by George, MM
“Please…” she whimpered, pushing ineffectively at his chest with her hands.
Ranbir caught her hands in his and pushed her arms up on the window, leaving her face defenseless against his impending assault. She could feel her heartbeat race to a tempo she had not believed possible till then. He lowered his head and claimed her lips even as she shuddered at the contact. His lips were firm, dry and they hovered on her mouth, pressing gently against her lips. His tongue laid claim next, tasting her, probing gently till a moan escaped her and he took advantage of the moment to explore her mouth. Mira exploded in the storm of sensations that overtook her.
He kept her captive against the glass with one hand, while the other traced the delicate line from her brow to her ear and lower down to where a pulse beat frantically at the base of her long, graceful neck. His fingers were gentle, caressing and sensuous, and they aroused in her feelings she had never dreamt of. “Ranbir, Mr. Dewan, please…” she gasped, as his mouth followed the path traced by his fingers, and then “Ohhhhh!”, as he let go of her hand to cup her breasts with both hands, his thumbs creating a gentle friction over her nipples through the thin, damp fabric of her kurta. His mouth moved back to her mouth, deepening the kiss, even as he eased his leg between hers, pressing close to the fiery heat that was dissolving in her core.
There was a sharp rap on the door. Mira pushed him away from her. “Ranbir?” said a voice outside the door. It was Jasmine.
Ranbir walked to the door and said, “In a bit.”
By the time Mira had straightened her clothing, Ranbir was sitting in the armchair, eating his breakfast. The only evidence of the passion they had shared just minutes ago was his slightly askew tie. Mira felt herself tremble with anger. “How dare you, Mr. Dewan?” she raged. “How dare you touch me?”
“I thought it was well reciprocated,” he looked up at her. “I didn’t hear you protest at the time.”
“That’s because…because…”
“Because I was kissing you?” he interjected calmly.
“What do you think of yourself, Mr. Dewan?” Mira spluttered. “I am not the kind of girl you can kiss in your office.”
“I just did,” he said, stabbing his fork into a chunk of apple.
“You may know women who will do anything you want. I’m not one of them. I am a respectable, middle class girl.”
“Everything has a price, Miss Talwar. Or should I say everybody has a price? Sit down, we can reach a suitable arrangement.”
“I will not!” fumed Mira. “And what kind of arrangement? The only kind of arrangement we could have is my work in the cafeteria.”
Ranbir put his plate down and looked at her, his eyes suddenly cooling to steel. “Miss Talwar, Mira, I will not beat around the bush. I find you attractive. In fact, I find you extremely attractive. You’re different from any woman I’ve met before. There’s something about you that gets under my skin—like an itch. And I mean to have you. I see you everywhere I go. I want to caress every smooth silken inch of you, to make you moan under my caresses till you no longer remember anything but my name.”
Mira trembled at the images he was invoking.
“How can you talk to me like this?” she whispered. “What do you want?”
“Be my mistress.” His voice was cool. “Sleep with me for six months—till I work you out of my system.”
“Are you crazy?” Mira’s voice rose sharply. “Sleep with you? And after six months? You’ll throw me out? Forget it, Mr. Dewan. Go find yourself another toy.”
She was about to open the door when he called her back.
“Think about it, Mira. I’ll make it worth your while,” said Ranbir, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “You need the money and you know it. No one need know. I’ll find you a flat close by. You can tell your mother it’s a company flat. I will not expect you to make any public appearances with me. Frankly, you’re not my type. And you can continue with your work here in the cafeteria, but you will make yourself available whenever I want you.”
Mira shook her head at him in disbelief. “Are you serious?” she asked in amazement. “Do you really think you can go around buying someone just to—what did you call it, scratch an itch? You think people are so dispensable? You think I am so cheap, so easily bought? What world do you live in, Mr. Dewan?”
“One in which everything has its price—a price that I am willing to pay.” Ranbir threw down the napkin and stood up. “What is your price, Mira?”
