Swasan – Captivated Forever Chapter 2 – By Anjali

SWASAN – CAPTIVATED FOREVER!
Heyy, It’s Anjali back with the next chapter!!!
Thnxx for comments and to my silent readers….
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PREV
Introduction of Sanskaar
CHAPTER 2
Swara Singh Oberoi was slightly bored and more than a little disappointed. She had fought with her brother Shivaay to be allowed to come here for the army week because she thought it would be meaningful and interesting.
However, it was the same nonsense of parties and booze with no interesting conversations. For God’s sake, they were in a historic place. The place where the Pakistan-Indian wars were fought. And all these people could talk about was the new pearl necklace they had bought the other day? Ridiculous.
She had become close friends with Reshmi Singhania during college and when they returned home, she had become friends with Reshmi’s brother Captain Rohan Singhania. She had found it mildly diverting to consort with the handsome, uniformed Captain, son and heir of the diamond merchant Vikas Singhania—to go driving with him, to sit with him and his parents and sister in their box at the opera, to the park and the thatre, to dance with him at the various functions.
And then Rohan Singhania had received word that he was to go to J and K with his regiment and attend the celebrations, and the Singhanias, including Reshmi, had decided to go after him to J and K . Dozens, maybe hundreds of other members of the fashionable world were going there too.
When Reshmi had invited her, Swara had been damn excited. She could go observe the army in action. She could have intelligent conversations about the aftermath and the utter frivolities of the war. She could and would learn more about the life there.
Instead, it was the same as in Kolkata. The upper class got ready, went to one of the others’ house and danced and made merry, not caring that danger wasn’t far away.
Swara sighed now. Maybe Shivaay shouldn’t have let her come. It was all a little disappointing.
Of course, there were advantages to being in J and K. There was a wonderful sense of freedom, for one thing. There was no Shivaay to watch her every move. There was only Rudra, the brother closest to her in age, who was here with the embassy. But though he had promised Shivaay to keep a brotherly eye on her, he really had been doing no more than that so far. It was more like half an eye, in fact.
Mrs Singhania was very sweet and kind, if a little silly. Mr Singhania had no wish to talk to a girl who was just barely 21. So he ignored them most of the time. Reshmi was a lovely girl but even she didn’t like discussing interesting topics preferring to talk about movies and fashion instead.
The Oberois were much different. They discussed all topics and were indulgent with Swara,though she was the youngest. Her siblings loved her and took care of her even if Shivaay was a little aloof at times. He after all was the eldest. Then came Omkara, one of India’s most renowned sculptors who was married to his beautiful wife Gauri. After him was her one and only sister Ragini, who after claiming that she would never marry, had finally fallen for the suave Laksh Gadodia and was now Mrs Gadodia for the past three years. Then there was Rudra, the happy go lucky one in the family who didn’t know what to do with his life and so, decided to join the embassy as a volunteer. And finally Swara, baby of the family who was now thought to be engaged to Captain Rohan Singhania. Almost bethroted, that is.

Swara enjoyed dancing with Captain Rohan Singhania because he really did look very handsome and dashing in his uniform and he danced well. When she had first met him she had thought that she might fall in love with him. But now that she was better acquainted with him she was having some serious doubts about him. He had told her earlier, that he felt very strongly about his role as an officer. He was quite prepared, he had added, to die for his country if he must—and for his mother and his sister and . . . Well, he did not yet have the right to add another name, he had concluded with a smoldering look at her.
It had seemed a little theatrical to Swara. And more than a little alarming. The Singhanias and many other people, she had realized, assumed that by accepting their invitation she had also acquiesced in a future betrothal to their son. And yet their stated reason for inviting her had been that Reshmi would love to have her friend with her.
He spoke now.

Rohan : Another dance with me, Swara?
Swara (groaning inwardly) : I’m sorry, Rohan. But I think you already promised to dance with some other lady right?
Rohan offered her his hand and they walked over to where Reshmi was standing with her parents.
Rohan : While that may be true, You’re the only one worth dancing with tonight.
Swara smiled involuntarily. Was Rohan just a romantic? She liked him, She really did. But not for a choice of a life partner. She looked at Reshmi and saw that another man, a stranger had joined their group.
Mrs Singhania : Swara dear! This is Sanskaar Maheshwari. He wanted to meet you.
Swara looked assessingly at the man. He was not an officer. He was dressed elegantly in a black and white evening suit with a navy blue tie. Neither was he a particularly young man. He was tall and well formed and handsome enough, though, Swara conceded as she smiled and noticed that he had lazy dark eyes, which appeared to be looking back into hers with a certain amusement.
She saw nothing in Sanskaar Maheshwari to arouse great interest, though. He was just one of dozens of gentlemen who had effected an introduction to her.

