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