7. OS 20. The Temperamental Tyrant (Part 7)

Part 7

Khushi fell to her knees by him, her legs giving up at the sight of the usually invincible Laad Governor collapsed on the floor of his bedroom.

Was this the man who had broken every piece of furniture in his room in anger? The man whose steely gaze could silence a storm? The man who left even his family uncertain about him and his moods and made them walk on eggshells around him? The man who was filled with bitterness but could be heart-meltingly considerate at times? The man who was more a force of nature than a man?

Tears filled her eyes.

“Arnavji...” she called feebly.

His head moved restlessly against the leg of the bed. He was in danger of slipping and falling to the ground.

Jolted into action, Khushi crawled to him and caught him by his shoulders and held him close to her.

“Arnavji...” she wept, her chin on his hair. “Kya hua aapko? Uddiye na, udd jayiye!”

Her tears trickled down and fell on his hand as she prayed desperately for him to be fine. She promised Devi Maiyya a kilo of jalebis made in desi ghee.

He moved his head listlessly.

“Arnavji,” she cried, cupping his face in her hands. “Please wake up. Please...”

“Khu...shi....” he murmured.

She smiled through her tears. “Yes, Khushi. It is me. Aap udd jayiye. Kya hua aapko?”

“Khu...shi,” he whispered.

“Yes?” she asked, sending a thousand thanks to Devi Maiyya.

“Sweet...kuch meeta...” he managed to say.

She frowned. “Aapko meeta khana mana he,” she said. “Did you eat something? Did that make you sick?”

“Shut up, Kh..Khushi,” he murmured. “Meeta lao.”

“Arnavji...” she protested.

“HP...call HP...” He tried to stand up.

“I will bring it,” she promised rashly.

Leaving him propped against the bed, she got up and ran to the door. At the door, she turned back. “I will be just a moment. Aap kahin mat jayiyega,” she said, as though he had it in him to get up and walk away.

She waited for him to assent to her request.

He grunted.

Reading it as his willingness to stay put, she ran for her life, unlocking the door and almost tumbling down the stairs in her hurry to get help.

Soon she was trying to stuff jalebis into Arnav’s mouth, aided by a flustered HP.

“Arnav bhaiya, open your mouth, please,” HP begged.

“Say aaaa,” Khushi insisted, trying to push a jalebi past his lips.

Arnav parted his lips to obey and was soon choking on the extreme sweetness of the jalebi.

Khushi held a glass of water to his lips and urged him to drink. “Peejiye na,” she breathed, grateful to Devi Maiyya that he was alive and breathing.

Soon HP and Khushi helped Arnav to lie on the bed.

HP, relieved that Arnav bhaiya was fine, said shakily, “I will bring dinner here.”

“I will come and get the tray, Hariprakashji. Don’t climb the stairs. Aap kasht na karein,” Khushi said, mindful of his aged knees.

HP nodded and left the room to get the food ready.

Khushi looked at the exhausted man lying on his bed, his handsome head resting against the white-coloured pillow. His chest was rising and falling and she took comfort from the telling movement.

“Khushi...” he called.

“Ji?” she asked, sinking to the floor by his side, her face at the same level as his.

“Don’t tell nani and the others,” he warned softly.

How considerate of him, she thought. But her silence in the present could harm him in the future. What if he fainted again? So she asked, “Arnavji, what happened?”

“I didn’t have tea and biscuits,” he admitted. “My sugar levels fell.”

“Aap bhi na!” she exclaimed after a moment of silent outrage at his neglect of his health.

“Khushi, don’t tell anyone,” he insisted, his molten chocolate eyes trained on her.

Khushi drew in a deep breath. “I won’t, if you promise not to lock your bedroom door again. Aap ko pata bhi he, Arnavji, how difficult it was to reach you?” she asked. Her face reflected her terror.

He looked into her tear-filled eyes and the words, “I promise” slipped out of his mouth.

She heaved a sigh of relief. “Tab theek he. I won’t tell anyone.”

