“I'm fine, thank you. Hey, I'm not the patient. How are you?” she asked, her voice a trifle breathless.
His brilliant eyes appeared to shine brighter than ever as Gautam smiled at Sangita. “Much better, thanks. Is Dr. Sukumar in?” His eyes roved over her features searchingly, wondering whether she had thought of him half as much as he had of her.
“Yeah, he is. I will get a nurse to accompany you...”
“There's no need. I can manage, thanks. Unless you'll come with me?” A golden eyebrow went up to touch his hairline. A lock of hair had fallen forward on his broad forehead.
Sangita looked at Rithika helplessly, her brown gaze disturbed.
“Why don't you go, Sangita? We aren't awfully busy. I can attend to anyone who comes in,” she said encouragingly.
Sangita stepped out from behind her desk rather reluctantly. Gautam was absolutely safe in her thoughts, totally under her control. Gautam in person was another deal altogether. Sangita was terrified of her reaction to the laughing blue eyes and was afraid to go anywhere near him. She walked along towards the lift, giving him a wide berth.
Gautam looked sideways, studying her profile. He was so focused that he almost walked into another patient who was coming from the opposite direction.
“Gautam!” Sangita put her hand on his arm to stop him from a head-on collision. He didn't fail to notice that his name had slipped out from her lips quite comfortably.
Sangita withdrew her hand in a hurry as a shock of electric current seemed to pass through her fingertips the moment she touched Gautam's hair-roughened forearm. Her shocked eyes met his for a second before she turned away in a rush.
But that split second had been enough to recognise the fire in his gaze.
“Thanks, Sangita,” Gautam's voice was hoarse.
Sangita's hand shook as she raised it to press the button for the lift. There was no one else when they got in. While Gautam tried his utmost to catch her eye, she refused to look at him.
He raised his hand to touch a tendril of hair that had escaped the low knot at the back of her neck. He tucked it behind her ear, but was shocked to see the genuine fear in her melting brown eyes.
“Sangita.” The lift came to a halt and was opened from the outside. There was no other chance for a conversation between them as they reached Dr. Sukumar's consulting room.
The doctor was already in and Sangita left Gautam at the door.
“Mr. Sinclair,” Dr. Sukumar gushed. He walked around his desk and came forward to greet Gautam with great enthusiasm. Gautam found that quite disconcerting. Dr. Sukumar hadn't struck him as a friendly person. “How are you?”
“I'm fine, Doctor.” Gautam's voice was quiet in contrast to the doctor's exuberance.
“You never told me that you're Mr. Ganapathi's grandson. I'd have...”
The reason for the other man's effusive attitude became obvious to Gautam. “I didn't know it mattered.”
“But, Mr. Sinclair, Mr. Ganapathi is the Chairman of the Board of Trustees of this hospital.”
Gautam looked at the other man coldly, wondering why the doctor was stating something they both knew. He just nodded his head, indicating that the doctor should go on.
“You should've told me,” the doctor insisted peevishly. “We'd have given you a royal treatment.”
“There wasn't anything wrong with the way I was treated, Dr. Sukumar. Actually...”
“Aah! But that's not the same.” His greedy little eyes ran over his patient, wanting to impress him.
Gautam made a great effort to keep the disgust from his face before drawing the doctor's attention to his plaster cast. “Can we get on with removing this, Doctor? I have to be at work soon.”
“Sure, my dear friend, sure,” gushed Dr. Sukumar before removing a pair of surgical scissors and cutting the bandage himself. The patient was too precious to be relegated to an assistant.
Gautam felt relieved when the plaster was removed. He flexed his fingers, and moved his arm this way and that to check.
“Wait,” screeched Dr. Sukumar. “Let me see your arm first.” His concern was obviously artificial as he moved his fingers over his patient's arm. “Seems to be well healed; let's get an x-ray done.”
The doctor tried his best to draw the younger man into a conversation as they waited for the report. Gautam dug in his heels and refused to oblige.
When the x-ray was ready, the doctor checked it against the light. “The crack's healed perfectly. That's great! You seem to be in excellent physical condition,” he complimented.
