17. OS 20. The Temperamental Tyrant (Part 17)

Part 17

Khushi stood in the grounds and looked around her.

One month had brought dramatic changes in Sheesh Mahal.

The grounds had been cleared and lawns set up by a landscaping company. Ancient and majestic trees lined the driveway, the renovated mansion’s large and numerous rooms had traditional beds and modern washrooms, a new helipad had been constructed behind the house and its ponds, filled with lotus and lily flowers, had swans seeking tidbits among their roots in the deep water.

She looked up at the old building. Its windows gleamed in the sun, a testament to the hard work put in by the cleaning trainees.

She smiled slightly as the wind ruffled her hair.

The interiors of the house had seen extensive change. The old drapes had been pulled down, broken down furniture thrown away. The house had been painted and now was airy and well-lit.

She looked at the house once more.

It looked beautiful, well-loved, welcoming. Guests would start pouring in soon. The inauguration was just a week away.

“Khushi,” her supervisor called.

“Sir?” she asked, walking towards her.

“Go to the conference hall. The other trainees have gathered there for the meeting,” the middle-aged lady instructed.

“Ji,” Khushi said.

The lady left and Khushi started walking towards the building.

A swan crossed her path.

Smiling at the bird, she smoothed stray strands of hair behind her ear.

Her phone rang.

“Hello?” she asked, her eyes on the swan walking away regally.

“Khushi.” was the only word spoken.

Her eyes filled with tears. Her hand shook. Her heart ached.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Fine,” she mumbled through a throat choked with sobs.

He had to swallow hard before asking, “Are you angry with nani?”

She was too shocked to reply. Then she asked hesitantly, “Nani? Angry with nani?” She had no idea how much he knew.

“She insulted you, accused you of things you hadn’t done. I am sorry, Khushi,” he said from his heart.

“Aap chinta na karein. It is fine. Aur bataiye, how is your health? Aap dawaiyi le rahe ho? Are you eating on time?” she asked, trying to dry her cheeks and make her voice sound normal.

He parted his lips to answer and paused. What could he tell her except lies? He had no idea when he had last eaten a meal. Nor did he know where the medicine kit was.

She took his silence to mean ‘yes’ and said quickly before she bawled her eyes out, “Hum chalte hein, Arnavji. There is a meeting...”

“Are you working now?” he asked.

She tried to smile and to sound as though her life was going good.

“Ji, at a heritage hotel near my house. Aap ko pata he, Arnavji, I told them I don’t know English and that I am only twelfth pass, but they said that was perfectly fine and gave me the job,” she explained. Then to lighten the mood, she said, “I am the receptionist here, Arnavji. They taught me how to talk and walk and dress well.” She sighed. “It was a hard task for them. Pity them, Arnavji. Aap ko pata he kitne sanki he hum! Now if I ever meet you, I will welcome you royally. Mr. Arnav Singh Raizada, welcome to Sheesh Mahal, Happiness Hospitality Group’s heritage hotel. Would you like a single or a double room? Or would you prefer a suite?” she asked, trying to laugh.

He smiled. “I will look forward to that,” he said softly. Then he asked the most damning question, “Are you happy, Khushi?”

There was perfect silence as Khushi tried to hold back her sobs. Then she cut the call, unable to pretend anymore.

Arnav tossed the phone on his desk and lay back in his chair, wanting to burn down the whole world that stood between him and Khushi, with preference given to his chacha whom he wanted to skin alive before setting on fire.

                                                              ***

Nani, Anjali, mama, mami and Akash looked at the huge, sprawling estate and mansion that had been the home of the Malliks for decades and now belonged to ASR.

Aman joined them, the early morning light falling on his glossy hair and giving him a halo.

“Please come in. ASR will join you in one hour,” he said, leading them inside.

Aman said nothing as Anjali wept openly and nani teared up on seeing familiar rooms and a huge portrait of Ratna Raizada placed in a prominent position.

He showed them to their suites and said, “I will inform you when ASR arrives.”

“Amanji,” Anjali asked. “When is the inauguration?”

“At ten,” he replied before leaving.

He left behind him silence.

Then mama said, “Arnav bitwaa has changed the decor. The house looks much better now.”

Mami nodded. “Now there ijj light and air.”

Akash looked around at the walls. There were no paintings of the Malliks, just old sketches of the stately home. It looked as though a magic hand had wiped away all evidence that the Malliks had ever lived there. Akash smiled at the poetic justice of it.

Nani mused, “It seems like a new house now. Chotey has done well.”

Anjali nodded, drying her tears.

                                                         ***

Khushi walked up the driveway of the manor on the day of the inauguration and came face-to-face with her favourite manager, Amanji, who had interviewed her.

“Aap?” she asked, beaming.

“Have you settled in, Khushiji?” he asked, a smile on his face. He could only admire how free of bitterness she was after the terrible tragedy that had overturned her life.

Khushiji? Why was he calling her Khushiji? She was only a receptionist here and was a decade younger than him.

Before she could remonstrate with him, he said, “Khushiji, the owner of Happiness Hospitality Group has come here for the inauguration.”

Khushi smiled. “How nice,” she murmured.

“He wants to meet all the employees before the inauguration. I want you to take the side stairs and go up to the dome. He has his office there,” Aman said, motioning to the stairs.

Khushi looked at the bag in her hand. “Shall I go to the office and leave my bag there?” she asked.

“No, he is in a hurry,” Aman replied. Or she would see Ratna Raizada’s portrait. “Go to his office now. Then you can go to your office.”

“Ji,” Khushi replied. “Hum chalte hein. I don’t know if we will meet again. Apna khayal rakhiyega, Amanji,” she said before walking away.

Aman smiled. Khushiji had a strong mothering instinct and ASR was sorely in need of a lot of loving. A pair made in heaven, he thought.

                                                           ***

 Khushi walked up the side steps, her cloth bag swinging against her hip. She reached the dome and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” a female voice called.

She walked in to see a middle-aged lady at the desk.

“I am Khushi Kumari Gupta,” she said. “Amanji said the owner wants to meet the employees before the inauguration...”

“Yes,” the lady smiled. “Twenty of them have met him. Two are with him in his office right now. Sit down. You can go in next.” She looked at the massive teak door of the boss’ office.

Khushi smiled at her and sat down on the plush chair.

A minute later, the teak door swung open and two employees emerged from the main office. They smiled at Khushi and left.

“Khushi Kumari Gupta, receptionist, sir,” the lady announced, holding the door open for Khushi to walk in.

She smiled her thanks at the lady and entered the massive room.

The first thing that struck her was the fragrance, the captivating, mesmerising fragrance of sandalwood she associated with the only man who had touched her heart.

Arnav Singh Raizada.

Her heart fluttered. Her eyes fell shut.

Her lips parted as she breathed in deep, filling her lungs with the scent.

Her lashes lifted to see him standing before her. Arnav Singh Raizada, complete with his black formal attire.

Her eyes widened. Her breath caught in her chest. Her heart skipped a beat. She felt giddy, faint. She swayed and fell. She felt as though she were falling down a hole, spinning towards the bottom, out of control.

He caught her in his strong arms before she could hit the ground and cradled her to his chest.

“Khushi,” he whispered.