Belonging to a Superseed

By Lubiana Galely

Born and bred in the lap of luxury, selecting a suitable life
partner and career pathing that would eventually lead to
taking over the reins of the businesses would be the biggest
and most difficult decisions in Taras life thats what she
thought!
Little did she know that with her earth-shattering loss, life
would turn into a roller coaster unimaginable even in her
wildest dreams.
Thoughts of her personal life turning into a mess will begin to
pale with the comparison of not even knowing who she really
is. This is the stuff of sci-fi movies! inevitably crossing her
mind more than once.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 12, 2012
• ISBN: 9781479743698

Book preview

Prologue

Tara looked around at the array of purses displayed in the high-end department store. She was barely in control of her emotions, and shopping was the last thing that she felt like indulging in. Her purse had been stolen, serving to add further to her distress. She had to get new bank cards, driving licence, health card and other documents issued, before departing Toronto.

As she walked around to select from the variety, a woman in her late forties held out a purse in front of her. Isn’t this beautiful? Perfect for travelling. Look at all of these convenient sections. Impeccably dressed in an azure classic-cut skirt suit and matching accessories, she carried a similar one.

Tara took it to have a closer look. Thanks. I was looking for a black purse, and this looks good. She got distracted by the noise, caused by the cashier dropping the boxes behind. When she turned around, the woman was nowhere in sight.

Shall I still look around or just buy this one?

She decided to keep it, and walked up to the cashier clearing up the mess created. Nice purse.

Yes. I want to buy this, with a slight forced smile.

Oh? Never seen this model here before. Actually, I was about to ask where you got this from.

Her head started to throb, as this was confusing. What am I supposed to do? I can’t just leave it here. The cashier has seen me with this purse.

She held up her hand to wave good-bye, and the cashier returned a concerned glance.

Tara stepped out into the warm sunshine, head bursting with a lot of thoughts and worries. Shall I dump this in the garbage or use it? Just then, she caught sight of the same woman, smiling at her before driving away.

Somehow, the smile comforted Tara, making her miss her mother. Common sense urged to err on caution and throw the purse away, yet the pleasant smile made her believe that there was no danger. Sitting down in the driver seat and placing the purse beside her, she eyed it for a few minutes.

She barely remembered driving home or parking. Her mind was totally wrapped around the incident. Back at her spacious two-bedroom condo overlooking Lake Ontario, the purse was placed on the coffee table in front of her. After staring at it again for a few minutes, she picked it up to inspect.

How could she possibly know that I was shopping for a trip? Could it just be a coincidence?

Nothing seemed like a coincidence. The woman had carried a similar purse, and disappeared once she handed this one to Tara. Moreover, it was not from the department store. Trying to make sense of what had just transpired, why did she wait in the parking lot? Was she checking to see whether I kept it?

Could she be a friend of my mother’s, looking out for me? She pictured the short straight auburn hair in varied styles and hairdos. What would she look like without the make-up, which had made her light olive-toned skin look so smooth and flawless. Yet, nothing seemed even vaguely familiar about this woman.

Tara was in shock anyway with the terrible news of the accident, and did not seem to care or even think about any potential dangers possibly lurking for her.

She picked up the purse, to study in greater detail. One by one, she opened up each zipper, to find varying pocket sizes and a couple of secret small ones too. Fascinating! I can’t believe how well-designed this is.

It was when she opened up the last section that she found a small envelope marked ‘Tara’.

Muscles tensing, this is no coincidence!

Deep pain emanated from her chest. What does this mean? What’s going on? She missed her parents so sorely. Her first reaction would have been to call either her father or mother from the store itself to seek guidance.

The small pink envelope had an intricate cyan blue design on the top right corner, which she had never seen before. None of their family businesses had carried this logo or symbol, as far as she knew.

Turning it around to see what she felt on the other side, strangely a small light flashed on a red seal. How does this thing work?

Carefully going around the edges with her fingers, she realized that this could not be torn open. What is this stuff? The envelope was definitely not paper and could not describe it as plastic either. It had a soft feel to it, but was not exactly purely cloth.

Feeling it again and attempting to open it, her index finger touched upon the flashing light and the envelope ‘unsealed’ itself. The light stopped flashing too!