“The physiotherapy...” reminded Gautam, a trifle desperate, not wanting to miss the opportunity to visit the hospital. “
Yeah, I was just coming to that. You may start today, if you want. The physiotherapy department is open twentyfour hours. You may come in whenever it's convenient. Please fix up a suitable timing with the reception. Haan, I've been meaning to ask you. Made any progress with the frigid widow?” he winked conspiratorially at the stony-faced Gautam.
The latter took strong objection to the doctor calling Sangita 'frigid'. But he didn't want to get into an argument with him. “I beg your pardon?” His expression wasn't at all encouraging.
But the thick-skinned doctor was oblivious to the rising temperature in the other man's attitude. “Don't you remember? The frigid widow we were talking about the other day. San...”
“I don't know what you are talkin' about,” bit out Gautam, cutting off the doctor, his low voice ominous.
The doctor finally caught on that he wasn't enamouring himself in the Chairman's grandson's eyes and beat a hasty retreat.
“Well, Mr. Sinclair,” he got up from his chair. “It's been a pleasure treating you.” He shook Gautam's hand vigorously. “Do convey my regards to your grandfather. He's an old friend of mine.” He grinned from ear-to-ear. Gautam curbed the instinct that urged him to swing a fist at the doctor's grinning face, knocking all his teeth out.
“G'bye, doctor,” he said through gritted teeth. “And thank you.” Gautam's smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he waved carelessly in the doctor's direction before leaving the room.
He didn't have the patience to wait for the lift. He took the stairs two at a time and reached the reception to find Sangita nowhere in sight. The blue eyes clouded in disappointment before Rithika caught his eye and beckoned to him. He went forward eagerly.
“How honourable are your intentions?” Rithika was forthright in her query.
Gautam's first instinct was to tell her to mind her own business. His eyes burned a fiery blue before he realised that she was concerned for her friend. He smiled at her before asking softly, “Hundred percent good enough?” His eyes searched the reception hall for Sangita.
“Just perfect! Another five minutes and she'll be here.” Rithika gave him a considering look, her brows drawn together in concentration. “Are you aware that Sangita is a widow?” Encouraged by Gautam's nod, she continued, “She has a small son.”
“I know,” replied Gautam seriously.
“You're still interested...”
“Look here,” Gautam interrupted. “I'm not sure how far I'm willing to go. But I can promise you one thing. I'll never hurt your friend.” The blue eyes looked at her openly, their gaze quite honest.
Rithika stared at him for a few seconds before concluding, “Fair enough, Mr. Sinclair. Friends?” She put her hand out. “I'm Rithika.”
“Friends!” declared Gautam with a smile. “Do call me Gautam.”
Sangita walked in just as the two were shaking hands. She felt envious of their easy camaraderie.
Gautam watched her intently as she walked to her chair. He stopped her by placing a hand on her arm. “Is there a cafeteria here, where I can get some coffee?” He searched her face for a clue to her thoughts. But her features were rigid. Her arm trembled under his touch and Gautam withdrew his hand, puzzled.
“Yeah,” came the low reply. “In the basement.”
“Will you come with
me?”
“No, Mr. Sinclair. I have work to do,” came the cold reply. So it was back to Mr. Sinclair. Gautam sighed.
“Please,” the word stuck in Gautam's throat as he used it rarely. “Let me buy you coffee to celebrate the removal of my cast,” he improvised in a hurry, anxious to spend some time with her.
Rithika stared at Sangita, her eyes compelling her friend to go with him.
“Okay,” said Sangita before walking towards the staircase. Two against one wasn't fair at all, she thought. Or was it three, including herself?
Gautam followed, walking a few feet behind her, as he thought that she would prefer it that way. But he was honestly glad to walk in her wake as he could admire her unhindered.
Sangita's slim hips swung gently as she moved forward, her steps unhurried. Today, the sari was off-white with light green motifs. Gautam imagined her in a bright-coloured sari. He was so lost in his thoughts that he walked straight into Sangita, almost knocking her over. He put out both his hands to hold her steady.
