Part 19: Puppeteer

Present day...

Dev could've asked for the celestial gates to open for him, and he would've stood a chance at getting his way. The camerawoman following his every move felt her body glide to follow his, although she couldn't manage half his grace.

Kanimozhi watched the duo, Dev moving to the beat of his heart, holding each pose for a moment so the lady could get a snap, while the photographer buzzed about his, drawn to him. She looked at the painting laid out in front of her to be valued and hung for a price, one of a bee and a sunflower.

A couple of hours later, as Dev slipped his anklets off and walked off to the inner office with a wave, the photographer showed Kanimozhi the pictures she'd taken. Kanimozhi peered at them with disinterest. If the lady had taken her eyes off the photos to look at Kanimozhis, she would've seen a flicker of a potential plan in Kanimozhis eyes.

"You work at the Oceanus Hotel?" Kanimozhi asked with a light yawn.

"I'm not permanently employed. Just taking up a small job for the week. I mostly freelance you see."

"Will you send these photos to them?" came the next question, with round eyes feigning ignorance.

"No, this has nothing to do with them. I'm here to cover a Jewelry exhibition that'll be hosted in a couple of days."

"Do they have performers? At this event that you're talking about, I mean."

"No...," said the lady absently, before lifting her head sharply in realisation. "Do you think they'll let him perform? Will he be interested?" she continued. 

"Why don't you try asking them first?" Kanimozhi suggested, getting up and walking towards the door. She gestured to the camerawoman to follow her out, and she bundled up her stuff to do so. When she left, Kanimozhi reached in to turn off the light. But before doing so, she adjusted a frame hung on the nearby wall so that it aligned well, depicting a fisherman, on a leash, baiting a small fish to use as a trap for a shark. She turned off the light in the room and shut the door behind her. The names of the artwork glowed in the dark room. The one beside the door glowed with a Prussian blue, The Oceanus it read.

Later, elsewhere...

The room was tense as Tushar paced. Mehar sat back in her chair, her face wearing a mask of nonchalance but her calves were taunt in concentration. Aabhan sat with his head between his hands, gazing down at the carpet, as Sarfaraz in turn gazed at his bent neck. 

Mehar's phone rang, a splash of cold water on everything boiling underneath the surface. 

She picked up the phone and took a couple of steps away from the others. It was the photographer she had hired last minute when their usual had taken off. 

Raising the phone to her ears she asked, "Hello?"

"Hey, I have a suggestion for the jewel exhibition."

Mehar almost rolled her eyes. She doubted if the event would even take place. She hummed with all the eagerness she could muster for the time being.

"There's this dancer who performs at this art gallery nearby who caught my eye. He's beyond phenomenal. I've sent you a photo," the voice on the other end prattled off. 

Mehar promised to look into it and cut the call. She checked the image to kill some time. She usually did what her superiors told her but this was the one thing from her past she regretted and she wasn't going to brush this chance off. 

Her eyes nearly leapt out of their sockets when she looked at the image. The waiter who had escaped her clutches now stood posed as the Nataraja in the picture. 

"Samael, you might want to see this," she said.