The Love Asana

7th May: How can he be busy all day? It doesn’t take two minutes to send a message.

15th May: Called Deepak six times today. Still doesn’t pick up.

25th May: He doesn’t answer the phone. I don’t even have any other number to contact him on.

28th May: I’m pregnant. And does the father even care!! He doesn’t even know. I want to punch the wall hard. I want to curl up in a corner and sleep for some days.

The page was blotchy with Sonia’s tears.

3rd June: When will it stop? This sadness. Feels so hopeless. Vivan must be worried. I know he could tell I wasn’t myself.

Vivan wished she’d given him some hint of what was torturing her; said something. Maybe it would’ve all turned out differently.

Instead, the last time he had spoken to Sonia, he’d even asked why she sounded a little down and she had just said the same thing she did every time. ‘Don’t worry about me, Vivan. I’m fine, sachi, believe me!’

Fine? Deliberately stepping in front of a car without telling him a thing about what was going on in her life was not fine!

The last entry in her diary was written hours before she died. Those final words that said:

5th June: Forgive me, Vivan.

Why wasn’t I there to protect you? Vivan had asked himself this again and again, every time he read that name. Deepak Dewan.

It had smouldered inside him, pushed him to work relentlessly. Knowing that the burning desire to find and thrash the living daylights out of the man would still let him off too lightly. Vivan needed to destroy Deepak Dewan; his entire life. For that, Vivan needed to have power and patience. He needed to become not just successful, but unimaginably successful. Vivan grew from award-winning fabric designer to entrepreneur, from millionaire to billionaire. Creating the best products and then closing the deals, smart to strike when the moment was right. Vivan had taught himself to be ruthless so that when the time came he could track down Deepak Dewan and make sure the retribution he exacted was total and unforgiving.

That was the only reason he was here, Vivan reminded himself as he backed the sleek car the hotel manager had thought fit to arrange, into a narrow parking slot next to a rather dilapidated hatchback that looked as if it hadn’t seen a service in many years. Vivan walked briskly past the relocated Nirula’s back lane, where the still-familiar smell of melting mozzarella cheese on freshly baked pizzas from the kitchen exhausts hit him with a punch.

He didn’t allow himself the luxury of dwelling on the bittersweet memories every little alley in this now very happening shopping district of New Delhi had for him. The flyer had listed the last yoga class for the day at eight p.m. and it was already a little past that.

Steeling himself, Vivan climbed the narrow staircase past a tattoo parlour to a mezzanine level where a gum-chewing teenaged receptionist put a call on hold to tell him, ‘The batch is full and class has already started.’ A charming smile, a few persuasive words and Vivan’s platinum card had been swiped. His rich brown hand-stitched leather shoes joined the motley bunch of worn sneakers and shiny chappals right next to the dimly lit reception desk. A brand-new rolled-up yoga mat lodged securely under his arm, Vivan opened the door, blinking at the sudden change in lights to get a bearing.

Through a gap between a woman with purple hair extensions and a young ‘hate to be parted from my mobile phone’ corporate executive, Vivan saw her. She was more petite than he would have guessed from the flyer. Barely five feet something, she had her face turned to the side as she instructed a student. Her dark mahogany hair shone richly under the spotlights—the silky natural waves refusing to be tamed by the big scrunchy band trying to hold them together off her neck. The body was slender, yet the curves were full in just the right places. Her bright fuchsia yoga pants began low, sensuously draping her pert bottom and hugging her slim, well-proportioned legs. Her pure white scooped-neck tee shirt ended just a little short of her yoga pants. Suddenly Vivan had a ridiculous urge to run his palm on the smooth little strip of flesh that was revealed on her belly as she lifted her arms to continue demonstrating a posture to her students.

She’s probably just made this part of her innocent seductive act to get ahead, Vivan reminded himself grimly. But Vivan Parasher was no stranger to women. That Pari was hot, there was no doubt about.

Vivan murmured his apologies to the students around him as his late entrance seemed to have created a disruption. The ripples of it reached Pari as she turned to see the cause of the buzz towards the back of the room.

