“Nooohhhhh…!” an anguished cry ripped through the still of the night. He slipped in and out of his delirium, his seeking hand reached out for the insubstantial image straining for focus. The vision locked on his mind, assaulting him begging him beseeching him….she relentlessly lingered.
Once again she searched him out and found him wanting, he could see her – her back to him. A willowy silhouette in the weak fading sun. She stood taller than the average woman. Because of the recent flash rains her long hair slung sleek and slick over her shoulder. The snowy white overcoat burdened her slender frame weighing her down.
Suddenly she rotated one hundred and eighty degrees. The sudden movement parted her unbuttoned coat revealing a multi brown-toned tunic over the most gloriously incredibly long golden brown legs he’d ever seen which were shod in equally brown leather canvass clogs.
He gasped in a sudden rush of desire, for she was the most stunning creature he had ever seen. Angelic loveliness etched in every line and curve. Heart shaped lips parted in surprise, full and kissable; her nose….could only be described as dainty and cute; from behind the moist longest lustrous dark lashes shone a twin pair of traffic stopping cat eyes, and the word “sultry” entered his mind. Presently bewildered and wild. She was the epitome of ultra womanhood, her Indian heritage stamped on her clearly like a brand name.
Then what seemed like two glaring suns approached from her left at top speed, the speed of light growing larger and larger until the realization of a car loomed. And it was upon the woman, “Move Lady! Get the hell out of there! Damn it - now!” he roared above the drone of the engine, but she paid him no mind. She couldn’t hear him. Fear paralysed her like a stray rabbit caught in the headlights she watched the vehicle eat up the miles. Instinctively she jerked up her hands to her face to protect herself as the approaching headlights flashed her person. A scream rent the quite. Then nothing – the remaining hysteria gob smacked features starkly frozen in despair..…The agonizing sound of his name being called echoed in his ears. A cold reality sank in; his bare feet slapped the floor he sat stiff and straight, every muscle tense. He detractedly ran a hand through his dark wavy curls it came away wet. All sensory nerves raw like someone had run sharp nails over the metal surface of the chalkboard. He felt so exposed and brittle. He stepped out onto his penthouse balcony, the cool rush of air a balm to his soul, soothing his riotous emotions. He tried to recall the dream but it eluded him – yet again. Shrugging he crawled back into bed praying for uneventful sleep.
*************************************************************
Her shoulders shook with so much grief that belied a lifetime of pain. Tossing and turning she relived the nightmare. Her sobs rose in volume until a deep throated sound escaped from her lips. It was a sound that could break a heart into a thousand pieces. Deep in her subconscious she registered a pair of hands insistently jerking her away from the dark void she found herself in. Just as suddenly her demons were torn from her.
Her moist eyes fluttered open focusing on a fuzzy image of exasperation and concern.
“What’s the matter mom?” she wanted to know as the fog in her mind began to clear, she looked out the darkened window stating the obvious “it’s the middle of the night. Is everything alright? Daddy…” she trailed off into silence when she saw her mother lift a hand up to still her words.
‘Your father sleeps like an elephant - he’s fine. Not even an earthquake can wake him” she saw her daughter relax her shoulders.
“Then why are we up so early. Or is it late. Am I late for something…I forget.’ She asked her mother.
“No.”Her mother stroked her hair away from her face; the rotund woman grew alarmed, “My god! You are burning up and soaked through,” flustered she rushed to the wardrobe, pulling out a fresh nightie.
“I’m fine – “
“Young lady, get off that bed this instant. Let me help you change”, she patted the chair next to the bed when she had finished helping her daughter change, “Now sit on this chair while I change the bedsheets”
She disappeared towards the bathroom and returned with fresh linen.
She smoothed down the last corner of sheeting under the mattress, and helped her daughter back into bed. Encased back on the cool linen, she spied her mother’s stern features.
“Do we need to take you to the hospital? Maybe we should take you there instead.” She narrowed her eyes at her daughter’s over wrought features.
“Nightmare again?” her mother stated matter of factly. Niha dipped her head averting her gaze from her mother’s sharp eyes.
Her mother muttered something in Hindu, and then proceeded to bastardize the language in rapid assault. Her voice growing an octave higher and shriller all the while. Ocassionally she subjected a subdued Niha to a few tirades during the one-sided monologue. Niha thought it best to keep silent and let her mother get it out of her system, “- and now what do we do, my pet. Do we take you to another pundit?”
“No not another one. Pleeeeeeeeeease Mummy. I couldn’t endure it!”
Her mother turned at the slight intrusion, “Cyril! Call the doctor!” sleepy eyed her father entered the room, “I heard you bellow Shardha?” coming toward the bed, “No dad. Don’t do it - I’m fine” she quickly put in.
“What are these, lalu?” her father came to sit on the edge of the bed, and pointed at the bags under he eyes, “There’s enough space in there to carry your Tiffin
Maybe DrBundu can help you find some peace.”