She was aware that she was considered beautiful, though in her own opinion she was too short. More to the point, she knew that as the sister of Shivaay Singh Oberoi with a very large fortune of her own she was attractive to single gentlemen of all ages and ranks. She was, after all, a commodity on the marriage mart even if she was now in J and K rather than Kolkata and even if the perception was that she was almost betrothed to Rohan Singhania.
She responded politely to this newest introduction and asked him how he did, but she dismissed him in her mind as a gentleman who could be of no personal significance to her. And she regarded him with the cool arrogance that usually discouraged attentions she did not welcome. She hoped he would read her expression accurately and not ask to dance with her.

It alarmed her sometimes to realize how jaded she was at the age of twenty. She turned her attention to him, as he spoke. He spoke the same way he looked, in a lazy and faintly amused voice.
Sanskaar : How do you do, Miss Oberoi? I can see I’m looking at one of the prettiest girls in this room.
The silly flattery was spoken as if he laughed at himself for saying it.
Swara did not dignify his words with any response. She wafted her fan before her face and looked into his eyes, her eyebrows slightly raised, her expression openly haughty. It was an expression at which all the Oberois excelled. Did he really think her that silly and brainless? Did he expect her to simper and blush with pleasure at such foolishness? But why would he not think and expect just that? Most other gentlemen did and thereby displayed how brainless they were.
The humour only deepened in his eyes, and she realized that he must have accurately read her thoughts. Good! But his next words dismayed her.
Sanskaar : May I dance this next one with you?
Swara (thinking) : Oh no!
She searched about in her mind for a polite way to refuse him—she disdained to simply lie and tell him that she had promised every dance of the evening.
Someone else did that for her.
Rohan : I’m sorry, Mr Maheshwari! Every dance has already been promised.
Swara’s eyes narrowed in outrage. How dare this man try and talk for her. She opened her mouth to speak, but Mr Maheshwari’s voice cut in before hers.
Sanskaar : Flattered though I am Captain, I wasn’t asking you to dance.
Swara only just stopped herself from crowing with delight. What a perfectly delicious set-down! Suddenly she was regarding the man in a totally different light. A man of such quick wit and assurance of manner was a man after her own heart. He reminded her of her brothers.

Swara : Thank you, Mr Maheshwari! I would love to dance the next one with you.
Perfectly dressed and well groomed as he was, she thought, there was something faintly disreputable about his appearance, though she would not have been able to put into words what it was. Perhaps it was just that he was considerably older than she and must therefore know more of the world and its ways. Not that she would ever admit to any naïveté. There was something nonchalant, something ever so slightly dangerous, about him.
He smiled and nodded at her.
It must be his lazy eyes, she decided—and his lazy voice. But no, there was something else about his voice that explained more clearly the impression of slight danger she was getting. He spoke with a slight American accent.
Swara watched him as he turned and walked away.
Mrs Singhania : Sanskaar Maheshwari! Now there’s a myserious creature.
Reshmi (surprised) : Mysterious? What do you mean Mummy?
Mrs Singhania : Well! He’s the sole owner and CEO of Maheshwari Industries. He succeeded to the place once his father passed away a few years ago. Under his command, the company is one of the richest in the world, I believe. But he hasn’t been in India for a long time. People say that there was a falling out between father and son. No one knows what happened. He’s as rich as your brother, Swara. Maybe even more so. But he’s also different. He’s been seen here in India after 5 years, I think. No one knows what kind of person he is.
Swara’s interest was further piqued. A dangerous man indeed!
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Sanskaar went over to the bar and ordered a drink. He was biding his time until he could dance with Swara.
Swara Singh Oberoi was every bit as lovely from close to as she had seemed from across the ballroom. Her creamy complexion was flawless, her eyes large and brown and generously fringed with dark lashes. He had been considerably amused by her reaction to his deliberately lavish compliments. She had stared him down like a jaded dowager. She was not, it seemed, the silly girl he had expected her to be
That blank, haughty stare must be a Oberoi gift. Shivaay had been a master of it. Sanskaar had been at the receiving end of it the very last time he saw the man. The expression on Swara Oberoi’s face suggested pride, conceit, vanity, arrogance—all those related aspects of character that hardened his resolve.
Finally the music came to an end, to be replaced by a louder buzz of conversation from the direction of the ballroom. It was time to go and claim his partner. Shivaay’s sister.
He located his partner in the crowd and made his way toward her. He nodded gracefully towards Mrs and Miss Singhania then turned to Swara.
Sanskaar : I believe this is our dance.
Swara nodded and Sanskaar took her hand.
Sanskaar (listening to the music) : Ballroom dance music. Do you know how to waltz?
Swara : Ofcourse. Do you, Mr Maheshwari?
Sanskaar’s eyes crinkled in amusement.
Sanskaar : I think you’ll find me satisfactory.
But she looked suspiciously into his eyes as they took their places on the dance floor and waited for the music to begin.
Lord, but she was a beauty!
Swara : So… Why did you leave India?
He raised his eyebrows at this abrupt change of subject.
Swara : You haven’t been here for 5 years, have you? Where were you?
Sanskaar : I have been away from Kolkata for five years because I was banished from there—by my father.
Swara : Really?

