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Loving Sri
Loving Sri
Loving Sri
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Loving Sri

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The first time she runs into him, Niharika doesn't know who he is and, assuming he is another late comer chatters all the way in the lift. Srijit,
a widower, finds the young woman refreshing. She doesn't see him again but she can't help thinking about him and
his dignified yet handsome looks.
A month goes by. One rainy day, as Niharika is rushing out during lunch break, she is almost hit by a car in front
of the office. The car turns out to belong to the handsome man from the lift. He offers her a ride and an apprehensive
Niharika, who has to return to the office in forty-five minutes, accepts it. During this ride she finds out that he is the
chairman of the construction company where she works as an interior designer.
Niharika, twenty four, is a confident young woman. Yet she is disconcerted at first because of the social and
economic gap between them. But Srijit puts her at ease. He is conscious of the ten year age difference between them
but at the same enchanted by her. As she they get to know each other she is introduced to his family. She finds out
her dead father's friend, who has been like a surrogate father to her, was Srijit's maternal uncle. His mother takes
an immediate liking to her, and his brother soon becomes a friend. A very strong bond develops between the Srijit
and Niharika, who makes no secret about her feelings for him. Srijit is more reticent. While Niharika doesn't see
age as a problem, Srijit is wary because of a disastrous first marriage. Although he had decided never to marry
again, as their relationship develops, Srijit starts to think of a future with Niharika. When Srijit is out of town for a
week, Niharika happens to go out for coffee with an acquaintance. The incident is reported to Srijit in a distorted
manner. The promiscuous behaviour of his first wife taints his judgement and he ends the relationship without
giving her a chance to explain. When she finally gets a chance to speak her mind he refuses to accept her explanation.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherS Chakravarty
Release dateJan 27, 2021
ISBN9781311546944
Loving Sri
Author

Shuchismita C

Shuchismita was born in the hill town of Shillong, which is also known as the Scotland of the east, in India. She went to school in Shillong but later moved to New Delhi to attend university. She is a practicing Architect by a profession. In 2011 she had to take time off from work due to problems at home. That was when she thought about writing. An avid reader of romantic novels, she chose this as her preferred genre. She now lives in New Delhi.

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    Book preview

    Loving Sri - Shuchismita C

    Marry me Niharika. I know we haven't known each other very long and that you say you don't love me, but I love you.  I will wait until I finish my MBA. But at least say yes.

    Niharika looked thoughtfully at him. She was fond of him. But like a brother.

    You're very sweet, Arjun, she began slowly. I'm very fond of you. I think I love you too, but as Srijit’s little brother. I think there's something you ought to know about your brother and me.

    Arjun looked steadily at her. I think I already know, he said softly. You’re in love with him, aren't you?

    .

    .

    .

    I'm sorry, she said automatically, but Srijit's face darkened ominously.

    Are you? For everything?

    I don't understand you, she said imploringly. You didn't want me when you had the chance. Why are you tormenting me now?

    I did want you, he replied coldly. I simply didn't want to spoil your life. Instead, you're spoiling it for yourself.

    Copyright © 2016 by Shuchismita

    All rights reserved.

    This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.  This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people.  If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.

    Cover design by Studio9’s.

    Studio9s.arch@gmail.com

    LOVING SRI

    A NOVEL
    BY

    SHUCHISMITA C

    Contents

    CHAPTER ONE

    CHAPTER TWO

    CHAPTER THREE

    CHAPTER FOUR

    CHAPTER FIVE

    CHAPTER SIX

    CHAPTER SEVEN

    CHAPTER EIGHT

    CHAPTER NINE

    CHAPTER TEN

    CHAPTER ELEVEN

    CHAPTER ONE

    Srijit Roy strode swiftly through the glass doors, held open by the doorman, of the RRED offices on Circular Road. He was a tall man with a lean frame and dressed in a dark blue polo shirt, khaki pants, and rimless glasses, he looked powerful and assured. It was quarter to ten and the reception area was deserted at this time of the morning. Office hours started at nine o’clock and by nine-fifteen everyone was expected to be at their desks. He also knew that the moment his car entered the premises the security guard on duty at the gate had hastily informed the reception who in turn would warn his secretary of his arrival.