Maybe DrBundu can help you find some peace.”
“I told you I don’t want to go there. I don’t like taking pills.’
“Your mother and I are not getting any sleep either. See how worried your mother looks, she even forgot to make me my tea last night before I went to bed”
Niha had the good grace to restrain her tongue she looked at her father in exasperation, Fine! I get it! I will go see Dr Bundu in the morning. Satisfied!”
“Not by a long shot, my girl - Drink this” he said handing a glass of water to her that her mother hurriedly brought from the bathroom.”
She accepted it petulantly, “Thanks” downing the contents.
After she drank every drop she handed it back to her father, who abruptly grinned, “Tomorrow is an important day, eh?”
“You remembered,” he nodded, “how could I not after all this time.”
“As usual I reserved a special place right up front” but he only nodded again
The older woman unleashed her scrutiny on her only daughter, “Come away Sardha!” her father called from the doorway.
“But Cyril, Niha – “
“- will be fine” he looked intently at his wife putting an arm around bother shoulders and steering her out the door,
“Maybe I should sleep there tonight – “ she heard her mother say in the corridor of the hall.
“No! She is a grown woman. She knows her own body. We are right here across the hall if she needs us” her father interposed, and no more was heard from her mother. A door closed softly.
Niha sighed and fell back against the pillows. Subsequently, the veiled darkness claimed her, later she was dimly aware of her father’s presence in the room but she slept on. Before she knew it thin slivers of dawn snipped away at the darkened room.
Overwhelmed she gathered the heavy linen curtain in one hand peering out from the corner of the stage. They chanted her name frenetically, “Rebel! Rebel! Rebel!” The loud chorus deafening. Her senses reeled at the adoration and devotion. She wandered if she could do it, a month away from in front of her adoring public made her encounter stage fright.
Who would’ve known that singing in her garage at 17 would set her on a path for stardom. And all because of those wonderful audience out there. It took all of her courage and grit to sway the crowd into submission. Had she truly enriched their lives with her music? With the passage of time it became easier. The shy girl with an inferiority complex had disappeared, and in her place emerged a startlingly self assured young woman.
Reminiscing about the days when she was a slave to an up and coming fashionsta. Because of the way she looked, she made a perfect model, for paltry wages she spent long grueling hours on her feet, her feet and every other part of her were always sore by the time she got home. When she had finished high school she insisted on paying her own way, rather than accepting the support of her parents who were only too happy to oblige their only daughter. Her father had worked long days and weeks at a time driving the long endless solitary roads, away from his beloved family. Niha had made a promise to herself that as soon as she could it would stop; her father would be home for good.
“I will be the epitome of a starving artist, mom. I will appreciate what I am achieving so much more.”
“I understand all that, child but we didn’t work so hard for you to follow in our footsteps. No!” her father insisted.
She looked them straight in their faces, “Enough! You already have given me enough. A good education goes a long way. Now it is your turn to enjoy the fruits of your labor. I will however, accept the use of my room and garage, mom?” she sheepishly looked up through lowered eyebrows.
“Fine! On one condition” her mother said slyly. Niha looked at her in anticipation knowing what was coming and groaned, “You learn how to cook”
She sighed heavily, her mother was dying to impart that knowledge for such a long time now, she would’ve rather avoided it, but “Ok! Alright. I’ll learn how to cook.”
“You heard that Cyril? She will cook” tears of joy filled her mother’s eyes, she tottered away cheerfully.
He father shook his head, “You have made your mother very happy. Know that we are here if you need us. You’ll always be our little girl.”
Niha shook her head. Her father kissed her on the head and left the room. They are now happily retired and living among Brighton Beach
Chevron Placein prime beach front property.
Chevron Placein prime beach front property.
During her teen years a band was formed, NBT (Next Best Thing) They played many songs by Alphaville, ABC, Aha and the likes, and because her mother would shout at her and her english ways, she learned to sing Indian songs too by Latha Mangescar, Ravi Shankar, Bollywood and Bangra music. That was a proud day in any mother’s life. Every time the family attended a wedding her mother would proudly tell everyone who would hear what a gifted daughter she had, and to please let her sing with the band. As a child she was chaffed to sing with the local bands at weddings, she would put on her finest Indian Sharara and wedding finery and join in. When she got older, it got so embarrassing, that she tried to escape her parents to the backs of the halls and lose herself among the younger crowd, until she heard her name over the microphone loud and clear, and cringed. Prouder still was the day they knew she had made it as a singer, a record label wanted to sign her. They came to every concert, and she made sure that she reserved seats for them right at the front.
She still played at weddings on the odd occasions, but when she was old enough she would sling the guitar over her back, her father would drive her down to the local club called “Creations” in D’Urbanville. Back then they lived among a huge Indian community because of the Group Areas Act. Yet knowing no better it was a good upbringing she was always immersed in her culture and the community. Everyone knew everyone else, and it was one big family.