He watched her closely. There was no sense of victory or joy in her at having manipulated him. There was just plain and unfiltered relief that he was safe.

“How did you get in?” he asked.

She pointed at the open window.

He smiled slightly. She must have struggled to open it and crawling through the gap couldn’t have been easy. She was one brave girl, her strength and presence of mind belying her young years. “Thanks,” he said softly.

Khushi swallowed hard. He was thanking her? Laad Governor was thanking her, Khushi Kumari Gupta?

“Aap theek ho?” she asked after a long moment of silence.

He nodded.

“I will go down and get your dinner,” she said quietly before leaving.

                                                             ***

Arnav sensed a gradual change in their equation. There were few outward signs of this change, but the change was real and palpable to him.

Khushi still did whatever the family wanted her to do and anything HP requested her to do, but her first and foremost priority was Arnav Singh Raizada and his well-being.

He could sense her eyes on him whenever they were in the same room. When he lifted his gaze to meet hers, all he could see were concern and care.

Arnav emerged from the car and nodded at the driver.

Khushi’s regard for him was pure, selfless, the care a friend would warrant.

But he couldn’t say the same for his regard for her. Her beauty captivated him; her voice entranced him. Her presence comforted him; her thought aroused all his masculine interest as no other woman had succeeded in doing. Ever.

He revelled in her attention. Her selfless friendship had brought down his barriers. He was consumed by thoughts of her to the extent that she had taken the place of his nightmares. Now his spare time and waking moments were taken up in ruminating on the difference her presence had made in his life.

He walked towards the front door of his house.

Khushi Kumari Gupta was a pari, as nonsensical it may sound, he thought. She had the magical ability to wipe the slate clean, to overcome horrors, to prompt him to shed darkness and seek light ahead, to survive life-altering ordeals with composure, to look at life with optimism, to smile in the face of adversity and put it to shame.

Love? Was it love? Of course not! He scoffed at the very thought. He enjoyed spending time with her. It was just pleasure in good company and a very potent sexual attraction from his side. That was all it was. 

And he had absolutely no intention of acting on it. Never. They were very different, worlds apart. And love and marriage were just words to make lust look better. No, he wasn't in the market for a relationship. Nothing could come of their friendship. She was his employee and he, her employer. Transient, temporary, meaningless. Their acquaintance didn't even qualify as a relationship. Not worth worrying about.

Arnav Singh Raizada walked into the house. The meeting at the Taj had taken all morning. He was in time for lunch. The rest of the family would have finished their meal by now. Good. He could eat alone and enjoy her company.

His smile widened.

Khushi always stood by him when he ate and regaled him with stories of her childhood and her family. He felt he knew all the members of her family. Her amma, her babuji, her jiji, her friend, Preetho, her buaji.... He had heard so much about her life that he even knew all the sweets in her babuji’s Satwik Mishtan Bhandar! Laughter filled his heart and soul.

HP came out of the kitchen and stopped short at the sight of his Arnav bhaiya.

“HP, ask Khushi to serve me lunch,” Arnav instructed. “I will be down in a moment.”

HP’s mouth fell open. A moment later, he said apologetically, “Arnav bhaiya, Khushi bitiya isn’t here. Shall I serve you?”

Arnav frowned. Where had she gone? To the temple? To the market? To watch a movie?

“Woh kya he, Arnav bhaiya, her buaji called. So she went to visit her at her house in Laxmi Nagar. Shall I serve you?” HP asked.

Arnav nodded slowly, feeling unsettled. He tried to keep his face expressionless as he said, “Ask her to meet me when she gets home. And serve me lunch in my room.”

HP nodded.

6. OS 20. The Temperamental Tyrant (Part 6)

Part 6

HP looked anxiously at the clock.

“Kya hua, Hariprakashji?” Khushi asked, arranging jalebis on the silver tray in an attractive circle.

“It is almost nine,” HP muttered. “Almost time for Arnav bhaiyya to return home.” He leaned to look at the living room. “And these ladies are determined not to go home.”