    At his entrance, the receptionist rose from her seat and murmured an uneasy ‘Good morning’. She had been here just a few months and was in awe of the powerful man who surveyed the lobby with keen eyes as he walked through. With a wry smile, Srijit acknowledged her greeting as he walked towards the lift.

    Srijit rarely came to the office so early but had come in today as he wanted to finish the paperwork for his meeting in Bangalore tomorrow. An IT firm from Bangalore was opening a branch office here and he was in the final stages of signing the contract for rental space in one of his newly constructed buildings. The interior fit-out was to be in the scope of work of RRED.

    He stepped into the lift and as the doors were about to close a young voice called: 'Oh, excuse me. Please wait for me!'

    Frowning slightly, Srijit saw a woman rushing across the foyer towards the lift - a young girl with long, jet black hair, a tall slim body dressed in a dark blue tunic, and beige narrow cotton pants. As the doorman and the receptionist gaped at her in horror, their mouths open, she ran across the lobby, a large bag slung over her right shoulder.

    As Srijit moved to one side for the girl to enter the lift he realised that she was completely unaware of his identity.

    Sorry, but thanks a lot, she gasped with a smile, looking up at him with a pair of kohl-lined jet black eyes.

    My pleasure, he answered curtly, Which floor?

    Third, she replied. She was still panting. Must have been running all the way from the main road he thought.

    As he pressed the button for the third and the fifth floor he wondered whether she worked here for he usually made it a point to know all his employees at least by sight even if he always couldn’t remember their names. It was not a large organization and there were hardly about forty people in the office spread over three floors. It was nearly ten and if she was an employee she was late. But she volunteered the information without him having to ask.

    Mira is going to fire me. She is so particular about punctuality. Do you know her? Mira Sanyal? she asked, and without waiting for a reply, continued despairingly, And I am so late.

    Srijit half-smiled, Yes, you are late, and yes, I know Mira Sanyal.  The strict and formidable head of the design department was very different from what one expected an interior designer to look like.

    I'll get into real trouble today, she fretted, But I couldn’t help it. Trina’s car had a flat tyre and after we changed it we realised the spare was deflated too. So we had to walk to the bus stop and then take an auto.

    Trina?

    Trina is our landlord’s daughter. She works nearby and she drops me on her way to work. We share the petrol cost. It works cheaper for both of us.

    I see.  Srijit found himself enjoying the chatter of this girl. She was such a refreshing change from the other staff members who were always subservient in his presence, and not knowing who he was she spoke freely and without trying to impress him. She also had an air of confidence about her.

    She was very young, looked about eighteen, but must be at least twenty-one he surmised since she worked as an interior designer and must have completed a three-year degree course before applying for this job. She had a natural charm about her. She was dark-skinned and was dressed in good taste an expensive but simple and elegant outfit made of expensive handloom cotton.

    Do you work here? I haven’t seen you before. But then I don’t yet know everyone. I am new here. You must be awfully late too, she continued, undaunted by Srijit’s restrained responses.

    The lift stopped with a ping.

    This is my floor. Bye and thanks again for holding the lift for me, she said with a smile as she stepped out into the lobby.

    It was no problem, and yes I work here, he replied as the lift doors closed. Now he pressed the button for the sixth floor which housed the executive offices and the conference facilities. He didn’t want the girl to get an idea about who he was. She must be thinking he was someone in finance as the fifth floor housed the finance department.

    As Srijit entered the luxurious and quiet outer office he saw his secretary saying something to the pantry boy. Her voice was low but the boy was quaking in fear. He smiled.  Anita Sharma was a widow in her mid-forties and dressed in a severe style with her hair in a tight knot at the nape of her neck, always wearing crisp cotton saris in light shades. Her face was devoid of any makeup too. She had earlier worked for his father along with Louise D’Souza, his father’s other secretary. When Srijit joined the business twelve years ago she was assigned to him because of her experience and efficiency. She was unsmiling and strict but had a kind heart and fussed over him like a mother. And she was extremely competent running the office with an iron hand.  Even the other senior executives feared her. When his father died, and Srijit took over as chairman, Louise came to assist Anita.

