16. OS 20. The Temperamental Tyrant (Part 16)

Rains have ended in Kerala and the state is limping back to normalcy. Houses have been destroyed, wells filled with mud and debris, certificates and documents lost, many homes are not fit to be lived in, shops and businesses have been washed away and people are now left with nothing, not even essentials like food and water.

Sewabharathi is a trustworthy NGO that is running relief camps for the afflicted and transporting food, clothes and medicines to the needy. They are going to the homes of the affected people and helping them clean up the houses and premises. They are giving them clothes and food and providing them medical care right in their own homes.

I myself helped out in their relief camps and can attest to the fact that not a paisa is wasted or diverted or misused.

Pls donate to Sewabharathi, Trivandrum,

Indian Bank,

Pattom.

Account no: 486025602

IFSC Code: IDIB000P030

Part 16

“Yes?” ASR asked, tense. Aman was the soul of placidity. If he was upset, then it was no light matter.

“Sir, I...I was reading the report. Err...Khushi’s parents...” Aman had to stop.

“Were killed in an accident,” Arnav continued from where Aman had stopped.

“Yes, sir,” Aman agreed.

“The people she calls amma-babuji are her aunt and her husband. Her sister is her cousin,” ASR concluded.

“You knew, sir?” Aman asked.

“Yes,” ASR replied. “She told me her parents died in an accident.”

“Did she tell you who caused the accident?” Aman asked quietly.

ASR’s hold on the phone tightened. The premonition of something evil sent tingles down his spine. “No,” he murmured.

Aman gulped. “Rudra Pratap Raizada, your nanaji,” he said.

The phone fell from ASR’s hand to the carpet.

                                                          ***

 A few minutes later, he called Aman.

“No, it can’t be true,” ASR stated. “My nanaji didn’t drive. Never.”

Aman swallowed his regret as he said, “The car was his, sir. I checked again.”

ASR nodded. “The car may have been his, but he wasn’t driving it. I can promise you that.”

Aman breathed easy. “Give me a few minutes, sir. I will dig around and get more info,” Aman promised.

“Thanks, Aman,” ASR said, his voice a mere thread.

                                                             ***

ASR went home, feeling half-dead.

HP opened the door and held out his hand for ASR’s coat and bag, but nothing registered in Arnav’s brain. He walked ahead like a robot.

“Chotey,” Anjali called.

He continued walking.

Nani stepped in his path.

He stopped and looked at her. All he could hear in his head as he looked at her was that nanaji’s car had killed Khushi’s parents.

“Had ho gayi he, Chotey,” she thundered. “What are you doing to yourself?”

He said nothing. His mind wrestled with the hundred possibilities associated with Khushi’s parents’ death.

“Nanaji didn’t drive, did he?” he confirmed, his voice flat.

“What?” Anjali asked, confused.

“Did nanaji drive?” Arnav repeated the question, his eyes on nani.

Nani frowned. “Of course not,” she replied. “We had drivers, four of them.”

“Never?” he confirmed.

“Never. He never learned how to drive. He didn’t need to,” nani said with a sniff.

Arnav nodded and made to walk away.

“Chotey,” nani called. “What are you planning to do?”

He frowned. “About what?” he asked.

Nani dismissed the question.

“You don’t eat, you don’t sleep. You look terrible. What are you trying to do? Pay me back for sending that maid away?” nani asked, her eyes steely.

 Anjali nodded.

“I want all of you to get ready to go to Lucknow next month,” was all he said.

Anjali gasped.

“To meet the maid?’ nani asked, contemptuous.

“To attend the inauguration of Sheesh Mahal, a heritage hotel owned by me. I purchased it from chacha,” he replied before walking away.

He left behind perfect silence.

“Chotey went to Lucknow?” Anjali whispered, knowing how much he hated and dreaded the city.

“He bought Sheesh Mahal?” nani asked, her voice trembling, her eyes filled with tears, her mind filled with memories of Ratna, her daughter and the terrible sight of her lying dead on the floor, her blood soaking the carpet.

“Kaa hua, amma?” Manohar asked, joining them with his wife and son.

Nani was too overwrought to reply.

Anjali murmured, “Mama, Chotey went to Lucknow.”

Mami gasped and mama exclaimed, “Really?”

“Lucknow?” Akash couldn’t have been more astonished had they said Arnav had sailed away to the moon on a dinghy.

“He bought Sheesh Mahal from chacha,” Anjali said, crying.

“I don’t believe this,” Akash murmured after a long moment. “Bhai would never set foot in Lucknow, let alone buy that mausoleum.”

