Right Fit Wrong Shoe

by Varsha Dixit

  ‘Surprisingly, quite attractive and not my type at all. ’

  ‘Attractive and not your type? That doesn’t make any sense, dear brother-in-law.’ Aditya did have a certain reputation with women.

  ‘Dear sister-in-law, I like my women a lot more polished and sophisticated. My woman has to be the strong, independent kind, who sees my shoulder as something to rub against, rather than something to cry or lean on.’ Aditya now looked directly at Seema, as he flopped onto the adjoining sofa. A full-scale, head-to-head offensive was unleashed; Seema’s head versus his.

  ‘That’s it! An Amazon is your ideal woman?’ Seema retorted.

  ‘That’s not all! No saas-bahu serials for her, only CNN, ESPN and bang-bang... with only me, of course. She would stand out, not merely for her looks which is anyway something the parents should be blamed or credited for.’

  ‘Oh, so she could be butt ugly and you would be okay with that?’ Seema ridiculed.

  Aditya shook his head. ‘She has to be nice to look at, but not necessarily a Gisele Bünched. The way she carries herself and the way she speaks and thinks is much more important. She has to be what you see is what you get kind of gal! My qualifications and interests should thrill her more than my money.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound bad at all? But what if, she has had prior relationships? A colourful past... like someone in our family?’ Seema’s face danced with mischief.

  Aditya broadly grinning, said, mildly, ‘Her past is only the past; with absolutely no bearing on the present. Relationships are important aspects of building one’s character and gaining experience, for both men and women. I won’t share her with anyone, but I am not interested in fighting ghosts.’

  ‘Well, well not an MCP after all? Wonders never cease!’ Seema said.

  Smiling, Aditya continued, ‘There is more. I am not looking for the jeans-clad, English talking, gharulu kinds. Lassi served in a wine glass, is still lassi. There should be no lies, no mind games and no excessive vanity. And unequivocally, she cannot be a gauche teenager who wears sneakers in the middle of the day!’ The last part was a dig at Nandini’s sport shoes.

  ‘Oh c’mon, Nandini is damn sweet and extremely nice,’ Seema defended, ‘And why are you so anal about women wearing sneakers?’

  ‘You can’t stand AB in transparent shirts and you yourself avoid certain colours. Similarly, a woman in sneakers totally puts me off, except when she is exercising.’ Aditya’s eccentricity made complete sense to him.

  ‘You are crazy! Nandi is wonderful.’

  ‘Eh tu brutus!’

  Seema gave him a confounded look.

  ‘You too are a part of Nandini fan club? Weren’t mom and dad enough?’

  ‘AB is a part of it too,’ smirking, Seema shot back.

  ‘Well then I bid adieu to all you demented people.’ Standing up, Aditya, dramatically, clasped his head.

  ‘Where are you off to?’ Seema inquired.

  ‘To meet my new conquest of course! I shall not be back for lunch,’ Aditya announced over his shoulder. He headed for the pristine, brand new, royal blue Mercedes SL-500, a gift from his parents, for completing his masters from Wharton with excellence. One of his father’s cardinal rules – gifts are big, only, if the endeavour and results exceed expectations. Only a few knew that Aditya, a meritorious student, could have accomplished a large chunk of his education through scholarships, but chose to pay, so someone not equally fortunate, could score a seat.

  Aditya hid his humility with contrived arrogance. Humility was a concept better understood by the middle-class or Indian reality show winners. His friends only ‘got’ gizmos and complexes – the ones you live with or live in. One thing Aditya had picked up from his father at a very young age was success frees you to be yourself. And success is not inherited, it is achieved. Aditya was just bidding his time and turn. Time and turn, to co-manage the Sarin Empire.

  Reversing out of the large iron wrought gates, Aditya’s head was full of a pair of almond-shaped eyes, flushed cheeks and raven hair, instead of his glamorous date: A socialite from out of town, he had just bumped into yesterday.

  The subject of Aditya’s thoughts was thinking of him, too, but not as favourably. ‘Opinionated jackass! Haraamkhor!’ grumbled Nandini, crossly. Nothing can be as cathartic, as a Hindi cuss word said with feeling. A single cuss alone can describe and relieve anger enough to go in the straitjacket.

  Even though Seema and Aditya had been conversing softly, Nandini ‘the beagle’, as called by her brother, had overheard every single word spoken between them.

