5. OS 20. The Temperamental Tyrant (Part 5)

Part 5

“Bitiya, Arnav bhaiya won’t be going to office tomorrow at his usual time,” HP informed Khushi.

She frowned. “Kya hua, Hariprakashji?” she asked.

HP sighed. “It is his and Anjali bitiya’s parents’ death anniversary,” he said softly. “The priest will come early in the morning to do the pooja.”

Khushi could only look at him in silence as her heart flooded with sympathy for the pair of orphans. A realisation made her frown. “They died on the same day?” she asked.

“Yes, bitiya,” HP replied sorrowfully.

Nani summoned HP and he left the kitchen.

“How could they die on the same day?” Khushi wondered, a frown creasing her forehead. “Maybe it was a car accident,” she concluded after thought.

A few minutes later, she slipped away to her room. She opened her wardrobe and pulled out a photo in a black frame from under the neatly folded clothes.

The photo was black and white. A handsome man stood by his gorgeous wife who was sitting in a chair. Both were dressed well and the lady was wearing jewellery. She looked shy and the man looked happy.

Khushi tried to swallow through her constricted throat.

She lifted a hand and traced the figures of the couple even as hot tears filled her eyes and trailed down her alabaster cheeks.

“Amma, babuji,” she whispered. “I thought it was just me that had to live without my parents, lekin that’s not so. Aap ko pata he, Anjaliji and her brother are orphans too.”

She sighed. “Where is justice in this world? Why should children lose their amma babuji? He Devi Maiyya, why such cruelty?”

“Khushi bitiya,” HP called.

“Haan, Hariprakashji?” she asked, hastily hiding the photo and drying her eyes.

“Bitiya, come and help me,” HP requested from the doorway. “Mamiji’s friends have dropped in and need to be served tea.”

“Aap chinta na karein. I will do it,” Khushi replied.

                                                  ***

That night, she stood by the dining table as ASR ate his dinner.

She was noticeably silent. There was no chatter about the dishes or how healthy they were or how he was eating too little or how her amma used to make these sabzi in Lucknow and the fragrance waft to neighbouring houses.

Arnav looked at her with suspicion in his wary eyes. Why was she quiet?

Khushi’s eyes were cast down. Her smile was missing from her face.

“Kya hua?” he asked gruffly.

She lifted her beautiful eyes to look at him. “Kuch nahi,” she replied listlessly.

The ASR who never pried into other people’s private lives, who refused to acknowledge that others, especially his employees, may have a private life outside of his office, asked, for the first time in his life, “Missing your family?”

Her lips trembled. He, who had lost his parents, was asking after hers? How good a man he was! Under his anger and khadoosness, lay a heart of gold.

ASR looked at her wet eyes and trembling lips and felt terrible. Maybe he should let her go home for a couple of days. But...how could he? Who would send him off to office in the morning and greet him at night with a wide smile? Who would serve him dinner and fuss over him?

 His eyes widened.

 What was he thinking? ASR shook his head to clear it. He was being ridiculous. He didn’t need her. ASR needed no one.

But...but HP needed her assistance. Yes, HP needed her.

Having found the excuse to keep her with him, he remained silent.

                                                   ***

The arrangements for the barsi were complete.

The photo of the dead couple was placed on a pedestal and garlanded. The pooja items and flowers were ready on silver plates. The priest had arrived.

Only Arnav Singh Raizada was absent.

“Khussi,” nani called.

Khushi walked up to her.

“Call Chotey from his room,” nani instructed.

Khushi nodded and ran up the steps. She knocked on the shut door.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Your naniji wants you to come down for the pooja,” she informed him.

He threw open the door, leaving her stunned.

He was in a white kurta and pyjama, looking far younger than he usually did, shrouded in black formal clothes.

He made to step forward, but she was blocking his path.

“Khushi?” he called.

She lifted her gorgeous eyes to his.

“Move,” he said, puzzled and amused. Why was she staring at him and that too, silently?

Khushi flushed and jumped aside.

ASR walked down the steps, followed by Khushi.

                                                     

                                                            ***

The barsi was a strange event to Khushi, who spied on the family from her vantage point in the kitchen.

Anjali wept delicately during the pooja, sniffing once in a while. Nani, mami and mama had wet eyes. But HP’s Arnav bhaiya had dry eyes and didn’t even glance once at the photo of his parents. He saw them every night in his nightmares anyway.

