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It is the glory of God to conceal a matter, but the glory of Kings to search the matter out.
That's the first thing that Ashtha Agarwal noticed when she stepped out of her silver coloured Mercedes Benz on a sultry mid- May afternoon in downtown Bengaluru.
Not just her, none, not one person who ever even swept past the main arterial road that arched like a serpent's tale would fail to notice the massive all red with black border rectangular sign board.
As the 44 year old ex- owner of an IPL cricket franchise walked on the perfectly shaped mosaic pathway towards the monstrous 11 story all glass structire styled in Gothic era architectural style, a flurry of flash bulbs erupted.
Momentarily stumped, Ashtha quickly recovered and almost sprinted towards the main entrance.
She was beckoned inside by a bearded wizened old man, a security guard judging by his simple yet conspicuous all blue uniform (the full sleeved shirt smartly tucked inside bore the insignia We Secure You emblozed on his right shoulder blade!).
Grateful for the escape, Ashtha bowed her head in mock thankfulness, and was soon led to the corner lift where another personnel, this time a younger lady, ushered her inside.
Within seconds, Astha found herself inside an unnamed corner room bedecked with umpteen books, all neatly arranged in five massive rows inside no less that half a dozen bookshelves that occupied prime space.
Two comfy jute chairs and an all black recliner completed the air of elegant simplicity all around.
The usher bowed and turned around, and then disappeared through a side exit that wouldn't be apparent to anyone but the most practiced eye.
"Did you have to wait long?"
Startled, Astha turned around and then her eyes met the most dazzlingly alluring man she had ever laid her eyes upon.
"Make the force of God with you, young lady."
Utterly tongue tied, the otherwise super sanguine woman found herself staring straight into the jet black deep sat eyes of 65 year old Nitya Swami.
As Astha stood there ala a statue, tongue tied like never before, the man-full flowing salt and pepper beard, and clad in just a shawl, a pearly white robe that ran from one long shoulder to the other, half revealing half concealing a bare chested torso-, smiled, gently, painstakingly slowly.
It was the most beatific, angelic, pure and sublime curve she had ever seen line a human's face, man or woman.
As she fumbled, tumbled and stumbled for an appropriate response, the man continued, "Sit down my beautiful woman."
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It is the glory of God to conceal a matter, but the glory of Kings to search the matter out.
That's the first thing that Ashtha Agarwal noticed when she stepped out of her silver coloured Mercedes Benz on a sultry mid- May afternoon in downtown Bengaluru.
Not just her, none, not one person who ever even swept past the main arterial road that arched like a serpent's tale would fail to notice the massive all red with black border rectangular sign board.
As the 44 year old ex- owner of an IPL cricket franchise walked on the perfectly shaped mosaic pathway towards the monstrous 11 story all glass structire styled in Gothic era architectural style, a flurry of flash bulbs erupted.
Momentarily stumped, Ashtha quickly recovered and almost sprinted towards the main entrance.
She was beckoned inside by a bearded wizened old man, a security guard judging by his simple yet conspicuous all blue uniform (the full sleeved shirt smartly tucked inside bore the insignia We Secure You emblozed on his right shoulder blade!).
Grateful for the escape, Ashtha bowed her head in mock thankfulness, and was soon led to the corner lift where another personnel, this time a younger lady, ushered her inside.
Within seconds, Astha found herself inside an unnamed corner room bedecked with umpteen books, all neatly arranged in five massive rows inside no less that half a dozen bookshelves that occupied prime space.
Two comfy jute chairs and an all black recliner completed the air of elegant simplicity all around.
The usher bowed and turned around, and then disappeared through a side exit that wouldn't be apparent to anyone but the most practiced eye.
"Did you have to wait long?"
Startled, Astha turned around and then her eyes met the most dazzlingly alluring man she had ever laid her eyes upon.
"Make the force of God with you, young lady."
Utterly tongue tied, the otherwise super sanguine woman found herself staring straight into the jet black deep sat eyes of 65 year old Nitya Swami.
As Astha stood there ala a statue, tongue tied like never before, the man-full flowing salt and pepper beard, and clad in just a shawl, a pearly white robe that ran from one long shoulder to the other, half revealing half concealing a bare chested torso-, smiled, gently, painstakingly slowly.
It was the most beatific, angelic, pure and sublime curve she had ever seen line a human's face, man or woman.
As she fumbled, tumbled and stumbled for an appropriate response, the man continued, "Sit down my beautiful woman."
+++
It is the glory of God to conceal a matter, but the glory of Kings to search the matter out.
That's the first thing that Ashtha Agarwal noticed when she stepped out of her silver coloured Mercedes Benz on a sultry mid- May afternoon in downtown Bengaluru.
Not just her, none, not one person who ever even swept past the main arterial road that arched like a serpent's tale would fail to notice the massive all red with black border rectangular sign board.
As the 44 year old ex- owner of an IPL cricket franchise walked on the perfectly shaped mosaic pathway towards the monstrous 11 story all glass structire styled in Gothic era architectural style, a flurry of flash bulbs erupted.
Momentarily stumped, Ashtha quickly recovered and almost sprinted towards the main entrance.
She was beckoned inside by a bearded wizened old man, a security guard judging by his simple yet conspicuous all blue uniform (the full sleeved shirt smartly tucked inside bore the insignia We Secure You emblozed on his right shoulder blade!).
Grateful for the escape, Ashtha bowed her head in mock thankfulness, and was soon led to the corner lift where another personnel, this time a younger lady, ushered her inside.
Within seconds, Astha found herself inside an unnamed corner room bedecked with umpteen books, all neatly arranged in five massive rows inside no less that half a dozen bookshelves that occupied prime space.
Two comfy jute chairs and an all black recliner completed the air of elegant simplicity all around.
The usher bowed and turned around, and then disappeared through a side exit that wouldn't be apparent to anyone but the most practiced eye.
"Did you have to wait long?"
Startled, Astha turned around and then her eyes met the most dazzlingly alluring man she had ever laid her eyes upon.
"Make the force of God with you, young lady."
Utterly tongue tied, the otherwise super sanguine woman found herself staring straight into the jet black deep sat eyes of 65 year old Nitya Swami.
As Astha stood there ala a statue, tongue tied like never before, the man-full flowing salt and pepper beard, and clad in just a shawl, a pearly white robe that ran from one long shoulder to the other, half revealing half concealing a bare chested torso-, smiled, gently, painstakingly slowly.
It was the most beatific, angelic, pure and sublime curve she had ever seen line a human's face, man or woman.
As she fumbled, tumbled and stumbled for an appropriate response, the man continued, "Sit down my beautiful woman."
+++
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