12. OS 20. The Temperamental Tyrant (Part 12)

The Indulgent Guardian is ready for sale. Kindly make your purchase before Aug 15th.

Those using PayPal are requested to pay in $6.50.

email id: smita.ramachandran@gmail.com

Those transferring money to my bank account are requested to pay Rs.400.

Name: Smita Ramachandran

Bank: HDFC Bank Ltd

Kenton Towers,

Vazhuthacaud, Trivandrum 695014, Kerala, India

Account number: 00631000144322

IFSC Code: HDFC0000063

SWIFT Code: HDFCINBB

MICR Code: 695240002

Branch Code: 000063

Then contact me via email. Those preferring net transfers, please include your transaction number in the mail. I will send you a copy of the story.

I would like to thank all my readers who have supported me in my writing adventures. I am blessed to have you.

THANK YOU!

Smita

Part 12

Khushi knocked on the door of her buaji’s home at night.

“Aaawat he, Nandkisore!” buaji called out. “Who is this banging on the door at midnight?

She unlatched the door and stared open-mouthed at Khushi.

“Khussi? Tum? What are you doing here at midnight?” She looked out at the almost deserted road. “You travelled alone, Nandkisore?” She clutched her heart.

Khushi abandoned her bag and hugged her buaji as tight as she could.

Tears that she had been holding back till then, flowed copiously down her face.

Madhumati held her weeping niece close, terrible thoughts filling her mind.

“Suno, Khussi, kono oonch neech to naahi hui na?” she asked, her heart thumping.

Khushi shook her head in the negative in between sobbing.

Madhumati took a deep breath of relief.

“Ab chodo mujhe, Nandkisore,” she said, setting the girl aside. “Bring your bag in, sit down and tell me what is wrong.”

Khushi obeyed. Sitting by her buaji on the sofa in the living room, under the benevolent gaze of Devi Maiyya, she recounted the events of that night.

Madhumati swelled up in righteous indignation. “How dare that nani accuse you, Madhumati Gupta’s niece, hamri Sasi babua’s daughter of trying to entice a boy? Is this our sanskaar, Nandkisore? Is this the way we marry off our daughters? We would have never sent you to work in a house if you hadn’t insisted and Sasi babua weren’t so sick.” She turned to look at Khushi. “You are my Sanka Devi, my Parmeswari, my Bhooleswari Devi. But no one, no one can accuse you of trying to attract men. You may drive them away with your antics, but never lure them to their doom.”

Khushi dried her tears.

“Khussi, call Happy Singh now. Ask him to bring his auto. I will go now to that nani and give her a piece of my mind. How dare she insult my niece, Nandkisore?” buaji fumed.

“No, buaji, don’t,” Khushi begged. “Let it be. Chodiye.”

“Kaisen chode hum, Nandkisore?” buaji asked. “She insulted you, she insulted our whole family.”

“What is the use, buaji?” Khushi asked. “How can I prove my innocence? There is no proof,” Khushi wept. “How can I make her understand that I never....”

Buaji looked at the sobbing girl. After a moment, she said, “Khussi, go to bed. It is very late. Kal savere dekhenge. Your buaji will find a solution to this problem, Nandkisore.”

Khushi nodded.

One hour later, Madhumati entered Khushi’s bedroom.

She was asleep, her cheeks still stained by tears.

Madhumati pulled the blankets up to her neck and smoothed her hair back from her forehead. It was a cold night.

How could a poor, helpless girl prove her innocence against an accusation made by a rich, elderly woman? Especially in such a case when proof couldn’t be produced?

Buaji sighed. Dishonour was a stain that could never be rubbed out.

                                                           ***

Arnav stood in the living room and shouted, “Khushi!”

Akash stood up from the chair he had been sitting on in his parents’ room. “That sound like bhai,” he murmured. “Why is he shouting?”

Mami looked at mamaji, apprehensive.

“Let ujj go downs,” she said. “Saasumma must have said something for hamre Arnav bitwaa to pheel angry, angrier, angriest.”

All three of them rushed down to hear Arnav shouting for Khushi.

“Bhy ijj he asking for Khussi, hello hi bye bye?” mami asked, perplexed. “Bhat did she do?”

