2020. 1. Heart of a Rose (Part 4)

Part 4

“Aman, I am considering marriage,” ASR said, his voice expressionless.

Aman gasped, the file dropping from his hand showering papers as it made it graceless way to the carpeted floor of ASR’s office.

“I have to visit the girl and her family to fix it,” ASR said with a frown, not sure about the rituals and processes entailed. “The broker will arrange the meeting and I may have to take an evening off.” He assumed the girl lived in Delhi.

“Yes, sir,” Aman managed to say.

“We need to speed up the delegation of duties. I don’t wish to continue working day and night after marriage. Fix the interviews for key positions next week.”

“Yes, sir.” Aman thanked God from the bottom of his heart. Now he could finally go to bed at a reasonable hour and get rid of the bags under his eyes.

                                                         ***

“Sasiji, hum Chandu Lal bol rahe hein!” the broker screamed into his phone for the fifth time.

“Kaun, Nandkisore?” buaji asked. The landline was faulty and at times, swallowed words.

“Chandu Lal, broker Chandu Lal!” the hapless man repeated.

“Chandu Lalji?” buaji asked, finally managing to get the name.

“Ji,” the man heaved a sigh of relief, feeling droplets of sweat trail down his neck. A climb to the Himalayas must be easier than communicating on a phone that refused to do its job, he mused. Sasiji’s mobile was in a shop being repaired and he couldn’t wait until it was ready to communicate such exciting news. “Ladka aa raha he, Madhumatiji, to see your niece, Khussi. When shall we receive him? They need a date.”

“Kaa?” buaji asked, a frown on her face. She had heard only one word in the whole conversation. “Date? Kaahe ki date?”

“To see the girl,” he spoke as loudly as he could but it was in vain. Madhumati could hear nothing. "Madhumatiji!" he screeched. Passersby turned to look at him with wide eyes. He turned away from them.

“Chandu Lalji? Kaahe phone kiye rahe to know today’s date, Nandkisore?” buaji asked.

Chandu Lal and buaji continued their conversation in this spirit till buaji slammed the phone down after explaining to the broker at length that her phone was faulty, more than half of which Chandu Lal couldn’t hear.

The broker pulled his hair with both hands in frustration. A prospective groom was ready to meet Khussi, the tomboy of Lucknow. Rich, educated, aristocratic, the boy was better than any damad Sasiji could dream of. And the commission that Chandu Lal himself would receive if the shaadi took place would keep his family well-fed for one full year. The Raizadas had to meet the Guptas. He decided to take matters into his own hands and fix a date. He also needed to inform the Raizadas about Khussi's past as Sasi had instructed him to. 

                                                         ***

“Chotey, the broker has fixed the date for Wednesday at 5 pm.” Nani was beaming.

Arnav nodded, trying to maintain his wooden expression.

Nani hesitated for a moment and then said, “We have to travel to...Lucknow to see her, Chotey.”

Arnav stilled, his eyes widening. “Lucknow?” he asked hoarsely.

Nani nodded, feeling acute regret that his future was tied to the past he was trying to leave behind. But maybe this was the way to heal him. Trying to forget the past hadn’t helped. Maybe it was time to face nightmares, shine the torch at them, and watch them vanish in the mist.

ASR clenched his jaw and ground his teeth. He didn’t want to visit Lucknow. He didn’t want a wife from Lucknow. The cursed city could self-combust and he wouldn’t feel a thing. He parted his lips to refuse, but the image of the girl flashed through his mind. The innocent laughter in her eyes, the naughty curve of her lips....He swallowed hard.

“How long will we run away from a place?” nani asked, her tone betraying her exhaustion. “Lucknow didn’t destroy us, Chotey. People did. Our people.”

He lowered his head, hiding the emotions and pain churning in his heart.

“Chotey, I...I was hoping to...not speak of these things until we reached Lucknow, but...Chotey, it is better you know everything before we set out. Khushi...the girl you liked...she is an orphan.” Nani’s voice died away.

Arnav’s eyes flew open. His mind abandoned its preoccupation with his past, its tragedies, his pain, his disillusionment, and the hard road his life had been to focus on another person. “What?” he asked, his voice a mere thread.

Nani nodded, her eyes filled with remembered pain.

“Her parents?” he managed to ask.

“Died when she was ten,” nani informed him. “An accident.”

“Both of them?” he asked incredulously on her behalf. It seemed almost bad manners on their part to die at the same time and leave a ten-year-old an orphan. How dare they!

