2. OS 21. An Unwilling Passion (Part 2)

Part 2

Aman laid a thin file on the table and threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “The detective tried everything!” he exclaimed in wonder, “but she was inaccessible.”

ASR looked away.

“Garima Gupta, whatever she was in the past, is now a model citizen and a sanskaari wife. Goes to the market with her step-daughter and niece, goes to the temple with her husband or her sister-in-law. Goes nowhere alone. The detectives have been watching the house 24x7 and there is nothing to report. Typical middle-class family,” Aman explained softly, wary of ASR’s temper and reaction.

ASR’s fists closed, ready to punch the wall.

“Doesn’t even have a phone of her own. Uses the landline if she needs to call her husband at the sweet shop,” Aman revealed, his voice low. “Respectability at its worst.”

“If she won’t leave the house alone, I will have to take the battle to her house,” ASR hissed, furious. He hadn’t wanted to involve the Gupta family in this mess.

“How?” Aman asked in wonder.

ASR stood silent for a long moment.

“What did you find out about that...that girl?” ASR asked, his voice husky.

“Payal, sir?” Aman asked, looking for her file in his case.

“No, not her,” ASR said dismissively. “Not a blood relation. The other girl.” His eyes, molten chocolate, turned to look at Aman.

A rare smile twisted Aman’s thin lips as he pulled a big file out of his bag.

ASR’s eyes widened.

“Active girl. The detective was most amused by her,” Aman said, handing over the file.

“I don’t pay him to be amused,” ASR muttered as he grabbed the file. His sharp eyes quickly scanned the details, his eyes widening. Working in her father’s halwai shop, attending weddings, dancing at sangeet, going to temples, shopping at the market...From morning till night, the girl was on her feet. She had a schedule tighter than his!

His eyes fell on the earliest time slotted on the document. 5am. She got up at 5am? No, she was making sweets at 5am! He turned the pages. The last activity clocked was at 10 at night.

His fingers tightened around the document as his sharp mind came up with and discarded a hundred ways of bringing Garima down till one idea alone remained.

He stood still, his eyes shut as his mind refined the idea till it was foolproof.

Then he told Aman, his voice cold, “Get me photos and every single detail of the Guptas. Their home, their shop, their clients, their loans, their neighbours—everything.”

“Yes, sir,” Aman replied.

                                                         ***

Anjali was waiting to catch hold of him when he got home.

“Chotey, di’s papad ka tukda,” she began.

“What do you want?” he asked brusquely.

“Chotey, I was thinking of holding a pooja here this week,” Anjali admitted.

“Whatever,” he muttered as he left for his room, bag in hand.

HP almost dropped the coat he was holding.

Anjali frowned.

“Kaa hua, Anjali bitiya?” mami asked, joing her. “Kauwwa gots your nose?”

Anjali smiled absently. “No, mami. But Chotey wasn’t angry when I told him I wanted to hold a pooja here this week.”

“Hello Hi Bye Bye!” mami exclaimed. “Hamre Arnav bitwaa wajj not angriya? Kucho to baat he.”

“Is he sick?” nani, who had been passing by, stopped to ask, a frown of worry on her forehead. She turned to look at HP. “Did he say anything?”

“Arnav bhaiya just grunted when I asked him if he wanted tea,” HP admitted.

All of them looked up the steps Arnav had climbed to escape to his room.

                                                                ***

ASR sat back in his chair once he had gone through the file Aman had placed on his table.

Aman waited for his instructions. And they weren’t late in coming.

“Buy the house next door to Gomti Sadan,” ASR instructed.

“Yes, sir,” Aman noted it down.

“Buy Sasi Gupta’s loan papers from Tiwari.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Arrange for a boy for K..Khushi...for marriage.”

“Sir?” Aman’s voice held shock.

“The wedding should be cancelled at the last moment,” ASR ruled. ‘Let Garima and her family feel the pain my family felt,’ he thought.

“Sir,” Aman agreed.

ASR stilled. “Make sure of the boy. I don’t want the wedding to happen,” he insisted.

“Sir?” Aman asked, confused.

“Get a married actor for the part. I don’t want him to fall for the girl and cheat us,” ASR explained, his face turned away.

“Yes, sir,” Aman agreed.

                                                            ***

Anjali knocked on Arnav’s door.

He threw the door open, looked at her for a moment and then returned to what he was doing. Packing.

