For Better or For Worse

CHAPTER 12 - Little Sparks

The next few days it was quiet and normal for all of them. With the arrival of Anita’s father Tarun Juneja, Nandini was busy providing help in the research of her family’s history. Anita was busy running back and forth from the local tailors and historical costume collectors to get the costumes for the documentary ready. Sampoorna mostly remained at home and accompanied Nanidni in her research. Aditya and Yosuf were busy preparing to put their grand plan in action. Henry most of the time found himself lurking around Nandini quite to his disbelief.

The Singh family residence was attracting more and more guests every passing day. It was becoming more and more difficult for Henry to be around Nandini without having someone else with them, and that was something he was not quite enjoying. He had no idea why he wanted to be around her in the absence of others. He was fighting his urge to try and steal a glance from her when she was busy in her work, or find a pick up line to start a conversation. How on earth did he think that he could sleep peacefully at nights after the day at the watch tower? Because all he did after that day was spend most of his nights roaming the grounds of the gym and the adjacent gardens where he fenced with Nandini, much like a ghost with the hope of bumping into her once more. In fact, he started looking forward to the night strolls.

It was Sunday and Nandini’s grandmother arrived from Varanasi that afternoon. Aditya’s family was invited for a grand dinner that evening at Nandini’s place. Of course, that meant family and close friends. Nandini was busy getting dressed in her room when her grandmother came to her room. She was an elderly lady in her late seventies, yet glamorous and full of elegance. She was the lady who had ruled the family with an iron fist over the years. She was retired from her regular family duties and chose a life of social service. She was involved with several NGOs that helped young socially molested girls to have a meaningful life. However, even today her words were law in the family - that is if she was asked for an opinion. Not even Nandini’s father could defy her. The only person who can and has always got around twisting her rules is Nandini herself. Her grandmother dotes on her and considers her as a better and stronger version of her own youth. They have always shared a unique chemistry the existence of which was unknown to anybody apart from themselves.

‘Nandini, my child. Come here let me look at you’ called her grandmother. Nandini went and stood beside her wheelchair. As her grandmother sat looking and admiring her, Nandini’s eyes were riveted towards the door where a knock was heard and a figure stood looking at her in amazement. It was Henry and he could not take his eyes off her. She was wearing a blue peshwaz, her makeup minimal, and her hair was tied in a lose knot, with tendrils of hair on both sides of her face. She smiled up at him and invited him in the room. He was so mesmerised by the sight of her that he almost stumbled on his way in. Nandini’s grandmother turned around to face the man, and boy oh boy what a man he was, she instantly thought.

‘Mr. Grant, this is my grandmother. Granny this is mister -’

‘Henry Grant, the famous actor’ completed her grandmother.

‘Hello Mrs. Singh’ said Henry, bending down and kissing her hand, while stealing glances at Nandini.

DARN THAT! He just can’t seem to stop looking at her.

WHAT THE HELL WAS WRONG WITH HIM? He thought, especially with her grandmother around it was definitely a very BAD idea, he told himself.

‘Isn’t she looking pretty?’ asked Gayatri, Nandini’s grandmother.

‘She is a very beautiful lady …’ drifted off Henry.

‘What brings you here?’ Nandini quickly chirped in, before Henry’s obvious admiration of her embarrassed her any further.

‘Ah! I was trying to figure out how to fasten these’ said Henry, looking at the set of detachable gold buttons in his hand.

He was wearing a white and gold elegant shewani, which Nandini recognised. She knew it was an authentic Manish Malhotra design that she bought for Yosuf on his last birthday. ‘Yosuf loaned me this outfit, but I did not know how to fasten these buttons through the button holes. Looks awfully complicated, so I thought you could help me’ he added. Nandini gave a knowing nod.

‘But you are the guest of honour, and it is customary to gift the guest of honour proper outfits for such special occasions in our culture. After all, it is a big fat Indian wedding. I am surprised why you have not received your own outfit?’ Gayatri asked, with a questioning look at Nandini.

‘Yes we have ordered the suits but it has not yet arrived’ Nandini provided.

‘Who is responsible for these sort of stuff?’

‘Anita’

‘Well then I would have to talk to her. Now, don’t waste time and help him out with that’

Nandini tried to reach up to the buttonholes of his kurta on her toes, and after a while lost balance and was about to fall back but quickly recovered herself. However, this did not prevent Henry from extending a hand out involuntarily to try and catch her. Realising the gravity of the situation and their close proximity, Nandini quickly pulled the stool near her dresser and said ‘Would you please mind sitting here? You are far too tall for my reach.’ Henry arched an eyebrow, smirked a little but immediately complied. Fastening the buttons were more tedious an ordeal than solving a jigsaw puzzle for Nandini. She bent down a little and concentrated at the work at hand. With her warm breath fanning Henry’s neck, her fingers slightly brushing at his collar, and her lose locks all over her face, Henry was having a hard time to keep his wits together, so much so that he completely forgot a pair of eyes that were intently scrutinizing him from the far end of the room. He was so mesmerised by the serene beauty of the woman with her lose locks in front of him that his hand reached out to tuck one single lock of her hair behind her ear. That single action did not go unnoticed by anyone present in the room, and Henry quietly chided himself for such a careless act. He was grateful that Nandini was too busy with the work at hand to look up at him. Nandini however tried to act as normal as possible. She pretended not to be affected by this small gesture because, not only was she aware of her grandmother’s presence but also she was too confused to acknowledge it by looking at Henry. She was far too afraid of her own reaction, so she cautiously kept her eyes fixed on the textile and the metal pieces.

Dinner went rather absurd as Nandini figured. It all started with her grandmother insisting her to sit beside Henry on the excuse of being more hospitable to the guest of honour. Yosuf too was a little too impatient on his seat. It was almost as if he had lost his appetite, which was rather odd, for Yosuf Khan was one voracious eater. Nandini could sense that something was odd when she had a feeling that Anita’s father Tarun was giving queer looks at both Adi and Sampoorna who were sitting together, again by grandmother’s request. Something was definitely off, but Nandini could not just put her finger on it yet.