Anushka awoke with a start. A hand was wrapped around her naked waist, her knickers...where was her knicker? She didn't know, it was another one of those eventful days. She put Rahul's arm on the bed, got up as stealthily as possible and moved about in the dark room in a vain pursuit of her lost underwear.

I have to get this over with..no, no. This is not good.

While dressing in the toilet, she looked at herself in the mirror, eyes brimming with admiration. It spoke of hours spent in the gym. She observed how a slim waist curved into broader hips, finally narrowing into long, slender legs. They were waxed and gave a light sheen, she shuddered at the thought of her first waxing appointment. It was traumatic and left her with red, blotchy skin, the cheap local parlour auntie's not-so-expert hands had pulled out the flesh along with those thick, stubborn hairs.

Nothing was going as planned. As she stood in front of the gigantic floor to ceiling glass windows of Rahul's Newtown apartment, a landscape of tall, concrete buildings with hints of cleverly organised greenery painted a portrait of careful planning. The trimmed shrubberies, the palm trees, the well maintained lake area, the park, the clean pathways, the football ground all screamed of everything artificial. The whole structuration was too pat and contrived.

Just like my life.

Anushka had no idea what went wrong and when, or if at all anything was wrong. Just that the magic, she so much cherished even a year before, had ceased to exist. Behind an universe of algorithms, hashtags and followers, impactfulness had been substituted by impression.

She unhooked her shimmery black sling bag from the rail as the sleeping silhouette of Rahul caught her attention: bare chest, bulging muscles, toned and muscular legs, and above all a lovely heart.

Who wouldn't fall for him?

She had yet to come across a single man, child, woman who could help but rise completely, hopelessly, passionately, desperately, insanely in love with a bewitching persona as him. Tears dripped down and vanished in the pristine whiteness of the floor below, a very mild snoring dissipated the storm brewing inside her mind for days.

What happened to us?

How did we ever come here?

She recollected those earlier days, the ones spent in her middle-class Kolkata rented apartment with friends during college. The tasty treats in sixpenny shops, the joy of eating puchkas by the roadside and then asking unabashedly for a free one, chatting non-stop without a care in the world while a single noodle would dangle from the mouth-she reminisced those days of nonchalance and innocence, days which were long gone.

Now she was behind the bars, bars of virtual reality within those six-inch screens of smartphones where people cease to exist as who they are, where women take the help of branded push up bras to perk up their breasts, where a teenager mulls more on that single love handle than everyday normal pleasures and where that boy who is bullied at school hangs himself in a traumatic video which is being live-streamed.

"You're going?" a husky voice and a gentle touch of lips on her neck, broke her reverie. It was warm and still aroused her like ever before, she knew she was in denial, she was aware of her wrongdoing.

Anushka turned around and touched her ex-boyfriend's cheek.

What am I getting myself into?

"What am I getting myself into?" she questioned.

"What?" he asked, shrugging. "Come again?" He inquired. It was natural to be bewildered. Her reply had been puzzling, to say the least.

Anushka bit her tongue, she was procrastinating for no reason, it was time to buckle up.

"We shouldn't be doing what we are doing..you deserve more..this", she breathed a sigh. "The more we associate ourselves with each other, the more intertwined shall we remain. Rahul, this..this-"

Her next words died somewhere amidst fervent kisses. Rahul nibbled on her lower lip while his hands glided underneath her top, arousing a carnal desire to let him come closer, more closer until the fine line between her end and his beginning cease to exist. But..but...

I cannot.

Her lids opened with a jerk and his glassy ones fell on hers. They were dulled with a tinge of deep affliction. She knew how much he was fighting it, she was painfully conscious of her inhibitions.

"What is our problem?" they both asked each other.

Alas! Even their timing was the same.

She was herself conflicted on the idea. Everything was perfect. He was caring, he was concerned, he gave freedom, he wasn't clingy, he had a respectable family background and was self-sufficient. Not to forget, the devilishly inviting body was a bonus. Although, a treat for the eyes need not be the determining factor when it comes to relationships. Looks wither after a time, what matters is the person concerned. However, wasn't it that dam thing that made her fall in love with him in the first place? So much that she...

It was exactly at that point it dawned on her. Their love was too un-clingy. There was no boundary and as much tempting as it was in the beginning, that wild freedom lacked long-term bonding. Their car was devoid of that rear view mirror where, even if you do not intend, you cannot help but take a glance of the things left behind.

What is the difference between plain toast and garlic bread? You eat toast every day and when you tire of it, the monotony is broken by the flavours of garlic bread. One falls under basic need while the other is luxury. In her young, immature eyes the apparent richness of temporary luxury was more enticing than the same age-old coarseness of buttered toast.

Rahul's hands on her waist hauled her back to reality, the one she was trying to run away from. What could she say when she didn't have answers! Deep down, lay the truth, might be they both knew. It was just that the comfort of denial allowed peace, acceptance was too bitter to acknowledge.

