Page 34
“This is tougher,” she giggled, poking the bicep that rested on the hand-rest between them. The lights had dimmed and their dessert utensils had been cleared. The staff had visited thrice to check if they were ready to have the beds made but they had just been unable to stop talking.
“My polo practise has gone up from an hour a day to five hours a day.”
“Your poor horses,” she cooed.
“They love it.”
“Gopi doesn’t play anymore but he has all the gossip.”
“He is getting married to Kresha, isn’t it?”
Avantika sputtered. “In December. And Kresha has turned into the bridezilla! You know what she started doing last week?”
“What?”
“She saw some reel for brides-to-be to have some glowing skin and hair. Ghee in hot water on an empty stomach. She has been having it delivered to her room every morning and drinking it down. Blehhhh. Ugh,” she shuddered.
His quiet laugh reverberated across to her through that bicep her finger was still poking. She poked it harder.
“Seriously though, this can’t be natural. It’s steroids or protein powder or what?”
Samarth sighed, pushed his wrist up and unbuttoned his cuff. Her eyes widened, trained on the blue shirt sleeve that he rolled up in neat, clean folds.
“What? You’re showing me?”
He kept rolling until the sleeve met resistance at the bulgiest part of his bicep. And then, Avantika’s stomach caught fire, because he folded his arm and flexed — “Go on, test it.”
“What test it? It won’t be written on it no, ‘Hey, Ava, it’s me, Steroid bicep.’”
Samarth grabbed her hand and set it on the bulge. It wasn’t as big as she had imagined it under his shirt. It was also very, very hard. She felt him relax his muscles but it remained hard.
“Still hard?” He asked. She nodded, unable to tear her eyes away from his skin, the tan lines of his polo shirt’s half-sleeve leading up to the fairer skin that disappeared under his shirt.
She couldn’t even look below — at those veins popping on his forearms. No, Avantika shuffled her gaze upwards.
To his face. That wasn’t helping either. Mummy! She wanted to cry.
“Years of high-intensity training,” he supplied, blissfully ignorant. “Polo biceps don’t bulge. They are dense, firm and hard because you’ve held the reins and swung the mallet for hours.”
She took a deep breath and pulled her hand away — “And missed penalty shots.”
He sputtered. Avantika felt blood rise up to her chest. He still sputtered? Just like her? She giggled too, unaware of how girly that sounded.
“Your Highnesses?” The Air hostess returned, bending down to their level. “I apologise for this, but some passengers are complaining.”
“Oh.” “Why?!”
“Because we are loud, Ava.”
“Can I have your beds made?”
“Sure,” Samarth took her hand and pulled her up before she could protest. He stepped off, taking her with him towards the pantry area.
“We weren’t that loud! Who the hell is complaining? That baby in 2J is howling and nobody says anything…”
“Softer, softer, Ava,” he left her hand, folding his arms across his chest, leaning back against the cabin entrance. “That’s a baby and we are not.”
“It’s like we are back to school.”
He smiled — “It is.”
“And look at you! Turning 26. So, what’s more? Are you happy?” She asked, exactly what she used to ask him over the phone every year.
“Yes.”
“Excited?” She folded her arms across her chest, mimicking him by leaning on the opposite side of the entrance.
“No.”
“Wait, you will be away from home on your birthday this year?”
“For the French Open, yes. We have practise sessions starting tomorrow.”
“So… oh, where is Harsh? Isn’t he travelling with you?” Avantika peeped out into the dark cabin.
“No. He had to stay back for his divorce hearing. He will join me as soon as that is sorted.”
“He is married?”
“He is 33, of course he is married.”
“What happened?”
“He didn’t want to get married. Ajatshatru Kaka, as usual, forced his hand. The girl… Sukanya Bhabhi, she has partial deafness and their families thought that’s how matches are made. He didn’t stay at home much, choosing to travel with me. And that’s taken its toll now.”
“That’s sad. You know…”
“Your Highnesses,” the Air hostess found them. “The beds are made.”
“Thank you,” Samarth smiled, opening an arm for her to precede him.
She padded to their seats and found the privacy screen up between their beds.
Avantika went around it and sat down on her bed.