“You’ll never be able to afford it!” she spat out at him, moving to the door. An astonished Jasmine watched her walk out, disheveled, head held high in rage.
***
Mira made her way to the restroom, the strain of holding back her tears making her temple throb with pain.
She managed to lock herself into a cubicle before the flood began. She cried then—loud, sobbing tears that engulfed her in an emotional wave. All the pain, worries and tensions that had dwelt within her since their father’s death ebbed out now through her eyes. She wanted to march back into Ranbir’s cabin and tell him she no longer wanted to work in his office, but she knew she could not afford the luxury.
As she sat on the turned down cover of the toilet seat, dabbing at her eyes with toilet paper, a disquieting thought struck her. Ranbir had put a shameful proposition before her, made an offer that a middle class girl like her should have rather died than even heard out. And yet, she was not cringing with shame. In fact, even now, she could not put out of her mind those endless minutes when he had been caressing her, his tongue meshing with hers, the warmth of his body pressing into her. She realized with a shock that she had enjoyed his hands on her body, enjoyed them caressing it to heights of arousal she had not realized were possible. The thought of carrying on what they had started in his office in a bed filled her with a tingle of anticipation.
She shuddered in horror. “Am I so wanton?” she whispered to herself, touching the lips Ranbir had kissed with such thoroughness just minutes ago.
She came out of the cubicle and went to the sink. She studied her ravaged face in the mirror above it. She was strongly attracted to Ranbir, she admitted to herself, her skin prickled with awareness every time he came near her, she had begun to crave his touch. But, she thought, I will not give in to his preposterous demand. He can sack me if he likes. I am young and strong and I can find another job. I will not be treated like some cheap girl who will go running to him every time he snaps his fingers. She washed her face, bathing her red, swollen eyes so that Dhruv would not be suspicious. Then she made her way back to the cafeteria.
Dhruv looked at her as she entered. “You didn’t get into trouble again with Ranbir, did you?”
“I burnt my hand,” she proffered weakly, showing him the angry red mark on her wrist. “And Mr. Dewan got angry…”
“I don’t know what it is about you and Ranbir. You seem to rub each other the wrong way all the time. The other day, I thought he would dismiss you straight off. You have to learn to control your tongue, Mira!”
She choked back a sob. Dhruv’s face softened. “You know, Mira, Ranbir’s not quite the ogre you seem to think he is. Have I ever told you how good he has been to me? I was Tarun’s classmate in school…Ranbir’s cousin,” he explained in response to her questioning look. “When Ranbir learnt that I was looking to start a ‘different’ restaurant in ‘butter chicken Delhi’, he offered to finance me. But I would not accept his money just like that. So, he asked me to run this cafeteria and told me that all that I earned in two years, he would match sum for sum, so that I could realize my dream. I don’t know many people who would be so sensitive to other people’s self-esteem.”
Mira sniffed. Be that as it may, she thought, as far as she was concerned, Ranbir Dewan was an arrogant monster and the less she had to do with him, the better it would be for her.
***
Ranbir Dewan was in a bad mood. He glared at Jasmine when she walked in with the seating plans for the after-conference dinner, w
hen the Dewan Group’s employee awards would be announced.
“How many years have you been here, Jasmine? Why can’t you handle these minor details yourself? You’ve done it enough times.”
“You did ask me to make a list of the staff members who should sit at the family tables, Ranbir.”
Ranbir waved his hand at her dismissively, “Tomorrow, Jasmine. I have enough to deal with today.”
Jasmine nodded and walked out of the room, but not before she noted the absorbed look Ranbir wore and the frown that wrinkled his brow. His tie was loose, too, she noticed. In short, Ranbir Dewan was not his usual calm, collected, well-turned-out self. Could it have anything to do with the cafeteria girl? Jasmine thought for a moment, then shook her head. Ranbir might have had a reputation as a ladies' man, but he had never looked at a girl in the office.