“Maybe she disobeyed him,” mama said softly. “You know Arnav bitwaa’s anger.”

Akash looked at Arnav’s pale face, wondering what that slip of a girl had done to merit so much aggression.

“Khushi, where are you?” Arnav shouted.

HP peeked into the room.

“HP,” Akash asked softly, “where is Khushi?”

“Missing, Akash bitwaa,” HP said quietly.

“Missingwaa?” mami asked. “Ijj she a mojri to go missingwaa?”

Anjali and nani joined them, Anjali, unaware and nani, resolute.

Mama asked, “Arnav bitwaa, why are you calling Khussi? Why did HP say that she is missing?”

“Because she is missing, mama,” Arnav said, his ironic gaze resting on nani. “Her bed hasn’t been slept in.” Anger and fear and an acute sense of loss ate into him.

Anjali gasped. She turned to look at nani with fear in her eyes. Had nani killed Khushi and buried her in the flowerbed?

“She didn’t sleep here last night?” mama asked thoughtfully. “She served dinner, didn’t she? She must have left soon after that. Lekin raat mein..ek ladki akeli... Bitwaa, I think we should call the police. This city is not safe for girls at night.”

“Good idea,” Arnav said, his accusing eyes on nani. ‘Control, control,’ he told himself. Losing his temper would do only harm. And the stakes were too high here. “Call the police, mama,” he said.

Nani drew in a deep breath.

Mama moved towards the phone.

“Manohar, stop,” nani ordered.

Manohar halted, looking curiously at his mother. His hand hovered above the phone receiver.

Anjali clutched her heart, sure that nani had killed Khushi.

“There is no need to call the police,” nani declared. “Khussi went to her house of her own free will.”

Arnav smiled sardonically, fury rising like a wave in him.

Mama asked, “She went home at night? Kaa hua, amma? Was there a family emergency?”

“How should I know?” nani asked furiously. “I am not the caretaker of every little maid in Delhi and Lucknow.”

Mami looked away. Mama fell silent.

Akash clenched his fist. He swallowed his anger and asked Arnav, “Bhai, shouldn’t we call her and make sure she is fine?”

Arnav nodded tightly and motioned towards the phone.

Akash looked at HP.

HP hobbled to his room and brought back a piece of paper with Khushi’s phone number.

Arnav stood there, fists clenched as Akash called Khushi. His heartbeat picked up speed.

She answered.

“Khushi, this is Akash Singh Raizada. We just wanted to make sure that you reached home safe.”

“I am fine,” she replied.

Arnav held out his hand for the receiver.

Akash relinquished it.

Nani pursed her lips.

“Khushi?” Arnav asked, his voice shaking slightly.

There was a moment’s silence. Then she said, “Arnavji?”

The name was sweet music to his ears. “Yes,” he replied. “Why did you leave RM?”

Nani’s eyes widened.

A moment of silence later, Khushi said, “I am fine, Arnavji. Aap apna khayal rakhiyega.”

He was not in the mood to be fobbed off with such an answer. “I asked, why did you leave RM? That too at the dead of night. Tumhe kuch ho jata to?” he thundered.

She smiled at his concern.

He could hear her smile in her voice as she said, “I am safe. Aap pareshan mat hoyiye.”

“Why did you leave RM?” he asked again, striving for patience. “Answer me, Khushi, dammit!”

She tried to keep her tears at bay as she replied, “It was time to leave. My buaji...I wanted to be with her.”

Arnav swallowed hard. He asked, “Really, Khushi?”

She couldn’t lie any longer. “Hum...hum chalte hein, Arnavji. Aap sahi wakt par dawayi leejiyega. Please eat on time and take care of yourself.”

She cut the call.

Arnav lowered his hand holding the receiver, but stayed lost in thought.

Akash took it from his hand and replaced it.

“What did Khushi say, Chotey?” Anjali asked.

“That she wanted to be with her buaji,” Arnav replied, a frown on his face.

“Hein?” mami asked. “If she wanted to see her buaji, she could have gone savere savere. Bhy run away like a thiefwaa at night?”

“HP!” Arnav called.

“Yes, Arnav bhaiyya?” he asked.