  ‘Aditya Sarin who cares what you think? Unpolished, gauche, my foot! He probably thinks he’s god’s gift to women I’ll show him!’ declared Nandini, her usually pleasant expression, marred by a severe scowl.

  ‘You look angry. Nandi, what happened?’ questioned Vibha, emerging from her room .

  Quickly, Nandini altered her frown to a smile. ‘Everything is fine and it shall only get better, Badi Maa.’ Gazing at her sneakers, Nandini’s eyes sparkled with much malice, like the baddies of old movies. The ones who for the lack of props like machine guns, tongue-twisting contraptions or scantily clad molls and transvestites, relied heavily on the eyes, to portray character.

  ‘Did you meet Adi?’ Vibha inquired.

  ‘Yup, he was on his way out somewhere.’

  ‘And, what do you think?’ Vibha probed.

  Nandini’s honest response would go something like this, ‘Bada bhagwan, chota shaitan.’ Therefore, out of affection for the Sarins, her lips remained interlocked as the brain put forth few more suggestions. ‘Different!’ was all she could spit out.

  Vibha chuckled. ‘I know Adi is a little spoilt, but his heart and head is in the right place. I am sure he will grow on you.’

  Like a bloodsucking parasite, Nandini silently derided. ‘Bhabhi said you were looking for me?’ She changed the topic.

  ‘Oh yes! I just received some saris and suit materials from Calcutta, beautiful kantha work. Choose as many pieces as you like.’

  ‘Badi Maa please, you have given me way too many things already,’ Nandini protested.

  ‘I’m your Badi Maa. You can never say no to me, understand?’ ordered the older woman, affectionately. ‘We all missed you at the party yesterday,’ Vibha said, launching into an immediate discourse about last night’s party.

  4

  Andaz Apna Apna

  (Flashback continues...)

  N ext day, the Sarin clan, including Aditya, sat at the dining table and were about to begin breakfast. Nandini traipsed in, a smile on her face.

  Aditya instantly was lost to the smile. In his eyes, it vaulted her from beautiful to stunning.

  Unaware of his complimentary thoughts, Nandini briefly and disdainfully glanced at him. ‘I do not care for you or your designer butt; see that in my eyes!’ she telepathically tried sending Aditya that message.

  Aditya grinning, wickedly thought, ‘I know how to get you!’ Catching Nandini’s eye, his eyes at a leisurely pace, travelled all over her. Within seconds, a tell-tale blush crept up Nandini’s cheeks .

  ‘What would happen if I were to actually touch her?’ The unbidden thought shot to his mind. Aditya immediately quelled it. Nandini was not his type. ‘Moreover, god forbid, if I ever harm a hair on that lovely head, my own family will plunge the knife in my heart. Dad and AB (short for Ajit Bhaiya) will probably toss a coin, to see who gets the first stab,’ he whispered to his libido.

  ‘Jerk!’ Nandini hissed. Today she had adorned a loose T-shirt and baggy jeans, yet Aditya’s intimate examination made her want to pull burlap sack over her head. Nandini resisted the urge to tug at her clothes.

  ‘What good timing Nandi, come join us for breakfast,’ Paresh warmly invited.

  ‘Thank you Uncle but I just ate. I only came to give you these. My notes are scribbled alongside the articles.’ Nandini handed him some loose papers.

  ‘What are those?’ Aditya quizzed.

  ‘Th
ese are the articles for our annual magazine which I had asked Nandi to proofread,’ his father replied.

  ‘She is an experienced proofreader or maybe, a qualified editor?’ Aditya inquired. Nandini did not miss the veiled sarcasm.

  ‘Nandini is extremely creative and multi-talented. You should study last year’s corporate brochure and catalogue of our company. Page by page, line by line, it was all her work,’ Paresh praised.

  ‘Yes, that was done very well indeed,’ Ajit agreed taking a gulp of the juice next to him.

  ‘Nandini is awesome!’ Seema mouthed, pointedly looking at Aditya.

  Aditya had seen the brochure under discussion. That was quite neat, he thought. However, he did not say it .

  ‘Please... that was no big D. Uncle and AB guided me all through.’ Nandini was more at ease being the backbencher, unnoticed, invisible.

