Tuesday 25 June 2019

8. OS 21. An Unwilling Passion (Part 12)




Part 12

Arnav was not asleep, but lying in an antique armchair, his legs raised and head laid back, contemplating the misery of the universe, especially his and Khushi’s universes.

It drizzled outside, the rain in keeping with his more sombre than usual mood.

There was a series of insistent bangs on the front door.

He sat up, frowning. Who was it at this time of the night? He got up and padded towards the door.

The bangs sounded again, much louder this time.


He threw open the door to see Khushi standing on his front step, soaking wet.



“K..Khushi?” he asked, shocked.

She stumbled towards him and caught hold of his arm. She stammered, “Ar..Arnavji..please..please come with me...please...babuji...babuji...he fell...aspatal jaana he...Arnavji...gaadi...”

“Yes, yes,” Arnavji murmured, his shocked eyes on her face wet with tears and rain. “I will get the car.”

He freed himself from her hold and ran to get the car keys. Locking the house with urgent fingers, he drove to the entrance of Gomti Sadan.

Exiting from the car, he ran with Khushi towards her house, leaping over the puddles, his mind clear of all thoughts of revenge and retribution.

He entered the courtyard and Khushi silently pointed him towards a room.

He entered it in a rush to see Sasi Gupta slumped on the floor. Garima, Payal and buaji were calling out to him in teary voices and trying to lift him, but his dead weight was too much for them.

Arnav lifted him in his arms, his worried eyes scanning Sasi’s pale face. He carried the middle-aged man to the car and soon he was driving to the nearest hospital, Khushi pointing out the way to him.


                                                              ***

Stroke.

The shock of Payal’s wedding being cancelled at the last minute had been too much for Sasi Gupta.

Arnav turned away from the doctor and slowly walked away to stand at a distance from the Gupta family surrounding the doctor.

What had happened today at the Guptas was only a fraction of what had happened in his house years ago. What if his nani had collapsed at the news that her only daughter had shot herself? He swallowed hard. He quickly took the phone out of his pocket and called his nani.

It was dawn and the elderly lady had woken up early to light a ghee lamp at the feet of Devi Maiyya as was her practice.

“Chotey?” she enquired. “Kaa hua? Aap hamein iss wakat kaahe phone kar rahe ho?”

“Are you...are you fine, nani?” he asked.

Nani frowned. “Hum theek thaak he. What can be wrong with me?” she asked frowning.

“Nani,” he paused.

“Kaa he, Chotey?”

“I just wanted to say that...that I am grateful to you for looking after us,” he said softly.

Nani was shocked out of her skull.

“And..and for staying strong when our lives fell apart.” He swallowed a boulder lodged in his throat. “But for you...”

There was a long silence as nani tried to regain her composure. “Chotey, when are you returning?” nani asked.

Arnav stretched his neck and rubbed his nape. He was tired and fed up of the whole revenge plan that had backfired royally. “Soon,” he replied. He spotted Garima walking towards him and quickly finished the call with nani and turned to face Garima with an expressionless face.

“Bitwaa, I want to thank you,” she said tearfully. “Doctorsaheb was saying that had you not brought us here so soon....” She couldn’t continue.

Arnav said nothing. This was not the place or the time. He made to turn away.

“Bitwaa, you are a stranger to us, lekin you helped us at the most critical time. Pata nahi aap se kaa rishta he hamara that you appeared like the almighty when we needed you the most,” Garima continued.

Something gave within Arnav.



He turned to look at her tear-stained face and said in a sibilant hiss, “I may be a stranger to you, but I know someone who is not.”

Garima blinked heavy eyes.

“Arvind Mallik. I am his son,” Arnav said quietly, his stare menacing enough to chill Garima’s blood.

There was a moment of perfect silence as Garima stared at him open-mouthed.


“Today’s tragedies in your life are not my doing, but I promise you that just as you were instrumental in my mother’s suicide and my father’s death, I will destroy your family and drag your family’s name through the mud.” Arnav turned and walked away.

Garima stood there, petrified.

Khushi came to her and asked, “Arnavji chale gaye? I wanted to thank him. But for him....”

Garima stumbled.

Khushi took hold of her and led her to sit on a bench.




Arnav walked towards the entrance of the hospital. A weight was off his mind. Now it was a direct battle between Garima and Arnav Singh Raizada. He drew in a deep breath, his spine straightening, his head arched high. A battle he would win for nothing else was acceptable to him.

“Sir,” the lady at the reception called.

He turned reluctantly.