“Chotey? You are leaving? You are leaving because of the pooja?” Anjali asked, her eyes wounded.

“What pooja?” Arnav muttered as he threw his medicines into the case.

“The pooja today,” Anjali explained, a scared eye on the open suitcase.

Arnav shook his head impatiently. “I am going on a business trip,” he revealed.

Anjali’s face brightened.

“I will be away for a few days,” ASR said as he slammed the case shut.

He turned to look at Anjali standing in his room. The sight of her innocent, smiling face filled his heart and head with dark clouds of anger and pain.

Slowly he stretched his arm out.

Anjali looked at him in wonder as he placed his hand over her head.

“Main sab kuch theek kar doonga, di,” he muttered before grabbing his bag and leaving the house.

                                                               ***

1. OS 21. An Unwilling Passion (Part 1)

An Unwilling Passion (Part 1)

HP opened the door, his heart quaking at the sight of the cold-eyed, stern-faced young man standing in the doorway, bag in hand. A storm was building up behind the closed expression of his employer and he wanted no part of it. No sir, he didn’t. Hide behind the atta in the store room after you serve tea, Hariprakash, he reminded himself.

“Arnav bhaiya, shall I take your bag?” he asked as he usually did, his voice low. There was no saying what the reply would be. Some days it was a curt nod. On others, it was silence. On some rare days, it was a grunt.

Today there was no reply. HP stood watching as Arnav Singh Raizada, the tycoon, walked up the steps to his room on the top floor, his bag clutched in his hand.

HP sighed. Maybe Arnav bhaiya had a headache. A dour smile flitted across his lips. Most days it was Arnav bhaiya who gave him a headache.

“Hariprakashji?” Anjali limped towards him.

“Ji, Anjali bitiya?” he asked.

“Did Chotey come home?” she asked with a frown on her face. “I thought I saw him.”

“Yes,” HP confirmed. “Arnav bhaiya went up to his room.”

Anjali pouted. “I wanted to talk to him about the pooja next week,” she complained cutely. “Yeh Chotey bhi na? He never gives me any time.”

HP swallowed hard. Pooja? Oh no! There was nothing more certain to blow Arnav Bhaiya’s temper to saathve aasman than one of his sister’s poojas when all their female acquaintances thronged this house and chattered as though chattering were an Olympic sport and they competitors.

“I will get him tea,” HP muttered before leaving for the kitchen.

“How was his mood?” Anjali called after a retreating HP.

“The usual, Anjali bitiya,” HP replied.

“Bad then,” Anjali surmised with a pout, shaking her head in exasperation. It was better to give her papad ka tukda a wide berth till dinner.

                                                                ***

It wouldn’t have surprised his family to know that Arnav Singh Raizada’s mood was worse than usual, but they would have been astounded to know that he was undergoing acute stress and... fear of the worst kind.

His eyes looked at the bag on his table with dread.

HP knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Arnav growled.

HP entered the room on hesitant feet, more timid than a bride on her wedding night, placed the silver tray with a mug of hot steaming tea with a lashing of lime on the low table by the bag and ran out as fast as his legs and decorum permitted.

Arnav locked the door after him. He stood for a moment, his head bowed.

This was not the moment to feel defeated or tired. This was the culmination of months of work and anticipation. Drawing a deep breath, he turned, marched to the table, opened his bag and pulled out a blue file.

A moment later he was staring at the beautiful face of the gold digging schemer who had wrecked his parents’ life and devastated his family’s existence. His eyes glittered with fury and disgust.

Garima Sasi Gupta. The bane of his existence. The immoral witch who had killed his parents and made di and him orphans. The woman who had gifted him nightmares that never ended, the creature who had sucked all joy and peace from his life, leaving him a mere shell.

He turned the page with pale fingers.

Married to Sasi Gupta.

His lips twisted wryly as he looked at the middle-aged man’s photo. Fool!

One daughter, Payal. No, not daughter. Step-daughter. Sasi Gupta had been a widower with a young daughter when he had fallen for Garima’s tricks. He glanced at Payal’s photo with scant interest before turning the page.

Madhumati Gupta. Sasi’s sister. Had a home in Laxmi Nagar, Delhi. He noted the point for future use.

 He turned the page, his eyes stilling as he looked at the beautiful face of a young girl. He dragged his eyes from her smiling face to look at her name. Khushi Kumari Gupta. Garima’s own sister’s daughter. A blood relation of Garima’s. His face tightened. An orphan adopted by Garima and Sasi.