The garland on the photo slipped on his father’s side.

ASR did nothing. He would be damned if he honoured that good-for-nothing lecher who had caused his mama’s suicide.

“Chotey,” Anjali murmured.

ASR did nothing. Akash fidgetted, sensing his brother’s rebellious mood.

“Chotey, the garland has slipped,” nani informed him.

ASR lifted his eyes to look at the photo and then looked away, doing nothing.

Akash quickly stepped in. He adjusted the garland to cover both figures in the photo.

“Can we continue this?” ASR asked the priest brusquely. “I need to get to office.”

Khushi stared slack jawed at the strange behaviour of this incomprehensible man.

Once the pooja was done, he excused himself and left for his room, not even glancing at his sister who was sobbing in nani’s arms, wailing about how much she missed her parents and what they would have said had they been alive today.

All he said was, “Akash, I will see you in office at ten.”

“Yes, bhai,” Akash replied readily, not even expecting his brother to stay at home till noon on his parents’ barsi.

‘What an odd family,’ Khushi thought.

“Bitiya,” HP called softly from behind her. “Take Arnav bhaiya’s breakfast to his room. He won’t come down to eat with the others.”

‘Not even on the barsi of his parents? He wants to eat alone today too?’ she wondered.

Khushi carried a tray with covered dishes up the steps to the Laad Governor’s room.

He looked up from the laptop.

She stood in the doorway, not stepping into the room.

He waited.

“Suniye, won’t you come down and have your breakfast with the family?” she asked.

“No,” he replied shortly and firmly.

“Today is not any other day,” she tried again. “Please come down. You can share your grief with your family,” she urged.

He stood up and walked towards her to stand mere inches away from her.

Her hands shook. Her hazel eyes were trapped by his cold, steely ones.

He hissed, “The world is a terrible place, especially for fools like you who expect all and everything to be good and kind.”

Khushi frowned. “Should I expect everyone to be evil and cruel?” she asked, genuinely puzzled.

His lips twisted in a grimace. “It is a dog-eat-dog world. All are manipulators and opportunists. Nothing matters more to people than getting their own way and that too by trampling on you on their way up,” he said coldly. “And when they bring you down, they will make sure you don’t rise again.”

Khushi’s frown deepened. “You mean, all people are selfish?” she asked. “That’s not true.”

He warned, “There is nothing called selflessness. It is nothing more than the imagination of an unworldly idiot who expects the world to give him what he desires, on a platter. That’s not happening.” He came closer to her, breathing heavily. “When you are weak and helpless and you cry for help, they will laugh at you, jeer at you. No one, absolutely no one is going to extend a helping hand.”

Khushi blinked, his nearness and his words leaving her unsettled.

“Wise up, Khushi. Or you will pay a heavy price for your flights of fancy,” he said in his husky voice, looking down into her beautiful eyes.

They stood in silence for a long moment, sharing a potent eye lock.

Then Khushi said, “Hatiye aap.”

He frowned.

“Hatiye na,” she urged.

He stepped aside.

Khushi walked into his room and placed his breakfast tray on the low table by the recliner. She then flexed her aching arms.

He stood looking at her.

She turned to face him.

“We may disagree on many things, especially our views on the world. But that doesn’t mean you have to go without your breakfast. Aap khayiye. I have made paratha with your favourite, healthy olive oil. Aap ko office bhi jaana he na?” she asked.

He looked at her eyes that were totally free of malice or manipulation.

She walked towards him and with a sweet smile, slipped out through the door.

A step or two out of the door, she turned to look at him.

“I don’t think the world is such an evil place,” she said quietly.

He opened his mouth to refute her, but she continued, “Bad things happen. They happen to all of us. But good things happen too. There are bad and good people around us. So condemning the world as terrible is not right.”

He stood looking at her.

“Matlab, Mishraji used to beat me every day. If I had considered him an example of every teacher, I would never have returned to school. Chintu used to pull my hair. If I had believed that all students were bullies like him, I would have never made friends,” she explained. “I would have missed out on so much fun.”

He looked away.

She smiled at him. “Hum chalte hein. Hariprakashji will be looking for me. Aap, please, khayiyega. Don’t take your anger out on the food.”