It was comfy and cool, the linen soft. She pulled off her socks and pushed back on the stack of pillows just as she felt Samarth’s movements on the other side of the privacy screen.
“Ava?” His quiet voice came.
“Hmm?”
“Here,” he passed her two pillows. “You still need them between your legs, right?”
She stared at his hand over the privacy screen.
“Right?” His voice came again, this time hesitant. The pillows in his hand waved to and fro. Avantika reached out and took them.
“Thanks.”
“You won’t be able to sleep all night. What will you do?”
“I’ll work.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“I can stay awake.”
“No, sleep. You have practise tomorrow.”
“I can manage.”
“No, seriously. Sleep. I have work to do.”
A pause. Then — “Alright. Wake me up if you get bored.”
She smiled. Hoping, badly hoping that she could lower the privacy screen and keep talking to him.
She wanted to toggle the voice recorder on her phone and creepily record their conversations.
To keep playing them back whenever she wanted to.
But all she could do was knock on the privacy screen twice with a — “Goodnight.”
————————————————————
It was some godforsaken hour in the middle of the night but it wasn’t morning yet.
With her eyes closed behind her bunny eye mask, lying back on her stash of pillows, Samarth’s pillows under her thighs, one leg over another knee, music in her ears, she did nothing but think.
Think about this night, and how incredibly precious it was and how wasted it would be.
With each passing minute, she was missing out on what little she had gotten.
Avantika sighed, twisting to her side. Either sleep or wake him up, she told herself, knowing neither was possible.
Let’s check the watch. Maybe it’s morning and time to land.
She pulled up her eye mask to the top of her head and squinted at her wrist. It was 4.
45 am. Still a good three hours to go. She wasn’t even hungry that she could call for a snack.
Water… but too much of it and she would have to shuttle between here and the bathroom.
And even if she wasn’t sleepy, her body was tired enough to slacken at the mere thought of getting up and going to the lavatory.
Avantika quietly sat up and smoothed her fingers through her hair. Maybe a movie…
She began to reach for her iPad when the phone light from across the privacy screen caught her unaware.
She nudged her chin up, peeping over to see if it was a message alert or he was actually awake and messing with his phone.
She couldn’t see much so she got on her haunches, holding onto the edge of the screen.
A blasting Punjabi pop thumped through her ear, and her eyes feasted on Samarth’s tall frame turned to his side, AirPods in his ears, finger scrolling through his phone lying beside him.
He was listening to music too, she peered.
It was 4.45 am. His pre-morning ritual. Did he still wake up early and listen to bhajan?
Curious, she leaned in some more, hoping to catch the playlist. The screen was too bright for her to make anything out. She now got on her toes, half rising, and lost her balance.
“Fuckk!”
She fell back in her bedding but the next thing she knew, the privacy screen went down and Samarth was in her face — “What happened?”
Her headphones had fallen off and around her neck, the music blasting loud enough for both of them to hear.
“Nothing,” she smiled sheepishly, trying and failing to act nonchalant. “I was just getting bored. You are awake?”
“Just woke up.” He pulled out one AirPod. “Did you sleep?”
“Barely. What are you listening to?”
“My bhajans,” he didn’t even hesitate this time.
“Got any new ones?”
“Umm… yeah. You wanna share?” He held out the AirPod.
As if she had been waiting for that one offer, Avantika pounced like a hungry beggar and grabbed the bud, pushing it into her ear before he could take it back.
Samarth looked like he wanted to pull her closer as well as run away from there.
But he just sat up, fluffed up his pillow and elongated his legs to cross them at the ankles.
His crisp trousers ended just shy of his bare feet and she couldn’t help but look away. When had such domesticity got to her?
A soft flute broke her dirty thoughts and she pushed back to mimic him, recreating her nest of pillows, just a few inches shy of where he lay spread out.
Araj, suno Banwari…
A heavy baritone sang.
Baanke Bihari Shyam Rangeele, O more Giridhari…
Goosebumps erupted all over her arms. She whirled her eyes up to him, only to find that his were trained on her, as if expecting that very reaction. She reached his phone and hit pause — “Wow!”
He smirked.
“Do you have more?” Her body shot up to sit straight.
He nodded.
“Share the playlist. Now!”