Khushi frowned. “They came for the pooja, didn’t they, Hariprakashji? Why should they leave early?” she asked.

HP sighed. “Arnav bhaiyya doesn’t like guests at home,” he clarified. “Especially cronies of naniji and mamiji. Anjali bitiya normally warns him when she holds a pooja here and he manages to stay away till the ladies are gone. But today, she forgot to tell him.”

Khushi chuckled, “Then it will be great fun to see his face when he sees the ladies here.”

HP’s lips quirked.

The doorbell rang.

“I will see to it,” Khushi said, still laughing. She ran with the plate of jalebis, placed it on the table in the midst of chattering ladies who sounded noisier than a flock of chirping birds and ran to the door.

“Who is that girl?” Mrs. Sinha asked nani.

“Khussi,” nani replied with a smile. “Our new maid. She is from Lucknow.”

“She is very pretty,” Mrs. Sinha said, leaning backwards to take a last look at Khushi.

“And sanskaari too,” nani complimented her. “We don’t have to worry about her trying to lure our grandsons to their doom.” Her eyes fell and stayed on mami who was showing off her yellow and green Benarsi saree to her kitty party friends.

Mrs. Sinha, who knew of Manorama and Manohar’s scandalous past, shook with laughter.

                                                                   ***

Khushi threw open the door to see Arnav’s disgruntled face.

“Why is the driveway blocked?” he fumed.

Khushi cupped her mouth with her hand to hide her amusement.

Suspicious brown eyes locked on her dancing eyes.

Khushi quickly grabbed his bag from him lest he run away and then said, “Arnavji, I am sure you will be very happy today.”

He stood still for a moment, her use of his name feeling very sweet to his ears. Then he asked, “Why?”

“The house is filled with women who want to meet you,” she said, her eyes twinkling, her arms hugging his bag close to her chest.

His eyes widened in horror as realisation struck. “Pooja?” he asked, dread in his voice. “But di didn’t tell me!”

“Naniji decided on it today morning,” Khushi explained, enjoying his panic. “Her friends were asking after you. Won’t you come in?”

“No,” he said firmly, turning to make his escape.

KHushi caught hold of his coat sleeve. “Mat jayiye, mat jayiye. I will bring black tea with lemon to your room in a moment,” she tempted him.

He looked at her slender fingers clutching his sleeve.

Her eyes followed his gaze and locked on her hold on his arm.

She dropped his hand like a hot potato, realising that she had been forward.

 Very forward.

Who was she to hold his hand? His sister? His wife?

But it was still a shame that he had to run away from his own house and that too after a full day at the office.

“Aap please mat jayiye,” she requested, hiding her guilty hand at her back.

Arnav held out his hand.

He was leaving? She relinquished his bag reluctantly, her face dropping in disappointment.

He walked past her and hastily climbed the steps to his room, successfully evading detection.

Khushi beamed and almost danced all the way to the kitchen, humming dilbar dil se pyaare, dilbar dil ki sunta jaare, saari duniya hari humse, hum tujhpe dil hare.....

                                                          ***

“Bitiya, Arnav bhaiyya won’t be going to office today,” HP said with a smile.

“Kya hua, Hariprakasji?” Khushi asked anxiously. “Is his tabeeyath fine?”

“He is fine. He will work from home today,” HP said. “Bitiya, we need to add karela to today’s lunch menu. He loves it so.”

Khushi’s stared at him slack-jawed. “He loves karela?” she asked. “Karela? Who can love karela? It is so bitter!”

HP smiled.

“Ek to shakkar ki beemari,” Khushi lamented. “Upar se karela se pyaar. What will happen to your bechara Arnav bhaiyya, Hariprakashji? No sweetness in his life!”

HP chuckled as he left the kitchen.

“No wonder he thinks the world is a bad place. How can anyone who eats karela think the world is good?” Khushi thought aloud.

Laxmi walked into the kitchen at that moment.

