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.

                                                          ***