Time and again Pari had specifically instructed the receptionist that new students should be asked to join only when a new batch began and by no means when a class had already started. Obviously the man had charmed his way in just as he was doing now, flashing his deep dimples, barely nodding his head to acknowledge the students around him. Pari had always been partial to men with long lashes and dimples and the two together in this chiselled tanned face and strong body were a killer. Good thing, she reminded herself, that her experience with Kunal had made her immune to all things male.

He exuded a casual, self-assured confidence as he walked straight up to a space smack in the centre of the second row and unrolled his yoga mat. Pari couldn’t help but notice how Sheila, the student to his left, was practically drooling as she stared at him. The way his ink-black hair flopped about was admittedly mesmerising but not something to gape at. As the man removed an understated expensive-looking linen shirt to stand nonchalantly in a sleeveless black ganjee over very cool low-waisted khakhi linen drawstring pants, he looked Pari in the eye and mouthed a silent apology for his late entry.

Well, at least he had the courtesy to do that.

In a clipped voice, Pari instructed him, ‘We’ve already started, so for now I suggest you just try to follow as best you can.’ The next few minutes Pari put the class through a series of stretches and flexes that she believed were essential to getting the students loosened up. To her surprise the man continued to stand on his yoga mat, legs slightly apart, making no effort to even try to repeat the movements. His hands were on his hips as he stood looking at her, drawing her attention inadvertently to the dip of the drawstring pants, hinting at dangerous darker areas just below.

‘Is there a problem?’ she asked softly as his eyes held hers captive, turning her insides to jelly.

Vivan had always considered himself pretty good at assessing people and situations. He had imagined that getting a firsthand impression of this yoga trainer would give him a head start in learning more about the person Deepak was so keen to push.

But from the time he had entered Pari’s class, he had not been able to take his eyes off her. She was unlike any woman he had met. There was this softness to her; a look of genuine interest in her warm, honey-brown eyes that made every student in the room want to connect with her. He could sense it from the way she had their rapt attention, the way their eyes followed every movement of her body. Her olive skin was amazingly clear and glowing; her upturned button of a nose had a tiny pierced gold ring poised just above full sensuous lips that laughed easily. He imagined teasing those generous lips into surrender; the velvety taste of her skin merging with the hard metallic texture of that ring on her perky nose.

Vivan realised he had been so taken by this petite vibrant woman that he hadn’t done a thing since he’d stood on the mat. Now, as he heard her ask him if there was a problem he decided he’d better wing it. It might also be a good way to interact with her more in this class of twenty-odd people. Vivan turned his body just slightly, pointing to his lower back. ‘I seem to have developed a slight catch. I was wondering if yoga might help,’ he said.

His voice had a beautiful deep timbre to it and just the low caressing sound of it sent a delicious shiver down Pari’s arms and neck. She shook off the feeling and focused on the problem at hand.

‘Is this the first time you’re trying yoga?’ The man obviously had a genuine issue with his back and here she had been less than helpful getting him started. It was the late entrance that had thrown her off kilter. Usually she made sure she knew if her new students had any specific concerns that needed attention. Pari couldn’t bear the idea of a student in any kind of pain.

‘Why don’t you come on up here?’ She managed a tight smile. ‘That way I can keep a closer eye on you and make sure you don’t do anything you shouldn’t.’

The twinkle in the man’s eye gave Pari a sense that there was a retort that he would have liked to have made but hadn’t.

He carried his mat with him and laid it out way too close to hers at the front of the class. Her eyes registered the black ganjee that left his arms gloriously exposed.

‘You may well be right. Maybe that’s how I got the catch in the first place. This woman I met on the flight—’ he continued.

‘I don’t need unnecessary details,’ Pari interrupted primly, disconcerted by his audacity.

‘—asked me to help her lift a heavy piece of her luggage onto her cart … I probably jacked it then,’ he finished smoothly.

‘Oh!’

Pari felt immediately contrite.

‘Could you show me where it hurts?’ she asked softly.

‘Somewhere in this area.’ Vivan twisted his body a little to show her but Pari thought she saw him wince a bit as he did so. Later she wondered if she had imagined it.

