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

Part 20

“Khushi?” Arnav called, walking into the employees’ lounge.

“She...she is changing,” a scared-looking girl stammered, flustered at the sight of the owner of the hotel in the workers’ hall.

He crossed his arms and stood there like a rock.

The girl scurried away, one wary eye on him.

Khushi emerged from the cubicle, dressed in her own clothes to see Arnav Singh Raizada standing in the employees’ lounge, raising its class with his sartorial elegance and his patrician features.

“Aap? Yahan?” she was moved into saying.

He clasped her hand. “Khushi, nani wants to talk to you,” he said, his soft eyes on her wounded ones.

“No,” she replied.

Arnav smiled. “How can I propose to you in their presence if you won’t share space with them?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.

Khushi gasped. For a full minute, she stared at him, her eyes resembling saucers.

“Propose?” she whispered.

“Of course,” he said, pretending to be very casual. “Why else would I come down here?”

“But...but...you never wanted to marry...” she managed to say.

“That was before you barged into my bedroom,” he replied.

She stared at him, scared to blink lest she miss something.

He sighed. He stepped forward and took hold of her hand and dropped a kiss on it. “Do you think that I, Arnav Singh Raizada, would travel to Lucknow, the scene of my nightmares, buy the house that was the venue of my nightmares? Rope in Aman, my personal assistant to turn it into a hotel, devise ways to employ you here, hang around your house for a glimpse of you walking along the road, behave in a civil manner with my meddling family...”

“You didn’t break anything,” she murmured.

His voice betrayed his amusement as he said softly, “I didn’t break anything.”

She nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“Would I behave in so uncharacteristic a manner if I didn’t want to marry you, Khushi?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.

“But...but,” Khushi grappled with the change in him.

His eyes turned dark with sorrow as he said softly, “Maybe my mama sent you into my life.”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“Maybe she saw how alone I was, how tired of life I was...Nights without sleep....working non-stop...nightmares and headaches...” He sighed. “Maybe she saw how desperate I was...how troubled, lonely...”

Khushi threw herself at him. He hugged her close, breathing in the floral scent of her hair.

“Will you marry me, Khushi?” he asked in her ear, his eyes shut.

“Your family?” she asked.

“They are fine with it,” he assured her.

Her lips twisted in a wry grimace. He must have bulldozed his family into agreeing to their wedding.

She drew in a deep breath and pulled away from him.

Looking into his eyes, she said, “If your family visits mine and asks for my hand, I will marry you.”

“They will,” he promised.

“Amma and babuji deserve to be shown respect,” Khushi told him seriously. “I will never marry into a family that insults the people who gave me shelter and protected me when I had no one.”

He nodded, his understanding eyes on her serious ones.

“Not even if I want to marry you more than I want to take my next breath,” she told him earnestly.

He smiled at her and dropped a kiss on her cheek.

                                                                   ***

Khushi went home, walking along the road so distracted and lost in her thoughts that she almost rammed into Sajni, Ram Lal’s buffalo.

“Kaa hui gawa, bitiya?” Ram Lal asked. “You almost scared my Sajni into not giving milk for a week!”

“Maaf kar deejiye, Ram Lalji, Sajniji,” Khushi begged pardon.

“Iss umariya mein to walk about khoyi khoyi...kucho to baat he,” Ram Lal teased. “Kauno Raajkumar he kaa in your dreams?”

Khushi blushed a deep red and ran home to the musical accompaniment of Ram Lal’s loud laughter.

She reached home and ran to her room.

“Kaa hua Parmeswari ko, Nandkisore?” buaji asked, setting aside the tray of jalebis.

Garima laughed, shaking her head.

Payal asked, laughing, “When doesn’t something happen to her?”

“Haan, woh bhi sahi he, Nandkisore,” buaji replied chuckling, resuming her work.

Sasi hung his umbrella on the peg, asking, “Kaa hua?”

“Nothing new,” buaji said. “Just our Sanka Devi behaving like a Sanka Devi.”

“Then it is fine,” Sasi replied with a laugh.

A knock sounded on the door.

“Let me see who that is,” Sasi said before going to open the door.

He stood stunned at the sight of the thin lady standing there with her son.

“Kamlaji?” he asked, astonished. “Yahan? What happened?”

“I wanted to meet you, Sasiji,” the lady replied softly.

“Andar aayiye na?” he invited. “Garima, jiji, see who has come.”

They stopped short, shocked to see Kamla, the widow of Sasi’s friend who had borrowed money from him and then committed suicide when his son passed away.

A moment later, Garima invited, “Please come in, sit down. How are you?”

Kamla and her son sat down.

