9. OS 19. His Elusive Lover (Part 9)

Part 9

The whole family beamed as Arnav joined them for dinner, with Khushi following him uncertainly.

“Khussi bitiya, aayiye, Chotey ke pass baitiye,” nani invited.

Khushi took a fearful look at the lean face of her boss. He just pulled out the chair next to his for her.

Khushi sat down.

The meal was almost surreal to Khushi. ASR passed her dishes, asked her if she wanted anything more, refilled her water glass and even smiled slightly at something Akash said.

Maybe she was dreaming, she thought. Was this the khadoos, akhdoo boss she avoided in office?

If Khushi was shocked at Arnav’s attention to her, his family was blown away. They couldn’t believe their eyes or ears and were barely able to contain their joy.

When Anjali got a chance, she asked, “Khushiji, you said you are from Lucknow. What about your family?”

Khushi looked at ASR from the corner of one eye and then said softly but truthfully, “I am an orphan. My parents died when I was ten.”

Mama and Akash looked shocked. Mami, nani and Anjali gasped.

Mami said, “O you poor girlwaa!”

“I am so sorry, Khushiji,” Anjali said with tears in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It is alright,” Khushi mumbled, feeling like a fraud even though she had spoken nothing but the truth.

ASR sat back and let his family drown Khushi in expressions of empathy and sympathy.

“Khussi bitiya, you have seen much sorrow in your young life,” nani said with a drawn face. “So has Chotey. Devi Maiyya’s ways are mysterious.”

“Theek kahat ho, Saasumma,” mami said.

“Ab hum sab he, bitiya,” mama said. “Don’t hesitate to ask us if you need anything.”

All the Raizadas except ASR nodded vigorously.

Khushi nodded uncertainly. Was his whole family mad? She looked at Arnav with wide eyes.

He inclined his head slightly.

“Yes, Khussi bitiya. Know that you have a nani, a mami, a mama, a brother and a sister here. You are no longer alone,” nani declared.

“And my husband, Shyamji too,” Anjali said happily. “Aap ko pata he, Khushiji, when I told him that you were staying with us, he said he is going to come down immediately to meet you.”

There was perfect silence in the dining room as all the Raizadas except Anjali exchanged glances.

The plan was working. Arnav drew in a deep breath of relief.

Dinner was over. Khushi asked Arnav softly, “Arnavji, shall I go up and finish typing the document you need tonight?”

“Yes, Khushi,” he replied in his husky voice, his tone very soft and mellow.

“Saasumma, she called hamre Arnav bitwaa, Arnavji,” mami whispered, tears of joy in her eyes.

“Yes, Manorama,” nani said, almost trembling with happiness. “And Chotey is so gentle with her.”

Mami nodded enthusiastically.

As soon as Khushi left, the Raizadas began singing her praises to a silent Arnav.

“She ijj so bootiphool!” mami began.

“And so sanskaari,” nani added.

“And an orphan,” Anjali said, the curve of her lips downwards. “Poor girl! To lose both parents at the young age of ten.”

All agreed.

“I am so glad you brought Khussi bitiya home, Chotey,” nani said.

ASR sipped from his glass of water.

“You have found a diamond, Arnav bitwaa,” mama congratulated him.

“Chotey, what happened to her after her parents died?” Anjali asked. “Who looked after her?”

“Her mother’s sister and husband. But they are dead too,” Arnav replied casually.

“Oh, how sad,” Anjali said tearfully. “She is all alone in this world.”

“Hum he na, Anjali bitiya,” mami replied. “Hum sab theek kar debe,”

“So damadji is returning from Allahabad?” nani asked.

“Yes, nani,” Anjali said, a smile replacing her tears. “Chotey, Shyamji was very angry with me when I called him,” she confessed.

Arnav who had a fair idea of the cause of her Shyamji’s ire, asked simply, “Why?” His eyes were on nani and mami.

“Chotey, Shyamji was saying that you haven’t transferred my monthly allowance to my account. I told him you must have done so. You are so punctual,” Anjali said.

Arnav looked at his phone. “This has been a terribly busy month, di. I forgot. I will let Aman know,” he said easily.

Anjali smiled, confident that Chotey would take care of all irritants in her life, like unpaid bills, overdrafts, an empty account, a greedy husband etc.

“It may take a while, but I am sure jijaji will manage,” he added before walking away.

Anjali’s smile vanished. She was not at all sure that jijaji would manage.

Nani and mami stepped in. “Anjali bitiya, bhy should damadji worry whether hamre Arnav bitwaa hajj puts money in your account or not?” mami asked.

“Damadji is educated and he has a job,” nani said. “Anjali bitiya, you shouldn’t insult your husband by offering your money to him.”

“Aur naahi to kaa?” mami asked. “Bill any man feels comfortable taking money from his saala?”

