Recap: Jaspal arrives at the Pandit household with an inappropriate proposal and Zaara takes an important decision.

‘You’re absolutely perfect for this brand,’ said Neelu as she handed Zaara the creative brief of Nectar: Luxury Ayurveda. They were in the backseat of Neelu’s purple Audi, a shade as tacky, Zaara thought, as Neelu’s tiger-printed dress. But the young girl had to concede, Neelu was effective as a talent manager as she was ineffective at sophistication. Zaara was still a little awestruck by how quickly Neelu had been able to get her this job. Privately, she wondered if her ambitious neighbour had been pitching her as her client even before Zaara signed the dotted line the weekend before.

‘I know you were hoping for a foreign brand,’ Neelu said. ‘But Nectar is going to make its mark on the world soon. They’ve got a very driven CEO.’

‘I’ve seen their stuff on Sephora’s instagram,’ Zaara nodded as she scanned the glossy reference images. ‘It’s not Bobbi Brown but it’s good enough for now, I guess.’

The truth was she was thrilled by the amount Nectar had agreed to pay her to be their brand ambassador for the next 18 months. Zaara, who had thought herself a socialist up till now, was a little surprised at herself by what a rush she felt on receiving a stipend of her own.

But when her mother had read over the contract in Neelu’s candy-pink cabin in the garage of their building, she hadn’t even blinked twice. ‘Is this it?’ was all Raahi had said, her pink lips pressed together in an unimpressed smile. As though Neelu had somehow failed them.

‘It’s quite a bit,’ Zaara pointed at the zeroes at the end of the cheque. ‘Considering that I’ve never even modelled before and nobody really knows who I am.’

Raahi had looked at her daughter and let out a laugh then. Even Neelu, whose competence was currently being questioned, had cracked a smile at Zaara’s apparent naiivete.

‘Sweetie I’ve been fielding offers for you since you turned 16,’ Raahi explained to her daughter, ‘And those were from European designers.’

‘I’m working on that,’ Neelu nodded, ‘But it’s tough to get a luxury brand at the moment, with the things that were just... written about her.’

Raahi’s jaw tightened. ‘Fine.’ She didn’t need Neelu to start elaborating on how their sudden and public impoverishment now excluded Zaara from the opportunities Raahi had once thought her too good for.

‘We’ll start with the Indian luxury segment at this price as long as there is some strategy to target the foreign brands too.’

‘Of course,’ Neelu had nodded in encouragement. ‘And don’t worry. Nectar is run by very classy people. The campaign will be very tasteful.’

Raahi, however, didn’t look convinced. It didn’t help, Zaara supposed, that Neelu herself was wearing a too-tight zebra striped shirt with a fuchsia pink headband and a matching fuchsia skirt. Both of them recognised the outfit from Prada’s last Spring/Summer collection, but while the stick-skinny model had seemed poised and zany-chic in it, Neelu Guru and her heavy body, with the stripes burgeoning across her tummy tires, only seemed like a mule in a chic’s clothing.

Noticing their obvious concern, Neelu decided to name-drop with glittering skill.

‘Do you know Nandini Bajaj?’

It worked. Raahi seemed to straighten up in her seat slightly. ‘Of course,’ her mother said. ‘The Delhi Aroras’ daughter, wasn’t she?’

‘And the brand ambassador for Dior in Delhi for the longest time. Impeccable taste.’

‘I remember that,’ Raahi nodded, becoming slightly less unsure. ‘I met her briefly at some parties at the Oberoi.’

‘Well it’s her son who started Nectar.’

‘Oh.’

And Neelu smiled, satisfied. Zaara also felt better about the whole thing. If her new manager was shrewd enough to manoeuvre her way into Raahi’s good graces, she felt like she was in good hands.

And the campaign ideas Nectar had sent them had proved it. Zaara smiled now as she looked at the pictures they wanted to replicate. They were Raja Ravi Verma’s paintings of slender women dressed in sensuous pink, slippy saris, languidly stretched out under trees in a forest, or delicately fondling swans by a lake.

‘You’re going to look like an absolute dream,’ Neelu beamed at her in reassurance. ‘It’s soft, sexy and classy all at once. The perfect debut for you.’

‘Is Nectar trying to improve their export numbers?’

Neelu, surprised, glanced at the file she had handed Zaara to ensure that she hadn’t left any numbers or confidential reports in there. But all that she could see were the Ravi Verma paintings Arjun Bajaj’s team had WeFast-ed to her.

She looked at her model, perplexed.

‘How did you know?’

‘They’re an Ayurveda brand putting a girl with blue eyes in a sari with the forest as a backdrop,’ Zaara said in a no-duh way. ‘If that doesn’t scream West please meet East, I don’t know what does.’

Neelu laughed, once, but behind her grin, the wheels were at work. She would have to be careful with this girl. Zaara was sharper than she’d realised.

‘Don’t look so astonished,’ Zaara said with a smile. ‘This is a good thing. It means their brief lands.’

Neelu rearranged her expression into a reassuring smile. ‘Yes. It will appeal to their new market in Europe, you’re absolutely right.’

‘It’s a clever campaign,’ Zaara said, still gazing at the Ravi Verma paintings. He happened to be one of her favourite artists. ‘And aesthetically different. It will definitely cut through the marketing noise of other beauty brands that just focus on the faces of the models against their boring white backdrops.’

‘I told you their CEO was very good. He heads up everything hands-on. If it doesn’t pass his taste test, it doesn’t make it to the billboards.’

Zaara’s face turned ashen.

‘Billboards?’

‘Yes,’ Neelu said with a bright grin.

‘Like a pin-up girl?’

‘Pfft. Pin-up girls are tiny rectangles in magazines, or tinier squares on Instagram. But there’s going to be a gorgeous 40 feet of you, pouting down at the world from Mahim station!’

‘Stop the car please.’

Neelu’s face fell.

‘What, why?’

‘Please. Stop the car.’

But Neelu was used to theatrics from her clients.

‘Zaara, you can’t back out now,’ she said firmly. ‘You signed a contract.’

‘I’m not backing out,’ Zaara promised, her voice softer, pleading now. ‘Stop the car please.’

Neelu now had no choice but to obey the young girl, or risk being accused of abducting her.

Reluctantly, she tapped Brijnath, and her driver, who perfectly understood the dynamics of the situation, stopped a little to the side of the main road, right by the sea so that the young girl could only escape by jumping into the Arabian or the oncoming traffic.

But Zaara had no plan to escape. Instead, she edged open the door slightly, and still seated in Neelu’s tacky purple Audi, threw up her dinner from the night before.

(To be continued)

This is the 23rd 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