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!”

19. OS 20. The Temperamental Tyrant (Part 19)

Part 19

Slowly Khushi said, “So your chacha was the devil.”

“What?” he asked.

“My amma told me that the devil lived in Sheesh Mahal and let me work here only after knowing that your company owned it. The devil was your chacha,” she said.

Arnav dropped a kiss on her forehead.

His phone rang.

It was Aman.

“Sorry, sir,” Aman murmured regretfully. “It is time for the inauguration. The guests are waiting. So is the press. Your family is downstairs, standing near your mother’s portrait.”

“We will be down in a minute,” ASR said.

“Great, sir,” Aman said. But before he could cut the call, ASR said, “Thanks, Aman. We couldn’t have managed this without you.”

Aman smiled.

                                                                 ***

“Khushi, come with me,” Arnav invited.

She stood up, ready to go with him.

“It is time for the inauguration. I want you to light the lamp and break the curse of his house,” he said.

Khushi took a step back.

“Arnavji,” she protested. “This is not right. It is your house, your hotel. You should do it. Your amma will be so happy.”

“I want you to, Khushi,” he insisted. “Come down. The others are waiting.”

“The others?” she asked. Her colour fled. “Your nani is here? Your family is here?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “I want you to take pride of place at this function. It will make them understand how much you mean to me.”

Khushi shook her head. “Arnavji, your nani hates the sight of me. She and your family think that I..I am..I am...”

His face hardened. “They won’t dare to insult you when I am with you,” he comforted her.

Khushi shook her head. “No, Arnavji, please try to understand. Today is such a wonderful day, the day of your victory. You should share it with your family. Hum ghar chalte hein,” she said, picking up her bag.

“The inauguration won’t happen if you aren’t with me,” he insisted.

“Arnavji, aap bhi na? You are like a ziddi bacha,” she complained, pursing her lips.

He smiled, folded his arms and stood waiting.

Khushi sighed. “I will attend the function, but as an employee,” she conceded.

“Fine,” he agreed. “But during the function, you will stand where I can see you. And after it, you will wait for me.”

Khushi sighed. Arnavji was little better than a steamroller. “Theek he,” she muttered.

He smiled.

“Now let me go, Arnavji. I have to change into my uniform,” she said.

He nodded.

She left the room, unable to resist the temptation to sneak one last look at him.

His molten chocolate eyes were trained on her.

She gulped and rushed out.

                                                             ***

Arnav led his family down the stairs to the huge hall where arrangements for the inauguration had been made. His eyes scanned the entire area in 2 seconds flat and stilled only when he caught sight of her standing as away from the scene of the action as possible.

She was standing as far from the spotlight as possible, her back against the wall.

His fond eyes travelled down her body. Her hair was knotted at the back of her head and adorned with jasmine flowers. A golden-coloured sari, gold studs at her ears, a thin gold chain around her neck and two slim gold bangles completed her look. She looked like a lit lamp dispelling all the darkness in his soul.

His lashes fluttered shut as he soaked in the glory of her presence.

“Chotey,” nani called him back from the beautiful world he had been lost in.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Bhai, it is time to light the lamp,” Akash reminded him with a warm smile.

“Nani, light the first wick,” Arnav requested softly, his eyes on Khushi.

Khushi nodded at him, appreciative of his sanskaar. Nani was the eldest in his family and it was only right that she be accorded respect.

Nani smiled and did so, her hand trembling finely. Once it was done, she gazed at Ratna’s portrait and her laughing face. Life had come full circle. She was just grateful that God had kept her alive to see this day when Arnav paid back the Malliks in their own coin.

“Mami,” Arnav invited.

Mami smiled at him even as her eyes filled with tears as memories of past insults from the Raizadas filled her head. The honour Arnav had just afforded her moved her immensely. She lit the next wick.

“Mama,” Arnav requested, his eyes seeking Khushi.

She was smiling at him, genuinely happy that he was displaying good manners and an even temper.

Mama lit the next wick, a glad smile on his lips. His sister’s death was finally avenged.

“Akash?” Arnav called.

Akash threw his arms around his bhai and hugged him tight in the presence of all the employees. Arnav, who would have felt extremely uncomfortable and awkward had this happened a few months back, now put his arms around the broad but lean shoulders of his brother and hugged him right back.

“You are the best, bhai,” he whispered in Arnav’s ear.

ASR smiled, looking at Khushi to enjoy her reaction.

She was laughing, fully aware of how much he was unused to public demonstrations of affection.

His eyes twinkled at her amusement.

