“I don’t care.” Chaahat sat up on the bed with a jerk, rubbing a hand across her reddened eyes. “Do you hear?” She was shouting now. “I don’t give a damn about that moron. To hell with him. I…”
Dev pulled her into his arms, pressing her face into his shoulder, a hand brushing her back soothingly. “Shaan had to leave because his father suffered a heart attack. It was so sudden. There was no time for me to even tell him that you were at the health resort. Then there was your warning, that you’d rather not send a message to him through your bro. And Chaahat, to be fair to him, you’ve had your phone switched off all this long. How could he have contacted you?”
Chaahat lifted her head from her brother’s shoulder to look up at him, hope stirring in her eyes. “What happened? How’s his father now? Do you know?”
Dev smiled. “Yeah, his father’s much better. But Shaan has taken charge of their family business. He…”
“You talk to him regularly.” It was a statement of fact, not a question.
“Yeah, I do. You see, we became good friends when he was working with me.”
“And he doesn’t know that I went for my treatment?” Chaahat’s face flared with mischief. When Dev shook his head, she said, “Good. Don’t tell him.”
Dev looked at her curiously, not saying anything to that. After all, he had just now lied to her—a white lie, but still an untruth. “Shaan has given me a few contacts for modelling agencies that create portfolios and help find opportunities in the fashion industry,” he said instead.
Chaahat stared at her brother, a look of awe on her face. Shaan had not forgotten her, not even during a family emergency and his having had to take over his family business. Her heart beat a wild tattoo as she looked forward to their meeting again. Meet, they will, if she had anything to do with it. “Isn’t he the best?!” Chaahat’s voice was a whisper.
“That he is,” agreed her brother. No, he didn’t plan to tell Chaahat who Shaan actually was. He had only told her what he did since he couldn’t see his sister unhappy. And it was obvious that Nishaan was as much interested in Chaahat as she seemed to be in him. His ex-manager had called Dev every other day and the subject of their discussion had always veered towards Chaahat. And yes, Dev hadn’t been left with much choice but to admit that his sister had gone to the retreat for treatment, listening to Nishaan’s advice. Dev grinned to himself as he recalled the other man’s exclamation of triumph and joy.
Nishaan got up abruptly from the bed and pulled on his shirt, his face turned away from the naked woman sprawled on the bed.
“What’s wrong? Why are you wearing your shirt?” Mita sounded totally frustrated. They had just arrived at her home. It had taken her the whole of three hours to persuade the handsome hunk to take her to bed. She had just got naked and comfortable while he had only removed his shirt. And that gorgeous body! What she wouldn’t give for a night in his arms!
Nishaan swiftly pushed the shirt buttons into their holes before picking up his jacket. “I’m sorry, Mita. This isn’t going to work.”
“What? Why?” She was screaming by now as she rose to her knees on the bed, pressing her body to his.
He stopped her hands, holding them tightly as she tried to pull open the buttons again. “No, Mita.”
“Are you gay?”
He smiled. “No.”
“Impotent then?” There was a look of horror on Mita’s face as she pressed both her hands over her mouth. How could God be so cruel?! Nishaan Ahuja was too handsome, too rich. How could he be impotent? What was wrong with Creation? Wouldn’t…
Nishaan burst out laughing. “I don’t think so. I wasn’t, the last time I had sex.”
“And when was that?” she asked, managing to grab his shirt and pulling the tails out of his pants.
“No, Mita. I’m not joking here. Let me go.” He eyed her naked body, not feeling even a little bit of lust stirring in him. She actually had a gorgeous figure, better than Chaahat’s if he looked at it clinically. But he felt nothing, absolutely nothing. It looked like Chaahat had spoilt him for other women.
It had been more than a month since he had returned to Delhi. His father was much better, though yet to join work. Today was the first time Nishaan had agreed to go partying after getting back home. Mita had thrown himself in his arms from the moment he had walked into the disco, until the time he had agreed to accompany her to her apartment.