Inside his room, Ranbir leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the wide desk before him. He knew he had a load of work awaiting him, but he couldn’t concentrate. He meshed his fingers together and regarded them reflectively. What was it about that girl? She was so painfully chakmak! Bells in her ears and bells on her feet—ridiculous! And that glittering bindi! Suddenly Ranbir’s face softened slowly. Amma used to wear glittery bindis just like the ones Mira wore. Ranbir remembered Amma coming to kiss him good night; fascinated by the lights that struck off her bindi, he would try and grab it only to receive a gentle admonishment and a loving kiss.
The frown returned just as swiftly as it had vanished. There was nothing gentle about Mira. If he had ever met a firebrand, it was her. So why could he not get the clinking of the dozens of glass bangles she wore out of his head? Who on earth wore glass bangles any more? And her unbelievably long earrings—as ridiculous as the chiming anklets on her feet. There was music surrounding Mira every time she moved and it could drive a man mad. She had got under his skin in a way he had not believed possible. Ranbir Dewan had never had to offer money for sex before. The problem more often was convincing girls that he was not quite the philanderer the media painted him to be. But never had it happened that he had been attracted to a girl and she had not succumbed immediately to him.
An image of Mira when he was kissing her floated into his mind—the tumbled curls in disarray, the hint of innocence in those beautiful eyes awakening into surprised passion, the lushness of her lips swollen with his attention. He groaned at the response her memory elicited. This was an untenable situation.
There was a knock on his door. He straightened himself and picked up a file that had been sitting on his desk.
Jasmine popped her head in at the door. “Tarun is here to see you, Ranbir.”
Tarun walked in from behind her. “Bhai!” he said, as Ranbir walked towards him to give him a hug. They settled themselves in the armchairs.
“Where have you been, you rascal? Chachi is most disapproving of your group studies. Do you think she guesses what you’re really up to?”
“What, Bhai? How can you talk like this? Of course I’m studying at Raza’s barsati. No one’s there to check up on me all the time.”
“Studying, is it?” Ranbir laughed indulgently. Tarun, who was about seven years younger than him, adored him and he loved him back equally, more than anybody in the family, with the possible exception of Dadi. “So, you’ve come to meet me?”
“Of course, Bhai, haven’t seen you for two days.”
Ranbir walked to the intercom and ordered two coffees. “And something to eat?” asked Tarun hopefully.
“Where do you pack it all away?” asked Ranbir.
“In my brain, Bhai—remember, I’m studying?”
The brothers laughed together.
Ranbir watched Tarun as he worked his way through a club sandwich and the packet of chips that Dhruv had sent down when he’d heard who the order was for. When he picked up his coffee at last, he looked at him meaningfully. “Okay, out with it. What’s the problem?”
“What problem, Bhai? I mean, apart from the exam tension.”
“I know you too well, you rascal. Tell me all about it. Right now.”
Tarun shifted uneasily in his chair. He looked out at the urban jungle that was visible through the glass of the French window.
“There’s this girl,” he began and paused. Ranbir relaxed visibly.
“And…?” he asked helpfully.
“She’s wonderful, Bhai, incredible, beautiful. I love her.”
“Great!” said Ranbir, smiling at his excitement. “And you propose to…?”
“That’s exactly it!” said Tarun. “How did you know, Bhai, that I’ve proposed to her?”
“You’ve proposed to her?” exclaimed Ranbir, frowning. “Why?”
“What do you mean why? I love her. I really do, Bhai, I can’t live without her. I want to be with her for the rest of my life. She’s everything I’ve been looking for.”
Ranbir raised his eyebrow quizzically. “And at the tender age of twenty-four, you claim you know what you are looking for in a wife?” He sat up straight and fixed his cousin with his eye. “Have you slept with her?”
Tarun spluttered. “Bhai, Reema is not that kind of a girl. I told you I love her and I want to marry her.”
“All girls seem unique, Tarun, till you bed them. Then they all seem the same,” said Ranbir harshly. “I would suggest you bed her and get her out of your system.” His face softened as he looked at Tarun’s shocked face. “You are a Dewan, Tarun, and we Dewans don’t take these decisions so impulsively. Who is this girl? Do we know her? Is she suitable? There are many beautiful girls in this world, but we don’t—can’t—marry all of them.”