    On seeing him she stood up and as she wished him ‘good morning’ the pantry boy disappeared with relief.

    You are early today, she exclaimed.

    Good morning, he replied, I want to complete the paperwork for the Bangalore meeting before lunch. And please get Mira on the line for me urgently. Then walked into his office and closed the door.

    Yes Mr.. Roy, she answered behind him.

    Niharika Dutta stood at the entrance to the third-floor office and furtively looked around to see if Mira was around in the outer office. The entire floor had an open office plan and housed the Architecture, Engineering, and Interior Design departments. There were three enclosed cabins at one end for the department heads.

    Not seeing her anywhere she sighed with relief she quietly slipped onto her seat and switched on her computer. She knew this relief was temporary. Any moment Mira would appear at her workstation and pull her up for being late. As anticipated, the intercom buzzed within minutes and she was summoned to Mira’s cabin. With a thumping heart, she walked over and entered Mira’s cabin.

    You are late again, Niharika, Mira accused in a stern voice.

    Sorry, but we a flat tyre and... Niharika began but before she could complete her sentence the phone rang.

    Mira, she spoke curtly into the phone while indicating Niharika to be quiet, the expression on her face changing as she listened to whoever was at the other end of the line.

    Yes, she paused, listened, and then said again, Yes, of course.

    Mira put the phone down and looked at Niharika as if seeing her for the first time. When Niharika tried to explain why she was late, Mira stopped her and further surprised her by asking her to sit down.

    Yes, I understand. Situations such as a punctured tyre are totally not in our control, she said in an unusually pleasant voice and carried on to discuss the assignment she was working on. Niharika still hadn’t been given a full project yet but worked on small assignments she was given by Mira. She had been finding it frustrating. But today Mira hinted about assigning her with a new project, once she finished the current assignment.

    Eleven o’clock was official mid-morning tea time. Each floor had its own small pantry with a tea/coffee machine, fridge, and microwave, and the pantry attendant, who also doubled as the office errand boy, came with a tray of tea/coffee cups and distributed it to the staff at their desk.

    As Niharika sat drinking the cup of tea at her desk, Reba, her closest acquaintance in the office, who also occupied the adjoining work station, asked, Niha, you are quiet and thoughtful today. Anything wrong?

    Reba was an attractive girl with a pleasing disposition and Niharika liked her. They had hit it together from the day Niharika had joined and were good friends now. The workstation they shared was at one end of the hall and they could talk without being overheard if they kept their voice low.

    Niharika turned to look at Reba. I was wondering why Mira was so nice to me today. Last time I was late she had blasted me. Today she was very understanding about flat tyres and irregular buses and traffic jams. All she wanted was that I finish the assignment before I go home this evening. Said she has something much more interesting and important for me to start on.

    Reba, who has been working here for the past three years as a drafting assistant, looked at Niharika with astonishment on her face.

    God, you have been here for only a month! And I have never seen her being understanding with anyone coming late before, let alone a new employee, she exclaimed. Probably she has got a hangover this morning and can’t think straight, Reba surmised. You know she is known to be quite a drinker.

    Niharika almost giggled. Reba! If she heard you now you would get fired.

    Hmmm... said Reba.

    You know when I was coming up this morning, said Niharika thoughtfully, there was this very dashing man in the lift with me. Said he works here though I have never seen him around before. But then I don’t know everyone. He was late too.

    Reba looked interested. Really? she said. Was he young? I mean our age. What did he look like?

    No, mused Niharika, Much older. Maybe in his mid-thirties. Tall and lean and dark......Attractive. And he wore glasses.

    Oh...Reba sighed, Then he must be married with a couple of kids.

    As if it matters, said Niharika. Even he was not it would hardly make a difference to me. Anyway, I am sure he has forgotten the incident by now, she mused, Men remember fair and beautiful faces, not someone like me, dark and like a beanpole. But he was nice to talk to.

    Reba shrugged. Well, there is nothing to worry about then, I suppose? Anyway, management doesn’t approve of office romances. 