“Suniye, Laxmiji,” Khushi told nani’s goat who had inserted her head into a tub of cabbage leaves. “Ask your Arnav bhaiyya to sudhar jao and not eat karela. He will become more bitter.”

Laxmi paid her no mind.

Khushi humphed. “No wonder he thinks the world is cruel and selfish. Bitter black tea and karela, Hey Devi Maiyya!” she muttered as she went about her work.

                                                                 ***

“Bitiya, take Arnav bhaiyya’s lunch to his room. He is working and won’t want to come down,” HP told her quietly, his eyes on the Raizada ladies in the living room. A salesman had come from a leading jewellers and the ladies were choosing pieces from the treasure trove.

“Ji, Hariprakashji,” Khushi said, quickly setting a tray to carry upstairs.

“Saasumma, I want to gets married again,” mami exclaimed. “Naulakh ka haar and benarsi saree! I bill look more bootiphool that Aishwarya Rai!”

Anjali hid her laughter by looking down.

Nani sighed. “Sharm karo, Manorama. Your son is old enough to get married. You should be selecting jewellery for your bahu,” she said sternly.

Mami pursed her lips. “Phirst Sasumma, then bahu. Let me buy phor Manorama Raijjada phirst. And Sasumma, how can I buy phor my Akass bitwaa’s bife? Bill he marry when his bhai is a bachelorwaa?” she asked. “My poor sonwaa. He bill become a sant waiting for his bhai to chose a girl,” she lamented.

Khushi walked across the living room, tray in hand.

Nani’s eyes fell on her.

“Where are you going, Khussi?” she asked.

Khushi turned to look at the elderly lady. “Hariprakashji asked me to take Arnavji’s lunch to his room as he is working,” she said simply.

Nani studied her guileless eyes for a moment and nodded.

“Nani, look at the diamonds in this necklace,” Anjali called, excited.

Nani turned her attention to the jewellery and Khushi walked away.

                                                  ***

Khushi knocked on his door.

“Come in,” he called, preoccupied.

Khushi pushed open the door with one hand, the other holding the tray.

He looked at the beautiful girl in blue, her eyes vying with her nose pin in brightness.

“What are you doing here? How many times have I asked you not to eat my plants?” Arnav thundered.

Khushi jumped. “Eat your plants? What do you think I am? A locust?” she asked, affronted.

“Not you. That infernal goat of nani’s,” he said briefly before glaring at Laxmi who had wandered up behind Khushi.

“Laxmiji?” Khushi yelped, turning around to see the white goat munching at the fringe of her dupatta. “Chodiye hamein,” Khushi requested Laxmi, who, in a mood to oblige her, left the cloth and moved on to tastier stuff like books.

Arnav leaned back in his recliner.

“I brought your lunch,” she said.

He said nothing, just waited for her to place the tray on his table.

“Hariprakashji told me that you are working from home today,” she began.

“Yes,” he murmured.

“Shall I serve you?” she asked.

He thought for a moment and said, “Yes.”

She waited till he was eating to say, “You like karela?”

He looked at her, surprised. Then he nodded.

She looked at him and then averted her eyes. A few seconds later, her eyes came back to him.

“What is it?” he asked directly.

“The things...the things you said the other day...,” she paused.

He lifted one brow.

“It is all because of the karela,” she decided.

His eyes widened.

“How can a person not be so bitter if it is karela he eats?” she asked reasonably. “And the sugarless tea. Woh bhi black, without milk.”

After a moment of acute surprise, his lips quirked.

“Matlab, I eat a lot of sweets. I can finish 1 kilo jalebi in a few minutes,” she claimed, flexing her slender arms. “That is why I am Khushi, always smiling, always happy.”

“Really?” he asked, amusement coating his voice.

“Really,” she assured him.

“Where is your home?” he asked.

“Lucknow,” she told him with a cheery smile.

“And you have your mother, father and many siblings? Loving grandparents? Fond relations living next door? All of them calling you their princess?” he asked dryly. Her sunny nature was obviously a result of having a loving family and being protected from the harsh realities of life.