Well, why not? He wasn’t promised to Chaahat or anything. In fact, before his life at Wadhwa Farm, Nishaan had had longer affairs with women than the one-night-stand with Chaahat. But…but what a night! His face lit up when he recalled the way they had made love.
Mita stared at Nishaan’s face, watching the myriad emotions crossing over it. With a huge sigh, she gave up, flopping back on her bed. “Get out, Nishaan, now. Before I do something drastic and make a bigger fool of myself.” She was only half joking. It looked like his fully covered body managed to arouse her to fever pitch while her nudity didn’t seem to affect him at all. She sighed again, feeling jealous of the unknown woman who obviously had a powerful hold over him. Lucky bitch!
“I’m sorry, Mita. No hard feelings. You do realise that it’s not personal?” Nishaan apologised like the true gentleman that he was as he thrust his feet into his shoes.
“Just go,” she said, before burying her face in her pillow. Maybe she should thank her lucky stars that she wasn’t in love with him and only lusted after his body.
Nishaan left, shutting the door to the apartment softly behind him. Instead of feeling upset about being unable to perform—his body had just refused to co-operate—he felt happy. It looked like he had already met the woman who he wanted for his life partner. Another week or two and she should be out of that health resort. And he knew for a fact that she would appear more gorgeous than she already did, his Chaahat.
13
There were three modelling agencies whose contacts Shaan had shared with Dev. Chaahat vetted all three and zeroed in on Amber Modelling Agency that represented a small number of international models who seemed to get all the best contracts around the world.
The agency had only twenty-three names in their portfolio, out of which thirteen were women and the rest of them. men. If Dipika Sanyal, the head of the agency, decided to take Chaahat on board, she would be lucky indeed, or so said the other girl who had come in for an appointment as well. And the girl, who looked barely eighteen, seemed absolutely confident that Chaahat didn’t stand a chance. “By the way, I’m Tina.”
The Chaahat of earlier would have lost her nerve, seeing the other girl’s punk hairstyle, nose-ring and tattoos galore. Tina had a reed thin figure, though her gamine face was extremely attractive. It didn’t really matter as Chaahat had decided to give it her best shot. If they took her in, fine. If they didn’t, then someone else would do it.
She had shifted into a studio apartment at Bandra that Dev had purchased for her outright. He had shut her up when she tried to argue with him and she was truly glad of his support. As for Shaan, he hadn’t called her yet.
But some guy called Nishaan Ahuja had sent her a friend request on Facebook. Strange! The profile picture looked a lot like Shaan’s. She wondered if he was Shaan’s cousin or something. The guy had no less than 4,500 friends. But Chaahat was keener on finding Shaan. She had searched for him, high and low, on social media. She had even tried to run through Nishaan Ahuja’s friend list to see if Shaan featured there. But she gave up after some time as the list kept extending endlessly.
Chaahat got up to go for her meeting with Dipika Sanyal when the receptionist called her name. “May I come in?” She walked in when she got an affirmative reply and was startled to see the stark white room she was in. It was empty except for a few props and lighting equipment. There was a woman there, who she presumed must be the head of the agency and there was a man who was sitting on a stool behind a high-tech camera.
“Hello, I’m Chaahat, Chaahat Wadhwa.”
“Hi Chaaha
t. I’m Dipika. And this is Krish.” They obviously didn’t stand on formality.
Chaahat shook their hands in turn. There were no chairs. Another girl walked in just then, with a measuring tape, a pen and a writing pad. Dipika nodded to her, taking the pad and pen from her. “This is Smita,” she introduced, “who will take your measurements.”
Chaahat stood in the middle of the room for the next fifteen minutes as Smita measured her from head to foot, including the size of her shoes, and Dipika made notes furiously.