Mami hugged Anjali even as Manohar tried to take in the ramifications of these momentous events.

Finally he said, “Amma, he hates Lucknow. He fears Lucknow. And the very thought of Sheesh Mahal was enough to give him nightmares. Aap ko pata he how he wouldn’t sleep at night after he and Anjali bitiya came to live with us.”

Nani nodded weakly.

“If it is love for Khussi that has made Arnav bitwaa go to Lucknow and buy the house, then, hamri baat mano, amma, he loves her more than he hates his past,” Manohar explained quietly.

Akash nodded slowly.

Nani, mami and Anjali stared at him.

“Amma, it was his past that made him bitter, turned him against marriage and forced him to live a lonely life. If his love for Khussi can free him from that dark dungeon where he has been trapped for years, amma, please let him have her. Hum aapke aage haath jodte hein, amma. Please don’t push him back into the dark,” Manohar said, meaning every word.

Mami added, “Haan, saasumma. Laagat he hamre Arnav bitwaa ijj slowly waking ups.” Her voice broke.

Nani sat down.

“I said this before and I will say it again, our family honour is not more important than bhai’s happiness, dadi,” Akash said firmly. “Nothing is.”

Anjali pleaded, “Nani, please reconsider your decision. I am scared Chotey will.....will do something if this goes on for a few more months. Or he will fall sick.”

“Waise bhi he ijj not taking his medicinewaa,” mami murmured. “Aur phood ka naam bhi mat lo, hello hi bye bye. Even a birdwaa bill eat more.”

Anjali sat down, her head in her hands. “I can’t take this anymore, nani. I can’t. If Chotey does what mama did, then...then...I...” She couldn’t speak.

Nani closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair.

There was silence for a long time, interspersed only by sniffs.

Then nani asked in a low voice, “Are you asking me to accept that Khushi as our bahu?” It was no challenge, but a genuine question.

“Yes, amma,” Manohar replied.

Mami and Akash nodded.

Anjali said, “Our Chotey’s well-being is all that matters, nani.”

“Bhai is no fool, dadi,” Akash said with conviction. “If he likes her, there must be something in her that he finds very attractive. I don’t mean physical beauty. Aap ko pata he that he works with the most beautiful women across the world and no one, absolutely no one has even registered in his head. So she must have one or more qualities that he finds very attractive. Please, dadi, give her a chance.”

Nani nodded reluctantly. “Fine. I will. We have lived through worse,” she said quietly. “We will survive this too.”

                                                                   ***

“Amma, babuji, buaji, jiji,” Khushi called. “I have a job.”

All looked at her expectantly.

She explained the job, the training and the stipend.

“So much money?” Garima gasped. “Just for training?”

“Daal mein kucho kaala he, Nandkisore!” buaji surmised.

“Kuch bhi kaala naahi he, Nandkisore! Madhumatiji, remove your dark glasses!” Khushi teased. “I am going to work tomorrow morning.”

“Where is it, Khussi?” Garima asked.

“Sheesh Mahal, amma,” Khushi replied. “I can walk to work. Bus ka paisa bach jayega.”

Garima’s mouth fell open and she clutched her poor heart. “Sheesh Mahal?” she whispered.

“Sheesh Mahal?” buaji thundered. “You are not going there, Sanka Devi.”

Khushi frowned. “Kyon?” she asked. “Babuji, please make them understand. Why can’t I work at Sheesh Mahal?”

Buaji clutched her head. “This girl will give me a headache,” she complained. “Do as you are told. Sit at home and roll laddoos. Kauno zaroorat naahi he kissi Sheesh Mahal mein jaane ki, Nandkisore!”

Sasi Gupta asked quietly, “Who offered you the job?”

“A nice man from Happiness Hospitality Group,” Khushi explained.

“Happiness Hospitality Group?” buaji asked. “Lekin...lekin Sheesh Mahal belonged to...” She paused.

“I heard it had been sold to a company,” Sasi replied quietly.

“So that devil isn’t there?” Garima asked.

“Appears he was thrown out by the current owner,” Sasi said. “The company is going to run it as a hotel.”

Garima and buaji heaved sighs of relief.

“Amma, buaji, who is the devil?” Khushi asked.

Perfect silence reigned in the room.

                                                      ***

“The vehicle was driven by your uncle, Ashok Mallik,” Aman said, sounding exhausted. “He probably borrowed your grandfather’s car and took it out for a spin when he ran over Khushi’s parents.”

“Why wasn’t he prosecuted?” ASR asked, sounding downright dangerous.

