The Haunting of Bobby Bangash (Ongoing)

Of Legs and Looks

A/N: Just a small chapter today :-)

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Bobby's new studio was bigger, and swankier, than necessary. Located on, and occupying entirely, the 13th floor of the Tower 1 of the new Gurgaon Twin Towers, it overlooked Tower 2 on the west side and the parking lot, the 'Relaxation Retreat' (which was nothing but a tiny garden for the over-worked corporate worker ants to escape to in moments of stress) and a café on the east side. The fancy French windows on both sides gave him ample natural light to work with during indoor shoots. There was a small kitchenette with a coffee machine, microwave, refrigerator and, for some inexplicable reason, a pasta machine. Bobby also got a mini bar made and bought a new bean bag and a music system with the most expensive speakers available. Then of course came tables and tripods and reflectors and clamps and other photography paraphernalia. Just like his house, his studio oozed money and "high society". That as a travel photographer he didn't really need such a big and pompous studio was beside the point.

His marriage to Anu had made the headlines – the Agarwals had made sure of that – and so Bobby Bangash was no longer a 'nobody' in Delhi. Everybody knew him, everybody wanted to be friends with him, everybody wanted a piece of him. Bobby knew it and used it to his advantage whenever he could. Especially when it came to women. But he had steered clear of one thing – women at his workplace. Being a Bombay boy, he was shrewd and sensible enough to know that an affair at the workplace always led to disaster. He was very careful to not so much as look closely at any woman that walked in through the gates of the Gurgaon Twin Towers complex with an identity card pinned to her shirt. Not that the ladies hadn't tried – there were even rumours of a secret group supposedly named "Who'll Bag the Bob" dedicated to devising plans to ensnare the unattainable Bobby Bangash. Alas, all efforts were vain.

12 years after his marriage and continuing success story, Bobby had professionally reached a most comfortable and envious position. He had loads of work offered to him (some genuine, some to gain access to his father-in-law and some forced by his father-in-law himself) and had the freedom to choose whatever he wanted. With a wave of his hand he could dismiss a potential client mid proposal and nobody complained. There came a phase when this freedom to choose went quite to his head. On a whim he decided to take up no new work at all for a month. He didn't need it and was "too bored" to do it. He went to his studio nevertheless; every single day without fail. But all he did was stare out the windows, or sit in his bean bag with a beer can in hand and music blasting in the background, or smoke a cigar in different locations in the complex.

One day, Bobby found himself sitting cross-legged on the bonnet of his car in the parking lot, trying to puff out perfectly round smoke ringlets. He had been at it for a couple of hours now and was doing pretty well. Occasionally, he would give his lungs a rest and his jaw some exercise by taking a bite of the no-onion, no-chilli, no-flavour "Dilli Burger" from the café in the complex. It cost a bomb and was terrible but Bobby didn't mind. He knew that his taste buds would forgive him many times over for this assault as soon as he took the first bite of Anu's excellent dinner that night. It was a miracle that he hadn't put on too much weight in all those years – thanks to his celebrity personal gym trainer who made sure he was always ready for another meal after every gruelling workout session. The result was the addition of a lean, muscular physique to his already alluring personality... a combination the ladies loved.

As he sat there starting on his next cigar, a big red car came zooming into the parking lot. It stopped smoothly a little distance away from him and out came 4 people – 3 girls and a guy. One of the girls immediately arrested Bobby's attention. Feigning ignorance, he watched them from the corner of his eye while he went on smoking slowly. The first thing he had noticed was her legs – long legs ending in pointy black heels coming out of the back seat of the car. The girl was tall and slim. "Model material", thought Bobby. She wore a pristine white ankle-length pencil skirt which did little to serve its purpose of covering her legs, courtesy thigh-high slits on both sides. Then he saw the blouse and was blinded for a second. In stark contrast to the virgin white of the skirt was a sleeveless chiffon blouse covered in flowers of the most hideous colours. Psychedelic pink, yellow, orange flowers with neon green leaves. Some of the flowers had colours Bobby didn't know the names of. The effect of the whole ensemble was so eye-popping that he noticed even the few people passing by jump with a start and rub their eyes fervently. When he had finally got his eyesight back, Bobby noticed that she had matching hideous bracelets and bangles on her wrists too. One long bony arm, recently waxed going by the sheen it gave off, had a small tattoo. As the group came closer to where he sat, Bobby noticed it was the yin-yang symbol.

Having inspected the rest of her body to his satisfaction, his eyes travelled up to her face. Framed by a typical bob cut, with a typical D-E-L-H-I expression and a lip-glossed mouth that was speaking with a typically fake American accent, was an average-looking face. Yet, there was something different about her. It took Bobby just about a minute to figure out what – she wasn't bleached white like most Delhi girls (was slightly dark in fact) and she wore no make-up other than the lip gloss and some mascara. And her eyes... they weren't unusually large or beautiful, but looked intelligent – something Bobby hadn't seen in a long long time. She looked sharp and clever. "Definitely not a born Dilli wali", decided Bobby. Yes, he was interested. He was definitely interested.

Just as they were passing him, the girl spotted him. By now Bobby had given up his pretence of not looking and was unashamedly checking her out. Their eyes met and something glinted in the girl's eyes. All of a sudden, she became very animated and loud. She began joking and laughing, patting her friends on their backs as they walked. There was a swing in her hips and the slits in her skirt began flapping around much more than they ordinarily would have on a windless day. She ran her hand through her hair several times and pouted for no apparent reason. The straight stiff walk she had started with when they had arrived gave way to a loose-limbed, casual, frolicking gait. Just as the automatic doors to Tower 2 were closing behind them, the girl shot one sultry backward glance at Bobby.

Her friends hadn't noticed anything. Bobby, sly rascal that he was, had understood everything.