Akash lit the next wick.

“Di?” Arnav called.

Anjali and Arnav together lit the last wick. She then hugged him and whispered in his ear, “You have righted all wrongs, Chotey.”

He nodded. Then he looked at Khushi’s face. Her eyes glistened with happy tears and there was a smile on her lips.

He smiled.

                                                                ***

The press conference was done and the invitees were long gone. Guests were lining up at the counter, ready to occupy their rooms.

The hotel was another success, another feather in the cap of ASR, the businessman with the Midas touch.

Arnav faced his family as they relaxed in their suite. It was time.

“I would like to marry Khushi,” he started conversation or monologue the only way he knew, bluntly.

Anjali gasped, looking at nani’s face with trepidation.

Mami covered her open mouth with her hand, her fearful eyes on nani’s face.

Mama looked at Akash who slowly moved to stand by Arnav, silently making his support felt.

Nani did not react at all. She just sat and watched Arnav with quiet eyes.

Arnav matched her stare for stare.

The others held their breath.

Finally nani said, “Are you sure, Chotey?”

“Very,” he said softly, but with conviction.

Nani nodded slowly. “If that’s what you want,” she said, not happy, but resigned to the disgrace. She had nourished and cherished grand hopes for Chotey and his marriage, but apparently he couldn’t see what was due to his birth and position. Her family was cursed and Chotey was bound to regret marrying a gold digger who didn’t give a hoot for him.

“But there is a problem,” Arnav said.

“Her family needs money to conduct the wedding?” nani asked sarcastically.

“No,” he replied with an equally sardonic look. “They may consider me unworthy of their daughter and consider our family the devil’s spawn.”

All gasped.

“Chotey, this is nonsense!” Anjali protested.

“Arnav bitwaa, bhy should they thinks so wrongwaa?” mami asked, perplexed.

“Bhai, what is wrong?” Akash asked, worried that his brother wouldn’t get his heart’s desire.

“Arnav bitwaa, kauno baat he? Do you want us to speak to them?” mama asked.

“You are being ridiculous,” nani said shortly, unwilling to tolerate an insult to her family’s standing.

“No,” Arnav said wearily, sitting down to face nani.

There was total silence for a long moment. Then nani had to ask, “What are you talking about, Chotey? Our family is one of the oldest in Lucknow. We have employed thousands of people and helped more people than you can count. Your nanaji was revered by the people who knew him. And you want us to believe that a penniless middle-class family in Lucknow is going to refuse the proposal of Arnav Singh Raizada, the billionaire scion of the Raizada family? You must be joking.”

“Khushi’s parents died in an accident when she was ten,” Arnav said quietly.

“So?” nani asked.

“Her parents died when a car knocked them down and ran over them,” he said, trying to keep his face expressionless.

“How terrible!” Anjali murmured.

“The car belonged to nanaji,” he stated.

There was a moment of shocked silence. Then nani exploded, “That’s preposterous! How dare you insult your own grandfather just because you want that girl to look better to us?”

Arnav pulled a sheaf of papers from his bag and handed them over to nani.

The family crowded around nani to get a glimpse of the shocking details in the file.

“Dadaji’s car!” Akash exclaimed.

“Papa’s car?” mama asked. “But Papa never drove. Did one of his drivers kill Khussi’s parents?”

“Yes, Chotey,” nani said with relief. “Your nanaji never learned to drive.” A look of bewilderment spread over her face. “But how come your nanaji never knew about this? If he had found out, he would have told me. We would have done what we could to help the girl. Your nanaji wouldn’t have let the driver go scot free. He would have been sent to jail. How come we didn’t know about this?”

“Because the killer wasn’t a driver you had employed,” Arnav answered quietly.

“Kaun tha, bitwaa?” mama asked anxiously.

“Chacha,” Arnav said bluntly.

“Hello Hi Bye Bye!” mami exclaimed.

“That skunk!” Akash burst out.

“An incident of drunken driving. In fact, one among many. He killed them and removed all traces linking him to the case. He bribed police officials. When Khushi’s aunt tried to file a complaint, the policemen turned her away. Justice was denied to Khushi and her family,” Arnav explained. “And he made sure nana didn’t hear of it. No evidence. No proof. No case.”

Tears flowed down nani’s cheeks. There was a long moment of silence as they grappled with the new information and their grief and shame.

“He rendered you and Anjali bitiya homeless and also destroyed that poor child’s life?” Mama could barely hold back his tears. “He is not a man, bitwaa. He is the very devil.”