“Sir, Mr. Sasi Gupta has been admitted in the ICU. Here’s the bill,” she held out a sheet of paper to the man who had accompanied the patient.

Arnav opened his mouth impatiently to deny any association with the cursed family, but the image of Khushi’s tired face and tear-filled eyes flashed through his head. She may not have money with her, he thought. He looked out at the rain falling on the tiles in the portico. Rushing home in the dark, battling rain to get money from home would be very difficult for Khushi. He frowned. Did she have money at home?

He took the bill from the receptionist and looked at it. The private hospital had charged a sizeable amount. His lips tightened. Regardless of how much he hated Garima, he couldn’t let Khushi take on more stress.

“I will pay for a month,” he declared.

The receptionist gaped at him.

“If Sasi Gupta is discharged before one month, return the remainder of the money to the family,” he ordered.

The lady nodded, her head bobbing like a buoy riding the sea.

Arnav dealt with the money issues and then walked out of the hospital, glad that the smell of phenyl was gone finally.




He entered his car and sat back for a moment. He hoped Khushi was fine.

                                                              ***

Sunday 16 June 2019

7. OS 21. An Unwilling Passion (Part 11)


Part 11


Arnav made his slow way to Gomti Sadan for the wedding, unwilling to attend the function at the house of his enemy, but forced to attend the event by a nagging sense that something momentous was about to happen.

He saw Khushi before she saw him. Dressed in a pink and green lehenga studded with stones, she looked divine. He had to compose himself before approaching her.



“Arnavji!” Khushi greeted him with a wide smile, delighted that he had appeared. “Aap aa gaye? Sachi?”

ASR nodded. Her gorgeousness was heightened by proximity and he was having a tough time dealing with her impact on his senses.

“Aayiye na? Baitiye!” She found him a seat. “You know babuji and jiji. Let me introduce you to my amma and buaji.”

Arnav swallowed hard. “Maybe later,” he said, his voice husky. “They must be busy with the wedding.”

Khushi smiled widely. “You are right. Aur waise bhi aap kahan bhaage jaa rahe ho? I will introduce you to them after the shaadi.”

ASR managed to nod.

“Khussi!” came a call.

She left unwillingly, turning back to look at him once more. He looked delicious even though he was dressed in his usual formal clothes, woh bhi in black. She took a deep breath filled with joy. Arnavji was at her home and in her vicinity. Her heart was content. Her joy in her jiji’s shaadi increased manifold. “Mera piya ghar aaya, o Ramji...,” she sung under her breath.





He sat, watching the wedding preparations, uneasy.

His disquiet increased as he saw a beautiful middle-aged woman with the pallu covering her head. She was talking to Khushi.

Garima. The bane of his existence. His nemesis.



His eyes ran over her, hatred filling his head and heart till he could see only red. His mama’s tears, her pain, the shot fired in the library, his mama’s lifeless body, the blood splattered on the walls and floor of the library...Hurtful images rushed through his head.

Khushi came rushing back to him with a tray of drinks and offered him one. 

“Leejiya na, Arnavji,” she urged, a loving smile on her lips.

He looked up at her, his eyes filled with rage and disgust.

Her smile faltered. “K..kya hua, Arnavji?” she whispered.

Her bewilderment sent a timely warning through his head. He struggled to lower his anger to manageable proportions and muttered, “Nothing.”



Buaji called Khushi.

She forced a drink on Arnav and left, still wondering what had made Arnavji look so ferocious. Maybe he hated shaadi? Maybe some girl had betrayed Arnavji and hurt him? A sharp pain lanced her heart even as the thought of Arnavji liking another girl entered her head.



“Sanka Devi, come here. I have some work for you,” buaji said, distracting Khushi from her painful ruminations.



                                                          ***



Arnav looked at his phone. It was almost time for the wedding to start. He looked around to see Sasi Gupta look anxiously at the clock on the wall. Where were the Agarwals?

As if in answer to the silent query, Papa Agarwal entered the house.

Arnav frowned. Such a quiet entry? He thought weddings were all about horses and band baaja and dancing. Why was Papa Agarwal alone?

Sasi Gupta’s face reflected Arnav’s doubt.

Arnav watched Sasi speak to Mr. Agarwal and then leave with him through a door that led inside the house.

Arnav drew in a deep breath. Something was going to give. He was no oracle, no psychic, but his intuition ran deep and strong and he was ready to bet every rupee of the fortune he had made that something was seriously wrong. Images of his di in tears as her fiancé and his family gave up on her and walked out flashed through his head.

A few minutes later, Mr. Agarwal left the house alone.

