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February 2012...
Amit received an e-mail titled “The Firm’s Annual Retreat 17-20 Feb 2012”. All regional offices of Singhania & Co. were participating in the retreat; so it was a great way to meet new people from different offices.
Amit looked around and could hear a lot of hustle bustle. Everyone looked excited. It was a three day holiday at the firm’s expense. Who wouldn’t look forward to it?
Amit opened the itinerary and looked at the different programmes throughout the three days. Some of them were, of course, boring motivational or business talks. There was one item, however, that caught everyone’s attention. It was called the “Bollywood Dance Night”.
The most intriguing thing about this programme was its dress code. “No formal or Western wear. Only traditional Indian dresses allowed,” it said.
That got people talking. Men and women were already chatting about going shopping, for buying some fancy Indian clothes. But Amit had no such problems. He already owned a black Kurta pyjama which he wore on similar occasions in his student years in London, on Diwali, the festival of lights, or Holi, the festival of colours, or while attending a few Bollywood style parties.
Then the D-day arrived and the entire Delhi office checked into the Indigo flight going to Goa. In just two and a half hours everything changed. Goa was so comfortably warm that everyone gladly shed their woollens. With a nice sea breeze cooling them all down, ah, it was so wonderful.
While they were collecting their bags, Smriti approached Amit and paid him the remaining 400 rupees, the sum that she still owed him for those medicines.
“I know some people say that I only borrow but never return money. I wanted to assure you that I do nothing of the sort and that I always remember promises and fulfil them,” said Smriti.
Amit was puzzled. Something wasn’t right. His intuition was buzzing.
During the 50-km trip to the hotel, Smriti tried to cling on to him like a leech but Amit avoided her to the best of his abilities. Smriti was chattering non-stop. She wanted to share so many of her feelings with him that made Amit feel a little awkward.
The problem was that Smriti was managing to make him feel sad when he was actually in a very happy frame of mind. The bigger problem was that Amit didn’t like hanging around with his boss. He could also feel Naina’s eyes boring his back with a little twinkle at his discomfiture.
The resort they checked in blew Amit away. The golden sands of the famed South Goa beaches were just 5 minutes away on foot from his room. The sun was about to set and so everyone rushed to the beach with their cameras for a breathtakingly beautiful shot.
Even after the sun-set, Amit and some of his colleagues decided to walk towards the place where the river Sal was meeting the Arabian Sea. They enjoyed soaking in the oxygen rich sea breeze and clicking pictures of the sea gulls, fishing boats, paragliding tourists and so on in the lights of the fading sun.
The Bollywood Dance night finally came. Naina had worked very hard to look good. She wore a bright red coloured sequin-embroidered lehnga, some kind of an ankle length Indian skirt. She looked ravishing, Amit thought. She had kept her hair flowing. She wore a red lipstick, matching eye shadow and a mascara. Everyone was looking so very different in their traditional dress.
As Naina moved to the dance floor, she couldn’t take her eyes off Amit. She had been avoiding him for months now, but had to admit that he looked so gorgeous. His Kurta was of a sober black colour with shiny golden embroidery. It made him dazzle in the dim light. He had that same warm smile on his face which she had fallen for. He used to look gentlemanly alright in his officious grey tweed and rust colour tie but that night he looked way too handsome. She was trying very hard to look in the other direction but she struggled.
The music began. Everyone moved to the centre of the dance hall. People swayed clumsily. They laughed. They cheered. Everyone was having a nice time. Amit stood and watched with a Pina Colada in his hands till a colleague insisted that he join in.
Amit saw that nobody cared how they danced. So he put the glass on a table and slowly moved towards the centre losing himself to the moment.
He was instantly attracted to Naina’s energy. She danced with a lot of enthusiasm. Her arms and legs were moving swiftly and in rhythm.
Amit slowly gravitated towards her. She paused for a moment. Both were looking at each other after such a long time. He saw that her eyes were fiery. She saw that his eyes were intense. Then she resumed.
Her arms and legs were in perfect sync with the upbeat music. They took a step forward and bowed. They circled each other with their gaze remaining locked. His movements were in perfect sync with hers. They looked like a seamless pair. One warm and the other cool. During the dance, he grabbed her arm once. She moved away from him in a circular fashion and then moved towards him.
They looked like old lovers separating and bonding, separating and bonding in a rhythmic circle. She felt very relaxed with him. There was a lot of grace in his movement. His timing was impeccable. His muscles were extremely flexible and elastic. Both tapped together, swayed together and twisted down together. Her red lehenga looked different depending upon the lighting. It was sometimes bright red and sometimes dark maroon.
Naina had danced with many men before but they felt rough and their movements were jerkier. But not Amit. He followed every movement of hers with respect. He predicted every step of hers by looking at her as if he were a mind reader. She moved left, he moved left. She sped up, he sped up. She slowed down, he slowed down. She stomped on the ground, he stomped.
She did not feel forced. She could sense the warmth growing between them. Her heartbeat was growing steadily. Everything seemed perfect from the way they were breathing to the way their feet were moving in sync. She felt as if she had become one with him spiritually.
Amit’s shyness had disappeared. He no longer cared about others. His eyes were locked with hers. He was caught up in the heat of the moment. He pursued her movements passionately. Her inexhaustible energy revitalised him. Hundreds were dancing on the floor but he could only see her. He could only hear her. He had forgotten about all his worries. He felt as if he was in a timeless world dancing happily with his soul mate. He felt deeply connected to her. A form of emotional bonding he had never experienced before. She literally took his breath away.
The music suddenly stopped and there was darkness all around. Oh, a blasted power-cut that you just can’t escape in India, Amit thought. Then he realised that Naina was clinging to him, and that was not because of the fear of darkness definitely.
Without realising their lips locked, and then suddenly the lights came on and the dancing resumed.
Amit and Naina didn’t know that they had danced for three hours straight. Everyone was tired whereas Amit and Naina still held the centre stage looking at each other with deep intensity. It was only when the music stopped that they realised it was time to stop. They paused and their rhythm broke. They looked at others puzzled and understood that it was all over. All eyes were on them. Did they hear an applause? Did they see flashbulbs going off? They didn’t remember.
There was a fantastic buffet spread laid for the delegates on the sprawling lawns of the resort. There was the famed Goan Prawn curry, Chicken Xacuti, Fish Rachedo, Pork Vindaloo and so many other exotic dishes that Amit was seeing for the first time in his life. And then there was the famous Goan layered pudding called Bebinca topped with some vanilla ice-cream.
Amit saw Naina picking up a little of everything and followed suit. He also tried to taste everything but there was only one taste that lingered till the end.
It was the taste of that stolen kiss that they had managed on the dance floor.