                        *********

Grouchy Gourmet had been Anushka's lifeline ever since it catapulted her to stardom three years ago. It all started with her cooking low-fat paneer butter masala, a rich dish with abundant calories. Though it was a challenge, the fun was the unavoidable aspect that hooked her on the get-go. From cooking on a mediocre two stove oven and then fighting over the delight amongst friends, she had come a long way from a tanned and awkward college-goer who had trouble with handling posh cutlery to a budding content creator with quite an imprint in the Funtube and Grimstagram world.

                          ********

Today was the Mad Hatter Tea Party arranged by Funtube in association with Unreal, co-sponsored by Replicon. Sarai had done an amazing job with her make up, she admitted once a thousand eyes fell on her approaching silhouette. It was true, she enjoyed the limelight but the occasional claustrophobia could not be ignored. Pointy stilettoes made cluttering sounds as she sauntered in a thigh-skimming fiery red bodycon with a deep V- nack. A front closure bra had pushed her breasts producing a more prominent cleavage. It would be hard to not notice it amidst a sea of duck lips and enhanced body parts. Hers was natural, that much she was sure of.

The only problem in her curve-hugging apparel- it was riding high. As she lowered it and adjusted the neckline, a wave of unease and discomfort passed through, like how a jolt of electricity stations a person to a place. Wearing skimpy costumes had never been her forte and although sunglasses during morning could mask the vulnerability in her eyes, shield the anxiety sexy dressing gave, they had to be substituted with at night.

"Sex sells", Sarai had said.

Taken aback, Anushka had just stared at her friend and now a professional make-up artist with bewilderment. It was almost three years ago that they had bonded over common interests; she for her love of cooking and Sarai for her passion for makeup and design.

Standing alone amongst waves of dipping necklines and rising hemlines, she witnessed ravenous eyes of perverts hovering on typical areas of female anatomy, their warped minds raping them with just a single look. She noticed those suited 'gentleman' trying to grope teenagers while their wives drooled to have a feel of some random models' biceps. A warm touch broke the trance, it was an ill placement of hands, considering how close they were to her buttocks. The dress sat as a second skin and the roughness of the palm was palpable; for the umpteenth time during her three year sojourn, she felt exposed. She felt naked.

Turning around with clenched teeth and giving an unflinching stare, she said, "Hello, Mr Mehta. Where is your wife? Hasn't she come to the party?"

Her words were met with an artificial and well-practised smile. "She's there with our son", he pointed in the distance. "Where is our dashing prince, Rahul, by the way? May I know why you're alone?"

No, you don't.

Anushka schooled her emotions, she shrugged feigning indifference. "Off to London as usual."

Mr Mehta's roving eyes were firmly placed on her cleavage, there was no problem in deciphering that. The man's character was as slippery as a banana peel and his obvious charms served the x-factor, the industry so craved hard for. Being the head chef of Cheesy Garlic and now a promising entreprenaur, he commanded quite some power and position.

"So, any developments regarding your mutual divorce?" she asked in a blank tone. It was a deliberate move to project neither frailty nor vexation. Her firm gaze matched his and he looked up, mouth parting In slow motion, something people do when they ponder on what to say next.

"Underway", was all he managed. Anushka spotted the stiffness in his posture. A brief side glimpse revealed his wife in an LBD holding hands with...Sarai?

Isn't that Sarai? She's already here?

With a brief "excuse-me..it was nice meeting you again", she drifted towards her friend but halted midway. The two of them were taking hasty footsteps towards the bathroom.

That's strange.

She once thought of calling out but subconscious spoke otherwise. She followed suit, only to be stopped by an acquaintance.

Argh! Why now?

Every minute spent in useless conversation seemed wasted as her rising curiosity poked at her abdomen, the rumbling refused to die until satisfied. With a toothy grin which was faked to the very g, she excused herself again and paced towards the toilet.

It was empty and there was not a trace of them. Anushka sighed and blamed her interest in foolish nonsense for stalking them like a psychopath. Just when she was about to turn, a scurrying sound from nearby caught her attention. Following its trajectory, she came in front of a closet and...let's say, what she witnessed was beyond her middle-class imagination.

Anushka had had a thoroughly protected childhood. Reading in a girls school and then a girls college did her no good, added to that, the pressure of being academically brilliant only turned her into a nerd. Not that she wasn't accustomed to queer behaviour after hitting the limelight, there were instances enough where her preconceived notions were put under serious scrutiny. Fact remained, no matter how sound the intention, her middle-class roots restricted her progress after a certain point.

She pretended to be cool and casual and very much at ease with the language, the attitude of the uber rich, she faked confidence to be that crow among a flock of peacocks, and in a sense it was true. She did enjoy the freedom, cherished the extravaganza. But, the more she penetrated, the uglier it got.

Wild freedom is never good and unharnessed liberty is sure to spiral you towards downfall. Thus recently, she prioritised her inhibitions. Hence the image of Sarai down on the knees with her head between Mrs Mehta's stretched legs and her LBD hiked till her mid-waist rang all the wrong bells in her mind. The door of the closet was partially open giving a very narrow view and hushed, soft moans resonated throughout the empty toilet.