“First finish this one,” he chuckled, tugging her hand and pulling her back into her pillows.
Avantika went willingly, breathing in his scent.
It was new and yet old. Super subtle. Like Oud but softer.
Leather saddles but also tender blossoms. She wanted to use that same fragrance.
How could she ask him for the name without making it obvious?
“Ready?” He asked.
“Ready,” she crossed one leg over her other knee.
He hit play, and the grand orchestra of his bhajan swept her off.
All thoughts of his fragrance’s name were forgotten as the song, the words, the feel of him beside her in this dark transported her to a time when everything was possible.
Even if for a few hours, Avantika knew she had been granted a wish.
————————————————————
They rolled their luggage side by side as they walked down the Charles de Gaulle Airport — him with his extra large suitcase and his polo kit slung over his back, her with a trolley groaning with the weight of her entire life in Gwalior packed up for a probation period in Paris.
“How are you not travelling with a whole entourage? You are a polo player of international repute. Don’t you get your media, PR, groomsmen?”
“I do,” he manoeuvred his massive suitcase effortlessly.
He had offered to take her trolley but she had pushed him away.
Then flexed her own muscles. They weren’t really bulging after leaving professional cricket years ago.
But the shape of her arms was still toned and well-defined thanks to those days.
“Where are they then?”
“They’ll join me this weekend. My horses will also be coming in with them.”
“Who will you practise with today then?”
“I have mallet control and ball work scheduled for today. It’s…”
“I know,” she swung an invisible mallet in her hand and swept it in an arch as if hitting a ball, repeating it as if hitting the ball at a wall continuously. “I remember.”
“Yeah,” he stopped, making her trolley halt too. Samarth looked down at her and chuckled. His hand rose. She thought it would come to her. But it went to the back of his head and scratched. He was nervous? Around her? Why?
“How are you travelling from here?”
“My car and driver are waiting outside. You?”
“Same.”
“We forget that we are princess and prince of our respective kingdoms,” she quipped.
“Doesn’t matter,” his brow shot up with that patent charming boy smile. “I would still prefer to drop you home. Where is home?”
“Wait for it!” She reached for her hoodie pocket and pulled out her phone, swiping down the gallery. “Look at this.”
Avantika turned the phone to him and his eyes widened.
That had been her first reaction too when Kaka Maharaj had sent her a list of apartments.
All expensive and beyond her salary to cover the rent.
But who was she kidding? Neither her uncle, nor her father would let her reside in anything but the best.
High ceilings, Herringbone flooring, an antique old-world fireplace, tall arched windows and a chandelier! A chandelier. For a one-bedroom apartment, it was something else.
“This is really good. Where is it?”
“Neuilly-sur-Seine.”
“Perfect. Safe and pretty.”
“That’s what I thought.”
He returned her mobile.
“So?” She asked, dreading the answer.
“So?” He carried on, maybe equally dreading the inevitable.
“It was good… after so many years. You look good, Samarth,” she nodded, pushing her mature side up and doing this right. Because he clearly looked like he wanted to pause time.
“Yeah, you too. All the best with your new job. When do you start?”
She had told him this last night. She repeated now, working so hard to hold the time that he was unable to pause.
“Monday. I have the next four days to settle in and unwind.”
“That’s good…”
“When does your tournament start?”
She had asked him this last night too.
“Next Wednesday. Once my horses and team are here, we’ll dive right in.”
“So, all the best for your matches. Don’t miss any penalty shots.”
“Ava!” He groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head.
“And what’s the plan for your birthday?”
“Me and my horses,” he grinned.
“Who are in transit.”
“I’ll find new ones here. They are the same sweet beasts everywhere.”
She held back her chuckle. How could he always make her smile with such offhanded comments? Even after all these years and a star-studded career, how was he still the same goofy charmer?
“Ok then, happy birthday in advance. Be a little more excited this time.”
“I’ll try.”
“Bye, Samarth,” she pushed her trolley towards the podium exit where her car would be parked as he turned towards the elevators, to where his car would be. He did not say bye to her. Just smiled, turned and walked away.
Avantika stared at his retreating back. Even if for 9 hours, a wish had been granted without even wishing. Paris was off to a good start.
Table of Contents
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