He gave a wry smile as yet another pretty young thing waltzed in preening, throwing a disdainful look at his bloated, corpulent self. Ah, the arrogance of youth he thought. So full of their own beauty. So frighteningly unaware of the pitfalls of life. Unable to see beyond the gloss and glamour. Absorbing the richness of the Oberoi name the moment they step over the threshold. Little understanding that reflected glory says nothing about their own self. It is but borrowed plumage.
The man, Khanna, gave him a hesitant smile as he withdrew slowly after showing in yet another of the latest and smartest of them. Guilt at having deceived them swimming in his eyes, vying with the obligations his job entailed. Wordlessly pleading with the one who had outlived them all to introduce the newcomer to the reality of the position. An imperceptible nod by the wizened old one giving some solace to the heaviness in Khanna’s heart.
The new entrant settled herself in prime position, determined to be the next one chosen to be caressed by the hands of the legendary Shivaay Singh Oberoi. She had heard tales galore about the softness of his hands, the pliable whorls of his ears, the thrilling firmness of his voice with that patent catch. He deserved to be the one holding her, to slipping her close to himself. Very, very close, she thought as a becoming blush adding a delicious tinge of rose to her golden self.
Much as he tried apprising her of the realities of life in Oberoi Mansion, she paid no heed to them whatsoever. Tiring of her taunts of jealousy and of her snide remarks about him being past it, he withdrew defeated. Muting out her shrill tone. Perching himself back in his place, he thought to himself with a resigned shake of his head, there’s none as deaf as those who won’t hear.
It wasn’t long before a hand reached in to grab hold of her, positioned as she was for just that. Turning around to give him a triumphant smile, she sashayed out all charged up. Muttering a small prayer for mercy, the old stalwart looked up heavenward. Not holding out much hope however. The swelling of the ranks in the household had brought with it changes, but it had also brought tempers to razor edges. Brief feints of saving were just that. Feints. The ultimate reality remained. Death.
A loud crash and the accompanying high pitched squeal made him wince. Sigh, as Dadi had said, family traditions and parampara were important. And, clearly, Shivaay Singh Oberoi wasn’t letting go of what his Bade Papa had started all those years back. In fact, the zeal and vigour with which he was following it was oddly fascinating to witness.
He geared up to bless the shattered remains of yet another pretty young thing. Plugging himself in the mains to try and charge himself up to administer the last rites. Something that had become a bit of their own tradition in that cabinet over the years. Now which caller tune should be used this time around, he mused. Puccini’s Sono Andati or maybe even Mozart’s Requiem Mass. As executive decisions seemed to be the world order of the day, he didn’t think to ask for the opinions of the remaining survivors.
I’m not sure how many of you are watching Ishqbaaz, but the mobile phone has played a starring role in many a scene. The male lead has a penchant for smashing them on a regular basis. A post made on the forum that shall not be named, sparked an idea in me and I wrote the above from the perspective of one of the ones who got away from an untimely death.
As you can see, for me, the amusement quotient and the ridiculousness of it all far outweighs the feelz where Ishqbaaz is concerned!