“He bought the police,” Aman replied. “Khushi’s aunt tried to file a complaint against him, but the police refused to take it. Mallik paid generously to hush up the matter.”

“How did the detective find this out?” ASR asked.

“He dug locally, got in touch with Khushi’s parents’ friends, people her father worked with, retired policemen etc,” Aman explained. “All knew the truth, but feared for their lives and so remained silent. Mallik walked away free.”

ASR clenched his fist. If only he had his uncle before him for a minute! He would beat him to pulp and stomp him so hard that he was buried six foot under.

                                                                ***

15. OS 20. The Temperamental Tyrant (Part 15)

Part 15

The deal was done.

ASR stood on the ramparts of the huge mansion, Sheesh Mahal and looked around at the mismanaged acres of land surrounding the house.

“Mallik has moved out with his belongings, sir,” Aman informed him, his low voice not intruding into Arnav’s thoughts.

Arnav said nothing, just stood looking out at the old trees and grass growing wild. The silence was broken only by the cooing of pigeons nesting in many nooks and corners of the haveli.

“I need you to do a few things here, Aman. You may have to stay here for a few weeks,” ASR said finally.

“Yes, sir,” Aman agreed.

After another long silence, Arnav said, “Aman, take me to Gomti Sadan.”

“Yes, sir,” Aman said after a minute pause.

                                                                   ***

Khushi combed her hair, standing before the ornate mirror that had been in babuji’s family for decades.

“Khushi, I am going to the shop. You have breakfast and bring the laddoos,” Payal said.

“Ji, jiji,” Khushi replied. “Then I will go to Excellent Textiles. They want a salesgirl.”

“Did you see their advertisement in the paper?” Payal asked.

“Yes, jiji,” Khushi replied.

“How is the salary?” Payal asked.

“Low,” Khushi admitted. But what could a twelfth pass girl with no particular skills other than making jalebi expect?

Payal sighed. “Why did you give up your job in Delhi, Khushi?” she asked. “It paid so well.”

A hand crushed Khushi’s heart, taking the colour from her cheeks. The image of Arnavji rose in her mind, choking her with tears.

She turned away.

Payal left.

Khushi looked at the tray of laddoos. What was he doing now? Was he well? She hadn’t gotten to say goodbye to him, had left in the night like a thief....

There wasn’t a moment when she didn’t think of him. Not a day went by when she didn’t miss him. Their conversation, his rare laughter, the concern in his eyes....If only she could see him once...

She took her phone in her hand. She had the number he had called her from. She could call him if she wished, but... Nani’s words echoed in her ears.

Tears filled her eyes. No, she would never see him again. Never. Their worlds were very different, very far apart. And there was no way rich Arnav Singh Raizada from Delhi would spend time chatting with penniless Khushi Kumari Gupta from Lucknow.

She laid the phone down. A tear made its way down her cheek. She placed a hand on her chest. Why did her heart ache every time she thought of him?

The clock rang the hour and Khushi jumped. It was time to take the laddoos to the shop.

As she carried the covered thali of laddoos and walked along the road to the shop, she didn’t see the black car parked on the road or the two men seated inside.

Arnav’s eyes burned as he saw her dispirited face. She had lost weight and her eyes were rimmed with fatigue due to sleepless nights.

He quickly slipped on his glasses to prevent Aman from seeing his moist eyes.

                                                                 ***

The door bell sounded.

Khushi dried her cheeks and went to open the door.

A young girl stood there, wearing a light blue coat over her salwar suit.

“Yes?” Khushi asked.

“Madam, we are distributing pamphlets in this area,” the girl said cheerfully.

Khushi frowned. Was the temple collecting chanda for a festival?

“We are a recruitment agency. Our pamphlets contain job openings in Lucknow,” the girl revealed.

Khushi’s mouth fell open. “Sachi?” she asked. It was as if someone had read her mind and Devi Maiyya had decided to do her a favour. Her interview at the textile shop had gone so spectacularly well that she was sure no garment shop in Lucknow would hire her.

The girl laughed. “Sachi,” she replied.

She handed over a pamphlet to Khushi and left.

Khushi perused the document.

The first job listed was that of a receptionist at a new hotel that was being started in Sheesh Mahal, an old building in the heart of the city. It was just a stone’s throw away and she could walk to her job if needed.

Her heart jumped.

But what about the qualifications needed to get the job? She was just a twelfth standard pass.

Her eyes fell on the requirements for the post and widened. It was perfect for her. Training in English and the use of office equipment would be given to the candidates.

Khushi sat down, her legs feeling weak.

Her eyes travelled down the page. The new hotel required gardeners, drivers, cooks, cleaners....

