"Is there anything I can do for you sir?" the maid in a scanty french uniform asked.
Neal was staring out of the window, watching the park in front of his penthouse; young boys and girls running and playing there. The parents carefully observing each of them yet allowing them to get hurt, fall down, cry, get over it and run and have fun. He could see Smitha, the maid through the shade at the window had made him scrambled eggs, a bowl of cereals and his usual morning coffee. She had also carefully placed the Hindu and the Economic Times at the table.
"No, Smitha. You can leave" he said turning his head towards her and passing over a smile, unlike the usual one.
"Um, can I ask you something Sir?" the maid asked.
"Yes, why not?" replied Neal
"What's been bothering you, Sir? I noticed the lights at your room were on last night. You didn't sleep I assume" She asked showing concern for her master.
"I am not just feeling well but there is nothing to worry about" Neal replied back. She felt he was definitely hiding something from her
"Are you sure Sir? Should I call in Dr. Vandana?" She asked again
"That won't be necessary. I am just tired. A day's leave from the office won't hurt much" Neal smiled again
"Very well then sir, I shall leave you alone now and ensure no one disturbs you" she told him and began to leave the room
"Thank You Smitha" Neal said.
Neal Roy, the owner of Altman Cellular is a forty one year old millionaire. With a degree from M.I.T in Electrical Engineering and a Business Administration degree from Harvard University was hanging at his study. He lives in a five thousand square feet Penthouse at Lodhi Road, New Delhi. A Page 3 celebrity who is often catered with one most eligible bachelor of the city yet he is not much of a socialite. He could easily be characterized with Greek Gods; a broad chest, edgy face cut, green eyes, many grey hair, broad shoulders, a perfect waist assorted with six packs yet powerful is his dressing sense. For a man of his age he has one of the attractive bodies every men envy and every women admired.
Neal walked towards the table and pulled a chair. He took the bowl of cereal and added milk to it. While he ate his mind was not in his control. There was something that was intriguing him. He would hear the words ring his ears over and over again
'Have your ever felt the rain?'
He closed his eyes as his heart beat faster. Memories of last night flashed before his eyes. He had never felt such an urge ever in his life- an urge that excited him, an urge that distracted him from everything he had build up around him; even the life he had lived over the years. The urge is sexual, the need is sexual but he knows it is more than that. It is something that is breaking way the shackles around his life. A week in his life and he feels he is not the Neal he knew. He is falling for her; yet he isn't yet sure if it is love or something else; yet assured he was falling for Aishwarya.
A week earlier:
Neal sat in his office chamber. He was going through blogs of poetry trying to diverst his mind away from the news he had heard a few hours ago. He hadn't met with anyone since then, cancelled all the meeting and had instructed his secretary not to allow anyone in his room. He should be undisturbed. He was going to die soon and that disturbed him. His brain was degenerating. Dr. Vandana called him a few hours ago to tell him that. She visited his house early in the morning to give him the news. It was distressing but she had to give that. He was suffering from Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease. It was incurable, a form of mad cow disease for humans. He was taken back to hear the news. He felt he had so much to achieve, and yet it was time for him to depart. he was suffering from dementia and hallucinations but he never realized they were the signs that his time had finally come.
He showed no anxiety in front of Dr. Vandana but she knew he was. She was after all her childhood friend. Neal told her he would visit her at her hospital chamber, as he had an important meeting to attend to at his office. He dressed as usual for his office only to shun himself at his office chamber reading poetry. There was one poem that intrigued him - Love with the Mirror.
If I die tonight, I want a miracle to happen
I want my mirror to remember who I am
Even if my flesh burn down to ashes
Even if all memories about me wash away
I want my mirror to remember who I am
There might not be a stone carved in for me
There might not be words for my praise
There might not be one to follow my footsteps
There might not be a tear in my memory
I want my mirror to remember who I am
The mirror had always shown the truth about me
The mirror had for ever completed me.
Neal could relate this poem with him. He read about the one who had written the blog 'Aishbaks' - Aishwarya Bakshi. She identified herself as a Lawyer by profession but also a model, blogger and a foodie. She loves astronomy and cosplay. She is single and stays at New Delhi. She had left her email id at the blog.
Neal opened the email and typed her a mail.
Miss Bakshi,
I went though your blog and I read your poem 'Love with the Mirror'. I must say you write pretty well. Thank you and keep writing .
Regards,
Neal Roy
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Neal wrote the message and sent it from his official email ID of Altman Cellular. He then went ahead and read all the poems she had written at her blog. As he read he received a mail from Aishwariya. He opened it to read what she wrote him back.
Mr. Neal,
Thanks for liking my poem, Sir. I just kind of have a question. Are you 'the' Neal Roy, Managing Director of Altman Cellular. Oh my God! if you really are I am about to faint. I can't belive the man I have always admired has actually written to me personally.