  ‘Rubbish! Nandi, if you want to rise in life, learn to take praise as well as the brickbats for your work,’ Paresh advised. AB and Aditya slyly rolled their eyes. Their father’s penchant for dropping such pearls of wisdom was a great source of sneaky amusement for his family.

  Nandini nodded, solemnly, absorbing Paresh’s words. Aditya on seeing her serious expression hid a wry grin.

  ‘Nandi, what kind of eggs would you like?’ inquired Vibha, emerging from the kitchen, followed by two servants carrying trays laden with breakfast. It was a tradition at the Sarin household, to prepare a variety of dishes at each meal, irrelevant of the number of people at the table.

  They are probably making up for the drought forever present, in some part of the world, Nandini silently mocked, as she declined the invitation, ‘No, thank you Badi Maa, I just ate.’

  ‘Then sit and have a cup of coffee with us,’ Vibha directed, pointing at the empty chair next to Aditya, who accordingly pulled it out for her.

  ‘Sure!’ Nandini slid into the offered chair, purposely, stepping hard on Aditya’s foot. ‘Oh! I’m so sorry.’

  ‘No harm done,’ Aditya responded, trying to ignore the throbbing toe.

  ‘Are you sure? The sole of my sneaker is very hard.’

  Seema took a large swig of her coffee; Aditya immediately glanced at Nandini’s feet.

  ‘Good god!’ Aditya scowled; today Nandini’s sneakers were gigantic. A thick layer of dried mud, caked on either side. What he did not know was that the ghastly, oversized, and psychedelic sneakers were bought yesterday from the most ghatiya dukaan of Arya nagar. The mud zealously applied and dried overnight with a hairdryer.

  ‘Aren’t they nice?’ asked Nandini, modelling her foot solely for Aditya’s viewing displeasure.

  Aditya could not keep the sneer out of his voice, ‘Don’t you have any other footwear except sneakers? What are you... one of the William sisters?’

  Bingo! Nandini clamped her lips tightly, holding on to the fake injured expression, hovering on her face.

  Vibha immediately censured, ‘Aditya, that is not for you to say!’

  ‘Yes, your mother is right. Don’t tell Nandi what or what not to wear. Remember, your own yellow dungarees? Or those tight pink pants, which you lived in?’ Senior Mr Sarin, too, rose in Nandini’s defense.

  A dull red covered Aditya’s face, as he shot back, ‘The dungarees were cream. And the maroon, not pink pants was something that mom got for me from one of the trips she went on.’

  Just when Aditya assumed the worse was over, his mother confessed, ‘Adi, I didn’t say anything then as you really liked them but those pink pants from Harrods were actually a gift for Preeti bua’s elder daughter. She was quite plump at that time.’

  For a second there was complete silence and then Ajit guffawed, his laugh loud and booming. Paresh followed suit and so did Seema and Nandini. The muscle working in Aditya’s jaw, only increased the mirth, overflowing, on the dining table.

  This is way better... I practically lost control of my bladder, Nandini reflected, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands. However, she could do nothing about the wide smile; it refused to budge from her face.

  ‘Thanks Mom!’ Aditya glowered at Vibha.

  ‘What did I do?’ Vibha replied in all innocence, trying to bite down her broadening grin.

  ‘Very funny!’ Aditya made a move to get up, his appetite gone.

  Nandini leaning closer, whispered, ‘Much unpolished and what was that word... gauche of you to wear women’s clothing.’

  Instantly, Aditya realised that Nandini had overheard his chatter with Seema yesterday. Now Nandini, had taken this to another level, and Aditya sure as hell was not the kind to turn the other cheek. ‘You little brat, apologise right away and I might forgive you.’ Aditya offered her a last chance of escape.

  At Aditya’s look, Nandini felt a strange sense of excitement rush through her veins. Her face, like the rest of her body tingled. Tossing, the glorious mane over her shoulder, she challengingly scoffed, ‘Apologise? You must be out of your mind. This time you’ve messed with the wrong girl!’

  ‘The intention was not to mess, Nandini Sharma. But now I promise... you shall be thoroughly messed with !’ Aditya softly declared with a glint in his eyes. They both stared at each other, unable to look away.

  Oddly breathless, Nandini stuttered a hushed, ‘Bring it on!’ Using every ounce of will power, she managed to glance away, breaking the hypnotic effect of the enemy’s eyes.

  The others at the table had stopped laughing. All their attention fixed on Nandini and Aditya, as they could not hear the soft exchange going on between the two .