She cautiously opened the flap to reveal a pink note, made of similar ‘fabric’ as the envelope.

She read the note slowly, trying to take in every word:

"Keep this purse with you at all times.

You may utilize all of the pockets, except the one at the bottom.

Only when your life is at risk, should you open the bottom compartment.

Bottom Compartment (important: cannot be resealed)

When in danger, ensure that only those whom you want to protect are touching you at this time.

Rip the bottom compartment, and grab the ‘DISK’.

The Disk should be slammed with your hand onto the floor in front of your feet.

Remember: only those whom you want to protect with yourself should be touching you when you slam this disk on the floor.

Then wait, and we will be there shortly."

What in the world? She read the note a few more times. Each word had sunk in, and now knew it by heart. Is my life in danger? From whom or what?

She recollected the woman’s smile and the warm feeling at that time. She was glad that she had kept the purse — I think!

A quick scan of the bottom did not show any obvious signs of hiding a compartment. Feeling it around very slowly, she touched upon an area that felt a little different. That must be where I pull the bottom compartment open. But, what danger is this note referencing?

Taking a deep breath, I have to wait after slamming the disk. Wait for whom? Nothing seemed to make sense. How can a disk protect me?

Her head was throbbing with pain again. Although in no mood to eat, she got up and headed into the kitchen. Since she could not pop the headache pills on an empty stomach, she scanned the fridge for a quick snack. A sandwich of Havarti cheese between slices of pumpernickel bread, was quickly consumed with large gulps of grape juice.

She retired to bed soon after.

From her room, the purse was visible and the words on the note kept circulating in her head, eventually lulling her to sleep.

1

One Year Earlier

‘Tara Avasia’ was penned on the tag attached to her new designer handbag.

She looked into the mirror and reached for her hairbrush to get the stray strands in place. Shoulder length dark brown hair curled to frame her delicate face, looking younger than her twenty three years of age. Tara had inherited her mother’s sparkling eyes and dimples on her cheeks. However, one could clearly see the blend with her father’s chiseled facial features.

Her big chestnut brown eyes noticed a white thread on her grey pants, which was picked up with her long fingers. After peering out at the lake, tantalizing a swim on this sunny June day in Toronto, the curtains were drawn. The travel make-up kit was the last item to be packed. She stuffed it into her purse, which looked relatively large on her slender five foot seven inch frame.

Hurry up, Tara.

I’m ready! She stepped out of her bedroom into the hall, and smiled.

Her parents were waiting near the entrance door. The airport taxi has arrived.

Sarah, her mother, had retained her petite figure even at the age of fifty. She was only a few months younger to her husband Ardeen, who stood tall in comparison at five feet ten. He prided himself on his muscular frame, maintained through regular workouts in their condo’s gym.

Tara shared her father’s avid love for the outdoors, evident with their reddish tan on their otherwise olive-toned skin. Sarah was very refined, a homebody during leisure hours, occasionally chiding her daughter for the excessive outdoor activities which often burned her delicate skin.

They had been busy preparing for their trip to Mumbai, but Tara did not look forward to the long flight. She always had trouble sleeping on the plane, and was glad when they finally touched down at Mumbai airport. Fortunately, the disembarkment was fairly quick as they were seated in the front row of the business class cabin.

She had not seen her cousin for two years, and would not dream of missing her wedding. Naomi, like Tara, was the only child of successful and affluent business parents.

Although Tara resided in Canada, with her parents’ businesses established in India and Canada, she had always been very close to Naomi. In the last few years, having been busy with post-graduate studies, they had not been able to keep in touch as frequently as she would have liked.

Naomi was just a year older and one could see the family resemblance. She shared Sarah’s petite figure at five feet four inches and straight long hair, whereas Tara’s height and curly hair were similar to her aunt Mona’s. Many would mistake Tara to be Mona’s daughter, and Naomi to be Sarah’s. When Tara and Sarah smiled, their dimples and sparkling eyes would then serve to cause a lot of comic confusion since childhood, when the four of them were together.

At the arrivals lounge, her parents excitedly started looking out for familiar faces. I see Mona! She heard her mother chuckle, on spotting her sister rushing towards them. Their custom required the bride’s parents to personally come over to welcome all close relatives arriving for the wedding, similarly for the groom’s family. As they walked to their van, one could hear the joy in their voices.