“Okay, now Smita will get you a set of clothes and shoes to match. You can go into the room there,” Dipika said, pointing to a white door that Chaahat hadn’t noticed before, “and change into them. Pooja will come in to help you with different hairstyles and make up. We will create a portfolio for you with Krish taking the photos. Are we clear so far?”
Chaahat’s jaw dropped. Just like that! She didn’t know that the vice president of Ahuja Constructions had promised to sponsor the agency’s upcoming fashion event in Delhi, if they could make Chaahat Wadhwa a part of it.
For the amount promised, Dipika Sanyal would have agreed to use any donkey for a model. But she had got truly excited when she set her eyes on Chaahat. The girl might be a bit older than the others who entered the fashion modelling world, but she had a perfect face and figure. It was a win-win situation.
Though long and tiring, the photoshoot went of smoothly, with lots of changes in clothing, hairstyle and make-up. Chaahat was enthusiastic as all kinds of clothes looked good on her. Dipika was amused to note that the otherwise cynical Krish was also excited with the photos when they eyed them on a large screen.
“You got yourself a winner, Dip,” he told his sister, his eyes on the model on the screen in the mini theatre where Dipika and he were sitting together, sifting through the photos, deciding on the best ones to post on their website as well as on social media.
“Aren’t I lucky? I almost feel guilty about the sponsorship.” Dipika grinned at her brother who was also her business partner.
Krish laughed. “The girl’s hardworking, which is something to be said. With her kind of looks, I wonder what took her so long to get into this profession.”
Dipika shook her head, not having a reply to that. She had met the punk haired Tina with the tattoos too, for exactly one minute. “We can create art on a clear canvas, not on those that are already worked so heavily on. Capish?” Tina frowned at the head of Amber Modelling Agency, an incomprehensible look on her face. No, she didn’t understand a word. But she got the message clearly that she wasn’t going to get a chance. She did wonder what had happened to the other woman who had been waiting with her. But no, she was sure that she didn’t get a chance either. She left, popping a chewing gum into her mouth. What the hell! This wasn’t the only fashion agency in Mumbai.
It took all of three months and a week for Chaahat to be readied for the full-day fashion show at Neemrana Fort-Palace, a 5-star heritage hotel about a 100 km from Delhi. Her stint at Ayurvedic therapy had helped Chaahat remain centred under all circumstances. While most of the models were nervous and stressed just before they walked the ramp, there was a sense of calm surrounding her at all times.
It looked like Dipika had a lot to thank Nishaan Ahuja for. He had recommended an excellent model for her agency while also being the biggest sponsor for the event. And she was also excited with the idea that the man himself would be present at the show from the beginning till the end.
Krish was equally enthusiastic with the project. He usually preferred his travel photography and did the model photoshoots only because it helped him make excellent money on the side. But this time round, the model was extraordinarily brilliant and even better than that was the lack of tantrums. He didn’t know that Chaahat had come a long way from her tantrum throwing days as she grew in confidence by the hour. The yoga and meditation that she continued to do every day, kept her completely grounded. She was a happy human being nowadays.
Chaahat was lying low until the fashion show got over. She had to prove what she was capable of before she went chasing after Shaan. The not very garrulous Dipika had been chattering on and on over the past two days about the media coverage that had been planned. It had never been as big as this, at least not under Amber Modelling Agency’s umbrella. The top ten fashion magazines of India as well as a few other foreign magazines were sending their reporters and journalists to cover the event. That truly was a feather in the agency’s cap.
And oh yeah, Chaahat had been hearing a lot about Nishaan Ahuja, the man who was a big name in the Delhi business circles; the man who resembled Shaan. She planned to ask him outright if the two of them were related to each other.
There was a hum of anticipation in the green room from seven in the morning, with half-dressed models running up and down, without a thought to the hovering make-up men, hairstylists and photographers. The show was to begin at eleven and the hotel was booked to capacity. It was going to be a full house. In fact, Dipika kept saying that people were going to spill outside the multiple doorways to the hall where the show was being held.
