"Young Indian takes Paroxy Pharma to the cleaners", screamed the New York times; it also went ahead to describe the career contour of Indranil Malik, the only son of Indian Business tycoon, Soumitra Malik.
Mal, as his American admirers called him had just effected the largest ever payout from a Corporate giant in the history of corporate America. He bled them of 1.2 bn USD as compensation to his grieving clients.
The sun flirted with the Manhattan Skyline and its rays had just hit the square handsome face of Mal. The sheet on the bed lay so perfectly still; and he sat there lost in thought; of a life time spent in pursuit ... He sought solace in those moments alone and away from the limelight. He always said NY had made him a loner, though he secretly admired the status of celebrity he was bestowed. The gossip magazines loved him; for he was definitely unlike any other man; for none was as loved but perplexing as he was. He was the man every woman wanted to take home; Standing an inch lesser than 6 feet, he commanded an army of people at his suede office on Wall Street.
Mal stepped out of the shower and drops of water trickled off his sculpted chest onto the marble covered floor; looking into the life size mirror, his mind seemed to ask; “Mirror mirror on the wall, who might be the most handsome of all?” The grin on his face was proof of the work of Alisha Keys, the fitness trainer he flew in every week from Boston. Mal was also feared on Wall Street. His tongue was most sought after by several law firms across NY to speak for them in the court of law.
Raghava KK
As he stepped out from the shower into a closet that would cost any New Yorker an annual pay check; he looked at a masterpiece from KK Raghava, his favourite Indian Artist. He admired the woman painted whose face could not but be seen. It was a girl who looked away... Mal had commissioned for it for an exorbitant amount then; but then what was a man to do with so much money anyway, he had retorted. Money was never his first love. He was lost in the picture when his mind raced back to August 23, 2006...
The college election campaign was at the height of insanity. Indran was sought after by his comrades. The boy who used the pen to swiftly turn the tide in favour of his party, the SFI; his was a magnetic personality. His teachers spoke very kindly of him as the good natured son of the Malik.
And it was then that he met her... In his words: “She descended down the stairs into my heart! “
The owner of those big black eyes was Anita Basu. And that was it. He had no idea who she was but it was like she slammed open the door of his heart and camped in there. It took him a week to tell her hello; to which she smiled and walked. He loved the feeling, that helplessness he felt drove him mad!
Buzz! His blackberry was going haywire; as he fixed his grey pinstripe Astor & Black suit. Mal looked around and picked up the phone. His press secretary Paul Simmons, was on the line.
“Mal, She’s here...”
TBC
Neil Vincent
Withered Rose
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