Adultery The Swamiji

[shailu4ever]

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After the fourth course, the guests drifted,  bar, balcony, night air scented faintly with rain. Musicians played a soft raga, sitar and flute weaving a veil of sound.
 
Malhotra saab gestured for Riha to follow him to a quieter corner. His hand never touched her, yet the invitation in his eyes was unmistakable.
 
Riha rose with serene grace. Midnight silk flowed like water. She glanced briefly at Kabir: I know what I’m doing. He remained watchful.
 
The corner Malhotra chose, lined with tall windows, reflected chandeliers and the silhouettes of power. Moonlight softened Riha’s features, giving her an ethereal glow.
 
“You know, Riha ji,” Malhotra began, tone conversational yet deliberate, “it is a rare thing, what you have. Talent, beauty, grace. Many actresses have one or two. Very few have all three.”
 
Riha tilted her head. “You are generous with your words, saab. But it’s a gift that comes with responsibility too.”
 
Malhotra’s eyes narrowed in appreciation. “And yet,” he said smoothly, “responsibility alone won’t keep you where you are. Mumbai is a city of shifting sands. Today’s queen can be tomorrow’s forgotten headline. Unless, of course… unless she chooses the right friends.”
 
Riha met his gaze calmly. “Friendship is beautiful, saab. But it cannot be bought or bargained.”
 
He chuckled low. “True. But alliances… alliances can change everything. A word here, a recommendation there, a door opened at the right time. I could open such doors for you. Doors others wouldn’t even dare knock on.”
 
Riha’s smile didn’t falter, though her fingers tightened around her gown. “Saab, I am grateful. Truly. But every step I’ve taken has been with my own effort, my own discipline. My family raised me to believe what comes from hard work stays longer than what is given freely.”
 
Malhotra’s mask slipped briefly,  a flicker of irritation, replaced by warm laughter. “Ah, such fire. I admire that. Still… fire can burn bright, but it can also burn out quickly.”
 
Riha lifted her glass, eyes soft but unyielding. “And sometimes, saab, fire lights the path for others to follow.”
 
Silence stretched between them. Around them, the party carried on, but here, in this corner, it was a duel fought with smiles and courtesies.
 
Finally, Malhotra inclined his head. “Very well, Riha ji. You are… wise beyond your years. I’ll only say this,  my doors will always remain open to you.”
 
Riha bowed slightly. “That is all one can ask for, saab. Thank you.”

 

- - -

 

The drawing room had quieted. Malhotra Saab leaned back, glass swirling in hand, calm, yet his eyes held something far deeper.
 
“You are truly the jewel of this city, Riha ji,” he said, authority and affection intertwined. “The kind people admire from afar, bow to in silence, whisper behind closed doors. A rare blessing.”
 
Riha smiled politely, but the weight of his gaze pressed harder than his words.
 
“But you know how it is… the brighter the jewel, the more hands try to reach for it.” His tone softened, indulgent, but every syllable lingered: Some hands caress… others snatch.
 
Riha’s smile faltered just enough. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, masking sudden tightness in her chest.
 
Malhotra leaned forward, voice dropping, private: “In Mumbai, no one disappears by accident, Riha ji. Sometimes it is choice. Sometimes… arrangement.” Words hovered, stretching into silence. He chuckled softly, leaving their weight unspoken but inescapable.
 
When she excused herself, the sweetness of his smile followed her out the door. But so did the shadow of his warning.

 

- - -

 

Outside, the night air was cool, scented faintly with jasmine from the garden. Riha inhaled deeply, hoping it would wash away the heaviness. Her heels clicked softly against marble, Kabir just behind, speaking of the next day’s schedule. She barely heard him.
 
Malhotra Saab’s words refused to leave her. The brighter the jewel, the more hands try to reach for it. In Mumbai, no one disappears by accident.
 
They echoed like a rhythm only she could hear. She pressed her dupatta closer, aware of the vulnerability of her skin, the cool silk beneath, diamond bracelet catching passing streetlights. For the first time in years, the city she had conquered felt less like a kingdom… and more like a cage.
 

-- oOo --

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