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It was a cold and dark December evening. Anuj was sitting with his friends in the auditorium at Netherhall House. The auditorium was centrally heated, and the chairs felt comfortable. The front rows were yet empty, reserved for guests.
Dan had organised a musical show, and the musicians were—students from the Royal College of Music.
The drapes opened and Anuj saw three students dressed in black on the centre stage—one male in the centre and two females on either side. All three were to play the violin.
Soon the music began. All three students played together with such synchronicity that you couldn’t make out who was playing which note. The music sounded as if it was coming from a well-recorded Western Classical CD with Dolby Surround Sound. Anuj was impressed with the level of professionalism that these supposedly amateur students were displaying while performing live.
The notes went up and down, up and down, down, down and then up. Anuj was getting lost in the music. It was so ethereal that he felt as if he was flying in the clouds getting closer to God.
Now Anuj understood why Hindus always began a musical performance with an invocation to goddess Saraswati, who is the goddess of both knowledge and creative arts. She is believed to live in books, arts and in music. Even in the West, Anuj had heard many say, “Whenever I listen to music, I feel the presence of God.”
The girl sitting on the right-hand side of the stage had closed her eyes. It looked to Anuj as if she was totally immersed in the beauty of the musical notes she was playing. She had long flowing blonde hair which shined even more because of the dark background and the stage lights.
Anuj couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was as beautiful as her music. Anuj couldn’t see her eyes as they were closed. And her music kept tugging at the strings of his heart, mind and soul.
Anuj didn’t much understand Western Classical music. He didn’t know whether it was sad or happy music. But the only thing he knew was this—that it came from the heart and had the power to move him.
The music became faster and faster. Anuj’s eyes started welling up. He didn’t know why. Oh. My. God. He’d become emotional. Anuj looked around. He didn’t want his friends to see that he was in tears.
What’s wrong with you, Anuj? Do not reveal your emotions so publicly.
He wiped his tears with his fingers. Suddenly Dan appeared out of nowhere and whispered in his ears, “The concert is about to end. I want you to hand a bouquet to the team.”
Anuj was taken aback for a moment. Why me?
Nevertheless he had to consider that to be an honour. He nodded and got up from his chair.
The music ended with a crescendo and the audience was cheering wildly.
Anuj walked to the stage with a bouquet of roses in his hand. Who should I give this to?
Dan had handed him only one bouquet of roses.
“There are three of them and only one bouquet?” asked Anuj.
“They’re all part of a team. Doesn’t matter who gets the bouquet. Give it to the one whom you find the most beautiful,” Dan had winked. Anuj wasn’t amused.
Anuj walked up the stairs and instinctively turned towards the girl who was standing on the right side of the stage—the one who had closed her eyes many times during the musical performance.
She was petite. Around 5 feet 3 inches tall. She wore a white shirt and black trousers. Her blue-violet eyes took his breath away. He smiled at her and she smiled back. And then he handed over the bouquet to her.
“Thanks for visiting us. This is on behalf of the Netherhall House for all of you.”
The audience clapped and cheered.
She said, “Thanks.”
Anuj noticed her accent. It wasn’t British. Her accent had more of a Germanic touch. But the way she had thanked him sounded soft and elegant.
The girl too noticed Anuj’s dark brown hair and sharp nose. And his intense grey eyes, and his dark, which Indians call wheatish, complexion. In her part of the world, dark hair was a rarity. She knew girls would have gone crazy for just his dark hair and “tanned” look. And his smile which was so gentlemanly.
Both of them were rudely awakened by a loud voice.
“Drinks and refreshments are available at the reception,” announced Dan.
The audience moved towards the lounge.
“Should we?” said Anuj and led her to the refreshment area.
Both climbed down the stairs and moved towards the lounge.
“Your accent is very stylish. But it tells me you’re not British,” said Anuj.
“You’re right. I’m actually from Sweden,” said the girl. Her voice sounded so pure, so sweet and so Germanic. He could have listened to her all day long.
“Ah—I couldn’t have guessed that. I’m Anuj Kaul by the way.”
“And I’m Ella Akerson.”
“That’s a nice name. Do you know what Akerson means in Hindi? Well, if you pronounced it more like Aakarshan,” said Anuj.
Ella smiled at him. Her violet eyes twinkling.
“What would it mean then?”
“Attraction. Anyway, just wanted to say that you played beautifully,” said Anuj.
Ella laughed. “Thanks for the compliment.”
Anuj was tongue tied for a moment. He wanted to chat non-stop but didn’t know how to now take the conversation forwards.
The lounge had filled up. Lots of people were speaking together creating a cacophony of noises.
After a brief pause, Anuj asked:
“So how long have you been in London?”
Ella smiled again. “Long enough to know that Leicester is pronounced as Lester, Warwick as Warrick, Greenwich as Grenich and Southwark as Suduk!”
Ah—the girl had a great sense of humour and it brought back a few memories.
A year ago he had wanted to visit Leicester Square. He would ask for directions. “Excuse me, could you please tell me, where is Lesester Square?”
“There is no such place,” would be the reply.
How unhelpful, Anuj had thought. It was then he realised that the place was pronounced as Lester Square and NOT Lesester Square.
“You speak like a proper Londoner,” said Anuj, and laughed along with Ella.
“I’m sorry I, I didn’t ask where are you from?”
“Oh, I’m from India,” said Anuj.
“Where in India?” asked Ella.
“From Delhi.”
“Ah—I had always wanted to visit India,” said Ella.
Anuj was puzzled.
“Oh really?”
“A few of my friends are from India. They wear such bright clothes. I’m a big fan of Indian clothes especially the sari. And what do you call that other dress—it’s like a long collarless shirt and tight pyjamas?”