Arnav tensed further.

The crowd that had gathered to witness the wedding began remarking on Agarwal’s presence and his departure. Some began murmuring that it was time for the wedding and that the baraat should have arrived by now.

His eyes sought Khushi. She was not to be seen.

Sasi Gupta emerged from the room in which he had been closeted with Agarwal, his face pasty.

As Arnav watched, Garima went up to her husband, a worried look on her face. Arnav saw her mouth a question to Sasi. His response was in fits and starts, but his few words were enough to drive all colour from her face. She stood by him, incredulous, shocked, stupefied.



Arnav knew in his head that he should rejoice. After all, the woman who had destroyed his parents’ marriage and killed them was facing a very difficult situation that would lower, if not destroy her and her family’s standing in her community.

But he could feel nothing. Not joy, not satisfaction, not even a smidgen of smugness. He felt blank, empty. He frowned.


As he watched, buaji came to join them. Garima leaned against the middle-aged lady, taking strength from her not inconsiderable size, as she whispered in her ear.


“Hai Re Nandkisore!” buaji exclaimed loudly.

Slowly the crowd fell silent. Someone silenced the musicians. All looked expectantly at Sasi, Garima and buaji.

Sasi stepped forward, his shaking hands clasped tight. “Maaf keejiyega,” he began, his voice low and thin. “I am sorry to invite you here for a shaadi that...that will not be happening now.” His voice died away. 

The crowd stood stunned. All they could hear was Garima’s sobs. Buaji stood with her hand on her forehead.

“Poor Payaliya,” an elderly lady sitting near Arnav murmured.

His heart clenched as di’s face appeared before his eyes. The devastation, the tears, the anguish....

“Kaa hua, Sasiji?” asked a male voice.

“They...they said they didn’t want dowry,” Sasi said wearily. “But ten minutes before the shaddi, Agarwal said I have to give him fifty lakhs or Gomti Sadan for the shaadi to happen.”

There was a loud gasp.

“The rascal!” exclaimed an elderly man.

“You are well rid of them. Thank God that you didn’t give your daughter to such a family,” another voice said.

Garima, weighed down by sobs, sat down on a step.

Buaji sat by her and tried to calm her down. “This is what Nandkisore wants, Garima. Don’t cry. Nandkisore sab theek karenge.”

“My Payaliya!” Garima wept. “What did she do to deserve this?”

Payal was Garima’s stepdaughter, Arnav knew. At least she pretended to care for her, he thought.

Khushi came into the hall, horrified at the sight of guests leaving and Garima weeping.



“Amma, kya hua?” she asked, running towards them in panic. “Babuji, where is the baraat?”

Arnav felt something die within him. He couldn’t bear to see her dreams shatter. He turned and left the house.



                                                               ***



There was perfect silence from the house next door.



Arnav sat by the window in his bedroom watching workers dismantle the mandap and other decorations. Chairs were piled high, one upon the other, ready to be taken away. The musicians had left. So had the guests and caterers. The garlands had wilted, the flowers looking sad and faded.


As he watched, a slight figure came out of the house to stand on the steps. It was Payal. Dressed in a simple salwar kameez, she watched the paraphernalia for the wedding-that-hadn’t-taken-place being slowly removed from her aangan.


Khushi came to stand behind Payal. 



He winced as he saw Khushi dry her cheeks.

 He clenched his fists, wanting to dent Agarwal’s nose. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and called Aman.

“Sir?” Aman asked.

Arnav looked out at the window to see Khushi leading a sobbing Payal into the house.



Fury rose within him like a tsunami. “Wipe Agarwal’s business out,” he instructed tersely.

“Yes, sir. The wedding was cancelled?” Aman asked.

 “Yes. He demanded dowry at the last moment,” ASR answered. “He should beg on the streets.”

“Yes, sir,” Aman responded quietly.

Arnav paced the length of his room. This was going to be another long night. How was Khushi holding up? His heart clenched at the thought of her grief.



                                                             ***



“Payaliya? How is she?” Sasi asked wearily.

“Resting. Khussi is with her,” Garima answered, sitting down at his feet and resting her head against his leg.

Sasi lay back in his chair, his hand resting on Garima’s head.

After a long moment of silence, Sasi said slowly, “I thought they were good people, sanskaari. My poor bacchii...her future...:

Garima wept silently.

“Maybe I should have given in...” Sasi mused, his heart filled with sorrow. “Maybe I held my pride dearer than my Payaliya’s future.”

Garima’s hold on his leg tightened as she wept harder.