May 5 2013
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The academic and the free spirit!
A near-genius, sheltered astrophysicist meets a charismatic film director making his first movie, while convalescing in Goa, India. A flirtatious friendship develops as Maya helps Christopher scout for locations. A movie-mad driver takes them around the beaches and nightspots of Goa chattering nineteen to the dozen. They discover a shared love of the sky, books and photography. Christopher helps Maya out of her shell by teasing her constantly. Everything is perfect till the crazy film crew arrives with the demanding cast and Jimmy becomes absorbed in his movie and his leading lady.
Was the time spent with Maya merely a mild flirtation, or is there some real feeling there? Can Maya ever see a future with someone who doesn’t even have a master’s degree? Can she accept herself as a person led by her heart as well as her intellect?
Share in an unlikely couple’s touching journey towards joy.
‘This is ridiculous,’ she muttered half-aloud, trying to relax in an amazingly uncomfortable deck chair by the sapphire swimming-pool, ‘Why, even though there are only strangers around; can’t I just open this robe and have a go at the water in my swimsuit? This is the 21st century for goodness sakes! I’m hopeless, absolutely hopeless.’
Maya Devine was Assistant Professor of Astrophysics at Cambridge University and had come down to a resort in Goa, India, to convalesce from a protracted attack of viral flu, which had left her weak and unable to concentrate. Her three sisters and the Dean, who had shared a marvelous rapport with each other ever since she had been the star graduate and post graduate student there, had got together to bundle her off into the unknown, alone.
Brilliant beyond measure, a near genius – a geek as she typified herself only half jokingly – they all thought her mind was too precious to wander off as it had been doing lately; she needed a change. In one mad rush they bought her tickets, got her a current passport, a visa, hotel reservations and bundled her off to the airport, chorusing their goodbyes in slightly apprehensive tones, keeping their fingers tightly crossed. The very personification of the absent-minded professor, they were scared about her, now that she was actually setting off by herself.
Out there in her deck chair, Maya was trying to be daring. Feeling very adventurous, she poked her leg out from under her robe, while all around, bikini clad girls swayed proudly by, kids played splashing games, shrieking and giggling and men discreetly ogled the girls. Through the slit of her robe, a long column of tiny ankle and smooth, shapely leg barely peeked out. She surveyed the sight dejectedly for a moment, shook her head and got up to leave.
As she reached the last row of deck chairs on the side of the pool nearest to the hotel building – a sparkling white, glass, chrome, and pillared 20-storied building in a huge compound – something impelled her to look down. A man, with a straight line of sight to the chair she had been sitting on, met her eyes. His healthy, tanned skin, dark brown hair, strong jaw and eyes hidden by aviator style sunglasses contrasted oddly with the patterned Donald Duck swimming trunks he was wearing. He seemed to be laughing. Turning away quickly, she couldn’t think why, he hadn’t even been smiling.
She wondered about this inexplicable observation, as she sat on her bed in her hotel room, finally taking her robe off. It was the eyes, she decided, hazel flecked with honey gold and sparkling with amusement. At me, I’m sure, she thought wryly, who wouldn’t be? As she mused on, another fancy struck her; that it wasn’t simply amusement; it was more personal somehow, as if he had recognized her… Had seen her, and laughed in joy.
‘Bah!’ she said aloud, ‘Things like that just don’t happen.’ And picked up the phone to call room service and order a tall cool drink, with lots of watermelon juice in it – dismissing the whole thing from her mind.
He had been watching her half the afternoon, with amusement quirking his face. He was bored with the endless streams of bikinis and boldly patterned sundresses flashing past, which are overabundant in California anyway, and apart from a heavily pregnant Indian woman; she was the only one wearing a robe. And, he was sure, a staid, as-covered-up-as-possible, one-piece swimsuit underneath (which she was, actually); this created a visual diversion in the unending vista of semi-nude bodies. Not that a robe was interesting in itself, but when you see a tall, slim, perfectly proportioned girl with jet-black straight hair floating nearly unnoticed to her waist and soft grey eyes lined with long lines of soot, and a soft coral mouth; one does not expect her to be clutching her robe to herself as if her life depended upon it. Even if she is wearing no make-up at all.