Regards,
Aishwariya
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There was a sheer laughter at Neal's face as he read the mail. He decided to reply her once again.
Miss Bakshi,
How about I take you to dinner tonight. In that way we can know each other pretty well. I would be happy to meet the one who had made me happy today. Please call at the reception and tell me about your plans. I shall be waiting for your reply.
Regards.
Neal Roy
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Neal buzzed his secretary. She came running in.
"Yes Sir" she asked
"Nisha, Make sure you pass me the call if someone named Aishwariya calls at the reception" he said to her.
"Sure Sir, Is there anything else?" she inquired.
"That would be all. Thank you" he said and His secretary Nisha walked out of the room.
For sometime now Neal had almost forgotten about his illness. There was finally something he had to divert his mind too. The news of his disease and that he was about to die had engulfed him since morning until he read the poem. The thoughts were there but he was forcing his mind to thing about the dinner with Aishwairya, the stranger he is about to know.
The land phone at his office desk buzzed. He picked uo the phone and heard the voice of the front desk receptionist.
"Sir, Miss Aishwairya Bakshi is on the line for you" said the receptionist.
"Connect me" he told her. He was excited to listen to the voice of the girl who has written the touching poem.
"Neal Roy, from Altman Cellular" he said over the phone.
A gasp of air and then he heard a voice sweet like the words she pens down.
"I cant believe I am actually talking to you. I look forward to meet you in the evening. I apologize in advance for any sort of non-socialite behavior that might happen as I meet you. I have never met any page 3 personalities before" she said. There were a few fits and starts as she talked over the phone. She was definitely excited as well as nervous as she talked to him.
"I am just as human as you are, Miss Bakshi. My car shall pick you up from our residence by seven; if... that is okay with you" Neal said. He was equally excited to meet her. He wonder how she looked like from her voice. He was trying to make out what her age could be for her voice seemed a bit mature enough. It would be definitely unwise to ask her anything like that. A dinner is definitely a better idea to know her.
"Yes...yes, its perfectly fine. I look forward to meet you" she said. He voice sounded quailed as she spoke.
"Very well then... 7pm it is. Please leave your address to the receptionist" He said politely.
"Sure Sir and thank you" she replied him back trying to find the right words for the conversation.
"Thank to you for accepting my dinner request actually" Neal passed out a small giggle as he spoke.
"I shall leave the address at the reception then" she said still wasting enough of her thoughts to choose the right words
"Very well then" Neal said and disconnected the call.
He made another reason to divert away his mind from the thought of his death. Neal Roy was going to die soon.
Neal was staring out of the window, watching the park in front of his penthouse; young boys and girls running and playing there. The parents carefully observing each of them yet allowing them to get hurt, fall down, cry, get over it and run and have fun. He could see Smitha, the maid through the shade at the window had made him scrambled eggs, a bowl of cereals and his usual morning coffee. She had also carefully placed the Hindu and the Economic Times at the table.
"No, Smitha. You can leave" he said turning his head towards her and passing over a smile, unlike the usual one.
"Um, can I ask you something Sir?" the maid asked.
"Yes, why not?" replied Neal
"What's been bothering you, Sir? I noticed the lights at your room were on last night. You didn't sleep I assume" She asked showing concern for her master.
"I am not just feeling well but there is nothing to worry about" Neal replied back. She felt he was definitely hiding something from her
"Are you sure Sir? Should I call in Dr. Vandana?" She asked again
"That won't be necessary. I am just tired. A day's leave from the office won't hurt much" Neal smiled again
"Very well then sir, I shall leave you alone now and ensure no one disturbs you" she told him and began to leave the room
"Thank You Smitha" Neal said.
Neal Roy, the owner of Altman Cellular is a forty one year old millionaire. With a degree from M.I.T in Electrical Engineering and a Business Administration degree from Harvard University was hanging at his study. He lives in a five thousand square feet Penthouse at Lodhi Road, New Delhi. A Page 3 celebrity who is often catered with one most eligible bachelor of the city yet he is not much of a socialite. He could easily be characterized with Greek Gods; a broad chest, edgy face cut, green eyes, many grey hair, broad shoulders, a perfect waist assorted with six packs yet powerful is his dressing sense. For a man of his age he has one of the attractive bodies every men envy and every women admired.
Neal walked towards the table and pulled a chair. He took the bowl of cereal and added milk to it. While he ate his mind was not in his control. There was something that was intriguing him. He would hear the words ring his ears over and over again
'Have your ever felt the rain?'
He closed his eyes as his heart beat faster. Memories of last night flashed before his eyes. He had never felt such an urge ever in his life- an urge that excited him, an urge that distracted him from everything he had build up around him; even the life he had lived over the years. The urge is sexual, the need is sexual but he knows it is more than that. It is something that is breaking way the shackles around his life. A week in his life and he feels he is not the Neal he knew. He is falling for her; yet he isn't yet sure if it is love or something else; yet assured he was falling for Aishwarya.
