His List

The night sky looked like a pitch black ink spilt over a page, with large number of tiny polar-white jewels, shimmering across its surface. The sequin large Moon appeared brighter than usual, as if it had been redesigned for the special night.

The Maheshwari Sadan had never been so bustled before, for it rarely had more-than-three inhabitants as such. But this night was exceptionally special. Vishakha Somani rushed around the house, checking for any shortcomings in the preparations they had done, while Prabha Maheshwari took it upon herself to reprimand every worker for his irresponsibility and insensitivity towards the big night, with special applaud to the excellent demeanour and diligent work of the Bombay workforce. Kamlesh Maheshwari was busy gobbling down each and every dish available, with simultaneous explanation about how it was important to check the quality, taste and presentation of what they were about to serve. Vivek Somani and his mother were sitting comfortably at a far-away table with a forced smile and a hostile expression, in an attempt to show their indifference towards the big event, not that they needed to display the well-known fact more.

Each and every tree of the large garden was decorated with molten-gold copper fairy light, and the whole house dimly lit, with royal red lamps and traditional maroon Chinese lanterns illuminating each and every corner of the house. The radiance of bright golden lights had successfully cut through the usual darkness of the garden, and the neat four-seater banquet tables covering the grass, gave a much-needed authentic final touch. The house was nothing less than a castle, but tonight, when the spotless giant chandeliers were embellished, and the ornate frame paintings were shined, no one could help but stare wide eyed at the place's grandeur.

It was a little past eight, when the guests had finally started arriving with large and exorbitant presents, accompanied with fake smiles to mask their envy for the affluence that the Maheshwaris had always lived with. Majority of them were business associates, some of them distant relatives even, and the smallest fraction of them, that consisted of close friends or well wishers, were the only ones with genuine happiness. Jaiprakash Maheshwari stood at the entrance, welcoming the guests with joined hands a warm smile, and watched happily, as the well-dressed waiters showered musk ittra and flower petals on them. His features reflected a heart-felt contentment today, and lips danced in amusement everytime a guest asked "....kahaan hai aapka laadla?"

Unbeknownst to all the spectacle happening in his castle, the prince of Maheshwari Sadan was in his room, very much engrossed in sprucing himself up for the big party thrown for his eighteenth birthday. He pondered for a moment, checked his silky hair again, and straightened his tuxedo. The tuxedo fitted his broad chest perfectly, for it had been conventionally made for him; the pitch-black shoes that glittered away in the golden light of his house; or the silver-blue rolex on his wrist, everything spoke of his remarkable splendour.

However, the handsome possessor of these items was far away from being joyful. He never really understood the logic behind these big socialite parties or the show-off that his Mami and so called mother did, but as his Nanu had always advised him, "Yeh sab auraton ki baatein hai, tu beech mein mat bola kar. Jo bole wahi kar liya kar".But the problem wasn't that, these ladies also had a tendency to grant a "price tag" to people, and this disgusted him to the core. The tag of "low priced" or "high priced", could never measure the worth of a person, and he knew that very well. It was a boon that they visited them extremely infrequently, for he wasn't too keen to hear their meaningless criticism about people, or see the drooped face of that brat Somani.

He checked his appearance again, the hair, his handsome features, the collar, the neat white shirt, black trousers, his black fitted suit, waistcoat- everything was perfect, just one thing was missing. He then strode over to the mahogany cabinet near him and opened its second most drawer, only to reveal an old but beautiful silver-plated, British, Italian brooch.