‘No, no, don’t stretch till I know exactly how bad it is. Roughly about here?’ she asked, waving her palm over the middle of his back.

‘A little lower actually.’ Before she knew it, the man had touched her hand lightly to press it onto the spot on his back just above the waistband of his linen pants. What she felt was pure taut muscle. He was obviously in very good shape.

Pari hurriedly pulled back her hand. The brief contact with his body had been like touching an exposed wire. She wondered if she looked as flushed as she felt. As a trainer it wasn’t as if she had never had any contact with a male student—to help someone correct their posture, for example—but never had anyone had this kind of ridiculous effect on her.

Turning to the rest of her students, Pari instructed, ‘You all know the warm-up routine. Finish up with the neck exercises and stretches while I help, er …’

‘Vivan,’ he prompted in his low sexy voice.

‘While I help Vivan with some basics,’ Pari completed hurriedly.

The class was soon engrossed in completing the neck and arm rotations she’d asked them to do.

‘Maybe I can start you on something like Ardh Kati Chakrasana …’ Pari said thoughtfully, more to herself.

‘Sorry?’

‘It’s a kind of side bend. Given that you’re a learner and you’ve got this catch too, I don’t want you doing any forward bends for now.’ She showed him the asana in a few simple movements and indicated that he do it along with her. Her head barely came up to his chest as he mirrored her movements.

‘Does this seem fine to you?’ Vivan asked, his eyes not leaving hers as he extended himself to the side with the ease of a large graceful cat.

Pari licked her lower lip nervously. She ran her eyes over the studio again, sensing the spell he seemed to have cast over everyone. Many of her students were again watching him riveted. Granted, he was a fine specimen, but it was obvious from the casual way he dipped his long torso, blithely unaware of the silky fall of his hair, that he was used to being the centre of attention. There was nothing out of line in anything he had said to her but just his presence was unnerving. She could swear she sensed the hint of an amused twitch to his lips. She moved on to Parighasana, the gate pose, which she knew was another great asana to strengthen the back. He seemed to do that too with amazing ease, completing the movements and coming back to the starting position, kneeling on the yoga mat with his hands on the top of his firm thighs.

‘So would you say, then, as a learner I’m not doing too badly?’

‘Let’s not jump the gun. We haven’t got to the tougher asanas yet.’

‘And these were?’ he asked, his voice equally low. As long as the conversation was about yoga, she supposed she couldn’t really ignore his questions.

‘Relatively simpler. More to test what your body can take,’ Pari snapped. She didn’t know why, but everything he said threw her off balance. It was as if she just couldn’t focus. She was barely aware of what he was asking and what she was jabbering in response. Her senses were screaming high alert and there was no real reason for her to feel that way. He seemed to know where her thoughts were going. At the moment they were running wild wondering how it would feel to run her fingers down his toned tanned cheek and feel the depression that those dimples made.

‘Ideally you should have warmed up properly before even starting any asana. But now I must get back to every one. Maybe you should wait the next one out. It can be a bit tricky.

‘All of you,’ Pari directed the rest of the class. ‘You know the vrikshasana. It’s the tree posture, remember?’

The class hmmed in unison. ‘Hold the position as long as you comfortably can, OK? I don’t want anyone to keep repeating it either. Just do it once, hold it and then relax. Then balance it out by repeating it with the other leg. Clear?’ Pari swung into automatic teaching mode, walking around the studio, checking that each one was able to follow, and even the slowest learners had stretched themselves beyond their normal comfort zones. Yet all the while she was unbearably aware of Vivan as he stood leaning a little against the wall at the back of the room, his gaze wandering appreciatively over her body.

Turning to Vivan again a short while later, Pari said briefly, ‘What you could also try to do is an adhu mokha svanasana.’ Indicating he first watch while she demonstrated, Pari gracefully went down on all fours on her yoga mat.

She raised herself off the mat until she was supported by her hands and legs equally off the ground. ‘Svan, if you remember your Sanskrit from school, means a dog.’ Pari smiled just a little; if his Sanskrit was anything like hers it was unlikely. ‘And adhu mokha means facing down.’ She turned to see if Vivan was following the sequence. This was what was so good about teaching yoga. The way you could help people so constructively.