A week earlier:
Neal sat in his office chamber. He was going through blogs of poetry trying to diverst his mind away from the news he had heard a few hours ago. He hadn't met with anyone since then, cancelled all the meeting and had instructed his secretary not to allow anyone in his room. He should be undisturbed. He was going to die soon and that disturbed him. His brain was degenerating. Dr. Vandana called him a few hours ago to tell him that. She visited his house early in the morning to give him the news. It was distressing but she had to give that. He was suffering from Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease. It was incurable, a form of mad cow disease for humans. He was taken back to hear the news. He felt he had so much to achieve, and yet it was time for him to depart. he was suffering from dementia and hallucinations but he never realized they were the signs that his time had finally come.
He showed no anxiety in front of Dr. Vandana but she knew he was. She was after all her childhood friend. Neal told her he would visit her at her hospital chamber, as he had an important meeting to attend to at his office. He dressed as usual for his office only to shun himself at his office chamber reading poetry. There was one poem that intrigued him - Love with the Mirror.
If I die tonight, I want a miracle to happen
I want my mirror to remember who I am
Even if my flesh burn down to ashes
Even if all memories about me wash away
I want my mirror to remember who I am
There might not be a stone carved in for me
There might not be words for my praise
There might not be one to follow my footsteps
There might not be a tear in my memory
I want my mirror to remember who I am
The mirror had always shown the truth about me
The mirror had for ever completed me.
Neal could relate this poem with him. He read about the one who had written the blog 'Aishbaks' - Aishwarya Bakshi. She identified herself as a Lawyer by profession but also a model, blogger and a foodie. She loves astronomy and cosplay. She is single and stays at New Delhi. She had left her email id at the blog.
Neal opened the email and typed her a mail.
Miss Bakshi,
I went though your blog and I read your poem 'Love with the Mirror'. I must say you write pretty well. Thank you and keep writing .
Regards,
Neal Roy
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Neal wrote the message and sent it from his official email ID of Altman Cellular. He then went ahead and read all the poems she had written at her blog. As he read he received a mail from Aishwariya. He opened it to read what she wrote him back.
Mr. Neal,
Thanks for liking my poem, Sir. I just kind of have a question. Are you 'the' Neal Roy, Managing Director of Altman Cellular. Oh my God! if you really are I am about to faint. I can't belive the man I have always admired has actually written to me personally.
Regards,
Aishwariya
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There was a sheer laughter at Neal's face as he read the mail. He decided to reply her once again.
Miss Bakshi,
How about I take you to dinner tonight. In that way we can know each other pretty well. I would be happy to meet the one who had made me happy today. Please call at the reception and tell me about your plans. I shall be waiting for your reply.
Regards.
Neal Roy
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Neal buzzed his secretary. She came running in.
"Yes Sir" she asked
"Nisha, Make sure you pass me the call if someone named Aishwariya calls at the reception" he said to her.
"Sure Sir, Is there anything else?" she inquired.
"That would be all. Thank you" he said and His secretary Nisha walked out of the room.
For sometime now Neal had almost forgotten about his illness. There was finally something he had to divert his mind too. The news of his disease and that he was about to die had engulfed him since morning until he read the poem. The thoughts were there but he was forcing his mind to thing about the dinner with Aishwairya, the stranger he is about to know.
The land phone at his office desk buzzed. He picked uo the phone and heard the voice of the front desk receptionist.
"Sir, Miss Aishwairya Bakshi is on the line for you" said the receptionist.
"Connect me" he told her. He was excited to listen to the voice of the girl who has written the touching poem.
"Neal Roy, from Altman Cellular" he said over the phone.
A gasp of air and then he heard a voice sweet like the words she pens down.
"I cant believe I am actually talking to you. I look forward to meet you in the evening. I apologize in advance for any sort of non-socialite behavior that might happen as I meet you. I have never met any page 3 personalities before" she said. There were a few fits and starts as she talked over the phone. She was definitely excited as well as nervous as she talked to him.
"I am just as human as you are, Miss Bakshi. My car shall pick you up from our residence by seven; if... that is okay with you" Neal said. He was equally excited to meet her. He wonder how she looked like from her voice. He was trying to make out what her age could be for her voice seemed a bit mature enough. It would be definitely unwise to ask her anything like that. A dinner is definitely a better idea to know her.
"Yes...yes, its perfectly fine. I look forward to meet you" she said. He voice sounded quailed as she spoke.
"Very well then... 7pm it is. Please leave your address to the receptionist" He said politely.
"Sure Sir and thank you" she replied him back trying to find the right words for the conversation.
"Thank to you for accepting my dinner request actually" Neal passed out a small giggle as he spoke.
"I shall leave the address at the reception then" she said still wasting enough of her thoughts to choose the right words
"Very well then" Neal said and disconnected the call.
He made another reason to divert away his mind from the thought of his death. Neal Roy was going to die soon.
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