Beauty and the Boy from the East

Chapter 7~ The lucky one

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The next place we all walked to was the Taj Mahal, it was crowded everywhere, there was Americans and Japenese and Chinese men exploring the area. It was one of the busiest tourist places India had to offer. It was however not free for Aditya. He waved goodbye and I explored its wonders alone. Photographers everywhere were targeting the wester-donned people and the Indians wearing mounds on jewellery. The guard looked at me suspiciously as I pretended I was 12. I just stared at him as he looked at my right eye, grunted and let me through finally.

One of the photographers had edged closer towards me. He was different from the other photographers though. He was wearing a suit and he was accompanying a private car. He was no ordinary photographer. I wasn’t sure how to respond so I just stood where I was.

“You there, hello. My name is Anil. I am a professional photographer and I was wondering if I could take a few photos of you. I am prepared to pay you, of course.”

I shrugged and agreed. The money would be useful. He gave me tips on how to pose for better photos, he even gave me photography tips about the natural lighting and background.

He got my contact details and was surprised about my address.

“You don’t live in a proper home?”

“Ah..well,” I felt so inferior.

“I mean, don’t worry, just give me your mobile and I will call you soon.”

My father was speechless as I handed him 500rupees.

“Does he want you to get into modelling? Is he serious? This is good! But I want you to keep at your studies. You must study hard; it is the only way of getting out of here. No-one wants to see an uneducated model, and after years take its toll no one will look at your face ever again anyway. I’ll buy you a pair of very good clothes for cheap – I know where you can get a whole suit for 100 rupees. We need to help your prospects. Modelling could enrol you into a private school. You could easily pay for your university upfront, no need to take a loan with high interest and risk losing money. 

I laughed because for once in four years my father was excited again. The smile took ten years from his face and his wrinkles disappeared. He told me I had to watch my hygiene more carefully now. He bought cheap liquid soap and told to get every inch of dirt off me daily.

It was a week when my mobile rang. It was while I was talking to Aditya and he nudged me as I said hello, assuming it was a girl or someone special.

“Is this Akash Yadav?” The man’s voice was deep and clear.

“Yes,” I replied in English, trying to be as informal and business-like as I could.

“If you want to talk more, I’ll come pick you up, err at your school? Straight after school?”

“Yes, of course.” He hanged up.          

Aditya, of course, was incredulous as I explained what happened on our trip to Agra.

“YOU’RE A MODEL NOW?” A hint of jealously crept it.

I hesitated and shrugged. A model. Was I really?  I didn’t feel like it.

But the next day I had to. Right after school an auto came to pick me up. Inside was the photographer, Anil, who thankfully opted to wear casual clothes for today.  He smiled as I was lead to his studio where top and not-so-top models worked.

“Most of the models I take actually are low-profile models, and work part-time, usually college students.  They earn decent wage. You’ll probably meet a few actually.”