‘This posture will really help you strengthen your back. And it actually also helps calm the heart rate and BP and brings down breathlessness.’

‘Hmm …’ Vivan said thoughtfully, looking at his animated and petite teacher with the sliver of silky skin showing on her back where the tee shirt had risen a little.

‘Hmm … as in yes, you get it and are ready to try it now?’

‘Actually, hmm as in I have a question.’

Pari raised an eyebrow.

‘This adhumokha … or downward dog asana, if I may,’ he began.

‘Go on …’

‘Isn’t it a lot more likely to increase breathlessness than lower it?’ His lips curved the slightest bit and this time Pari knew she hadn’t imagined it.

She turned her back to him so he couldn’t see her suppressed smile as she said, ‘You know what? Why don’t you try it at home and let me know?’

He’d baited her twice too many. ‘But since you are such an enthusiastic learner, let me see how well you’ve absorbed what I’ve been teaching so far,’ Pari said. She was so going to enjoy this. From the way he had done the other asanas without any discomfort with the catch on his back, Pari was confident she could put him to the test. His supreme self-confidence needed to come down a notch or two.

‘Vrikshasana. The tree position. You saw them do it just now.’ Pari held back a smile. ‘Show me.’ This was going to be fun. Pari knew many thought of it as an easy one, but it was only when you actually tried to keep your balance standing with one foot resting on the inner thigh of the other leg that you realized the graceful posture was deceptively tricky to achieve.

Vivan slowly drew his left foot along the length of his right leg to bring the entire sole of the foot firmly to rest on his thigh. Pari stared as, very slowly again, he confidently extended his arms outwards to bring them together over the top of his head. Balanced rock solid on his right leg, his palms together in a ‘namaste’ clasp over his head, he tilted his head up, his hair flopping back as he held the position without swaying even the slightest. A hush had fallen over the class.

All she could focus on were his feet. Pari stole another look, spellbound. Standing next to him, literally a foot shorter, she kept her gaze lowered. Pari had always had a thing about attractive feet. His were clean, almost immaculate with just a hint of fine hair at the toes. As he raised himself to do the stretch her eyes started to move up, her thoughts irascibly racing ahead to his hands and wondering if they were as long and artistic as his feet. Her gaze locked briefly with his eyes, which didn’t seem to have moved away from hers even for an instant. Blushing a deep pink, Pari felt he’d read her thoughts. She could have smacked herself there and then. Pari simply did not do fantasy. Never, never, never. Not since Kunal and the whole bitter experience when she had sworn never to be taken in by any man again. And certainly not an arrogant, very male student who had done nothing but confound her with his overpowering presence from the time he’d walked into her class.

Pari mumbled quickly, ‘Excellent, excellent. You can release the posture now, please.’ With utmost grace, Vivan relaxed his arms to bring them down gently as he lowered his left foot to stand at ease on the mat.

Pari shook herself out of it, mortified again at the effect this very assured man was having over her. Maybe it was nothing but her body reacting in the most primal way to his suave sexy appeal, but this going off into flights of fantasy was getting a bit too much. This was her class, her turf. She needed to take charge of herself and focus on yoga and nothing else.

‘All right everybody, let’s finish with some analom vilom.’ Pari stepped back till she was almost touching the long wall of mirrors on the left of the studio. ‘Just remember—inhale exhale is a one to two ratio, so if you’re breathing in to a count of four, breathe out to eight.’ As she took a few quiet steps around the room again to see that everyone had their fingers poised correctly over their nostrils and eyes closed, she was startled to see Vivan’s eyes wide open. He was sitting on the mat, watching her with a relaxed amused expression. ‘You may want to explain how this works,’ he asked softly, expecting once again to have Pari’s undivided attention to himself.

