Arjun had adequate experience with women. Aside from casual flings, he had dated a few women, even though, besides Karishma, he hadn’t let anyone get too close. He maintained his emotional distance, but he was always impeccably polite and unfailingly gentlemanly. So why was his irrational attraction towards Risha causing him to behave like a prepubescent teenager?
The intensity with which he was drawn to her disconcerted him. Of course, she was a beautiful woman, but after watching her the previous day, Arjun realized his interest in her wasn’t just physical. He had been impressed by her photos on the flight, but seeing her in action yesterday took his breath away.
She was everywhere and yet she was nowhere to be seen. When he was looking for her just to sneak a glance at her, he could seldom find her. But anytime he thought, ‘Wow, that would make a great photograph’, she was right in front, making sure the moment was captured.
She certainly had an instinctive knack for her job, but at the mehndi Arjun had seen glimpses of the warm, funny, friendly Risha he’d met on the flight. Maybe it was a professional tactic, but she seemed to be everybody’s favourite person. In all these years, none of his relatives could get along with his mother and his grandmother simultaneously, yet Risha had managed to charm both ladies. The elders kept summoning her, the kids kept surrounding her and the men kept showering her with attention.
Too bad she was taken.
Why was she dating that douche Rishabh, anyway? With his hair styled like a model, tight fitted shirt and perfectly groomed moustache, Rishabh was a typical metrosexual. If Arjun didn’t know any better, he would think the dude was gay.
Arjun sank into one of the poufs and saw the patio lights come on. In the distance he could hear Tanvi giving instructions to the sound guys, and the musical clinking of glasses at the bar.
A woman in a yellow dress walked in through the elevator and Arjun’s breath caught in his throat. If her hourglass figure hadn’t divulged her identity, the colour of her dress would have.
Arjun remembered Risha telling him on the flight, ‘I usually dress in the same colour for the entire wedding, so that it’s easy for the bride and groom to spot me—a uniform of sorts. It’s subconscious, but after the first day, it works.’ Evidently for this wedding she had picked yellow.
Concealed from her view, Arjun conducted a languid perusal of Risha’s appearance. Her soft, brown hair was pulled back in a high ponytail and her black eyeliner brought out the hazel specks in her eyes. Her dress was simple but sophisticated, with a neckline that revealed enough without revealing too much. The thick vertical pleats of the dress tapered down to her mid-thigh, accentuating her curves and showing off her long, long legs.
Before today, Arjun hadn’t realized how strong his aversion was to the colour yellow. He hated it with a vengeance. It was the colour of jaundice, of pee, of banana peels on the street. But for some reason, on her it looked... tolerable.
Arjun watched her step towards the poolside balcony, stopping for a few moments to admire the view. From his seat at the terrace, Arjun did the same. He observed her in silence for the next few minutes, as she checked the light and took test sho
ts. She changed the lens on her camera and looked up at the Tetris photo booth, rapidly taking shots before glancing back down at the output screen. The action caused her hair to bounce in its ponytail and Arjun wondered how she would look if she wore it down. He admired her sexy, toned legs as she walked the length of the pool, stopping sporadically for photographs. She turned the camera in his direction and gasped in surprise.
Busted.
He gave her a little wave and she waved back before turning away swiftly. He stood up and walked towards the edge of the pool. ‘You’re early.’
Risha stiffened. ‘I’m just here to prep. I didn’t realize I was intruding.’
‘That’s not what I meant.’
‘I’m just here to take some test shots, Mr Khanna. I’m sorry if—’
‘Arjun.’
She looked confused. ‘What?’
‘Please call me Arjun.’
‘Okay.’ She shrugged, turning around.
Arjun’s mouth twisted up in a smile. She was one stubborn girl.
‘Risha,’ he called after her.
She stopped and exhaled. ‘Look, I just want to work in peace. If my presence offends you, please take it up with your sister,’ she said tartly.
If they weren’t separated by the width of the pool, Arjun would’ve shaken her by the shoulders. ‘I really am sorry for the way I treated you yesterday,’ he said.
‘It’s okay.’
‘It is?’
‘Yes, really. Forget about it.’
Arjun walked around the pool to her side. ‘So can we kiss and make up?’
Risha turned to face him, watching the way his blue blazer stretched across his broad shoulders and taut chest, a flash of smooth brown skin peeking from the vee at his neck. Her mouth went dry. ‘Huh?’
A smile wafted across Arjun’s lips and Risha was certain her knees would buckle under her. ‘Can we be friends?’
The Wedding Photographer Page 11