It happened one night while she was singing at Creations that a man introduced himself to her as Elijah Fortune of Fortune Records. And that as they say was history. The name change was necessary to garner sales he said. Her first compromise.
Music was her life…if she had to make a few compromises along the way; it was the price to pay for an up and coming artist. One day…one day she will call her own shots. Music was her addiction…her drug. It was the only thing she lived for. Her parents weren’t to thrilled with her name change of course, they thought she was ashamed of herself, that made her feel deflated. She finally got through to them. One day she would be lfamous as the artist formerly known as Rebel. Her father’s fierce glare told her he didn’t consider it a joking matter. She sighed and entreated them to accept her new name change as temporary.
That first year proved difficult and punishing but oh so worth it. She had won the Entertainer of the Year Award. This honor brought a whole new world at her feet. She began collaborating with icons she only dreamt about meeting and making music with; Colin Furlong, Becky Howler, Lisha Constance, Clover Stanwyk.
The following year she went platinum with her next record the Mysteries of Me. She was riding the wave of success. Willowy and smoky smooth her voice had a timeless quality to it. She was sought after by big recording labels and events organizers inundated her with requests for special appearances. She had made it but at what price? Her peace and privacy was the thing of the past. Niha was accompanied by body guards everywhere she went. She employed a good publicist, who did her best to protect her privacy and from getting chopped to pieces in the rumor mill.
Niha was performing at the benefit for World Hunger. It was a black and white affair. It was the type of benefit where the who’s who wants to be seen so they pay the hefty price of admission, in addition to donating huge amounts to the cause. A semi circular stage was set up in her honor; she stepped up to the platform a bit of thigh flashed in a figure hugging floor length black silk dress. The cut of the dress fit snuggly against her breast, and hugged her body until the start of the slit in the garment at mid-thigh which flared outwards. It was daring and sexy, simple and elegant. Her hair was swept up in a coiffeur, wisps of hair strayed at the sides of her head. Dainty silver ropes bobbed in her ears, throat, and wrists. She lifted the microphone, pulling at the cord for easier access. And began her soulful ballad. It was a new song that she had written for the occasion. Her eyes roved the room of onlookers until it clashed with eyes of fiery embers, his lips curled up in a smirk. That man thinks his so sure that he is god’s gift to women, she thought. In the same instant a feeling of dejavu washed over her, she faltered but rapidly picked up the beat again without anyone being the wiser. When her gaze returned to him again, she noticed he was smartly dressed as all the men present in a black suit and white shirt, his bow tie was undone. She could tell that this was a man who didn’t like restrictions. The cut of his clothes were so fine it indicated that he belonged to this elite circle of people, he was broad shouldered, and powerfully built. He had an air of absolute confidence about him, he relaxed in his chair alert and waiting, a predatory gleam entered his eyes. He disturbed her. Charisma – raw and unchartered it emanated from him in waves of energy lassoing her to the spot.
If he had lived in the 19th century, he would have been labeled a rake. He was too charming to be innocent. He appeared as if he could smooth talk a woman to do just about anything he wanted. And what did he want? He was definitely displaying signs of interest. His body language screamed “I want you.” A lock of hair threatened to fall on his forehead, she wanted to curl her finger around it and …she gripped the microphone tighter fearing she might drop it. He cocked an eyebrow at her as if reading her thoughts. The song ended on a low long note, and the energetic applause followed.
When her gaze went back for him, his seat was vacant. Niha felt momentary lost. When the night had come to an end, the image that stayed with her was one of brilliant amber eyes. Eyes that could only belong to a cat, evocative and suggestive.
As she stepped into her limousine, she was handed a beautiful bouquet of long stemmed yellow roses. She poked around for a card, there was none, she brought out a bank note to tip the messenger, but he had mysteriously disappeared. Luke Vadan, one of her two bodyguards was up front with the driver, he looked into the overhead mirror,
“Somebody must love you allot” he laughed as he rolled the darkened windows up to give her some privacy.
She now also had an agent to manage her affairs. Lony Monroe indicated that there have been several requests for her to make music with an eastern theme. Thus a new avenue opened up for her she began to collaborate with Indian artists from Bollywood; Alisha Chalwa, Menza Pundit, Lalitha Chowdry, Mouri Bosle. They were Bangra Queens in India
Niha was to make a special appearance for lunch at the Royal Plaza the following evening, for WAB (Woman Against Abuse), She got up to the small podium, she searched the expected crowd then quite suddenly felt overwhelmed, the blood began rushing to her head and she collapsed like a puppet whose strings was cut.
Fortunately, a bodyguard cut through the throng of bodies pressing in on her, stifling her swinging her up in his arms, he made for the limousine that stood right on the curb. She was rushed to a private clinic in Akazia.
Coming Soon.....
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