    Let’s get back to work. If Mira sees us talking ...... said Niharika and turned back to her computer, trying to end the conversation.

    "What do you think of Piyush Rana? He's been trying to draw your attention, hasn't he?'

    Piyush Rana is a pain in the wrong place, grimaced Niharika. He thinks he is Shahrukh Khan when he is just an annoying and overgrown schoolboy. More like Shakti Kapoor of the old days. Reba giggled at the description.

    Piyush Rana worked in the marketing department. He was in his late twenties and reasonably good looking. But he liked women a little too much and have tried to flirt with every girl in the office. Niharika, being the new girl, was now the target of his persistence. But her lack of interest and cool demeanor was like a challenge and made him more determined to pursue her.

    Just one more question, said Reba, Which floor was he heading up to?

    I think it was the fifth, answered Niharika. Do you know everyone who works here?

    No, not all, replied Reba. I know a lot of them by sight, of course. And am trying to figure out who it might be. But in his late thirties and lean?  No.... before she could finish Mira’s voice came from behind

    Reba, she said, have you finished the new layout? Mira never raised her voice or admonished anyone for talking. She just asked for the work she had assigned and if it was still incomplete she would make a sarcastic comment and walk off. It was enough to make the staff wary of slacking.

    It’s all done Ma’am, replied Reba, I only have to take a printout.

    Then I think you should do so promptly and bring it over, Mira replied and walked towards her cabin while Reba got busy. Niharika pushed all thoughts of the stranger in the lift from her head and concentrated on work.

    The small ground floor flat which Niharika shared with her mother was part of a small independent house in a quiet tree-lined area of south Kolkata. It was a three storey building with the upper two floors occupied by the landlord’s family. The landlord, Mr.. Shom was a retired civil servant of the central government. He occupied the first floor with his wife and daughter Trina. His son, who was married lived on the second floor of the house with his family. It was a small house beautifully designed in contemporary style with large windows that made it light and airy. The small patch of open space in the front was lush with tropical plants. Mr. Shom was fond of gardening.

    Niharika's father had worked for a multinational infrastructure company that required him to move from one place to another quite frequently. He had died in an accident at the construction site where he was then posted when Niharika was only six. Her mother, Tanima Dutta, had returned to Kolkata after her husband’s death as a young widow with a small child and a meagre compensation from her father’s company. 

    Tanima’s parents were dead. Her brother, Arun, lived with his wife, Latika, and two children in a small apartment. Latika had made it very clear from the moment of their arrival in Kolkata that she was not welcome to live in her brother’s house. Her parents in law were old and lived in a small town about two hundred and fifty kilometers from Kolkata. She wouldn’t get a job there and she didn’t want to be a burden on them.

    Tanima was twenty-eight years old then, graduate, beautiful but with no professional skills. Getting a job had been difficult.  Wherever she went, prospective employers were more interested in her physical attributes and often made indirect propositions. She had been running from pillar to post for two months and had almost given up hope of getting a respectable job when she met Nikhil Dey.

    It had been raining heavily that afternoon as Tanima waited in the lobby of the building, where she had come for an interview, for the rain to let up. It was getting late and she was anxious to return to her brother’s house, where she had left her daughter in her sister-in-law’s care. She was standing by the window staring at the rain when she felt someone watching her from across the lobby. She looked around to see a man, in his mid-thirties looking at her. He was expensively dressed and had the hint of a smile on his face. As she turned back towards the window to continue her vigil, the man slowly walked up to her.

    Excuse me, are you Taposh Dutta’s wife? he asked.

    Yes, but..., stammered Tanima.

    You won’t remember me. I am Nikhil. Taposh and I went to school together. We didn’t see much of each other after school. But I had come to your wedding reception. That’s why I recognized you. How is Taposh?

