Withered Rose IV

Indran was not the shy guy; he was the life of the party. Anitha’s presence had drastic changes in him least of which was his fluctuating grades. He was just different; he found the flowers to be fresher and the sky to be brighter and it all seemed to be a beautiful life. He seemed like one of her soft stuffed toys! Their first coffee was quite a scene, Indran had convinced the can
teen owner to wear an outfit and take his order in French. He later confessed that it was the only way he could tell her he knew proficient French. They seemed to be a couple but Anitha was just not ready to be in a relationship again. She fought through her inner demons. She liked Indran, but not romantically; just liked him the way pe
ople like to go to a beach in summer or drink hot chocolate in winter. She was definitely confused and it was this confusion that was the stem of Indran’s hope that she was THE one! She in never gave him any verbal signs ever expect suddenly saying, “I wish...“; and then stopping or flirting with his eyes. He was completely lost in her.

Indran had recommended [& extensively lobbied] for Anitha to be placed it the student committee and she appreciated the fame & popularity that came with it. Now he had even more excuses to spend time with her. She also loved the amusing and lively chatter with him. Indran could talk about

diffusion of inorganic waste in amoeba with as much enthusiasm as discovery of life on mars.

Anitha was several people at the same time. She was no eye turner but she was intelligent; care free and bubbly, and cheerful and impatient. At times she felt even she did not know who she was. Indran melted like butter to her 1000MW smile and people were beginning to notice h

er effects on Indran.
Indran had been extremely popular in college, and he had his own little network of spies who did his dirty work; from organising a flash strike in college to informing him the change of Dosa’a price in the canteen. He found a friend, who knew a friend who studied at St.Bede’s, Anitha’s School; Salman was filled with awe at the presence of Indran, it was out of respect that he accepted his invite for a party that Saturday. He found it strange that he was taken to Toxic, the most happening club at Chennai for free with Indran & his friends; and he felt uneasy on the barrage of questions Vishnu and Nazim were throwing at him about Anitha. He answered them dutifully. He noticed that Indran drank only orange juice and many people seemed to be gesturing hello’ to him. Vishnu Nambiar and Nazim Khan were the wingmen of Indran, one is junior and the other his batch mate. High on the free booze Indran offered, th

ey did not like it one bit when he walked out with Salman alone; they sat puddle in their alcohol. Salman broke news of Tariq and he could see that Indran did not like what he heard. He called Vishnu on his phone and asked him to drop Salman;

before which he looked straight into his eyes and said, “Not a word, Salman, Never again!” Salman wanted to caution him but was too unsettled to think further.

Irrespective of how drunk he

was the thought of his father sobered Vishnu Nambiar instantly. He was the grandson of MN Nambiar, the famous south Indian actor known for the Villain Characters he essayed. His father Mohan Nambiar was a prominent businessman at Coimbatore. Vishnu was an only son and was lavished from an early age yet taught to be a good Brahmin; being a strict Brahmin home ‘the idea of chicken’ had not penetrated him till college. The pudgy smart boy was saved from an awkward pole dancing session in the name of ragging by Indran and has been his lieutenant since then.

Nazim hailed from a poor family & lived on the outskirts of the city. He lost his father at a very early age and his mother was unwell now. He had a sister who lived in Bangalore with her husband; and it was debts from the marriage that made Nazim work every evening. Indran supported him several times with money and that was the first time Indran bought loyalty but would never be his last.


“This is not right, Anitha”, Arati screamed! “This will end up really bad!”
“What? I am not doing anything, we’re just friends!” Anitha retorted.
“Friends? Which friend does what he does for you? He may even do you assignments if you ask him to!”Arati was known for her sense of justice. She could not stand the presence of Indran though. It was not anything personal but general hatred for his being. Her family was Indian with roots in every part of the country. Her mom was from Assam and Dad from Rajasthan and they lived in Delhi, Pune & Hyderabad which made her more Indian than others and also a strong believer of Karma. She warned Anitha to explain the dynamics of their friendship to Indran before it becomes awkward.


It was Indran’s final year of law and Anitha’s third of journalism; and that was that fateful day, February 14, 2008 Indran walked into ‘Media Laws & Ethics’ class in a crisply ironed white with a red rose in his hand and called out:
“Anitha Basu!”
Everyone smiled at the look of a possible romance blossoming, and it had to be a yes; because Indran was asking. Some girls by the window shed a silent tear while the guys gasped in relief and also excitement. Arati was shell shocked and had the most bewildered expression, she covered her face; she didn’t have the guts to face what was next.

