Recap: Zaara lands her first modelling gig for Nectar only to find out she will soon be on billboards across Bombay.

At 9:06 am

ZAARA: It’s not going well.

SEHER: What’s wrong???

At 9 : 10 am

SEHER: Why aren’t you picking up?

ZAARA: The AD’s are waiting outside my vanity van listening to every breath I take.

SEHER: Okay, Okay. Text me. How’s it going?

ZAARA: I threw up. Thrice.

SEHER: I’m coming to get you.

SEHER: Send location

ZAARA: No. No. Focus on your kid. It’s the first kid. You can’t bail on him.

ZAARA: And I need to stop being a child about this.

ZAARA: So what if I’m going to be plastered on billboards in a barely there sari for every autovala to jerk off to right?

SEHER: WHAT?

SEHER: Were the billboards in your contract?

ZAARA: I think they were.

SEHER: I can’t believe mom okay’ed that.

ZAARA: I don’t think Mom thinks there is any difference between posing on Instagram and posing on the street.

ZAARA: Once you’re public, you’re public.

ZAARA: Dad’s probably rolling over in his grave, though.

SEHER: I’m so sorry Zaaru.

SEHER: I should have gone over the contract myself.

ZAARA: You’ve been busy with your own stuff.

ZAARA: I’m so pleased you’re teaching a literature class today. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to tell you before.

ZAARA: I need to just be a professional and do my job too.

SEHER: You don’t need to do anything that makes you throw up Zaaru.

ZAARA: No, this is good. I’m building a stronger stomach!

ZAARA: Honestly, I look like such a nauseous wreck right now though, I don’t think they’re going to even want me on the billboard anymore.

SEHER: I put some gripe water in your bag. Right next to the dabba of grapefruit. And some Restoril too.

SEHER: Take half after eating. It’ll calm you right down.

ZAARA: Isn’t gripe water for colicky babies?

SEHER: :)

ZAARA: Mean.

SEHER: Have you spent any of the signing amount already?

ZAARA: There was a Diwali sale at Good Earth.

SEHER: Oh dear.

ZAARA: Okay. I’m going to drink my gripe water and get over myself.

SEHER: Are you sure?

ZAARA: Yep.

SEHER: Best of luck doll.

SEHER: My phone is on. Call me if you change your mind and want to come home, okay?

ZAARA: <3 <3

ZAARA: Don’t tell Ma any of this.

SEHER: Of course not.

Arjun Bajaj was fed up with the speed of his driver, who was still too new to make the Jaguar race through the roads at a pace Arjun and his car were comfortable with. They were crawling along the sea-link at 40kmph. A freaking Maruti just overtook them. His phone pinged again with an urgent text from his creative head. Arjun swallowed the many, colourful swear words that were ringing through his brain. To be fair, it wasn’t Jamshed’s fault that he was late.

He usually was. It wasn’t easy being the CEO of a beauty company that was growing faster than a teenage boy on anabolic steroids. But he really had to get to this shoot at Mehboob Studios before they lost all the daylight. The images had to be shot, approved and sent off to his marketing department today for touch-ups so they could be published tomorrow just before the online sale started in the UK. He didn’t give a fuck about the model having an anxiety attack. He gave even less of a fuck that she was the next ‘It Girl’ according to his mother. The minute he got to the set he was going to make sure she got in front of the camera, whether she was hyperventilating or not. She could throw up between takes if she liked.

The toll bar at the end of the sea-link was lifted. ‘Ruko,’ Arjun barked with such quiet ferocity that Jamshed braked the Jaguar with a jerk that elicited one ‘BASTARD’ from his employer and three ‘Sorrys’ in regretful succession.

‘Switch with me,’ he told his driver, softer but still commanding. Jamshed immediately clambered out of the car and sat in the passenger seat. With one deep breath and one last ‘Sorry’ to his new recruit, Arjun checked the rearview mirror. Green eyes glinted back at him, alive as always. Grinning a little now that he was where he liked to be, in the driver’s seat. And then he revved off, quickly reaching 120kmph, the engine growling in appreciation under him. He laughed out loud, erratically, in response. The cops could tail him if they liked. But they’d never catch him.

‘Where is she?’

Neelu Guru rose, sheepish. At her most competent, she felt daunted by Arjun Bajaj, even though he was only 27 years old. His youth, however, did nothing to hold him back. It only accentuated his ferocity. She always felt like she was dealing with a man who could rip past her expensive Prada-labelled armour and cut her down to size with no hesitation, should she dare to cross him. It didn’t help that he was devastatingly handsome.

‘She’s asleep in her vanity van.’

Arjun didn’t even bother with a reaction. He began striding to the large white van parked in the distance. Neelu rushed, tottering on her cheetah-striped stilettos, to keep up with him.

‘You have to understand, this is her first shoot ever. She’s been a very sheltered child before this.’

‘I’ve paid her money. I don’t have to understand anything.’

‘It may be better to do this tomorrow morning.’

‘It is better to do this right now. When the set is up. The photographer is here. And my deadline is tonight.’

‘She was throwing up in the morning.’

‘She isn’t throwing up now, is she?’

‘No-’

‘Good. Then she can wake up and smile for the fucking camera.’

He rapped on the door of the vanity van. There was no answer.

‘We tried that,’ Neelu whispered. ‘She’s deep in sleep.’

‘Oh for the love of-’

‘She took gripe water to settle her stomach and that makes some people doze off…’

But Arjun was no longer listening. He just didn’t bloody care. He swung open the door and trudged up the stairs, ready to get this girl to do her bloody job...

When suddenly he stopped.

That was the first time Neelu Guru had seen his face soften, ever. She didn’t even think Arjun Bajaj’s mouth was capable of it, but his lips receded from his world-conquering grin into a soft, plump bow. His eyes lost its glint. He gazed at the girl, lying stretched out on the ugly brown sofa before them, with nothing short of wonder.

That’s when Neelu knew that she would put up with Zaara Pandit’s tantrums for however long they lasted. Because if her face, even asleep, could stop a racehorse like Arjun Bajaj in his tracks, then Neelu definitely had a winner on her hands.

‘Shall I shake her awake?’ Neelu whispered, not daring to smile yet.

Arjun said nothing for a moment. Then he exhaled.

‘No.’

His voice answered in a whisper. At a decibel and with a tenderness Neelu hadn’t heard from Arjun before.

Arjun stepped back. He dragged his gaze from Zaara’s sleeping face to Neelu as though it took an act of will.’

‘We’ll do it tomorrow morning. When she’s better.’

Then, recovering slightly, he strode out of the vanity van and shut the door carefully behind him with a low thud.

(To be continued)

This is the 24th episode of Riva Razdan’s serialised novel Nonsense and Respectability, published every Sunday

Riva Razdan is a New York university graduate and currently working as a screenwriter and author based in Mumbai. Her debut novel Arzu was published by Hachette India in 2021