    Nikhil hadn’t heard about the death of his friend. He had been out of the country for some time and had just returned. On hearing Tanima’s plight, he had given her a lift home that evening, found out that she was staying with her brother and his family in a small flat, and had asked her to see him at his office the next morning. He got her a job in his own office as an assistant to his PA, more like a trainee. Initially, the salary was low, but with free accommodation as part of the contract. With passing years, Tanima gained experience and when his PA retired she became Nikhil’s Executive assistant. And Nikhil became a part of the family - little Niharika’s beloved Uncle Nikhil. Nikhil had no children of his own and he lavished all his love and affection on the fatherless little girl.

    The present flat in Mr. Shom’s house was also paid for by Nikhil Dey’s firm. With a mother working full time and often travelling, Niharika had been sent to boarding school in Kalimpong at thirteen.  Thereafter, she had completed her degree from Delhi and had just returned home a little over three months ago. She had been working in Delhi for two years but with her mother not keeping well lately, she decided to come home. Despite her natural reserve around men, Niharika was generally open and friendly in the company of her girlfriends. Outwardly she was a vivacious person while being a very private person at the same time. She and Trina soon became good friends.

    Mr. and Mrs. Shom were a nice couple. Trina was fair and attractive with a sunny nature. She was twenty-seven years old, had a good job in an advertising firm, and was enjoying life too much to get married and settle down. Her job required travelling and she enjoyed partying.

    Niharika was the opposite. In a country obsessed with fair skin, she was very conscious of her dark complexion. She found it impossible to believe that she was beautiful and easily attracted the opposite sex. She was also conscious of her height. For a Bengali girl, she was tall at five feet seven. She had long since decided that no man would like her enough to want to marry her. As a result, she was more dedicated to her career. She loved reading and painting in her spare time. She visited galleries and went to art exhibitions. She was knowledgeable about art forms and artists.

    She also loved classical music. Although not a trained singer, she had a good voice and was generally asked to sing when friends gathered together for an informal evening. During her holidays at home, Nikhil had often taken her to attend performances in the city.

    It was the middle of May and the weather has been stiflingly hot for the past week. The power had failed some time ago and the air-conditioner had stopped working. It was still dark when Niharika woke up feeling hot and sticky. She stepped out of bed and walking to the window threw the shutters open.  The sky was overcast, dark clouds hung low, the air was still, and not a leaf stirred. She walked back to the bedside table and looked at her watch. It was already seven. If it came pouring down now the roads will all be waterlogged. There will be long traffic jams. God knows how long it will take to get to work. Rain always threw the city into chaos. Trina was out of town on a business trip for a couple of days and she will have to make her own travel arrangements.

    Niharika hurried to the attached bathroom, quickly showered, and dressed for work. She dressed in khaki coloured drip dry trousers, and an off white cotton shirt. No point risking one of her expensive handmade cotton outfits. She quickly added kohl to her eyes and put on a red and silver earring to add some colour. She slipped on flat-heeled sandals to complete her dressing and went to the kitchen. Her mother was sitting at the small table with a cup of tea. She looked tired.

    Have you got a fever again, Ma?

    No, just a headache. Probably because of the heat, replied Tanima as she started to get up to make Niharika’s breakfast.

    No, you have your tea, said Niharika, I will get my breakfast myself. It was too hot to eat a cooked breakfast. As Niharika sat down at the table with a glass of chilled milk and a plate of papaya, she asked, Your test reports are to come today, aren't they?

    Yes, replied Tanima. She sounded very exhausted.

    You want something for the headache?

    I have just taken two aspirins. I should be ok soon.

    If there's nothing very important at the office you stay at home and rest today. Uncle Nikhil will understand. I will collect your reports at lunchtime. The lab is not very far from my office. She carried her plate and glass to the sink. Mamata, the hired daily would be here in a while to do the cleaning and washing. Niharika was worried about her mother. Tanima has been looking tired for quite some time. But she refused to see a doctor or slow down. Last weekend when she came down with a temperature Niharika forced her to see a doctor, who on finding nothing apparently wrong with her recommended a battery of tests. Her temperature was gone now but it left her very weak.

    She turned to her mother and hugged her. I should leave now. I’ll get late.

    Be careful love, her mother replied as she returned the hug.

    She left the flat a few minutes later after collecting her bag and umbrella from her room. Outside is was even more humid and she was sweating soon. Just as she reached

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