Mami nodded.

“You are right. That’s the name Khushi’s adoptive family has given him.” Arnav smiled bitterly. “When I approach them and ask for Khushi’s hand in marriage, I will have to tell them that their niece is an orphan because of my chacha.”

“Arnav bitwaa, ab kaa karbe?” mami asked in agitation. “We can’t hides the truth. That man, that wormwaa! He hajj spoiled hamre Arnav bitwaajj liphe again!”

“Bhai, we need to tell Khushiji’s family that he destroyed your and di’s lives too. That it is not your fault, that you were his victim too, that you had nothing to do with his actions even though he was your chacha...” Akash urged earnestly.

Arnav smiled wryly. “Nani found fault with Khushi because of her family background. Why can’t her family find fault with me because of my family background?” he asked bluntly.

Nani couldn’t meet his eyes. She lowered her head to rest her forehead on her hand.

18. OS 20. The Temperamental Tyrant (Part 18)

Part 18

Her lashes fluttered. She opened her eyes slowly to see his beloved face close to hers.

Any other girl might have swooned at his handsomeness and their closeness, but Khushi, being Khushi, said, “How thin you have become!”

His lips quirked. She could make him laugh in the most insane of situations.

He wrapped his arms tigher around her.

Her arms lifted and her hands cupped his lean cheeks.

His eyes fell shut. The relief of being with her was phenomenal.

“Arnavji, kya hua? Kya haal banake rakha he aapne?” she asked, her eyes filling with tears.

He opened his eyes to smile at her, reveling in her concern for him. It had been so long!

“Did you fight with someone? Did you have some trouble with your business?” she asked. Without even giving him a chance to reply, she went on, “Whatever it is, it is not worth losing your health over. Aap ko khayal rakhna chahiye tha na?” She sniffed, one tear rolling down her cheek. “Is there no barber in Delhi? Dhadi kyon badda liye aapne?”

He smiled.

“Ek guitar ki kami he or you would look like a phillum hero crying over lost pyaar,” she said ingenuously.

His smile widened.

“Aap has kyon rahe ho?” she asked. Suddenly her face changed, becoming red with anger. “How dare she!” she fumed.

Arnav quirked his brow.

“I told her to take care of you, to never leave you alone!” Khushi thundered. “She broke her promise. Dekhti hoon mein unko,” she threatened. “Your nani broke her word to me...” She tried to free herself from his hold, ready to march all the way to Delhi to give nani a piece of her mind.

Arnav tightened his hold, touched to his heart’s core that even when his nani had insulted her, her sole thought had been him and only him. He lifted her in his arms, walked to a sofa and sat down with her on his lap.

“You can fight nani later,” he said indulgently.

Khushi became aware of the indecorous way in which she was sitting on the lap of the billionaire his nani had warned her away from.

She tried to jump up, but Arnav coiled his arms around her waist and held her close.

Her breath caught in her chest.

“Khushi,” he whispered, “will you return to Delhi with me?”

Her heart was sorely tempted. So was her body. But her sanskari upbringing vetoed the plan. How could she go to Delhi with Arnavji when his nani had called her a gold digger and immoral and accused her babuji of dangling his girls before eligible men to attract them?

“No,” she replied, her voice and her heart breaking.

“Not even if I apologise for nani?” he asked.

She shook her head. Finding words was too difficult.

He leaned forward, his cheek brushing against her petal-soft cheek.

Khushi jumped. “Humein chalna chahiye. I need to leave,” she gasped, trying to vacate his lap.

But he held on.

Suddenly it dawned on her.

“What are you doing here, Arnavji?” she asked in astonishment. “You work in Delhi, don’t you?” Her eyes went to the huge teak door. “The lady said the owner of Happiness Hospitality Group wanted to meet the employees...” Her voice faded away. Her wide eyes stayed on his face. “Yeh sab...kya ho raha he, Arnavji?”

“I bought Sheesh Mahal,” he replied, his eyes on her astounded ones. “I set up Happiness Hospitality Group.” He smiled at her. “Happiness is Khushi,” he said simply.

Teras filled her eyes and flowed down her cheeks.

“Don’t cry, Khushi,” he pleaded softly.

“I thought...I thought...I would never see you again,” she sobbed.

He held her close.

“I thought...you would...forget me...” she wailed, her head in the crook of his neck and her arms around his shoulders.

“Never,” he replied.

They sat together for a while, silent at times.

“Amanji?” she asked.

“My private secretary,” he explained. “We came to Lucknow to buy this building.”