Payal ran to the kitchen to get water for them to drink.

“Hum theek he, jiji,” Kamla replied. Her face fell. “I am ashamed to face you.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Chintu’s papa borrowed a huge sum of money from you and...” She wept.

“That’s alright, Nandkisore,” buaji consoled her.

“Money will come and go,” Sasi comforted her. “Don’t worry about it. I am glad I could help when Ramesh needed help.” He sighed. “I am sorry it didn’t help Chintu. It was such a shock when...” His voice trailed away.

“And then Rameshji.....” Garima paused, unable to wrap her head around the fact that that cheerful man she had known for close to a decade had committed suicide.

Kamla nodded, trying to dry her cheeks. “He loved Chintu so much that....we never thought....aap hi sochiye, bhaisaheb, would you think your son’s headache was cancer?”

All nodded.

“And it was so sudden...” Kamla tried to clear her throat. “I came to apologise for the inconvenience we caused you. Your money...we couldn’t return it....”

“It is alright, Kamlaji,” Sasi reassured her.

“It is not alright,” Kamla replied. “I know you pledged the shop to give Chintu’s papa the money.”

The Guptas had nothing to say.

Kamla took out a big packet covered with newspaper from her bag and held it out. “Please take the money, bhaisaheb,” she begged.

Sasi looked at his wife and sister and then at Kamla. “How did you get the money, Kamlaji?” His eyes widened in horror. “You didn’t borrow it from a moneylender, did you?”

Kamla smiled sadly, “No, bhaisaheb.” She placed it in Sasi’s hands and heaved a sigh of relief. “Chintu’s papa owned a share in a property in Kanpur. When he tried to sell it to raise money for Chintu’s treatment, his brothers refused to agree to the sale. They refused when he begged them to let him pledge it.” Kamla wiped away the tear that trailed down her cheek. “They didn’t understand that the illness was so...so...” She drew in a deep breath. “When Chintu died and his father...killed himself...his brothers felt terrible. They came and helped us with the kriya karm and took us home with them. My saas sasur want us to stay with them. They said they would look after Montu.” She looked at her second son. “I told them we owed you money. So my brothers-in-law sold the property and brought us here so that I could repay the debt with interest.” Kamla folded her hands. “Bhagwan aapka bhala karein. You helped us when no one would. Because of you, we could give Chintu the best medical care available. We have at least the comfort that we tried our best...”

She stood up to leave.

“Hum chalte hein, bhaisaheb. Bhagwan ki kripa rahi to we will meet again some day.” She bid her farewell and left with her child, leaving the Guptas shell-shocked.

                                                                    ***

Another knock sounded on the door.

The Guptas jumped.

“Now what miracle is left to happen, Nandkisore!” buaji exclaimed.

“Jiji, I wonder who is at the door,” Garima whispered.

“Let me see,” Sasi said, trying to get up from his chair.

“Hum dekhte hein, babuji,” Payal said, striding to the door to open it.

She stood shocked for a moment, her eyes running over the group of people standing at her door.

“Yes?” she asked feebly, her taking in mami’s colourful appearance.

“Ijj this Khussi Kumari Guptajj housewaa?” mami asked.

Payal panicked. What had Khushi done now?

“Yes,” she replied very softly, scared of the consequences.

“We hab come to meet her,” mami said, pushing her way into the house.

Payal jumped back to avoid being walked over.

The entire family walked into the house. The Guptas stood up, staring at the army of strangers in their house.

                                                           ***

Arnav stepped forward.

“You must be Sasi Gupta?” he asked the middle-aged man.

“Yes,” Sasi replied.

“Khushi has told me a lot about you,” Arnav remarked.

The Guptas looked at each other in amazement.

“I am Arnav Singh Raizada,” he declared. “This is my nani, Devyani Raizada, my mama, Manohar, my mami, Manorama, my di, Anjali, and my brother, Akash.”

The Guptas folded her hands in greeting.

“Khushi used to work at our house in Delhi,” Arnav stated.

Buaji gasped, realising too late who these people were.

Garima looked at Sasi in fear and Sasi stared at the Raizadas. Why were they here? Had Khushi gotten up to some mischief in Delhi?

Sasi folded his hands and said, “Bitwaa, my daughter is young. If in her naadani, she caused your family any pain or loss, I am very sorry. Hum maafi maangte hein for her carelessness.”

“Aap please maafi mat maangiye, babuji,” Arnav reassured him. “We are the ones who should apologise. That’s why my family has come here today. And yes, they would also like to ask you to marry off your daughter to me,” he stated.

Buaji collapsed in a chair, crying, “Hai Re Nandkisore!”