Anjali flushed.

“Sab hamari galti he, Manorama,” nani said. “We shouldn’t have insisted that Anjali bitiya stay with us after marriage. We should have let her go to her sasuraal and lead her life. We were selfish,” nani rued.

“No, nani,” Anjali rushed to correct her, but mami cut her off.

“Sach kahat ho, Saasumma. And peoples would hab shuts their mouthwaa. Poochat he bhen ijj Anjali bitiya going to her sasuraal? And bhy ijj your damadji staying in his wife’s house, Hello Hi Bye Bye!” mami stated it as clearly as she could.

Anjali looked away. Why were her family members bent on pricking her bubble?

Nani continued, “Now that Chotey is thinking of marriage, Anjali bitiya, you should talk to damadji about being independent. Acha nahi lagta that Chotey’s sister and jijaji are dependent on him.”

“Yejj, Saasumma. Hamre Arnav bitwaa deservjj to be happy, happier, happiest,” mami added.

Anjali felt used, hurt. It was Chotey’s duty to sab theek kar dena in his di’s life. Why should marriage change that?

“I—I don’t think Khushiji will have a problem if Chotey is close to me, nani, mami,” Anjali began.

“She won’t, Anjali bitiya,” nani said with a smile. “But being close to Chotey and taking money from Chotey are two different things.”

“You can be clojj phrom your sasuraal also, Anjali bitiya,” mami informed her.

Nani seconded her. “Theek kahat ho, Manorama.”

Mami said, still beaming away. “Let damadji come. We bill talk to him, Saasumma.”

“No,” Anjali exclaimed. “Hum baat kar lenge.”

                                                                 ***

Khushi finished typing the document. She heaved a sigh of relief and rolled aching shoulders.

“Save it,” came the murmur from the corner of the room.

‘Does he have eyes that can see in the dark? Is he a cat?’ she wondered. She saved the document.

“Go to bed,” he instructed.

She was exhausted. “Ji,” she replied.

As she prepared to leave, he got up from his chair, took a couple of tablets from his medical kit and swallowed them.

‘Must be his diabetes pills,’ she thought. Her heart twinged at the thought.

She looked at the man standing with his back to her. Her eyes took in his strong frame, his broad shoulders, the shape of his head, the short strands of hair at his nape.... As she watched, his shoulders sagged and he bent his head.

She wanted to ask him if anything was wrong, but stopped herself. She was just an employee, that too a temporary one.

She made to leave.

His quiet voice halted her feet.

“Always keep the door of your bedroom locked,” he instructed, his back still turned to her.

She blinked.

“I mean, the door to the corridor,” he clarified.

A look of incomprehension spread over her face.

“My di’s husband, Shyam Manohar Jha is not a very good man,” he said bluntly. “He will reach here tomorrow, probably by dawn.”

“Kya...kya keh rahe he aap?” she was moved to ask.

“The truth,” he said shortly. “Keep the door of your bedroom closed at all times. Open the connecting door and go through my room to go downstairs. And, if at any time, day or night, you hear someone knocking on your door or trying to open it, call me.”

Khushi’s throat felt dry. She couldn’t say a word. The hint of evil beneath the enchanting exterior of sanskaar and good will and family affection scared her.

“Go to bed,” he whispered.

Khushi left the room silently and shut and locked the connecting door. She quickly checked the door to the corridor. It was as latched and locked as it could be. There were bolts, locks, a chain and a crossbar. She felt like a king’s treasure kept safe from the eyes of the common public.

Smiling at her own wayward thoughts, she unpacked her bag.

Soon she had a shower, plaited her hair, changed into a white suit and got into bed to lie there, her head filled with worrying thoughts.

She looked at the lights. She needed to switch them off, but was scared of the darkness. “Hey Devi Maiyya, raksha karna,” she pleaded. Her eyes fell on the thin gap at the foot of the connecting door. The lights were on in ASR’s room.

Keeping her eyes firmly fixed on that thin line of light, she stretched out a shaking hand to switch off the lights in her room.

Two hours later, the lights were still on in his room.

Khushi looked at the clock. It was after midnight. ASR hadn’t slept yet? Was he still working?

Khushi got out of bed, draped the dupatta across her shoulders and walked to the connecting door. She knocked lightly.

“Come in,” his husky voice said.

Khushi opened the door.

He was slumped in his seat, working.

“Would you like coffee?” she asked quietly.

“Yes,” he admitted.

Khushi turned and walked back into her room. A few minutes later, she placed a mug of hot coffee by his laptop.

“Thank you,” he said hoarsely.

Khushi nodded. She returned to her room, shut the connecting door and got into bed. She lay looking at the thin line of light at the foot of the door till her eyelids grew heavy and she drifted off to the land of sleep.