‘Shh,’ Pari whispered. Leaning down to speak a little closer to his ear so she didn’t disturb the other students, she said, ‘Look, come a little earlier next class and I’ll try to help you catch up. But I can’t disturb the others right now.’ Pari didn’t quite like the slightly on-edge note her voice had to it. It must be the proximity of being so close to his ear that was so distracting. Calm … You’ve got to stay calm. That’s it … Pari. Keep breathing slowly and you’ll be fine.

Vivan was a little surprised at her seemingly cool attitude towards him. He just wasn’t used to it. He couldn’t remember the last time any girl had brushed him off like that. He had to hand it to her, though. She was professional to the core. He appreciated the fact that she wasn’t holding up the entire class just for his benefit and that her small delectable frame wasn’t easily shaken from its purpose either. Well, neither was he and he was here for one reason only.

An hour later she had wrapped up the class, putting her things together while watching the students in the mirror as they neatly rolled up their yoga mats. Casually throwing his linen shirt over his shoulder, Vivan stood up with slow deliberation to ask, ‘So which would you say is your favourite asana of all these?’

‘That would have to be the surya namaskar,’ she said crisply, albeit with a little gentleness. This was after all a legit subject and one that she could happily talk about any time.

‘Why is that?’ Vivan asked innocuously.

‘Well, it’s complete in itself. It combines so many brilliant muscle movements. It’s almost spiritual … It’s the best way to start your day,’ Pari ended breathlessly.

‘I can think of something better,’ Vivan said, his voice gruff, barely a murmur meant only for Pari to hear. Which she did, but chose not to acknowledge.

She reached unsuccessfully once more to pull down her kit bag from a high shelf. Vivan moved forward. ‘Allow me,’ he said as his arm brushed against hers, reaching the shelf effortlessly. He stood so close she could breathe in the musky all-male fragrance of him mingled with a fresh kind of aqua aftershave … becoming all too conscious of the fine hair on his arm as he lowered the bag gently to hand it to her. His head was agonisingly close to the curve of her neck. Suddenly, her heart began knocking against her chest and all she could think of was how it would feel to have him kiss her. Would he take his time to explore the texture of her lips with excruciating pleasure before slowly igniting the inside of her mouth, or capture it aggressively with his self-assured sexuality, his long legs pressed against the entire length of hers as he pushed her against the mirrored wall … With a jolt Pari saw their reflection in the studio’s mirrored wall. Her lips had parted of their own volition as she realised his finger was trailing the line of her cheek, his head leaning in even closer … to casually tuck a few loose strands of hair behind her ear.

Pari flushed a deep red, embarrassed at her own thoughts. She wondered if Vivan had guessed at them as she turned her back to him, busying herself with rolling up some mats. Then she heard him laugh lightly as he murmured for her benefit only, ‘Act natural. You don’t want everyone to see what I can read in your beautiful face.’

Damn!

It was a good thing he left before she’d turned around.

CHAPTER TWO

VIVAN walked thoughtfully down the narrow studio steps, taking his old familiar route past the pavement vendors towards his car, still trying to make sense of the strong impact Pari had on him. Vivan had felt a physical ache within him as he’d stood close to her. The urge to taste her satiny skin had been overwhelming. He only knew that those slightly parted lips that had been a whisper away from him held the promise of sating the desire consuming him. He had wanted to have her there and then. In the studio. On the yoga mat if need be. The urge was so strong, his hand had moved by some magnetic pull to her face and begun to trail the delicate line of her jaw. It had been all he could do to rein in his fire and hope that she hadn’t guessed.

In the ten years since he’d become unimaginably rich and famous, Vivan had been with more women than he could remember. In the beginning it had been a way of forgetting the guilt at leaving Sonia while he went away to the US to study. He’d felt rootless in those early years abroad, with no one to call his own … searching, in every woman he hooked up with, for that one woman who could give him the sense of family and security that he secretly craved. But again and again Vivan found he had imagined an ideal partner out of a merely ambitious woman looking to get rich quick. It became easier to find release in relationship-less sex, and sex was all it ever was. Energising, yet cold sex where the women were only after one thing. Money and the hope of becoming the future Mrs Parasher. Heir to the Parasher fortune. Mistress of homes in New York, Hong Kong, San Francisco, London, Dubai and now even New Delhi.