Khushi smiled, not realising that he was being sardonic.

“How did you know about amma, babuji and jiji?” she asked in amazement.

His lips twisted. Unworldly. Inexperienced. A girl looking at the world through her rose-coloured glasses. She had no idea of the tragedies that life could hold, the heart-wrenching losses one could have....

“And my buaji? How did you know about her? Lekin she doesn’t live in Lucknow. She is here in Delhi, in Laxmi Nagar,” she went on happily. “Princess?” she asked, laughter gurgling from her throat. “Buaji calls me parmeswari, sanka devi, bhooleswari devi...”

His lips relaxed in a slight smile.

Her laughter died out. “But I don’t have grandparents. Matlab, my father’s mother was alive till I was fifteen, but she was not... very loving.” For a moment she stood still and frozen, her thoughts in the past. Then with a shrug and a smile, she said, “She didn’t like me very much.”

He frowned. That didn’t seem very reasonable. “Why not?” he asked bluntly. “She was your dadi, right?”

Khushi shrugged again. “She didn’t want me calling her dadiji. Only jiji was permitted to do so. I mean, it is not her fault. I wasn’t her granddaughter by blood. That was why...” Her words trailed away.

Arnav hated it when he couldn’t understand something. Like a dog after a bone, he began digging.

“Explain,” he ordered, setting aside cutlery.

Khushi sighed at his persistence and said easily, “Amma and babuji adopted me.”

His breath caught in his chest.

A moment later, he asked quietly, “From an orphanage?”

Khushi smiled. “No. My parents died when I was ten. An accident. Amma was my mother’s sister. So they adopted me,” she explained briefly.

He sat staring at her, his mind whirling with a thousand thoughts and impressions, all of them rocking his foundations.

Her equanimity was the result of having faced trouble in her life and not because she had never faced misfortune. And the tragedy she had faced had been one of the worst man could face, the loss of one’s parents.

And that too when she had been ten! At least he had been fourteen. She had been just ten years old!

His phone rang.

“Hum chalte hein,” she said. “Aap please yaad rakhiye about the karela.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes on her, the phone ignored.

                                                                 ***

“Akash bitwaa is at office,” HP told Khushi. “And the ladies have gone out to watch a movie.”

“Salman Khanji’s phillum?” Khushi asked eagerly.

HP laughed. “Pata naahi, bitiya. Suno, call Arnav bhaiya and ask him to come down for dinner.”

“Ji,” she said, literally dancing her way up to his room, humming, Yeh raat ye chandni phir kahaan, sun ja dil ki daastaan...

She knocked on the door, expecting his husky voice to call out, “Come in.”

There was no reply. Had Arnavji gone out? But she hadn’t seen him leave. Nor had Hariprakashji seen him go.

She knocked again.

No reply.

“Arnavji,” she called. “Come down for dinner, please.”

No reply.

“Suniye, this is Khushi Kumari Gupta. Please come down for dinner. The parathas are getting cold,” she warned.

No reply.

This was not like him. Khushi clutched her heart. Something was wrong.

Khushi knocked for the last time and on not receiving a response, ran to the room next door, opened the door, ran to the window facing the pool, climbed out through it and ran to the glass door from the garden to Arnavji’s room.

It was locked.

Panting heavily due to worry and helplessness, she banged on the door.

It refused to budge.

She tried to see through it, but couldn’t.

She ran to the window. It was shut but not locked.

Khushi tore her nails trying to prise it open, huffing and puffing as she prayed desperately to Devi Maiyya.

The glass slid open slightly.

Heaving a sigh of relief, she exerted all her remaining strength on the glass pane and it opened enough for her to crawl in.

She fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

“Arnavji,” she called weakly as she dragged herself off the ground.

There was no sight of him on the bed or the recliner. The door to the bathroom was open.

“Arnavji, where are you?” she called, placing a hand on her heaving chest.

She caught some movement from the corner of her eye.

She ran to the other side of the bed to find him slumped on the floor.

                                                          ***