His eyes hardened. Khushi Kumari Gupta wouldn’t be Khush for much longer when she saw what was going to happen to her aunt.

He threw the file away.

The papers fell on the ground like confetti.

Garima’s photo lay face up.

The muscles of his throat worked as he stared at the face of the woman he hated more than anyone he knew, more than his chacha, more than his father.

In fact, more than he hated himself.

22. OS 20. The Temperamental Tyrant (Part 22)

Part 22

The wedding was over and it was time for bidai.

As Khushi wept in her babuji’s arms and Arnav stood by, his hand held by buaji, mami said, “Enough of rona dhona, Sasiji. Your bitiya ijj going to her own homewaa.”

Sasi nodded and patted Khushi’s shoulder to calm her down.

“I will take care of her, babuji,” Arnav promised, his serious eyes meeting Sasi’s.

Sasi nodded. “I know, bitwaa,” he said quietly.

As mami hugged Garima, she said, “Garima, gibe me your bitiya too.”

Garima looked at her in amazement.

“Hamre Akash bitwaa ijj alone. You gibe me your Payaliya,” mami demanded.

“Manoramaji?” Sasi stammered.

“My bitwaa ijj standing here, looking at your Payaliya phrom here and there. Shaadi karwa diyo. He can look at her from closewaa,” mami said, her ususal irreverent self.

Buaji and Garima gasped and burst out laughing along with the others.

Payal and Akash blushed. It was a close competition as to who resembled a tomato more.

“We will see,” Sasi promised her.

“Jaldi see kariyo,” mami urged. “Or hamre Akass bitwaa bill become a sant. Then bhat bill I does?”

“Mate,” Akash murmured, embarrassed but happy that she had noticed his fascination for Payalji.

“Sasiji, we would love to have Payaliya as our bahuriya,” mama seconded mami. “Think over the proposal and let us know.”

“Payaliya?” Sasi asked.

She blushed a fiery red and nodded bashfully.

Amidst the sea of congratulations and hugs, Khushi hugged Arnav and he dropped a kiss on her forehead.

                                                                  ***

The wedding party reached Delhi to a rapturous welcome by HP.

Arnav and Khushi were happy but tired. Their eyes widened in horror as mami said, “Ab aphter-bedding gamewaa shuru ho jaaye!”

“No way,” Arnav thundered.

“Mate, we are tired,” Akash said, trying to stifle a yawn.

Mami winked at him and insisted, her eyes twinkling with mischief, “Arnav bitwaa, do you wants to look phor a ring in milkwaa or untie a knotwaa phrom Khussi’s handwaa?”

“Neither,” Arnav stated.

Anjali hid a smile as she said, “Chotey, the rasam are important.”

“Yes, Chotey,” nani said, smirking.

Without wasting time explaining to his family that he had absolutely no intention of playing games in public that night, he just lifted a surprised Khushi in his arms and strode away.

The whole family burst out laughing.

“Arnavji, yeh kya kar rahe ho, aap?” Khushi asked, scandalised.

“Hold me tight,” was all he said. “I am going up the stairs.”

Khushi tightened her arms around his neck.

“Aap na, bahut badtameez ho,” Khushi declared. “No manners. Khadoos. Arrogant. As fiery as a volcano.”

He smiled. “Jo kuch bhi hoon, I am yours. Ab sambhalo mujhe.”

“Awww,” Khushi replied, her mouth open in a perfect round.

He kicked open the door to their bedroom, entered the room with her and kicked it shut again before marching to the bed and depositing her on it.

There was a knock on the door.

Arnav sighed and went back to open it.

Nani, mama, mami, Akash and nani stood there.

“What now?” Arnav asked bluntly.

The ladies tried to hide their smiles as they said, “We haven’t decorated the bed.”

“Tanik thehro, Chotey,” nani urged.

“No way,” Arnav replied. “We are tired. Goodnight.”

He made to close the door.

“Chotey,” Anjali called.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Take your medicines,” she reminded him.

He smiled. “I already have. Do you think Khushi will let me forget?” he asked.

All smiled.

Arnav shut the door and returned to find that Khushi had left him to freshen up for bed.

                                                            ***

The Raizadas returned to the living room to relax after the last few days of frenzied activity.