Chaahat sifted through all her costumes, lining them up in the order she was to wear them. One whole day to show off her modelling talents, wearing the best clothes from top fashion designers in the industry. She had even been allotted precious jewellery from high end brands and then there were those stylish shoes and other accessories. While she had always revered the fashion industry, she had still been amazed by the number of little things that needed to be brought together to run a successful show.
“I can’t find anything,” a woman screeched loudly, standing in the middle of the room, wearing only her bra and panties. Her hands were fisted on her hips while she teetered on four-inch heels in blood red.
“Shit! Here’s the tantrum throwing queen,” said Natasha, the model using the dressing table right next to Chaahat. “She’s Alia with an ego that’s bigger than the earth itself.”
Chaahat smiled at Natasha, not saying anything in reply, as she continued to deal with her make-up. The two of them had become friends during the many practice sessions. While the hairstylists did their hair and make-up artists gave final touches to their make-up, the basics were taken care of by the models themselves. And Chaahat preferred to be as independent as possible.
“Hey you! What are you doing at that dressing table? It’s mine.” Alia had walked up to Chaahat by now, shouting at her, even as her expression turned nastier than before.
Chaahat could smell alcohol on her breath as the other woman raised a hand as if to strike her.
“Easy!” Krish caught the raised arm and brought it down firmly. “What’s the issue, Alia? Why are you here at all? You aren’t part of this event.”
“How dare you?” Alia turned around to snarl at him, even as she tried her best to pull her hand out of his firm grip. “Amber Modelling Agency has got where it has thanks to me. How can you even suggest that I’m not part of the event? Where’s Dip?”
“She’s on stage, doing the final checks.” Krish’s voice was quiet, in total contrast to Alia’s piercing shriek. “I think you should leave, Alia. You’re drunk…”
“Says who? And what if I am? You know only too well that I am the best model you have. You’d better send that chick on her way and let me have my corner,” she insisted, pointing in Chaahat’s direction.
It was a wonder that Chaahat’s hand was steady as she applied foundation to her face and neck, her strokes even, even as she took deep, calming breaths. She had a good mind to whack the other woman on her head with the wooden hairbrush lying on her dressing table. But that wouldn’t earn her any brownie points and it also looked like Krish had the situation well in hand. He was speaking soothingly into the other woman’s ear as he led her out of the greenroom. Phew!
“That was actually no big deal.” There was laughter in Natasha’s voice as she spoke to Chaahat. “You must thank your lucky stars that she didn’t pull your eyes out of their sockets
.”
Chaahat rolled the said eyes, an amused expression on her face. “That bad, huh?”
“Worse.”
The girls continued to chat as they completed their make-up before pulling on their outfits for the first item. They were to go on stage with six other models—four women and two men.
When the bell rang, Chaahat was more than ready. Oh yes, she had been readying herself for this moment since the past few years.
Dipika was disappointed more than anybody else when the single sofa at the centre remained empty throughout the first half of the show. Chaahat would have been too, if only she had known who that seat had been meant for. Nishaan Ahuja had called Krish Sanyal to tell him that he had been caught up in meetings and hoped to reach in time for the last session of the evening.
The lights over the audience’s seating area were dimmed for the finale as music exploded from the highly sophisticated sound system. A spotlight beamed over the single model who stepped on to the stage. Chaahat was dressed in the latest bridal wear, a pair of deep pink palazzo pants that shimmered with tiny brilliants woven into the cloth. A figure hugging top with the same shade of pink merging and flowing into a gorgeous shade of flaming orange fell from her shoulders till a few inches short of her ankles. It was closely embroidered in gold and semi-precious stones. A veil of translucent chiffon, in both shades, covered her head like a turban, the longer end trailing over her left shoulder. She wore an abundance of jewellery, all diamonds and gold, from an exclusive brand.
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