“You came to Lucknow?” she asked, surprised. Her face fell. “I didn’t know. Nor did I see you. Matlab, on the street or in a shop...”

“I saw you,” he said.

“Sachi?” she asked.

“You were carrying a tray of laddoos, looking as though someone had died,” he said bluntly.

She looked at him for a moment, her eyes vulnerable. Then she turned her face away.

“Khushi, there is something I need to show you,” he said sombrely.

She looked at him for a few seconds and then stood up.

“Come with me,” he said, holding his hand out.

She placed her hand in his and let him lead her out of the room.

The lady manning the desk dropped the file she was holding when ASR walked out of his office, holding Khushi Kumari Gupta’s hand.

When she could get hold of herself, she phoned Aman.

“Sir, ASR just walked out of his office holding Khushi Kumari Gupta’s hand,” she hyperventilated.

Aman smiled, feeling an amazing sense of accomplishment far greater than what he had ever felt before. “Good,” he said mildly, leaving the lady perplexed.

                                                                   ***

ASR took Khushi to the second floor, making for a room at the end of the corridor.

Employees fell away at the sight of their stern-faced boss marching towards a room, with Khushi trailing behind him, her wrist in his soft but firm hold. What had Khushi done? Had she displeased him? Had her work not been up to the standard?

He led her into the room and shut the door.

She looked around the luxurious room with designer furnishings and a soft bed that could put clouds to shame.

“This was my room,” he said quietly, his molten chocolate eyes on her hazel ones.

She frowned. His room? But he had never come here before.

“This house...” he explained, “...this house is our ancestral home.”

She gasped.

“I lived here till I was fourteen.” He turned away to look out of the window, her wrist still in his hold. He needed the comfort that only she could provide with her presence.

Khushi didn’t utter a word. He was troubled. There were bad memories associated with the house and he was reliving them. In a flash of insight, she realised that maybe this house was the source of his bitterness and his cynicism.

He led her out to the next room.

“This was di’s room,” he stated.

She nodded.

He led her to the ground floor.

“This was my mother’s room. She loved to embroider,” he said before leading her to the courtyard. On the way her eyes fell on Ratna Raizada’s portrait.

When they reached the courtyard, he said, “This was where my di was sitting.”

She looked at him enquiringly.

“It was her wedding day. There were guests, shehnai, lights, flowers...” He waved his hand in the general direction.

 She waited.

“Then mama went upstairs. I sat with di, teasing her. After a while, I went up to get mama. It was time for the groom to arrive.” He drew in a deep breath and his hold on her wrist tightened.

“Arnavji,” she whispered.

“Come with me, Khushi,” he murmured. It was a plea.

She nodded.

He led her back to the first floor. Stopping at the door of a room, he said, “This was my parents’ room.”

He pushed open the door.

He blinked. It looked nothing like it had. Now it was bright and airy, the white walls and pastel green and ochre furnishings adding to its charm. The furniture was antique, but polished to within an inch of its life.

“I heard them arguing,” he said softly as though he were speaking of someone he barely knew.

She swallowed through a dry throat. Something bad was coming. The premonition was very strong.

She freed her hand from his hold.

He turned his head to look at the beautiful, innocent, young girl standing behind him.

She caught hold of his hand and laced her fingers through the gaps of his.

His eyes fell to their locked fingers.

He said, “Mama was angry with papa, accusing him of...of having an affair.” He turned his head away, not wanting to fall in her eyes but helpless. He was ashamed of his father and he was terrified that Khushi would think he was made of the same material.

Her fingers tightened around his.

Drawing courage from her action, he continued, “The lady in question had apparently joined the guests and mama had seen papa and her together.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t make out much more of their conversation. Papa was protesting his innocence. Mama was unwilling to believe him.” He lowered his head. “I turned to walk away in disbelief at what I had witnessed. I reached the stairs and was half-way down when...when I heard it.”

He walked her to the room next door. “Papa’s study. He...he kept his hunting guns and rifles here. Also antique swords and daggers...” He pushed open the door.

There was no carpet and the walls were painted white. He drew in a deep breath. The white tiles had been changed, furnishings and furniture replaced. It was a bedroom now.

Khushi moved closer to him and standing facing him, lifted their locked hands to her chest and held them there.

“One shot...just one shot,” he said, his eyes moist. “I ran back, pushed open this door to see....to see mama on the floor...blood everywhere...gun on the floor...the carpet was soaked...the walls were red....” The child in him trembled at the very memory.