Sanskaar : It also involved a woman and some precious jewels.
Swara : Did you steal the jewels?
Sanskaar : Would you believe me if I said no?
She regarded him for a moment from beneath arched eyebrows.
Swara : I guess you’re not as interesting as I thought then.
She turned her head toward the orchestra dais—the music was beginning at last. He set his right hand behind her waist—it was so slender that he might almost have spanned it with his two hands—and took her right hand in his left. Her free hand came to rest on his shoulder.
She was very young. And exquisitely lovely.
And Shivaay Singh Oberoi’s sister.
Dancing was one thing at which he excelled. He had always loved the elegant figures of the vigorous intricacies of dances—and the sheer erotic thrill of the waltz.
He led her off into the dance, waltzing and twirling with small, careful steps. She had been well taught. But she possessed something more than just precision and accuracy. He could feel it even during that first minute, when they danced as sedately as everyone else around them.
She showed no further inclination to converse, and he felt none. She smelled of some soft, floral soap or cologne—jasmine, perhaps? She felt very youthful, very slender, in his arms. She was light and warm and pliant, and he could feel her slippers moving across the floor only inches from his own shoes.
Sanskaar : Does everyone dance so stiffly here?
Swara : Yes! Why, Is this wrong?
Sanskaar : Shall I show you how it is really done, Shona?
Her eyes widened, though whether in response to the question or to his use of the endearment she did not say.
He twirled her with longer strides and a wider swing about a corner, and she followed him. He even elicited a sparkling little smile from her.
The waltz had never been intended to be a plodding, mechanical affair, everyone twirling slowly and in perfect time with one another. He danced it now as it was surely meant to be danced, his eyes and his mind focused upon his partner, his ears bringing in the music and pouring its melody and its rhythm into every cell of his body, his feet converting that rhythm into movement.
It was a sensual dance, intended to focus a man’s attention on his partner and hers on him.
He whirled her about until the light from the candles became one swirling band of brightness overhead, and wound her skillfully in and out of the more slowly circling couples, noting with satisfaction that she stayed with him every step of the way, that she showed not a moment’s fear of missing a step or colliding with a fellow dancer or losing her balance. The uniforms of the officers, the paler pastel ball gowns of the ladies, all merged into a swooping melody of color.

By the time the set came to an end she was bright-eyed and slightly flushed and a little breathless. And even lovelier than before.
Swara : I like this one.
He bent his head closer to hers.
Sanskaar : Do you want to continue?
The music began again. But it was a slower, more lilting tune this time.
He waltzed her through the crowds as before, weaving in and out, varying the length of his steps, taking several smaller ones, and then moving into wide, sweeping swirls that forced an arch to her back and her neck.
He felt the music with his body, and felt the magic of it. And she moved unerringly with him, her eyes on his much of the time. She sighed aloud as the music drew to a close again.
Swara : I didn’t think the waltz could be so…….
Sanskaar pulled her closer and whispered in her ear.
Sanskaar : Romantic? Erotic?
Swara : Enjoyable.
She frowned and looked at him with her old arrogance.
Swara : You shouldn’t use such words in polite company. And don’t call me Shona.
Sanskaar : Why not? What may I call you then?
Swara : I call you MR MAHESHWARI.. You can call me Miss Oberoi.
She was, he thought, every inch Shivaay’s sister. Except that he had spotted the rebel beneath the aristocrat, the butterfly eager to fly free of its cocoon. And the woman behind the youthful exterior who was surely capable of hot passion.
Sanskaar : Alright! Miss Oberoi. But don’t you think that the way we danced was way…..
Swara moved away from his grasp and looked at him.
Swara : Well, Mr Maheshwari! When you paused, you intended that I think of the word EROTIC, did you not? You are flirting quite outrageously with me. But beware—I am not as gullible as I may look. Yes, let us waltz your way since it is more INTERESTING.
She smiled at him.
All of the sunlight and all of the warmth of a summer day were in that smile, and he realized that she was playing him at his own game—or what she thought was his game. She was far more interesting than he had expected. She might even prove a worthy foe.
He hoped so.
Sanskaar (whispering) : Alright Shona! We will definitely perform that erotic dance sometime.
Her cheeks flushed. But she would not look away from him, he noticed. He smiled slowly back at her.
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Heyy guyss.. I’m backkkk… Please do tell me how you like this story…
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Will post SNFM in a day or two… Sorry for the delay…
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