They had reached the cafeteria and Sangita had stopped near a table before turning towards him. Gautam had drifted into a daydream, draping a bright, red sari around her and hadn't realised that she had stopped walking.
His hands curled around Sangita's shoulders as she looked at him with startled eyes. “I didn't hurt you, I hope?” he asked softly, glad to see no fear in her eyes.
Sangita shook her head in a daze, her voice deserting her.
“I'm glad. Then I won't apologise. I quite enjoyed bumping into you,” he smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his hands tightening on her slender shoulders.
He'd obviously said the wrong thing. He watched with regret as Sangita removed herself from his hold and putting some distance between them, went to sit on a chair, not able to quite hide the tinge of fear in her eyes.
The contact with her pliant body had triggered off myriad sensations in his. Gautam hadn't exactly expected Sangita to swoon at his touch, but then, he had definitely not anticipated the fear.
His eyes darkened in a flash of temper. What did she think he was—a rapist or maybe a womaniser like that sleazy Dr. Sukumar? He was bewildered. He curbed his temper with difficulty and turned to Sangita with a composed face.
“So what will it be, coffee, tea or me?” he joked.
Sangita replied, “Coffee,” in a prim voice.
“Right, coffee it is.” He walked over to the self-service counter to place the order.
Sangita watched him, her brown gaze wary. It was a relief not to be under the blue-eyed scrutiny. He seemed to be studying her face all the time, searchingly. She was worried about what her features would reveal to him and felt vulnerable. When he had walked into her, she understood that it was a genuine mistake. Only her body seemed to have a mind of its own. Her nerves had jumped at the contact. Her body had undergone a shock when it came in touch with his hard frame. He seemed to be all bones, sinew and muscle. Not a bit of fat. And her body had leaped in response.
Sangita shook her head to clear it. Something wasn't right. She was probably reading the signs wrong. Yeah, that must be it. She had mistaken her apprehension for something else. Sangita couldn't stand a man near her. She shuddered inadvertently. Never again will she endure the humiliation of being under a man's thumb.
Sangita turned to see blue eyes gazing into hers. Gautam wondered what she had been thinking as he sat down on the chair across hers after setting a cup of coffee in front of her. She was pale.
“Sangita.”
“Mmm.”
“That's a lovely name.”
“Hmm...mm.”
The coffee was mediocre and Gautam got frustrated at the attention she was giving it.
“So, talk to me.”
“What about?” Again the trepidation.
Gautam controlled his instinct to swear. He didn't want her to run away. She was like a butterfly fluttering near a flower, ready to take flight at the slightest disturbance.
“Tell me about yourself.”
Sangita shrugged. “There's nothing to say.”
“Come on, Sangita. You haven't grown up to be a mature, young woman with nothing to say about your life.” Gautam sounded earnestly interested.
Sangita felt hesitant.
“Well, I'm Sangita.” She looked at him. Gautam nodded encouragingly.
“I am twentyfive, widowed and mother of five-year-old Sandeep.” She waited for the shock to hit his face. Nothing happened.
“What? No comments?” she asked.
It was Gautam's turn to shrug. “I feel sorry for your demised husband. Unlucky chap!”
Sangita was astonished. That was a first. People always felt pity for her. She couldn't help but recall the number of times friends and relatives had expressed their commiseration that she was a young widow. She hated their look of sympathy. She felt like a hypocrite, every time. But Gautam strangely seemed sorry for her late husband.
“Why do you say that?”
“Why?” he drawled, his forefinger against his lips, his eyes thoughtful as he gave her his complete attention. “I'd think 'twas obvious. The poor fool had no luck. He had you for a wife but didn't live long enough to enjoy it. Wouldn't you call that bad luck, missing out on a life with you?” he countered.
Colour ran high on Sangita's cheeks, as she looked away, unable to meet his eyes. Gautam was obviously reading her life from a different angle.
“Well,” Gautam egged her on, “Tell me more.”
“There isn't much else to say. I live with my parents and brothers. I have a nine-to-five job at this hospital. That's it.”