Why don’t you all stay at our house? It has been such a long time and we’ll enjoy even more. Mona was trying to convince her parents once again.

Your house is already full. Don’t worry about us. We are going to be fine at the hotel.

It would be a pleasure and I’m sure that Tara would like to be closer to Naomi.

I also know you’ll want to spend as much time as possible with your daughter, before the wedding. Sarah then spotted the slight disappointment on her daughter’s face.

Halting behind the cars, waiting to drive up to the hotel’s entrance, Tara admired the architecture of the Tresaria Hotel once again. This landmark, located in the heart of the city, was renowned for its luxurious Indian décor and exquisite cuisine. It was always lovely staying here, and because the surroundings were familiar, it felt like home when in Mumbai. The hustle-bustle of the city was exciting, and lived up to the captivating image of the ‘city that never sleeps’. No matter what time of the day or night it was, the heart of the city buzzed with vehicles and people enroute to work, socializing or revelling.

After the quick brief up on the events over the next few days, they headed towards the hotel lobby.

Good morning, Mr Avasia, the receptionist recognized Ardeen. We have your connecting rooms ready for you.

Ardeen’s room preference was usually accommodated, for the hotel staff knew him well due to his frequent visits to Mumbai. After his post-graduate studies in Canada, he had decided to stay back and start up his own property business. Later working with his father, their beauty products business expanded into other areas, such as fashion clothing and perfumes. The family business subsequently inherited by Ardeen required him to visit Mumbai at least quarterly, in order to ensure that everything was running smoothly. The immensely popular Avasia products and fashions, successfully dominated the markets in India. Their property business, vastly different, was modest in comparison.

It was during one of the property negotiations meeting that he had met Sarah. Struck immediately by her sparkling eyes and shiny long tresses, he especially loved her smile, as the dimples made her look even more beautiful.

Once they were married, Ardeen had handed over the property business reins to Sarah. He knew how capable she already was in this field and the potential for growth. This way, he was able to focus on his family business in India.

Tara, since her childhood years, received informal business training. During her summer holidays, she would opt to work either with her father or mother. Her interest had always been in pursuing formal education in Business Management.

Having completed her MBA recently, she now had to figure out how she wanted to chart her career. The choice was to start with her father or mother full-time, or divide her attention between the businesses. This decision was hers to make, as her parents did not wish to impose their preferences on her.

Tara felt privileged to always have been taught, from a young age, to make her own decisions. Her parents stood by her to provide advice and guidance, and did not believe in any form of coercion when it came to her life or career choices. Although secretly, she hoped that they would work out this initial decision and make it easy for her.

She had now begun to weigh other pros and cons, as it was enjoyable working in all of their businesses. Their alluring establishment in Mumbai was especially enticing with the high-profile fashion shows. If she restricted herself to focus initially only on the Canadian business, the benefit would be more available time to spend with friends in Toronto, since this did not require long hours nor was it hectic. Getting involved with all businesses together was daunting at this stage. However, her parents had pointed out that she would eventually end up running all, and voiced their hope that none of the businesses would be sold off in her lifetime.

Tara opened the window to an early morning gust with a moist earth smell, typical after the Monsoon showers. The short bursts of rain had made the air cooler and the sea foamed up at the edges, hitting with fury against the sides of the wall. The usual busy tourist area, opposite their hotel, was quiet with the rain having sent everyone running for cover.

The luggage was unlocked and white plastic bags, containing the various personal items and cosmetics, were placed in the drawers. I’ll sort these out later, she muttered to herself.

The outfits for the wedding required more careful handling. Fortunately, each was individually wrapped in a transparent protective cover, and just had to be hung in the wardrobe. She felt giddy with excitement when she looked at each of her pretty outfits. I can’t wait to wear these.

She was so glad that her mother had carried and arranged for the jewellery and other valuables to be stored securely. It had been fun planning out the accessories to match each of these traditional outfits.

Sarah had already made all of her reservations prior with the hotel salon, for the hair and make-up. Tara preferred to set her own hair. She was finicky about this and felt that too much styling made her look artificially dolled up. The