4. OS 20. The Temperamental Tyrant (Part 4)

Part 4

Khushi stood there for a long moment, her mouth open, her wide eyes fixed on the room that looked as though a hurricane had struck it during the night.

Her wide gaze moved to the face of the sleeping man lying in an awkward posture on the recliner. He looked so...so innocent, so young, so carefree.

But he was possessed by demons, Khushi rued. Why else would he destroy his room? She looked around. There was little he had left intact.

Khushi made her way gingerly over to the low table by the recliner and placed the silver tray with its mug of black tea on it.

There was a vicious-looking splinter of glass by her feet.

She bent to pick it up, but stopped in shock as a warm, hard hand clasped her arm.

She turned startled eyes to look into his hot chocolate eyes.

“Leave it,” he said gruffly.

He freed her of his hold.

Khushi stood still, her arm extended as though he were still holding her and argued, “You will step on it.”

“Go down,” he ordered.

“You will hurt yourself,” she insisted.

His lips twisted wryly. His psyche was one big wound, with bleeding gashes and lacerations left untended. How much more could he hurt?

“You need to see Kallu baba who lives near my buaji’s house,” she said earnestly.

He frowned. Who was that?

“He will exorcise the demons that have possessed you,” she reassured him. “You will be perfectly fine after that.”

Arnav’s mouth fell open. ‘What the!’ he thought.

“He will throw holy water and ash on you and circle a coconut and a lemon around your head,” she informed him.

“What the!” he exploded, clutching his poor head.

“You don’t believe me?” she asked, affronted. “Ask anyone in our mohalla. They will tell you how Kallu baba has saved hundreds of people from bhoot-pret.”

Before he could get over his shock, she left the room, still talking, telling him to be careful as he left the recliner to use the washroom and how she would return soon to clean up the room.

                                                             ***

Khushi returned to the kitchen and grumbled, “Hariprakashji, your Arnav bhaiya has destroyed his room.”

“Again?” was HP’s only response.

“He does this regularly?” Khushi asked, amazed that the house was still standing.

“Whenever he gets very angry,” HP admitted.

Khushi rolled her eyes.

HP said with a sigh, “He is short-tempered, bitiya, hum maante hein. But I have to say this too. Some people provoke him so much that it is a miracle that he hasn’t killed them.”

Khushi gathered equipment to go cleaning.

‘What are you doing, bitiya?” HP asked.

“Going to clean Laad Governor’s room,” she said.

“Nahi, bitiya. We have an agency we use whenever Arnav bhaiya damages the furniture in his room. They will clean up. You get on with breakfast,” HP insisted.

Khushi obeyed him, but said softly, “I hope he doesn’t step on the splinters.”

                                                                 ***

Sometime later, HP told her, “Bitiya, we have three guests. Take tea for them to the living room.”

“Shall I take namkeen too?” she asked, excited that they had visitors.

HP smiled. “Theek he,” he said. “I will set the table for Arnav bhaiya’s breakfast.”

Soon, Khushi carried a laden tray from the kitchen, a smile on her face. A formally-dressed middle-aged man, his silk-clad wife and his daughter, dressed in a lehenga were sitting with the family.

As Khushi walked towards them, the tray in hand, they were joined by Arnav Singh Raizada.

“Singhaniaji, meet my grandson, Arnav Singh Raizada,” nani said, her wary eyes flitting between a beaming Singhania and her furious grandson. She should have cancelled the visit after Arnav’s angry reaction to the news of marriage, but she wanted him wed at any cost. “Chotey, this is Aditya Singhania, his wife, Sheela and their daughter, Neha.”

Mama, mami and Anjali looked at Arnav’s face with trepidation. Akash looked away, feeling terrible for his brother.

Arnav Singh Raizada stood there, still like a marble monument, immobile even as the lava of anger rose in him. His nani’s audacity shook him to the core.

He spared a look at Akash’s ashen face before turning to nod stiffly at Singhania.

Nani wasn’t done yet.

“Chotey, Singhaniaji wants a rishta with our house. He would like you to marry his daughter,” nani said, pasting a smile on her face even as her alert eyes tracked Arnav’s expression. “Why don’t you spend some time talking to her?”

Arnav clenched his jaw and his fists for fear that he would lose control over his explosive temper.

Khushi placed the tray on the table, beaming. There would be a shaadi in the family! Guests would fill the house and she could cook to her heart’s content, serving them Lucknavi delicacies and sherbet. And maybe, if she was very lucky, she would get to see a smile on that Laad Governor’s face once he got married and best of all, he would be so busy manaofying a nakrewali wife that he wouldn’t have time to break chairs and mirrors. Laddoos phooted in her heart; colourful rockets burst into a million hues, colouring her mindscape.

“Mr. Singhania,” ASR tried to say through clenched teeth.

Khushi frowned. Was this the way to address a future sasurji? Laad Governor needed a lesson in manners and sanskaar.

“I am sorry you had to come all the way to my house,” ASR bit out.

Khushi smiled as she handed out cups of tea to the guests. So Hariprakashji’s Arnav bhaiya was not totally hopeless.

Nani, mami and Anjali relaxed. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

Mama watched Arnav’s face anxiously. Akash, who knew his bhai well, had his eyes shut tight.

“I don’t know how you got the idea that I am interested in marriage,” ASR continued.

His family tensed.

Khushi looked up, frowning. Was he going to refuse the one girl who had dared to come to his house, willing to marry him and his khadoosness? ‘Bekaar mein bhaav kha rahe he, Laad Governor!’, she thought. ‘He thinks girls are standing in line to marry him!’

Singhania, his wife and daughter gaped at ASR.

“I have no intention of getting married,” he made it as clear as day. “Not now. Not ever. I am sorry you had a wasted journey. Now if you will excuse me, I need to get to office.” He turned to a wide-eyed Khushi. “Get me my laptop bag,” he said mildly. “I will be in the car.”

He walked away.

Khushi abandoned tea and raced up the steps to his room. In a few moments, she was back with his bag. She ran to his car.

His window was down.

She handed over the bag.

Arnav took it from her, his eyes lingering on her beautiful eyes for a long moment. He waited for her to remonstrate with him for his rudeness.

“You are leaving without breakfast? Shall I send it to your office with Mohanji?” she asked.

He looked his fill, taking an odd comfort from the concern in her eyes.

He nodded.

The driver started the car.

Khushi stood watching the car leave.