The next thing he knew, he was enclosed in fragrant warmth as Khushi hugged him tight, wrapping her arms around him and holding him as tight as she could.

A moment of shock later, he coiled his arms around her and buried his face in the crook of her neck. If hot tears seared her skin, she said nothing. If he felt her tears fall on his hair, he said nothing.

Later, she led him to sit on a chair and sat down on the tile, facing him. Their fingers were still locked.

He completed the sorry tale. “Papa shot himself a couple of hours later.”

She caught her breath. That was why his family had celebrated his parents’ barsi together. She had wondered how they had died on the same day.

“We cremated them the next day. I set fire to their bodies and returned home after the rituals.” He looked away. “Di was in tears.” After a moment of silence, he continued, “Relations and well-wishers left. The groom and his family left too, cancelling the wedding. The next morning, our chacha threw us out.”

“What?” Khushi could no longer control herself. “Threw you out? Matlab?”

“He wanted the house. So he threw di and me out of the house,” he stated in an emotionless voice.

“I will kill him,” Khushi threatened, jumping up.

Arnav caught hold of her wrist, warmed by her support. He looked at her face and then at her hand in his hold.

Breathe, breathe, he told himself. He had to divulge the secret that could rip her heart out, but he needed some time to prepare himself to bear her tears.

“He deserves your anger,” he continued after a moment. “Nani, mama, mami and Akash came and took us away. We lived with them.” He looked at where his mother’s lifeless body had lain and said more to his mama than to Khushi, “Mami and nani supported me when I wanted to start a business. Nani pledged her land and house in Lucknow and mami gave me her entire stash of jewellery to sell. She also gave me the papers to a small property her father had left her, to pledge or sell. I started my firm, worked 24x7. I hired Aman. We worked day and night. Slowly the firm started showing profit and then there was no looking back. I returned everything I had taken from nani and mami, with interest.”

Khushi smiled at him.

He looked away.

“What is wrong?” she asked, the smile fading away.

He looked at her anxious face and felt he was dying inside. Would she hate him when she found out her parents’ killer was his chacha?

He tugged at her arm.

She came closer to him.

He tugged her to sit on his lap. His arms came around her protectively. She would cry, rant against fate. He couldn’t hide the truth from her. Nor could he save her the pain. But he could hold her, absorb her grief within himself.

Each drop that fell from her eyes was his. Every breath she took was his. She was so much a part of him that he didn’t know where he ended and she began.

 Was this love? If it was, then he was in love with Khushi Kumari Gupta. Totally, irrevocably in love with Khushi. Lost in love for her. Desolate without her. She was all that mattered; she was all he wanted.

“Khushi,” he murmured in his husky voice.

“Ji?” she looked into his eyes, their faces only a few inches away.

“Your parents died in an accident,” he stated.

“Ji,” she replied. She had already told him about the tragic accident that had taken their lives when she had been ten.

“Do you know who owned the car that killed your parents?” he asked.

She shook her head.

He gulped. Then he said, “My nanaji.”

Khushi stared at him, her eyes wide in shock.

“But he didn’t kill your parents,” he informed her. “He didn’t drive. He had never learned to drive.”

Khushi breathed easy.

“But the car was his. My chacha borrowed it from him.” He looked into her bewildered eyes. “My chacha killed your parents. He was drunk and .... He then paid to have the matter hushed up. He hid it from nanaji too. Your amma tried to file a case against him, but he was too powerful.” He said it all in a rush.

Khushi sat looking at him, lost.

Slowly, a tear trailed down her cheek.

Arnav leaned forward and rubbed it away with his cheek.

She threw her arms around his neck and burst into tears.

He hugged her close, willing her to absorb his strength, silently begging her to give him her pain.

A long time later, she sat up. He dried her cheeks.

All she said was, “If I meet your chacha, ever, I will kill him. Twice. Once for you, Arnavji. Then for me.”

He hugged her as tight as he could.

He murmured into her hair, “I bought this house from him. Aman threw him out.”

“Good,” she said. “Your mother must be so proud of you today.”

He shut his eyes. Yes, his mama would be proud of him. He had set foot in Lucknow again, for Khushi. He had bought Sheesh mahal, for Khushi. He had stayed for more than a few minutes in Sheesh mahal, for Khushi. He had finally spoken about his past to Khushi. He had dared to enter the rooms where the tragedy had occurred and was now sitting in a chair near the scene of the crime, with Khushi.

Now nothing could faze him. The nightmares had lost their power over him. He was a free bird.

                                                                    ***