His Box Glasses (Releasing Mid-July)

Prologue

She looked  at the bulletin board in front of her. All her hard work and observations of three years, was lying in front of her.

All the little things about Arjun Sinha were on the board. All of them, from how much sugar he liked in his coffee to what he feared the most. Everything, every little detail planned out to its very tail.

The bulletin board the was not up on the wall, but it was kept on her queen sized bed, and was us usually hidden under her bed. For if her mother was to find out about her devious ways, she would probably have her dipped in the holy waters of Ganga a million times.

She rested her back on the bed rest, and sighed in contentment. All her planning was done, it only needed to be implemented. She looked at his picture, pinned in the middle of the board.

He looked like a model straight out of a magazine. His dimples almost covered by the light beard grazing his cheeks, his full smile showing his set of perfectly straight teeth. His hazel eyes hooded under his Armani aviators.

Everything about him screamed poise and elegance. He was the heir to crores of rupees, and was subsequently arrogant about it. He often made generous donations to charities and relief funds, but he wasn't a very affectionate being.

She picked up her coffee from the bed table beside her, and sipped it.

Who needed affection and love, when they had money and power?

She had been a part of the middle class society all her life, and it was revolting to her. She wanted luxury, and comfort at the click of her fingers.

She heard the chime of her mother's anklets, and knew she was coming to her room.

She sat up straight with a jerk, and some of the coffee spilled on the board. She swore, and pulled the quilt on top of the board hastily as her mother entered her room, without knocking as usual.

She was worried about how much the coffee stain would affect her work, little did the poor girl know that the coffee stain had done would be nothing in comparison to what a certain lanky fellow had in store for her.

He was growing irritated of the woman in front him, he had showed her about thirty sarees and she had rejected all of them, she couldn't find the right shade of red, apparently. If the shade was right, the embroidery wasn't very intricate. If both were right, it wouldn't fit her budget.

He called for the bald helper in the shop, and asked him to attend to the customer.

He went upstairs to the low roofed storage area, and sat with his head in his hands in a corner. Due to his 6'3" frame, he had to sit with a hunched back. He ran a hand frustratedly, through his long untamed hair as he placed a cigarette between his thin lips.

He lighted the cigarette with a light blue colored lighter, and smoked all his exertion off. 

What was he doing here? In this small shack his father calls 'his shop', he wasn't supposed to be here. He was supposed to be near his type-writer, typing out a masterpiece. His father failed to understand that  writing could not only be a hobby, but just a profession as well.

He had sent out several copies of his work to several publishing houses, but none of them had called him as yet. When he passed out from college, he certainly hadn't expected this.

Time was running out, he was twenty four already. If he couldn't find, a stable source of income in another year his parents would force him to take over the saree shop, which he did not want to do.

He stretched his long legs, in front of him as he dissed out the cigarette on the mosaic tiled floor. He didn't want to reek of smoke, when he attended to customers.

His phone vibrated suddenly in his jeans pocket, he picked it up and swiped the screen with his long fingers to unlock it.

It was a message from his friend Pradeep, with the address to the Purple Pages Publishing House. He had to go there tomorrow to drop by a copy of his work there. He knew he stood no chance with India's leading publishing house, but it was worth a shot.

He was oblivious of how he was going to be completely intrigued and infatuated, with a certain short haired and wide-eyed employee.

He stood up, and walked back down stairs whilst adjusting his box glasses.

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