“What did Khushi do after serving us dinner?” he asked.

“We cleared up. Then...then...” he hesitated.

“Then?” Arnav was merciless, his eyes sharp and focused.

“Naniji asked me to summon Khushi,” HP admitted.

Anjali gasped.

Mami turned to look at nani, surprise in her painted eyes.

Arnav smiled without humour.

“Then?” he asked.

“Khushi went to naniji’s room. That’s all I know,” HP revealed.

All eyes turned to nani and then towards Arnav.

“So, nani, why did you want to see Khushi?” Arnav asked, his voice quite and menacing.

11. OS 20. The Temperamental Tyrant (Part 11)

Part 11

‘You wanted to see me, naniji?” Khushi asked, standing at the open door.

“Come in,” nani said, her eyes running over the simple but flashy salwar suit, the tassels hanging from her hair, the glinting nose pin and the hazel eyes.

Pretty, but cheap, nani judged.

Khushi walked in to stand before her.

“Shall I get you a glass of badam milk, naniji?” Khushi asked cheerfully. Arnavji had come down for dinner and had even sat for a while with his relations in the living room. She was happy.

“No,” nani said. 

She looked at Khushi from head to toe, hating what she had to do. First it was Manorama; now it was Khussi. But she had to do it. There was no one else who would take on the onerous job of getting rid of a gold digger. Anjali was too weak. Manohar was useless. Akash was his bhai’s chamcha.  Asking Manorama to do this was like giving the keys to the house to a thief!

She was the only one left. ‘Help me,’ she begged her dead husband. ‘I have to save Chotey from a money-hungry, low-class girl.’

“Aap theek ho, naniji?” Khushi asked. “You look...pale.”

“You come from Lucknow, don’t you?” nani asked.

“Ji, naniji,” Khushi smiled.

“You have family there?” she asked.

“Ji. Babuji, amma and jiji. My buaji lives in Delhi.”

“Where in Delhi?”

“Laxmi Nagar,” Khushi replied happily.

“Laxmi Nagar?” nani frowned, trying to locate it. Her face cleared. “That slum-like settlement near the Devi temple that Anjali bitiya frequents every Friday?”

Khushi hesitated. Laxmi Nagar was no slum, but its inhabitants were middle-class and Anjaliji did frequent the temple naniji mentioned. “Yes,” she replied.

“How did you get a job here?” nani asked.

“The gardener who used to work here is a friend of Happyji’s who runs a car workshop near our house. He told me there was an opening here,” Khushi said.

“Had you seen Anjali bitiya before you came here to work?” nani asked.

“No, naniji,” Khushi replied.

“I thought you may have seen her at the temple,” nani remarked.

“No, naniji.”

“Are you sure?” nani went in for the kill. “I thought you may have seen Chotey or Akass bitwaa with Anjali bitiya and then decided to seek work in a house with two handsome, single boys.”

Khushi’s mouth fell open.

“There is no shortage of gold diggers in this world. Families of single, well-to-do and good-looking boys have to be very careful of such scum,” nani said, brushing away a speck of dust from her silk sari.

Khushi was too stupefied and distressed to retort.

“What does your babuji do in Lucknow?” nani asked.

Khushi swallowed hard and said, “He is a halwai.”

“A halwai?” nani smirked. “He has his own shop?” she asked.

“Yes,” Khushi replied.

“Then why did he send his pretty, young daughter to work in a house with two single boys in Delhi?” nani asked with a sardonic look.

Khushi felt her hands and legs trembling. It was as if she were caught in a nightmare and she was unable to escape it as her body was frozen. Still she managed to say, “Babuji is not well.”

“So he is poor and sick,” nani concluded. “And what easier way of making money than sending your young daughter to work in a house with two young men? Tell me, how much money have you gotten out of Chotey?”

Khushi felt sick. “Money? From Arnavji?” she asked. “Nothing.”

“And from Akash?” nani was merciless.

“Nothing,” Khushi shook her had to emphasise the point.

“You haven’t asked for money yet,” nani mused. “So you must be hoping that one of them will marry you,” she declared.

Khushi stared at nani, open-mouthed.