“Salwar Kameez?” asked Anuj.
“Exactly. I really like the sari. It’s such a sexy piece of clothing. You can dress in whichever style you feel like. You can cover yourself entirely or if you want to expose your belly and back, you can do that too.”
“Plus I really want to visit a place which is warm,” added Ella.
“Warm?”
Anuj was horrified for a moment. The hot summers were not really celebrated in India when the sun beats down on you like a big ball of fire. Also he had always associated the heat with wetness on his chest and back.
“But why on earth would you like to visit a warm place?”
“Aren’t you bored with the weather here? London is always dark and overcast. And wet. Ewwww. At least Sweden is nicer,” said Ella.
“But Sweden would be colder? Right?” asked Anuj.
“Yes, it is only a couple of degrees colder from here. But it is sunnier,” said Ella.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. London has a fine weather. Nice and cold. And the rain is like a fine sprinkle. It’s heavenly. You haven’t experienced the Indian summers,” said Anuj.
She looked shocked.
“I can’t believe that you would call London’s dark, dreadful and depressing weather lovely. What is this? You guys don’t like the sun,” said Ella.
“Actually we don’t. There is no concept of sun bathing in India. Well—if you survive and don’t get roasted there. Funnily the Englishmen call a dry autumn day with clear blue skies—Indian summer. The what? Well—the real Indian summers are over 45 degrees Celsius (above 110 degrees F),” said Anuj.
“Oh dear—you funny little Indians,” said Ella.
He loved the way she spoke. So sophisticated.
“I still can’t get over the fact that you guys hate sun so much,” said Ella.
“And I still can’t get over the fact that you guys hate rain so much,” mimicked Anuj.
Ella gently hit him on the back.
“Anyway—what was your first impression of London?” asked Ella.
“Haha—ridiculously expensive. A drink costs anywhere between 5 and 10 pounds and a monthly tube pass costs around 60 pounds. That’s crazy. In that much money, you could probably eat for a week in India,” said Anuj.
“Oh—I absolutely agree. Even for small things. For example, my watch strap broke yesterday. When I looked for a replacement, can you believe what the quote was?” asked Ella.
“What?”
“17 pounds! Although Sweden is equally expensive, I thought this was too much. I might as well buy a new watch online,” said Ella.
Anuj was silent for a moment.
“Are you carrying the watch with you?” he asked.
“Well—er—yes,” said Ella. She opened her purse and took out a shining watch. The dial was golden in colour and the numerals were in Roman. The watch looked quite classy. But its well-worn leather strap was indeed torn at the middle.
“Can you lend it to me? I’m going back to India for the Christmas break and can get the strap replaced there. It will cost you only one or two pounds at the most. It’s quite a beautiful watch. You shouldn’t throw it away,” said Anuj.
Ella hesitated for a moment. If this was a pick-up line, it sure was a weird one. But a look at Anuj’s innocent eyes did the trick.
“Really? You don’t need to do this,” said Ella.
STOP. What are you doing? She will take you for a royal ride and discard you, just as has happened in the past, screamed a voice inside Anuj’s head.
He ignored his critical voice. There was something about Ella that seemed genuine. His intuition told him that she could be trusted. And even if she was taking him for a ride, it would cost him only one or two pounds, max.
Not if he were to buy Jimmy Choo shoes.
“No, let me have the pleasure. This is nothing,” insisted Anuj.
Ella’s eyes lit up. Strangely, she appeared touched. Ella gladly handed over her watch to him.
“A glass of champagne, anyone?” asked a waiter. He was holding a tray with many glasses of champagne precariously perched on it.
“Oh no, thanks,” said Ella.
“And you, sir,” asked the waiter.
“No, thanks,” said Anuj.
The waiter left.
“You don’t drink?” asked Anuj.
“Oh no—I don’t,” said Ella.
“But why? Isn’t drinking a part of your culture,” said Anuj.
“It is. But I’m not a great fan,” said Ella.
“Me too,” said Anuj.
“But drinking is not part of your culture,” said Ella.
“Actually—”
Anuj was trying to gather the right words.
“Many people drink in India. But there is no culture like a pub-crawl. I mean a pub-crawl will be frowned upon in India,” said Anuj.
“Okay, so what do you think about the pub-crawl tradition?”
“Look—I mean I don’t have an opinion about it. But I don’t really like it. I feel lonely in a big crowd. It’s really not my type of partying. But I don’t have any problems with those who want to chill this way,” said Anuj.
Ella looked surprised. Her blue-violet eyes became bigger.
“You just spoke my mind. Pub-crawl is a big thing in Sweden too, but for whatever reason I don’t enjoy it. I mean—as you said it—feeling lonely in a crowd,” said Ella.
“I can’t believe I’m actually hearing this from the mouth of a European,” said Anuj.
“Well we are all not the same—you may be surprised. Plus the noise gets me. I come from rural Sweden and my home is close to Malmo. So I really enjoy peace and quiet,” said Ella.
“Then I know of a place that might interest you. Someday I’ll take you there,” said Anuj.
“Thanks, but for now, I think it is getting late. I should push off,” said Ella.
“Oh—wait a minute. Before I forget, do you mind if I take down your phone number? When I come back from India with your repaired watch, I can then give you a call to let you know,” said Anuj.
Ella hesitated for a moment but Anuj’s sincerity once again disarmed her.
“Sure,” she smiled and dictated her number. Anuj saved that on his mobile and then immediately gave her a “missed call” to confirm the number. He requested Ella to save his number too. Ella did that and started to leave.
Anuj walked along.
“I was wondering.... what inspires your music?” asked Anuj.
Ella looked at him.
“My quest for undying love. I think you are too young to understand that,” Ella said and laughed heartily as if she had cracked a great joke.
