chapter 18

Preparations and ProgressWe wrote our mid-term exams, and again, thankfully, I was able to retain my scholarship. However, this time the dean didn’t call me. I had heard rumors that the incident with Akshara and Jay had landed him in big trouble, but I didn’t care about it. The whole ordeal was bothersome still.As the third semester progressed, many new things were lined up for us. Especially, the fashion show. We felt that our job was done when we finished portfolios, but we were wrong. Now the biggest task would be to shoot the preparations of the fashion show and the actual show. As per Pratham, many big-shot producers and directors were coming to the show to cherry-pick fresh faces. “You need to learn to walk, dress, and everything,” Pratham groaned one day. “We only have two months to train you, I wonder how I missed on starting your preparations sooner!” he spoke exasperatedly. I felt a bit insulted at his comment but didn’t say a word. I knew I was not a model, but I still had feelings.Ankit and Pratham dedicated their every free hour to train me. They started with my posture and walk. Evidently, cat-walk was not that easy as they made it look on the television. It took me two weeks to perfect it, and that too in flats. My next challenge was to do it in heels. Starting with a one-inch heel, I was supposed to move up to pencil-heels. “You have to learn to walk in these,” Pratham spoke irritated one day. He was holding a pair of five-inch heel sandals, which I was refusing to wear. “No producer or director will sign you if you show up for an audition in flats. Looks matter, but so does your presentation.”He had ordered me to wear high-heels at home. And once I was a bit comfortable in them – which was never – he forced me to wear them in college too. He also went shopping with me and got me a new collection. Thanks to the money from Milaap shoot, I was able to afford whatever he asked. He wanted to pay for my things, but I denied rather rudely. He anyways was doing enough for me.Jeans, shorts, fitted tops, sleeve-less kurtis, dresses, and skirts now adorned my wardrobe – I had even replaced my open-rack with a proper wardrobe to protect my new clothes from the dust that often accumulated in my room. However, I still wore my old comfortable clothes. Two days later, he scolded me in front of everybody. So, from the next day, I started bringing them in my bag and changed right before I met him. It worked for a week, but then he addressed me personally in his cabin. “I know what you are doing,” he was smiling.“What?” I asked, confused. I was wearing a white top he had chosen for me, perfectly fitting jeans, and black high-heels.“You know I see you at least a dozen times every day,” he informed. I opened my mouth to ask ‘how’ but he added, “You always don’t need to know that I am around.” I closed my mouth again. “From tomorrow, wear these clothes from home. You don’t need to feel shy or embarrassed, Ishana. You are not exposing any body part.” I looked down nervously. He added, “You need the confidence to walk on a ramp in front of thousands of people. Tell me, if you cannot attend college in these clothes, how will you walk there?” he asked, tucking a loose strand behind my ear. “Biggest influencers of the industry will attend this show. If you act timid or unconfident, they will reject you and will never hire you. It is very tough to get a job via agents. They use you, abuse you, and manipulate you. This show is our best bet. I want to see you shine, Ishana. Can you do that for me?” he asked with a smile so seducing that I couldn’t help but stare at him. My eyes locked his, and unconsciously I licked my lower lip. Not sure why but the memory of the moment when he had kissed me months ago flashed in front of my eyes. His eyes moved down to my lips, and I followed suit. He was sitting on his desk, he stood up slowly. I was still looking at him – my eyes never leaving his face.“Ishana,” he whispered as he caressed my face. “Don’t do this, Ishana,” he whispered again. I wanted to ask ‘what’, but my throat was too dry, and my lips were jammed.Slowly he bent, his face merely inches from mine. I didn’t flinch or move back. My mind was too numb to act or react. I could feel his ragged breath on my face, and I realized I was breathing the same way. His nose was brushing against mine now. I wanted to fill in the gap between our lips. He bent further, I felt my body raise a bit automatically. Our lips brushed and…“Pratham, I think –” Ankit barged in and paused at the sight. “Oh my God, I am so sorry. I…” he was all flushed. I regained my senses and stepped back hastily. “Ishana I…” Ankit started as I ran past him. I don’t know what had happened to me at that moment. I was usually very much in control of my feelings, but today I had lost them. Maybe it was the way Pratham was talking to me. But what was he saying? His words were erased from my mind, and now only one memory was etched there – him so close to me, his lips almost on mine, and me, inviting him to kiss me!  My new look didn’t sit well with other people – both boys and girls alike. Boys were staring and acting like their usual selves. But girls were different. They were mean and bitchy. Tam made it a point to pass loud, rude comments whenever we crossed path. Her most common comment was – Being in someone’s good graces can even convert a shitty sag-doll into a pretend barbie. But, well, class matters, and that cannot be gained. “They are just trying to bring you down.” Ankit tried explaining when someone had put up my first day’s photograph and recent photograph on the notice board. I was not ashamed of what I was back then, but the comment below brought tears to my eyes. It read: ‘That to this – guess who became friends with benefits.’When Pratham had seen this, he had taken it down.I was very quiet that day. I was doing my work silently when Pratham approached me. “You know what,” he started. I looked up at him bleakly. “If people start talking behind your back, then it means you are progressing.” He finished with a smile. I smiled back, but even he knew I didn’t mean it.“You are entering the worst industry possible, Ishana. People will label you with the worst names, and not just men, even women will try to sleep with you. They will use you and abuse you. You will have to endure the worst with a calm, smiling façade. Are you willing to do this?” he asked sincerely.“I have been called worse, just not to my face.” I mumbled, recalling the folder ‘The Slut Chronicles.’“Welcome to the metro city and the fashion industry. You think you can do it?” he questioned with a crease of concern.“Only till the day I find Rakshit. Once he is with me, I don’t need this. I will do a normal job,” I declared.“Deal.” He extended his arm, and I shook it. I started to pull my hand back, but he kept holding it. “Ishana… what happened to you?” he asked seriously. “What do you mean?” I asked, confused.“Before college? Back at your home. What happened?”“It’s all in the past,” I sighed.“But that affects you even today. What can I do to erase those horrifying memories?” “You are already doing everything in your power. You are helping me find my brother. He is all that matters. Once I have my family, I think a part of me will heal.” He nodded at my answer and let go of my hand, but this time I kept holding on to his. “Finding Rakshit will heal you too, not completely, but a part of you will be healed.”“A part of me is already healed Ishana. You just don’t realize it.” He smiled and went back to his work. I knew what he meant, he meant he has fallen in love with me. But he didn’t know he had chosen the wrong girl. I was cursed!  Present Day in Ishana’s HouseMegha knocked and entered with their snacks. “Wow, it is 6 already,” Ravi exclaimed.“Time flies by…” Ishana chimed. Ravi nodded.“Oh, please don’t stop. We can eat and talk,” Ravi insisted.“But it’s bad manners,” Ishana looked at him sarcastically.“Well, I am a typical lower-middle-class person. Manners, etiquettes are all alike for me, so please don’t stop… I don’t think I can endure a pause.” He babbled, and Ishana laughed.“You know what, I wear a mask of a supermodel, but deep down I am still a lower-middle-class girl,” and she took a bite.“Now that’s my girl. So, what happened next…” Ravi smiled. And she continued.