“Well, let me tell you something, Khussi Kumari Gupta. Boys from rich families may flirt with the hired help. They rarely marry them,” nani said.

“Naniji...I never...” Khushi couldn’t continue.

“I have seen you running after Chotey, trying to catch his eye with your bright clothes and your addayein. He may have noticed you, may even have talked to you, smiled at you. That doesn’t mean he is ready to marry you. Give your dreams of becoming Mrs. Arnav Singh Raizada a rest. They are not going to happen,” nani warned.

Khushi stared at her, unable to believe the nonsense she was hearing.

“When Chotey marries, it will be from a khandaan of the highest order. The girl will be educated and sanskaari, capable of mixing with his business associates, not an illiterate, money-grubbing daughter of an impoverished halwai from Lucknow who is working as a maid in his house,” nani stated. “Sapna dekhna chod deejiye. Do you know what happens to girls who dare to dream above their state in life?”

She looked at Khushi with disgust in her eyes.

“They end up being used and thrown,” she concluded.

Khushi tried to protest, “Naniji, I never...”

Nani cut in. “Your father sent you here to make money, by fair means or by foul. How will he feel if you return to him as an unwed mother? Because that’s what happens to maids who sleep with their masters.”

Khushi had enough. She drew in a deep breath and said, “Bas bhi keejiye. This kind of conversation doesn’t suit a lady of your age and stature.”

Nani laughed mirthlessly. “You are lecturing me on sanskaar? You?”

Khushi paid her no mind. She continued, “You think the worst of me. That’s fine. You don’t know me and you good opinion doesn’t matter to me. You can think what you like. But how dare you think that Arnavji is like that? Your own grandson? Your own blood! What reason has he ever given you to talk such rubbish about him? Is he a ghatiya man? What does that poor soul do except work and work more to keep all of you in comfort?”

“Chup raho!” nani thundered.

“Hum chup nahi rahenge,” Khushi said calmly. “Hum hargiz chup nahi rahenge. I have every right to defend myself when you level false accusations against me.” She drew in another deep breath. “How dare you insult my babuji when you haven’t even met him? Do you know who my babuji is? Do you? He is a gem of a man, with a heart of gold. If it were up to him, he would never let me work. Lekin he is ill. I insisted that I wanted to work, to contribute to my family’s finances. I begged him for permission to come to Delhi to my buaji’s house. I was looking for work and that’s when Happyji told me of this vacancy. Aap ko pata he why my father permitted me to work here? Because it is a family home with you, mamiji, mamaji and Anjaliji. Had it been a house with just Arnavji and Akashji here, he would have never permitted me to work here.”

Nani scoffed at this claim.

“Let me tell you one more thing. I like Arnavji. Devi Maiyya ki kasam, I like Arnavji very much, as much as I like my babuji. He is decent, honest and hard working. Under all that ghussa and tantrums is a very lonely child I find very endearing. But I don’t like you. You are the head of this family. How dare you leave him alone and go to your poojas and films and parties? Isn’t he  a human being? Why can’t you pay more attention to him? Give him more of your time? Bechara, ek to beemar he. Upar se akela. You are a fine one to talk, naniji,” Khushi lit into her.

“How dare you?” nani bit out.

“How dare you insult my family and me and your grandsons?” Khushi asked quietly, anger gone, leaving behind only deep anguish. She heaved a sigh. It was time to leave this house. “You want me to leave this house, don’t you?” she asked.

“You realised it?” nani mocked her. “There is no place for you here.”

“I will go away. On one condition,” Khushi said.

Nani smirked. “You think too much of yourself,” she ridiculed Khushi.

“Promise me that you will take care of Arnavji’s health and never leave him alone,” Khushi said. She was bound by her promise to Arnavji not to tell his family about his fainting spells, but she could do this much for him.

“He is my grandson,” nani claimed. “I know how to take care of him. I don’t need your advice.”

“You do. You haven’t been doing a good job of it so far,” Khushi said bluntly. 

“Promise me if you want me to leave.”

Nani wanted her out. Desperately. “Yes,” she said.

“You promise to take care of his health and not to leave him alone?” Khushi asked again.

“I promise,” nani said. “Now will you leave?”

