Palace Of Illusion

One: In Pursuit

Dedicated to my daughter who inspired me to get back to writing after a long hiatus.

A/N: Thank you for dropping by and reading the first part of the story, voting and commenting. The above picture is of Anirudh Ahuja.

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For us lads of eighteen, they ought to have been mediators and guides to the world of maturity, the world of work, of duty, of culture, of progress – to the future.

~~ Erich Maria Raemarque, All Quiet on the Western Front ~~

Year 2003

Mumbai

Arnav Raizada seldom follows orders, especially of those that serve no greater purpose or of value for him to compromise on his dominance streak. Those who knew him could feel the frustration radiating off his body, the air surrounding his tall, lanky frame filled with turbulence, swirling around in waves that brought destruction in its path, forcing people to step away as he walked. The frown between his brows deepened as he turned around the corridor, his eyes boring a hole on his uncle's back while they were led by three burly men along with the manager of National Center for Performing Arts. As they were led to a room, semi lit area filled with art lovers, hundreds of pairs of eyes transfixed on a group of pre-teen girls performing a classical dance on the elevated, uniformly lit platform.

Arnav groaned inwardly, settling on one of the vacant seats on the first row reserved for them, lowering onto the comfortable leather couch. There were so many other places he would rather be on a Friday night. A loud party with drinks and glittering bodies and beautiful girls competing for his affections for the night, yes. An impromptu dinner with his family, he wouldn't mind. A simple night spent with his best buddy while they debated about the unreasonable ways of categorizing into the society depending on their social rank, of course. But accompanying Anirudh Ahuja, even if the elder man was his favorite, to an Art Fundraiser Event where the man was invited as Guest of Honor? That was the least of the ways for any Nineteen-year-old guy. And for someone who never was interested in any form of art, it was a torture he was subjected to with no way to escape the next three hours.

"If I promise to cut down the number of parties I attend a month, will that help me get out of this place now?" Arnav grumbled in a painfully low whisper as he stared at the elder man, only to be greeted by a hearty laugh.

Anirudh watched his irritated nephew, his eyes twinkling with amusement at the younger man. "As long as you know what you're doing, and not encourage drinks, drugs and girls, I'm fine with your ways of partying, Arnav."

"Then why the hell am I here?" Arnav demanded, as he swallowed a huge lump of distaste when the Event Manager welcomed a politician to speak about arts who, Arnav was sure, had no idea what he was speaking. He fixed his gaze on his uncle as he rolled his lower lip into his mouth. "Why do I feel like you've an ulterior motive for bringing me here tonight?"

Except for a small chuckle, Anirudh offered no explanation. With a curt nod though, he turned his attention to the stout man to his right – one of the successful businessmen, by the tailored two-piece suit, Arnav realized a moment later – and immersed in a conversation Arnav neither was able to hear nor interested in. Letting out a deep sigh of resignation, he pulled himself up straight in the seat and glanced around with a casual flick, before turning his attention to the performers.

The past four years had been, for the lack of better word, gruesome. While his father, along with his siblings, managed to take over the respective businesses according to his grandfather's will, none were too pleased with the out comings and on-goings. The once peaceful family erupted into chaos despite their attempts in dousing down the unhealthy greed of one man. Vikram Shah, once a loving husband of the youngest Raizada child and affectionate cousin of his mother and Anirudh, was now a man possessed with want of power. Power so dark and intense, he wanted to rule and control people around him.