Tarun wore a determined look on his face. “You haven’t met Reema. She is different—she’s just amazing.”
Ranbir sighed. This was not going to be easy. “Where did you meet her?”
“TSL Mall, at the new department store that has opened there.”
“She was shopping there and you fell in love with her? Please don’t tell me that you bumped into her, she dropped her bags and you both bent to pick them up and then banged your heads together! This isn’t a Hindi film, Tarun.”
“She works there, Bhai!”
“Oh, great! You’ve fallen in love with a salesgirl! Tarun, are you out of your mind? Have you thought even once what Chachi is going to say about this? How were you planning on breaking the news to her?”
“That’s why I’ve come to you, Bhai. I can’t live without Reema. You have to convince Amma to accept her.”
“I am not convinced yet myself. Tarun, marriage is serious business, especially in a family like ours. We are one of the foremost business families in this country. And while I am not too strong on like marrying like in all events, we have to be conscious that there will be any number of girls who look on us as a lifelong meal ticket.”
“Reema is not like that, Bhai,” Tarun replied quietly. “She won’t even let me pay for a cup of coffee for her. She prefers to drink chai from a roadside stall because that’s all she can afford. I’ve only just managed to take her out for dinner, just once.”
Ranbir narrowed his eyes. The girl’s display of self-respect might be a façade, but his kid brother was obviously emotionally involved. He didn’t want Tarun hurt, but he didn’t want him embittered either, which was what would happen if Meenu Chachi got wind of this affair before it was absolutely necessary.
He looked at Tarun’s mutinous face before him. “I’m not making any promises,” he said at last.
“Will it help,” asked Tarun, “if I tell you that her sister, Mira, works here? In the cafeteria?”
Ranbir groaned silently—not Mira Talwar again! Was the girl haunting him? “Let me see what I can do,” he said to Tarun.
≈
FOUR
Now
Mira walked into the room she shared with Reema to find her sister staring out of the window. The room was a large balcony Dhiru Mausa had had converted into a third room, but it had the advantage of a large window throu
gh which you got an eyeful of the park across the road. Mira stood at the door for a minute watching her sister lost in thought, only a tiny pucker to her eyebrow marring the picture of serenity she presented.
“Thinking of Tarun?” Mira asked softly.
“Ummm,” said Reema dreamily. Then her eyes widened as she took in Mira standing before her and the import of her query. “No, no, who Tarun?”
“Tarun Dewan—you do know him?”
Reema got up hastily, went to the door and closed it. “Who told you about Tarun? Did someone see us? Have they told Ma? Please, Di, I didn’t mean any harm.”
Mira’s face softened as she looked at the tremulous face before her. “Don’t be silly. No one knows.” She paused. “Except me.” Another pause. “And Ranbir Dewan.”
Reema’s face went white with anxiety.
“Ranbir Dewan knows? Di, Tarun promised me he wouldn’t tell anyone. Oh my God, what am I going to do?”
The tears that had been threatening spilt over, but Reema made no attempt to wipe them away. She just stood winding the corner of her dupatta round and round her little finger. “I told him there was no future for us, to keep away from the store, from me. But he keeps coming to see me. What can I do, Di?”
“Is he troubling you then?” Mira put her arm around her and led her back to the bed where she had been sitting just minutes before.
“Troubling? Oh no!”
“Then?”
“Di, he talks of marriage, but how can that ever happen? You know how rich his family is. We are nowhere near them in status. His family will never accept me. This relationship is doomed, right from the start. That’s why I told him to stop coming to see me in the store.”
“He comes every day?”
“Yes,” said Reema shyly, “then he waits till my shift is done and brings me home.”
“Every day?” A note of incredulity laced Mira’s voice.
Reema nodded. Then she looked up as a thought struck her. “But how do you know, Di? Who told you?”