Gautam looked at her with immense interest, his coffee forgotten. It had only been an excuse anyway. She fascinated him. He didn't believe that it was possible to fall in love at first sight. Otherwise, he'd have admitted that that's what had happened to him.
“Now it's your turn. You tell me about yourself.” Sangita's brown eyes widened with curiosity. “Are you really a college professor?” She asked.
“Really. Why?”
She ignored his question. “What do you teach? Math? Science?”
“English.”
“English? Oh, really!” Gautam caught the trace of amusement in her eyes.
“Something funny?” A scowl gathered on his forehead, the expression in the blue eyes turning dangerous.
Sangita didn't answer him for a while. She stared into his eyes, mesmerised by their colour.
“Sangita,” Gautam snapped his fingers in front of her face, trying to recapture her attention.
“Yeah?”
“I asked you what's so funny about my teaching English.” His tone was belligerent.
She gave him a wide grin that lit up her whole face. He saw genuine amusement on her features for the first time and found himself short of breath. “
No, not the English part of it. I...nothing.” She clamped her mouth tightly with her hand, not wanting to continue. But her eyes glowed with mirth.
“Sangita.” There was a smile in his eyes as he found her amusement infectious. He pulled at her hand and said, “So, tell me.”
Sangita shook her head. “I'm not sure you'll like it.” Her eyes shone with mischief.
“Try me.”
“Well,” Sangita met his eyes for a second before looking down. “I've this preconceived idea of how a professor looks.” Her shoulders shook with laughter as her imagination drew a picture that was in total contrast to Gautam's personality.
He stared at her red face. She couldn't seem to stop laughing though she made no sound. He had great difficulty in controlling his hands from tickling her. He didn't think she would appreciate it. He waited impatiently for her gaiety to subside.
“Well?” he prompted after she calmed down.
Sangita looked down at the table, her finger tracing a pattern on the surface, not quite able to meet the brightness of his eyes. “My idea of a professor is,” she gave him a twinkling glance before looking away, “short, roun
d in the middle, balding pate, umm...thickrimmed glasses. You don't exactly fit the bill, do you?” She spread her hands innocently before looking up at him.
Now it was Gautam's turn to laugh. His shoulders shook as laughter rumbled forth from deep down, his blue eyes flashing at her. “You're priceless, Sangita. I hope you'll let me continue to teach. I feel quite low, unable to meet your high standards,” he quipped, the dimple standing out in his right cheek, delighting her no end.
Sangita felt a bubble of happiness burst forth within her. She couldn't remember laughing about anything since her days as a student. She'd even forgotten that she used to have a sense of humour.
She looked at the man sitting in front of her. He frightened and excited her—a deadly combination. And for a woman coming from a conservative family such as hers, especially a widow, hanging around talking and laughing like this with a stranger was quite unheard of.
Gautam sensed her withdrawal even before she pushed her chair and got up to leave.
He followed her up the stairs. “Sangita.” She turned to look up at him. She barely reached his shoulder. He judged her to be about a foot shorter than his 6-feet-3-inch frame. “I plan to begin physiotherapy today. Will four o'clock work?”
“I think so. If you'll give me a minute, I'll note down the time. Will you be coming everyday at the same time?”
“Mostly yes. In case I'm not able to make it, I can call you, right?” he asked.
“Of course.” Sangita checked a list before making a note of Gautam's name against the four o'clock slot. “Okay then, Professor, have a good day.” The trace of mischief was back in her eyes.
“You too, beautiful. See you later.” Gautam smiled at her before turning to Rithika, “Bye, my friend, and thanks.”
“Bye.” That was Rithika as she watched Gautam taking long strides towards the entrance.
“Wow!” she exclaimed, studying Sangita's face. “Don't you think he's gorgeous? Every woman's dream?”
Sangita looked at Rithika. “Yeah, I suppose so.”
“So, what did he tell you?”
Sangita shrugged. “Nothing much.” Mischief flared in her eyes once again. “Just that he's an English professor. Does he look like an English professor from any angle to you?” she asked.
The Madras Affair Page 4