She looked at Devi Maiyya’s statue with folded hands. “Finally,” she whispered.

                                                             ***

Aman stood looking out through the window, watching Khushi Kumari Gupta enter Sheesh Mahal to apply for a job.

“She has taken the bait,” he murmured. He quickly messaged ASR who had returned to Delhi.

Dressed in a pastel green salwar suit, she looked like a pretty, lower middle class girl. She was no femme fatale. What was it about her that made ASR spend crores of rupees and devise childish schemes to help her?

What was the story?

He watched as she talked to the guards who directed her to the reception counter.

Soon there was a knock on the door.

“Yes?” Aman called.

The office staff they had brought from Delhi opened the door and said, “Sir, Khushi Kumari Gupta has come to meet you. She wants to apply for the post of receptionist.”

“Send her in,” Aman replied.

The staff motioned Khushi in.

Aman finally got a close look at the girl who had the power to turn ASR the temperamental tyrant into a dejected, miserable Devdas Part 2 minus the alcohol. 

Beautiful eyes, clear skin, lovely hair, gorgeous body, cheap clothes and jewellery... Aman categorised. She was very attractive. But ASR worked in an office crawling with beautiful women and was immune to their attractions. No one could fell him with beauty. So it wasn’t her beauty that had attracted him.

Then what was it? he wondered.

“Khushi Kumari Gupta?” he asked.

“Ji,” she replied.

‘Good voice,’ he thought.

“Please sit down. You wish to apply for the post of a receptionist?” he asked.

“Ji,” she replied. “Lekin hamein aapko ek baat bataani he. I am just twelfth pass, woh bhi sarkaari school se. So my English is not good. And I have no experience working in an office.”

Aman smiled. Honesty. Yes, that must have knocked ASR out. He looked into her eyes. Innocence. So rare, so precious.

“That’s fine,” Aman said. “We will train you. Have you worked elsewhere?”

“Ji. My babuji is a halwai. My jiji and I have always worked in his shop. Then I worked as a maid in a house in Delhi for three months,” she replied honestly.

“I see,” Aman said. “Your family?”

“I live with my babuji and amma, my jiji and my buaji,” she said, a look of love on her face.

Aman looked at the closed file on his table containing the latest report from the detective.

“We will be giving you a stipend while you train with us,” he said, mentioning the amount.

Her mouth fell open. “So much?” she asked.

Aman smiled slightly. “Happiness Hospitality Group believes in paying its employees well. You will be one among twenty-five girls being trained for various jobs,” he said. “You can start tomorrow.”

“Ji,” she murmured, unable to believe her luck. It was as though a fairy had waved her magic wand.

Aman laughed. Only then did Khushi realise that she had spoken out aloud.

She flushed.

Aman looked away to control his amusement. Picturing ASR in a fairy costume was detrimental to his self-control.

“Hum chalte hein,” she said, standing up.

“Report at the front desk at ten tomorrow if you would like to join us,” Aman said, seeing her out.

“I will be there,” she promised.

Aman returned to his table and texted ASR that she had taken the job. He then pulled the file closer and opened it.

The investigator had dug deep.

Aman eyes widened as he read about Khushi’s parents’ death, how she had been adopted by her aunt and her husband, how she called them parents... ‘Oh God! Oh God!’ Aman’s heart murmured. This was terrible. His eyes ran over the remaining sentences and widened in shock.

The file fell from his numb fingers.

He scrambled to get it and frantically turned the papers to get to the page he had been reading. His eyes focused on the details given at the end of the paragraph and he sat down, feeling weak.

A couple of deep breaths later, he called ASR.

“Sir, there is  a problem,” he said in a subdued voice, regretful that he was the carrier of a very unhappy news.

“Is Khushi fine?” was ASR’s default response.

“Yes,” Aman rushed to reassure. “She is fine. The thing is...I got the investigator’s latest report.” He paused.

“Yes?” ASR aksed.

“There is something you need to know,” Aman said, miserable for ASR.

14. OS 20. The Temperamental Tyrant (Part 14)

Part 14

KINDLY PURCHASE The Indulgent Guardian BEFORE AUGUST 15th. DETAILS ARE GIVEN IN PART 12.

Aman Mathur walked up the steps to buaji’s house in Laxmi Nagar to offer Khushi Kumari Gupta a job, only to see a golden coloured lock on the door.

He stood undecided for a moment.

Maybe Ms. Gupta and her aunt had stepped outside for a moment and would be back soon. He moved to the steps and dusting it with his kerchief, sat down gingerly to wait for them.

