The Promise (8 page)

'And what might that be?'

'Let's take a look at the Mansion together. We'll get an estimate of dimensions and a mental picture of what we want where. Then, we can browse through the prototypes of your previously created designs and find pieces that will fit the mental picture. Meanwhile, I can start working on the remaining pieces-the pieces we'll need you to build-and you can start working on the items I've already designed for you to build,' Shambhavi concluded with a flourish, pointing to the folder he still held in his hands. Even though the man's behaviour was barely social, she could not help but feel excited about working on that assignment. Everything was finally falling into place.

'Well, that sounds like a good plan,' Mr Datta nodded thoughtfully.

'And if we make you build every bit of furniture that'll go into the Mansion, we'll need a year to get it done, anyway. And I don't know about you, but I do not have that kind of time. No offence, of course.'

'None taken.'

'So let's meet tomorrow at the Mansion and take a look around,' Shambhavi said and jumped out of the super-soft sofa she had almost sunk in. If Mr Datta was shocked by her behaviour, he did not let it show. She did not care about it either. There was just so much extent to which she could stay composed and business-like, after which the instinct to turn back into herself overtook her. 'I'll text you the address, you can text me the time. Ciao!'

'Dad, I'm leaving,' Shambhavi shouted from her room, pinning up her curls on her head, so they wouldn't fall all over her face. And then, taking some strands out of the clips expertly so that they fell perfectly over her face. Carefully careless.

'Okay. I'll just stay here till you come back,' her father's voice said over the intercom. He sounded weak.

As soon as she was done with her hair, she took a brief look at herself in the mirror, picked up her handbag, stuffed her cell phone into her pant pocket and walked out of her room. She filled up a pitcher with water and took it over to her dad's room.

'How are you this morning?' she asked.

'Great. Couldn't be better,' he replied cheerfully. She saw right through it.

'Listen-no getting up from the bed and walking to the other room, okay? You have a TV here and I'm sure something is on. Call me whenever you need me. Don't try to be a hero and do everything by yourself. I'll just be gone a couple of hours. You have your phone with you.'

'Look who's acting all grown up and responsible.'

'Well, someone has to. And since you decided to get sick, it's my job,' she replied.

'I get it. Go work,' he said and bid her goodbye.

As she locked the front door behind her, she wondered why he never asked her to stop working so hard. She had never seen her father ask her not to push herself too hard when he had seen her killing herself working. Maybe that was just the way he was, she shrugged and made her way to her ancient car. She was expected at the Ahluwalia mansion in forty minutes and she really did not want to be late.

The bad news was that when Mrs Ahluwalia got to know that they were deciding the final layout of her mansion, she decided to tag along with them. And the even worse bad news was that since Tutul was stuck with a project they were working upon in her office, she could not accompany Shambhavi to what would surely turn out to be an awkward encounter between Mr Datta and Mrs Ahluwalia. Shambhavi wondered what his reactions would be like if she said she did not like his ideas or work.

The thought brought a smile to her face. She wondered how some people managed to live without smiling at all. Take Mr Datta for example. He's all business, all the time. Shambhavi decided that her crush on him had ended and she just thought of him as a deeply scarred mysterious man who didn't laugh or interact casually with other people. Not everyone liked to be social.

'Where is the carpenter?' Mrs Ahluwalia asked Shambhavi, when she pulled in at the Mansion.

'Where's who? Did you just say what I thought you just said?' Shambhavi was shocked.

'Depends on what you thought I said, doesn't it?'

'Did you just call Mr Arjun Datta a carpenter?'

'That's what he is, right? You said he will build what you ask him to,' Mrs Ahluwalia said stupidly.

'He does build furniture. But that's just his way of working. After he builds a piece, tonnes of similarly designed pieces flood the market. He just likes building the first prototype himself, of all new designs. Other furniture designers ape his style and designs. All his designs are made into thousands of copies. He's a trendsetter.'

'So, he's a designer who likes to build?'

'Plus the owner of Datta Enterprises,' Shambhavi added, exasperated. She gave up trying to make Mrs Ahluwalia see sense. After explaining so much about him, she still pictured Mr Datta to be some kind of a small time carpenter who built some designs he liked and had a few labourers working under him.

That explained the look on her face when she finally saw Mr Datta get out of his BMW X5, a silver beast which must have cost somewhere around seven million rupees. Shambhavi wished she could buy something like that one day. And once she laid her eyes on the man who got out of the car, she decided that her crush on him was back. She had no hope of getting together with him someday, so she decided she would be just one of his fans and love him eternally from a distance, just like she loved Tom Cruise. He looked like a movie star-all six feet of him in his glory, walking towards them, slightly distracted, observing the building he was entering.

'Hello, Mr Datta,' Shambhavi went ahead and greeted. She wondered if she should add that she was his biggest fan and would love an autograph, but composed herself just in time.

He turned his face towards her for a micro second and nodded, turning back to his observation. All business, all the freaking time.

'Meet Mrs Ahluwalia. She's the owner of this mansion,' Shambhavi said, rather stiffly, turning all business herself. 'Mrs Ahluwalia, this is Mr Arjun Datta, of Datta Enterprises.'

'Nice to meet you,' Mr Datta said coolly.

Mrs Ahluwalia seemed to find it difficult to speak. It was justified; she had been expecting a stocky, dark man with dirty clothes and a dirtier motorcycle. Maybe stinking of pan masala and tobacco. Seeing Mr Datta would understandably stupefy anyone in her place.

'Hi, I'm Faisal Khan, personal assistant to Mr Datta,' a lanky man of around twenty-five moved forward to introduce himself. His smile brightened up the space. Shambhavi felt relieved that he was there, that she was not alone in the company of two people whose default facial expression was a scowl. Such people only brought depression all around them.