How scandalous!

She paced backwards, hands on her mouth, eyes unblinking due to incredulity, as memories hijacked her sight. Her and Sarai sharing a room, she being touched numerous times, Sarai's insistence on making her venture into daring fashion, her comments on her bulky breasts and finally..finally...

Oh my God!

She couldn't believe herself as an incident from last year jolted her eyes open.

Am I..am I..was it.

Did Sarai..just..did she ever want me?

More than the revelation of Sarai being bisexual, it was the possibility of her checking her out all these years and harbouring different feelings, was which caused the world to crash down. Yes, she always knew Sarai had a wild streak, part of it was due to her unorthodox upbringing, but the very thought of an otherwise, unsettled matters to her very core.

She ran away. Away from the toilet, stormed through the corridor, past the lounge where people ogled at her long legs and where youthful, sexy wives of hot, aged men attempted to hook a date with young, unmarried males.

How tainted is it? How screwed can it be?

Tragedy strikes the most devastating blow when the known unfolds itself as the unknown.

For Anushka, it was time for that blow. She flopped on a nearby sofa as an instant flash of a neighbouring camera blinded her.

Fucking crazy!

She needed a drink to stab the unease, numb the thoughts. The discomfort and the frenzied press weren't helping. Dismal pictures in unappealing poses were sure to fill the entertainment section of newspapers tomorrow. She dumped her plate with finger chips and took a generous dose of tandoori mayo to go with it. She would eat the hell out of that counter.

Photoshoot and modelling can suck my ass.

Her Unreal makeup was probably in ruins. She hated the brand, she hated cosmetics but had to go with it. "You're naturally stylish..a kickass body, a gorgeous face and then those magical hands..who wouldn't want more?" The agent had said.
"Do I need to wear these?" She had asked with dubiety, her mind full of thousand questions at the sight of mere centimetres of cloth costing a fortune.
"Yes. Honey, a little bit of exposure here and there will go a long way..you will see", the woman had winked at her.

There was simply no choice since that day, the day she had ventured into paid promotions. She cursed at her folly, naivety had compromised her decisions. The silent tears could mess her makeup, the forlorn expression would produce nasty photos, her dress had risen far above decent standards and she wasn't sitting uncrossed.

Did she care? No.

Fuck you, fuck everything.

She helped herself to another round of finger chips and this time added croissants along with it. She was gorging on food like a pig in a place where people ate for courtesy's sake. Hell, some wore clothing that didn't even allow space for a bloated stomach!

Who am I to judge? Look at me.

In the distance she spotted Mrs Mehta with her husband, arm in arm, posing for the shutterbugs. In another, they posed together as a trio. Broad smiles, his arms on her waist, her hands on their son's shoulders-a perfect family portrait.

An imperfect couple caught in a perfect time.

A cyclone was raging inside her head, the recent split from Rahul was already wreaking havoc. Added to that Sarai's sexual orientation and the recent dawn of a new understanding muddled her thoughts. She hated to judge the person whom she acknowledged as a friend. She had been painfully aware of Sarai's flamboyance, which to be frank, was above her logicality, but she had always dismissed it due to her friend's overtly sexual nature.

Even though the Mehtas were posing for pictures after pictures, there was no sign of Sarai though, yet.

Sitting quietly, Anushka ruminated on her untiring efforts to make the cut. Was it too hard to accept that she had used Rahul to climb the social ladder? Otherwise..otherwise why would she leave...Ronit?

No, past is past.

She explained to herself the reason. Through the years, his nature became too possessive.

Really?

She yearned for more air, more space. He was against her rocketing ambitions.

Indeed?

Yet that very space resulted in her current relationship's demise! Too much space between her and Rahul..too much luxury, too many sweet talks, too much of every bloody thing! In her pursuit of the good, the better and then the best, she had missed out on trivialities. The minute things that hide the power of creation, the potential fragrance that a single rose petal holds had been lost within the abundance of Chanel perfumes.

Karma is a bitch and payback is a bastard, she was realising now to the very bone. To her dismay, the screen that had rocketed her to fame was eating her away and in her untiring efforts to maintain the privileges it offered, in her quest to plummet Grouchy Gourmet to the top of Funtube searches, she had run away after views like a lunatic, so much that her own life had been reduced to..just another view.

"Hey, isn't that Anushka?" a very familiar voice greeted her from behind. She turned slowly, unable to believe, for any possibility of the person's presence in that party was next to impossible. It sure wasn't supposed to happen until the North and South Pole met at the Equator.

That very visage, that same black combed hair, those eternal grandpa spectacles.

Just as before.

Even the voice hadn't changed, except the dressing perhaps. It was as polished as the shoe he was wearing. Standing in front of her was her past, her worst nightmare.

                      ****|||****

AN:

Vote and comments are always welcome.

How do you find the character of Anushka?

If anybody is wondering,

a. Unreal is the modified name of Loreal
b. Replicon is the modified name of Revlon
c. Grouchy Gourmet is the channel she runs on Funtube,one that catapulted her to fame.