“Yes,” Khushi said. She turned and walked away.

                                                                    ***

Arnav woke up the next morning, stretching his arms, feeling good. He opened his eyes.

There was no Khushi in his room.

No mug on a silver tray.

The curtains weren’t drawn.

He looked at the time.

Khushi would be here now.

He smiled. Every morning, she woke him up. Today, he would give her a surprise.

The door creaked open.

Arnav waited eagerly for Khushi to enter his room.

HP brought in the tray and drew the curtains.

“HP?” Arnav asked, shocked. “Where is Khushi?”

HP looked at him, worried. “Pata nahi, Arnav bhaiya. She is not in her room,” he said.

Arnav leaped out of bed. “Come with me,” he said, leading the way down the stairs to her room.

He pushed open the door.

The single bed hadn’t been slept in. The covers were neat and pristine.

Feeling his heart gallop, Arnav rushed to the wardrobe and pushed it open.

All her clothes were gone.

Khushi had left his home last night.

10. OS 20. The Temperamental Tyrant (Part 10)

Part 10

Arnav slammed the door of his room and marched to the glass door leading to his garden and stood there panting, his hands on either side of the door.

Nani was getting more set in her ways as the years passed. More rigid in her views, more prejudiced. And mami deserved better than to be treated like a pariah in her own home, that too after years of marriage and in the presence of her only son.

He hit his clenched fist against the wall.

Mami deserved better.

Akash would get married in a few years. What if nani insulted mami before her bahu? What if Akash’s wife too despised mami for her ways? What would mami do? Where would she go?

Mama didn’t have the guts to battle nani and Akash was too polite for his own good.

So only he was left, Arnav Singh Raizada, Khushi’s Laad Governor. 

Infamous for his temper and his total lack of regard for the feelings of others, he could defend mami. Only he could defend mami. He had nothing to lose. And he didn’t give a fig about what the world thought of him.

Nani and di could take their high society, their sanskaar and their notions of aukaat and live by them, but not him. Clarity of thinking was a curse. So was being a Mallik who had witnessed his parents’ quarrel and his mother’s suicide and sat by his parents’ corpses as his di clung to him and wept.

Birth didn’t guarantee good behaviour or morals. Nor could money guarantee happiness. Or his chachaji wouldn’t have thrown him and di out of the house the day after their parents were cremated. Nor would his father have been a lecher and an adulterer.

No one knew this better than him. No one.

There was a timid knock on the door.

Khushi!

He strode to the door and pulled it open.

Mami, mama and Akash stood there.

Arnav blinked.

Mami cast herself on his bosom, hugging him so tight that he was in danger of collapsing for lack of air.

“Mami,” he tried to get out of her merciless clutch.

“Hamre Arnav bitwaa,” she wept. “Only you loves your mami...”

Arnav patted her on her back, feeling as awkward as a man unused to dealing with feminine tears and emotional outpourings could feel.

Thankfully mama and Akash stepped in and freed Arnav from mami’s loving death hold.

Arnav looked straight at mama and said bluntly, “You should have defended mami.”

Mama looked down, embarrassed.

Mami nodded enthusiastically.

“Arnav bitwaa, we caused great grief to amma and babuji,” mama murmured.

“I am sure you did. When nani found out about you and mami, she had two choices ahead of her. She could have sent both of you out of her home and life or she could have accepted you. She and nanaji decided to accept your relationship because they didn’t want to lose their son.”

Mama and mami nodded.

“Then why is she constantly finding fault with mami?” Arnav asked.

No one had an answer.

“There was a time when nani had a choice to make. She made it. Now why crib and cry about it?” he asked. He turned to Akash. “And you, Akash. How could you stand there and listen to your mother being insulted?”

Akash hung his head in shame. Bhai was right. He rarely gave advice and interfered in other people’s lives, but when he did, he was always right.

“No one expects you to be rude like me,” Arnav said with a slight smile. “But you can make your displeasure felt without being impolite.”

Akash nodded. It was his turn to hug bhai.

                                                                 ***

“Nani, please don’t take Chotey’s words to heart,” Anjali pleaded. “Please drink this glass of water.”