Nani nodded. “Her mother’s sister took her in. Her husband was kind enough to open his house to the child. She calls them her parents now. Chotey, the broker informed me that her family was insistent that all prospective grooms be told the truth before they set out to see her.”

An orphan! Alone, helpless, vulnerable. Something curled up and died within him at the very thought.

“And her father is a halwai. He comes from a family of halwais.” Nani hesitated. “They are not very well off. Financially, they are no match for you. I know you picked her photo, Chotey, but if you want to change your mind...”

The protective, responsible, hurt part of him urged him to take her, Khushi, under his wing, shelter her, shoulder her responsibilities, wrap her in cotton wool, cocoon her from any potential threat, remove all thorns in her path, lavish his money on her, treasure her...He had to go to Lucknow to meet her. There was no way he could disappoint a child whose life had already dealt her a bad hand. He had to overcome his distaste for the city and meet her. There was no choice.

“I will make the travel arrangements,” Arnav stated before leaving the room.

Nani stared after him, unable to believe that her Chotey was willing to let his past be and travel to Lucknow, the scene of his worst life experiences and accept a poor girl who had a painful past.

“What did Chotey say, nani?” Anjali whispered in nani’s ear.

“He agreed.”

Mami clutched her heart, her painted eyes as wide as they could go. “Ijj that our Arnav bitwaa? Ready to marry a poor girlwaa phrom Lucknow? Has a bhoothwaa entered his body?” she asked, fluttering her eye lashes.

“Why did he agree, nani?” Anjali asked in wonder.

“I don’t know, Anjali bitiya,” nani said softly. “I am too thankful for this miracle to question it.”

                                                       ***

It was two days later that buaji remembered to inform Sasi that Chandu Lal had called.

“Chandu Lal, the broker?” Sasi asked, lowering the teacup.

“On the phone that doesn't work, jiji?” Garima asked.

“Yes, Nandkisore,” buaji sighed. “The whole world knows that our phone is not working, lekin pata naahi kyon they insist on calling us.” She popped a laddoo in her mouth and chewed it reflectively.

“Why should he call us?” Sasi wondered. His face cleared. “Maybe he has found a dulha for Payaliya. I have his number. I will call him from Mohan’s shop.”

                                                       ***

Chandu Lal was riding his scooter, battling the traffic of Delhi by sitting on the horn and shouting obscenities at drivers who flouted the rules, when his phone rang. With great difficulty and daring, he managed to manoeuvre the vehicle to the side of the road and park it.

He pulled out the phone.

The call was from an unknown number.

“Helloooo,” he said.

“Chandu Lalji, it is me, Sasi Gupta.”

“God is kind that he made you call me. I tried to inform your sister that a boy is coming from Delhi to see her niece at 5pm on Wednesday,” the broker said gleefully.

Sasi almost dropped the phone.

“Wednesday? This Wednesday? As in the day after tomorrow?” he asked, his voice high-pitched in shock.

“Yes. Get ready to marry off your bitiya to a handsome prince from Delhi, Sasiji. Good family. Aristocratic in fact. You know about the Raizadas and the Malliks, I am certain. The boy is Arnav Singh Raizada, Ratna Raizada’s only son. He took his mother’s surname. He is Arvind Mallik’s son and is a big businessman in Delhi.” Without waiting for Sasi to get over the shock, the broker continued. “You know the scandal. His parents committed suicide at Sheesh Mahal. What is the use of blaming children for the deeds of their parents? I know you are a wise man and won’t give any importance to the past. Sasiji, the family asked me to inform you about the double suicide. That’s why I mentioned it. Anyway, when you meet the boy and his family, you will forget his past. Your bitiya will live like a rani in his house.”

Sasi gulped.

“Handsome, well-behaved, educated, rich—he is a catch,” the broker continued.

“Why does he want a girl from an ordinary family then?” Sasi asked, perplexed. “If he is the reservoir of all virtues as you have made him out to be, then he can marry from the wealthiest family in the country.”

“Your bitiya is lucky. He liked her photo out of the many I sent to his nani.”

“But...”

“Shaadi he, Sasiji. Sab kuch uparwale ke haath mein he. I am only a broker. Don’t refuse the good fortune that has come to your family. Get ready to receive him and his family on Wednesday at 5pm. I will be there at about 4.30. Aap chinta na karein.”

Sasi leaned against the door of the phone booth, unable to even list the thousands of things he needed to ready before Wednesday in his mind.

A car honked behind Chandu Lal’s scooter.

“Hum chalte hein,” he told Sasi before cutting the call. “Tanik thehro,” he told the driver of the car who honked again. “The road doesn’t belong to your dadi.”

                                                          ***