Indran continued: “There’s nothing in the entire world I want but you--and your precious love--All the materials things are nothing. I'd just hate to live a sordid, colourless existence-because you'd soon love me less--and less--and I'd do anything--anything--to keep your heart for my own--I don't want to live--I want to love first, and live incidentally...

”

Brain freeze!!

Withered Rose III

Julia Silverman was smoking hot by any standards. Her golden hair hung across her round face and she wore a pinstripe black business suit. Julia waited excitedly at the lobby of Mal’s Manhattan Penthouse & was awestruck at the beauty of the place. She was wise beyond years and loved the chase in the corporate Cat & mouse game; not many wondered why this 37 year old feminist she had worked her way through an MBA from Havard and come to work for some very rich Arab as his PR manager in the United States.

“Good Morning, Ms.Silverman”, Mal said with a grin and walked over to the dining table and gestured her to sit. Paul stood beside him.
“Hello Mr.Malik, It’s so kind of you. I have heard a lot about you!” She tried to make it sound genuine but Mal could sense her deep dislike of men. Mal took little notice of her nonchalance and continued as they ate breakfast. She sat opposite him in the balcony facing central park and explained that her client regarded this matter of

utmost importance and expected Mal to understand the secrecy of her visit. She also went on to explain the legal hassle her boss was entwined in and what role she expected Mal to play;

“Oh! Ms. Silverman, I’m sorry. I don’t know if this interests me and I’m not very likely to be involved lobbing for big corporations; on the contrary I’d love to sue corporations”, He laughed! Julia was not one to let go easily. She looked into his eyes, and put her hand on his wrist; “Please, call me Julia; I also have to say that you would never regret having this meeting with my boss.” She appeared desperate and Mal liked that; people around him wanting his mercy and grace but more so due to her initial repulsiveness to him. He always said the air of humility he cultivated around him was a tribute to his school; deep inside he was just a megalomaniac, he only knew it too well. Mal agreed to meet with her boss on the Saturday after. She thanked Mal and assured him he would not regret it.

Mal liked to put a price tag on his time and Paul did a great job at telling people how busy his boss was.
Mal had a busy week; his recent success had caused a lot of influential men on Wall Street to sit up and take notice and he played this waiting game so well; it’s said he once made the Mayor wait on the phone for almost a minute; but that’s how Mal got his daily share of sadistic happiness.
Friday night Julia picked up Mal and Paul and took them to the airport. When Paul told Julia, that his boss would only fly first class, she simply smiled and said “I know”. Mal was puzzled but had a calm appearance on his face till he saw the car pull to a stop next to Gulfstream Private Jet. He couldn’t help but smile. Julia saw that and she knew he was impressed.The 12 hour flight to Abu Dhabi aboard a private jet was exhilarating for Paul Simmons. He had worked for Mal for the last 4 years and knew his boss inside out. He knew of his ill tempered tantrums and steered clear of his ego and at times even helped stoke it gently.
On landing, Mal and Paul were escorted to the Presidential suite in the Palm Jumeirah. Mal slept the jetlag away while Paul chose to go swimming.
The next morning, Mal dressed immaculately in navy was escorted to a conference room. He liked it and told Paul to find the one who designed it; As Paul was writing it down, an Arab Sheikh walked in with Julia. Harvard had not taught Paul how to say hi to Arab Sheikhs! Paul was excited and whispered to Mal’s ears, “His Highness Sheikh Mansoor Al Nahyan, he’s brother of the president of UAE and also owner of Manchester City!” Mal was stunned for a moment; Julia had meant what she had said; now he knew why it was such a big secret!
“Marhaba! I finally get to meet you, Mr.Malik, I trust Julia had taken good care of you!” He winked. The Sheikh was a tall man with a beard and looked alarmingly powerful. He was extremely well mannered. Mal wanted to turn him down just to see what the sheikh would do; but he didn’t dare. Their meeting went well and the Sheikh invited Mal for a detailed discussion in the afternoon.
Mal was about to stand up and take leave when the Sheik summoned his secretary, “Anitha”, the Shiekh called out.
Anitha Basu, clad in a black suit walked into to the room. Paul had never seen Mal this petrified. Mal who stood frozen; time seemed to wrap around him.