“Bitwaa,” Vimla chachi called from the next house.

Aman jumped up. He turned his head to see an elderly lady peering at him from the next house.

“Ji?” he asked.

“Are you here to meet Madhumatiji?”

“Yes,” he replied after a pause. Or he would have to explain why he was sitting outside Ms. Gupta’s house with an appointment letter.

“She and Khussi left for Lucknow,” the old lady revealed.

Aman blinked. How would he explain this to ASR who had gone all silent and cold and obsessed with Ms. Gupta’s employment and well-being?

“Khussi’s father is unwell,” the lady explained. “Madhumatiji said that they received a phone call from home, asking them to return.”

“Oh,” said Aman. “When will they be back?”

The lady frowned. “I don’t know, bitwaa. They didn’t say. But I think they won’t return for a few months. Woh kya he, they gave my son the money for their electricity and water bills, paid Daulat Ram, the kirana store owner the money they owed him, asked Chandu, the newspaper boy to stop delivering paper...”

It looked like a long visit. Aman nodded and thanked her before leaving.

                                                         ***

Aman stared at ASR, astonished beyond words to witness the effect his disclosure had on the hard-headed and hard-nosed businessman.

His face was ashen. His head was bowed and his shoulders had drooped.

Aman sat down.

In the eight years he had worked with ASR, he had seen his boss in numerous difficult situations, but never had any circumstance or person gotten to him as this Ms. Gupta had.

ASR looked hopeless, exhausted, helpless. And the most shocking of all, there was no anger. His very soul seemed weary.

Aman felt fear of the worst kind. His body went cold.

“Aman,” ASR called softly.

“Yes, sir?” Aman got up and walked towards ASR.

“I need to know what Khushi is doing there, how her father is,” ASR said quietly.

“Yes, sir,” Aman replied, too unsettled by ASR’s demeanour to even question his actions in his mind.

“Satwik Mishtan Bhandaar,” ASR said in a low voice. “That’s the name of her father’s shop. He is a halwai.”

“I will get a private detective on the job, sir,” Aman promised. “The best man. And I will ask him to report back at the earliest.”

ASR nodded.

Aman left the room, his head spinning. ASR was all worked up about a halwai’s daughter who had left Delhi to go back home to Lucknow? Really?

                                                                    ***

The Raizadas watched as Arnav entered the house.

“Shall I bring tea, Arnav bhaiya?” HP asked softly. These days the house resembled a cemetery and there was a funereal air about everything.

“No,” ASR murmured, walking up the steps to his room, dragging his feet. He was exhausted. There was nothing to look forward to, no bright face to welcome him when he came home, no Khushi to press food and tea down his throat while distracting him with cheerful banter....There was nothing left in life.

“Hamre Arnav bitwaa has lost weight,” mami mourned. “Saijj zero ban gaye hamre bitwaa!”

“His lunch box was unopened when I went to his office in the evening,” Akash said, throwing an accusing glance at nani.

“I tried to make sure he is taking his pills, but he refused to open the door when I knocked,” Anjali said.

There was a moment of silence.

Mama asked softly, “Amma, is your pride in our birth greater than your love for Arnav bitwaa?

Nani gaze faltered.

“Is our family’s pride greater than bhai’s happiness?” Akash asked, his voice breaking.

Nani walked away, her ears ringing with his words.

                                                         ***

“Sasi Gupta loaned a huge amount to his friend who needed the money for his son’s treatment. The boy died. The friend, who was supposed to return the money in four months, committed suicide. Sasi Gupta couldn’t ask the widow for money. This put a heavy strain on Gupta’s financial state and his health. He, his wife and daughter, Payal began working full-time at the shop. Khushi left for Delhi to stay with Sasi Gupta’s sister, Madhumati in Laxmi Nagar, to find a job to help with the expenses,” Aman explained. “We have their address in Lucknow.”

“Is Khushi with her family?” was all ASR wanted to know.

“Yes,” Aman assured him.

ASR drew in a deep breath. She was safe.

“How is she?” he asked.

Aman stared at him. Khushi’s state of mind was not included in the detective’s report! He cleared his throat before saying, “She is looking for a job.”

ASR shut his eyes.

"Sir, is this Khushi?" Aman asked, holding out a photo the investigator had included.

ASR took it from him with a hand that shook and looked at her dear face. She was making jalebi. 

"Yes," he whispered.

 After a moment of silence, he said, “Aman, I want you to go to Lucknow.”

“To meet Khushi?” Aman asked in wonder.

“No, to buy Sheesh Mahal from Mallik. It is time,” ASR stated.

                                                              ***