'Hi, Faisal. Let's start with the work then?' she proposed and there were nods all around. She started walking towards the foyer and everyone followed. Once inside, she turned her work-mode on full time. She walked from room to room, speaking aloud what she had in mind for where, looking mostly towards Faisal, as she figured that the other two weren't people who liked conversation. She kept shooting ideas around and everyone listened. She had been there before the previous day and explained it to Tutul, so she knew she had the technicalities covered. That gave her confidence an extra boost.

Mr Datta pointed out some flaws and put forward some suggestions, all of which Shambhavi agreed with. The man really was a genius. She got even more excited about the successful completion of the assignment, which she could easily picture happening in the next couple of months. The best thing was that Mrs Ahluwalia did not seem to have regained her power of speech as of yet. That let Shambhavi concentrate on the task at hand, without having to think of immediate alternatives for the options Mrs Ahluwalia generally would not have approved of. But the poor lady kept a nervous smile on her face and nodded her approval at everything.

'So, what do you suggest would be better?' she turned to Mr Datta and asked when they reached the porch. 'Three sides of lawn chairs and recliners and one with a swing? Or all four sides of chairs?'

'Two sides of chairs, here,' Mr Datta motioned with his arms. 'The third a swing. Let's keep the opposite end of the swing open, shall we? It has a great view of the garden downstairs?'

Shambhavi nodded thoughtfully. 'Yeah, that makes sense. Plus we do not want a terrace garden; we have a huge lawn downstairs, so there's no need. I was thinking, maybe cover this porch with half a shed, leaving the front part open for sunlight? The shed will also add to the beauty of the place. It'll be a nice spot for people to relax.'

They kept on like that for the next one hour-throwing around suggestions, agreeing, thinking of alternatives and planning a final layout. Faisal recorded the entire conversation, to sort later and generate a list of the pieces of furniture they would require. They were going to look through the catalogues of all the designs DE had built in the past and select the ones they wanted for the mansion. (Upon choosing from there, they would put the workers at DE on the job of replicating the designs, since the company did not have anything in the inventory.) The rest of the articles would need to be designed and built, later.

By the time they reached the second and the last floor of the building, Mrs Ahluwalia took her leave, muttering something about an appointment at a spa. Shambhavi happily bid her a goodbye.

Since the second floor was built in only one fourth of the total space, they were done in less than fifteen minutes. Faisal reminded Mr Datta about his meeting with some associate and they made their way outside, finalizing their own meeting for the next day.

'Why is 10 am not working for you?' Mr Datta asked Shambhavi, as if it was a crime to ask for a meeting at 12:30 pm.

'I have some personal obligations to deal with,' she replied shortly.

'What kind of personal obligations?'

She wanted to tell him that it was none of his business, but stopped herself at the last moment. Maybe he is just asking because 12:30 doesn't work for him. He is not checking to see if I am in a relationship with someone. Why would he? He clearly has no interest in me. I do not have any in him either.

'I think we can make 12:30 pm work, Mr Datta. We have cancelled your meeting for that slot since the last shipment has not gone through quality check yet,' Faisal intervened, sensing the tensed air between the two.

'Is that so?' Mr Datta glared at his assistant, who looked away and nodded silently. He turned to Shambhavi and said, 'See you at 12:30 then, Ms Sen.'

Shambhavi and Faisal watched as Arjun Datta walked away, towards his car. After exchanging a he's-crazy look, they followed closely behind.

'So, where are you headed from here?' Faisal asked Shambhavi, who was busy staring at the way Mr Datta's hair fell slightly over his shirt collar from behind. She tore her gaze away.

'I don't know. To grab a bite to eat, maybe? What time is it?'

'2:30 pm,' Faisal replied, checking his watch.

'No wonder I'm so starved. My internal alarm clock has been ticking since the last one and a half hours now.'

'What do you say we go somewhere together? Crown Palace is nearby?'

Shambhavi looked at him. He looked younger up close and maybe it also had something to do with the nervousness in his expression. He liked her. The realization struck her suddenly. All signs suggested that. She had been blind about the way he had been trying to get her attention and kept smiling at her. A small smile stole onto her face, too. She was flattered. Faisal was sweet and she did not see any harm in having lunch together.

'Sure,' Shambhavi said.

'Great. We'll let Mr Datta leave for the office and let's go to the restaurant?' Faisal smiled a genuine smile.

'I'll get my car,' she said, moving towards her dying Esteem.

'I'll get mine,' he said and turned towards his car.

'Faisal,' Mr Datta called him just then.

'Yes, Mr Datta?' Faisal rushed towards his boss-who was sitting in the back seat of his car-and bent down to speak at eye level to him.

'Go straight to the office, right now, and create the list of articles we'll need,' Mr Datta said curtly.

'I'll get to the office in an hour. I have to-'

'Did you not hear what I said?'

'I did, sir. But I haven't had lunch. I'll grab something quickly and get to the office as soon as I can. I assure you the list will be ready shortly,' Faisal said.

'Now, Faisal. Now. What is it in that word that you don't understand?' Mr Datta seethed.

'Okay, sir.' Faisal moved away from his boss' car and mouthed a sorry to Shambhavi, who had been watching the interaction. She nodded to let him know that it was okay. She felt sorry for him, as she watched him rush to his car and drive away, his ears red with embarrassment.

She knew she should have let it go, but she could not. She marched towards him. She saw his driver get out of the car and hold the door for Mr Datta, who got out, seeing her charge.

'You know that you are a monster, don't you, Mr Datta?' she asked, her jaw clenched.

'I do have an idea, yes.'

'Oh, you do? Well, I just wanted to make sure, in case no one else told you, seeing as you seem to own everything around you, living or non.'