  ‘I’m done!’ Aditya got to his feet.

  ‘I’ll be off. Mom is waiting for me,’ Nandini said. The two headed in opposite directions, both experiencing a sudden need to get away from the other.

  ‘Damn! What was I thinking? I almost kissed a millennium behenji and that too in front of everyone,’ Aditya breathed, shutting himself in the bathroom. ‘On second thoughts, cancel the kiss. I wanted to shake her! I will do exactly that the next time she comes around,’ Aditya promised his reflection, as he adjusted his shirt and something else. Women only fidget with their hair that much, and dogs with their tails.

  ‘It’s only the absolute joy of victory that is making my heart gallop like a horse on steroids,’ Nandini muttered, speedily exiting the Sarin household.

  Over the following year, the battle of wits between Nandini and Aditya ensued. Someday, Adi won and sometimes it was Nandini’s chance to crow. Gradually the rest of the family just ignored their constant skirmishes, the only way Nandini and Aditya communicated with each other.

  5

  Eq hi Maqsad

  (2 the present)

  'D il haara re, dil daara haara...’ The song from Tashan blared jarringly, startling Nandini from her fitful sleep. ‘Gawd! Piya... you really need to get over this Saifeena fetish!’ Nandini grumbled, struggling to escape the tangled bedcovers.

  Managing to shut the alarm off, as Saif went down on his knee, for whatever reasons, Nandini hobbled to get the morning ablutions out of the way.

  As she took a seat at the dining table, her mother noticed, ‘Nandi, those are some dark circles under your eyes. Didn’t you sleep well last night?’

  ‘Kind of!’

  ‘You might be coming down with something. Take the day off and rest at home,’ Nirbhay suggested.

  ‘I’m fine dad, just one of those nights.’

  ‘Don’t make any plans for tomorrow. Keep your day free,’ Shruti ordered .

  ‘Tomorrow is Saturday. Apart from going to the gym, I’m home the whole day mom.’ Nandini heartily dug in her upma.

  Her mother characteristically was about to grumble at Nandini’s lack of complete social life other than work, but Nirbhay discouraged her with an imperceptible nod.

  ‘So what are we doing tomorrow?’ Nandini asked, observing the silent communication between her parents. Even though different in personality, Shruti and Nirbhay were never distant. North Pole and South Pole did meet outside the boudoir.

 
‘We have to be at the airport tomorrow morning, to receive Vibha Di and Aditya,’ her mother reminded.

  Not wanting to gag, Nandini carefully swallowed the food in her mouth. Her first thought was throw herself in the bathroom, and remain barricaded there for the next few weeks. Yet she causally answered, ‘Sure! I’m going to work. See you in the evening.’ Swiftly, Nandini got up.

  ‘Nandi, finish your breakfast,’ Shruti said.

  ‘Nah! It’s not made right today.’ Nandini, already half out of the house, was doing some serious mental work. ‘I have to get out and think of plan A, B... possible Z, to escape tomorrow’s airport rendezvous.’

  Nirbhay went back to reading his newspaper. At appropriate intervals, he continued to nod at his continuously chattering wife, even though he had stopped listening to her quite some time back. The trick always worked. He was considering getting a patent for it.

  Parking the car on the usual spot, flinging the half-eaten murku packet on the side and gripping her purse and files, Nandini got out. A loose paper fluttered to the ground. Tossing her hair out of the face, she squatted to pick it up. A frisson of awareness crept into her mind, as though, someone was watching; Nandini immediately glanced around and up but there was no one.

  ‘Stupid jittery nerves! Get a hold of yourself, woman!’ she muttered, self-consciously grinning. Seizing the errant paper, Nandini briskly headed inside the office building.

  Unseen, the angry eyes bore into her, from the tinted window of his new office. Once I am done with you Nandini, you will have nothing to smile about for a very, very long-time , fumed Aditya Sarin.

  Simone, the PA, standing next to her boss, observed him stare intently, at the girl in the white salwar kameez. Working for Aditya since the last two years, she understood his body language. Something about that girl filled Aditya with quiet cold rage − the kind she had never seen.

  Clearing her throat, she took a few steps away. Aditya straightened from the window and lowered himself in the chair, behind the flimsy desk. ‘Simone, please make sure new furniture is here by Monday, whatever the cost.’