“The peda, the gulab jamun!” mami reminisced. “Sasiji knows how to treat his samdan. Wah, wah!”

The other smiled at mami’s fondness for sweets.

“Akass bitwaa, marry Payaliya soon. I bill ask Sasiji to serve gujiya and jalebi too phor the bedding feastwaa.”

Anjali tried to hide her laughter. Nani shook her head in amused exasperation.

“Manno, are you more interested in your son’s wedding or the feast?” mama teased.

“The feastwaa,” mami confessed.

Amidst the laughter, HP served everyone tea and mami, badam milk.

“HP, aaj khush to bahut honge tum!” mami mimicked Amitabh Bacchan in Deewar. “Bahut khush honge ki aaj Arnav bhaiya Khussi se haar gaya!”

All laughed.

HP replied with a smile, “Bahut, mamiji.”.

Mami crossed her legs on the chair and slurped her badam milk. HP left.

Nani watched her for a moment and then called softly, “Manorama?”

“Yes, Sasumma?” mami asked, setting aside her glass.

Nani looked away for a moment. Then she gathered courage and said, “I am sorry.”

Mama and Akash were shocked. Anjali looked at nani with surprise.

Mami frowned. “Kaahe ki?” Her eyes widened.

Nani sighed. “Chotey was right. I should have treated you with the respect a Raizada bahu deserves.”

Mami’s eyes filled with tears. She blinked and tried to make light of the situation.

“Aap bhi na, Sasumma. You are the enemy no: 1 of my kaajal.” She turned to her husband, “Suno ji, you said it was water-proof.”

“Manno, it is,” Manohar tried to remonstrate with her.

“Aap shutupiya hi kar lo, ji,” mami shushed him. "My phool-jaisen cheekwaa are black. My muh is kaala."

“I mean it, Manorama. You have been a good bahu, but I haven’t been a good Sasumma,” nani admitted.

“It is alright, Sasumma,” mami replied. “I bill be a bery good Sasumma to my Payaliya. Because she is like me, from a small house in Lucknow, she won’t think I am not..oo kaa kehte he? Haan, cool.”

“You are the coolest mother, Mate,” Akash hugged her.

Nani’s face fell again. “We have all been guilty of ignoring Chotey’s well-being.”

All looked at her.

“He is difficult to get along with, but we should have made an effort,” nani said slowly. “Seeing Khussi smother him with concern and seeing him enjoy it...we let him be, thinking that he enjoyed his own company. Galti hui hamse.”

“You are right, nani,” Anjali said. “We forgot to show our love for him. We were so caught up in our own worlds that...”

Mami, mama and Akash nodded.

                                                              ***

She emerged from the washroom in a white night suit and he took his nightclothes and entered the washroom that held her heady fragrance.

He smiled, his eyes lighting up. His life had changed for ever. No more loneliness. No more sorrow. No more existing instead of living. His past was where he should have left it a long time back—in the past.

When he entered the bedroom, she was sitting on his recliner, fast asleep.

He kneeled down by her, his loving eyes on her glorious face. A minute later, he scooped her in his arms, careful not to jolt her awake.

Had buaji been there, she would have told him that only a bomb dropping on Khushi’s head and bursting inside her ear would have succeeded in waking up Sanka Devi.

Unaware of his wife’s fondness for sleep, he carried her like a piece of glass and placed her on his bed and covered her against the cold.

                                                              ***

Khushi woke up the next morning, stretching lazily. She had slept well. Had jiji woken up?

She opened one eye to look for her sister and saw Arnav looking down at her with amused eyes.

Her second eye too opened to full capacity.

“Aap?” she asked, too surprised to see him to remember that they had gotten married yesterday.

Arnav burst out laughing.

She sat up in bed to see that she was in his room and that he was in bed with her.

Her mouth fell open as she remembered their shaadi.

“I forgot, Arnavji,” she admitted, shamefaced.

He replied, still chuckling, “I have never woken up laughing.”

Khushi lifted the blanket and buried her face in it.

Arnav tugged at the blanket and uncovered her face. Looking at her bashful face, he said softly, “I love you, Khushi.”

Khushi looked into his molten chocolate eyes that were filled with love and adoration and breathed, “I love you, Arnavji.”

He bend his head to kiss her.

                                                             ***

THE END.

I will be starting the next ArHi story, An Unwilling Passion in December. Till then, love and a load of good wishes to all of you.