Nani waved it away, her face closed, her eyes flinty.

“Nani, what mama and mami did was years ago. It is over and done with and can’t be changed,” Anjali reminded her. “But you can rest assured that Chotey isn’t interested in that maid. What’s her name? Haan, Khushi. All he did was ask her for a glass of water.”

Nani shook her head in disgust at Anjali’s limited understanding. “What do you think happened a few minutes back in the living room, Anjali bitiya?” she asked, her tone sarcastic.

Anjali frowned. “Chotey asked that girl for a glass of water. She served us dinner. After we ate, we sat in the living room. The girl gave Chotey his glass of water and left. Then...” She paused.

“Then?” nani insisted.

“You scolded mami for drinking her milk noisily. Mami got up to leave. Chotey stopped her and...” She paused again.

“And?” nani insisted, her eyes mocking Anjali.

“Chotey said a lot of nonsense to rile up the family, especially you,” Anjali said dismissively. “Don’t feel bad about it, nani. You know Chotey. His temper is always in saatve aasman and he needs no excuse to lose control.”

“Anjali bitiya, instead of trying to make me feel better, employ the little brains you have in analysing Chotey’s behaviour and words,” nani said with open contempt. “Whom did Chotey support?”

“Mami,” Anjali said with a perplexed frown.

“Who was our maid,” nani added with a pointed glance. “As is Khushi.”

Anjali gasped.

“Manohar succeeded in spoiling our family’s reputation to the extent that people laughed at me at parties for being the fool who had let the maid seduce her son right under her nose. People ostracised us, people we had known for years, families that had known ours for decades. Manohar and Manorama broke my trust. They made an idiot of me.” Nani shook her head.  “I had expected little from the little maid I employed to do housework, but I had expected my son to respect his family and its standing, its parampara, its sanskaar, its reputation. But he became blind to all these, to us, to our expectations from him, to his future. He could see only the colourful maid.”

“Nani,” Anjali tried to protest.

“Mark my words, Anjali bitiya, Chotey is setting the stage to introduce that piece of trash from Lucknow as his bride,” nani said, her voice cold.

Anjali gaped at her nani.

“Leave me alone,” nani ordered.

Anjali hesitated. Then she turned and walked away.

                                                              ***

Nani sat in her rocking chair thinking furiously.

Manohar had spoiled his life with a wife like Manorama who had neither the manners nor the grace a Raizada bahu needed to have. She was as common as tap water. It had only been by God’s grace that Akash had turned out to be like the Raizadas and not like his mother or her crass relations.

She couldn’t let Chotey destroy his life.

Her throat closed over as she thought of all he had endured at such a young age. She couldn’t let him suffer disgrace or be unhappy after she was gone. ‘I have to make sure he has someone worthy of him as his wife, a girl who will love him and look after him, a girl who will give him all the love that he missed out on, a girl who will make him proud and happy, a girl he will feel proud to introduce to his business acquaintances, a girl from an eminent family. But before that I have to exorcise the Khussi bhoot. Once he is free of her, I can look around for a girl who will suit Chotey.’

She sighed and leaned back in her chair.

She was tired.

Tired of looking after a family that didn’t give a hoot about things that mattered. Tired of trying to do a hundred things that needed to be done. Tired of playing many roles to fill the gaps Ratna, Arvind Mallik and her own husband had left in their lives.

‘But I can’t let Chotey spoil his life. How can I face Ratna when I meet her in heaven? Won’t she ask me why I didn’t take better care of her only son and let him throw away his money and life and reputation on chasing gold diggers like his father did?’ she asked herself, agitated.

HP knocked on her door.

“Come in,” she said.

HP walked in and placed a silver tray with a glass of badam milk on the table.

“Hariprakash?” nani called.

“Ji, naniji?” he asked.

“Have all of them gone to bed?” she asked.

“Yes, naniji.”

“Khussi?” nani asked.

HP smiled. “We are cleaning up,” he replied.

“I—I haven’t talked to her...” nani said slowly. “She has been working here for months now.”

HP smiled.

“Ask her to come here to my room after her work is done,” nani said.

“Ji, naniji,” HP replied before leaving.

Teaser for Part 11 and onwards