9. OS 20. The Temperamental Tyrant (Part 9)

Part 9

Arnav looked up as Anjali pushed open the door and entered his room. She had a tray in her hand.

He frowned as he stood up, took the tray from her and placed it on the laptop table.

Where was Khushi?

He had been looking forward to spending more time with her.

His spine tingled. His intuition warned him against an instinctive, impulsive reaction. Something was going on here. Something serious. Or his di wouldn’t be caught dead doing housework.

“Why are you here, di?” he asked, taking care to keep his voice mellow and tone disinterested. “You must have found the steps difficult. You should have sent the tea with HP or Khushi.”

Anjali blinked.

Chotey sounded very casual, almost...bored. Nani couldn’t be right. Chotey was a Raizada. He would never lower himself to take interest in a dehati, anpad, poverty-stricken maid, that too from Lucknow.

She heaved a sigh of relief. Yeh nani bhi na! She was going senile.

“Yes, the steps were troublesome,” Anjali admitted, “but nani asked me to serve you.”

Arnav tensed. Nani!

He turned away from Anjali to hide his furious face.

Thankfully his phone rang that very moment and he moved out of the room to talk to Aman.

Anjali left the room.

                                                                ***

Arnav came down for dinner, his watchful eyes on his nani who seemed more dismayed than delighted that her reclusive grandson was willing to join his family for a meal.

Before nani could order HP that he serve dinner and Khushi be kept away from the dining room, Khushi entered the dining hall and began to set the table.

Arnav quickly took his seat.

Pretending to look at his phone, he watched his family.

Mama, mami and Akash had no idea what was going on. Nani seemed very upset. Di was trying to calm her down with speaking glances.

Khushi began setting gold-rimmed plates before each family member gathered around the table, delighted that Arnavji was becoming more human and spending time with his family.

As she reached Arnav, he called loudly, clearly, “Khushi?”

All faces turned to look at him, with varying expressions of enquiry and panic.

“I need a glass of warm water,” he said mildly, a smile in his eyes that only Khushi could see. “After dinner.”

She smiled and said, “Ji.” She moved away and Arnav pretended to check his mail while watching his family.

Mama, mami and Akash were totally relaxed, laughing at a joke mami had cracked.

Di looked relieved.

Nani had a waxen complexion.

Arnav watched closely as nani picked at her food and sat silently at the table, pensive and brooding.

HP and Khushi served the dishes efficiently, working as a team.

The mystery unravelled after dinner, when Arnav joined them in the living room.

Khushi came in with a glass of warm water and placed it on the table before him. 

He nodded his thanks. She walked away.

He looked at his nani to catch her looking at him. She looked away hastily. He looked at the display of his phone.

Mami lifted her legs with a contented sigh and sat cross legged on her plush chair. She told mama, “And I told Mrs. Mehta, you may be Dilli’s booty princesswaa, but I am Lucknow’s booty queenwaa, hello hi bye bye.”

Mama chuckled. Akash and Anjali smiled.

HP placed a glass of warm milk with saffron in it before mami and left.

She took it with a cry of pleasure and began slurping it, uttering words of appreciation in between.

As Arnav watched, nani’s face turned dark with displeasure. With contempt, she admonished, “Are you a child, Manorama? Act your age and position.”

Mami stopped slurping and stared at her mother-in-law, her painted eyes wide in surprise.

Mama, Akash and Anjali looked at nani and then at mami, uncomfortable. The air in the room became tense. Unsaid and old resentment and complaints filled the room.

Arnav watched closely.

Mami’s eyes fell first. She placed the half-full glass on the tray, threw a vicious glance at her helpless husband and got up to leave.

Nani leaned back, triumphant.

“Sit down, mami. You haven’t finished your milk,” Arnav said quietly.

All stared at him, shocked.

Mami sagged back in her chair, more out of amazement that Arnav had spoken than a desire to sit with the family.

Arnav addressed the elephant in the room. “Nani, mami came to your house to work as a maid. Mama fell in love with her,” he said.

“Chotey, bas keejiye,” nani thundered.

But he was Arnav Singh Raizada, a bulldozer, an unstoppable train, a typhoon that uprooted the very foundation of pretense and deceit.

“After months of raising a furore over what you saw as mama’s disgrace, his ingratitude and thanklessness towards his family and his open rebellion against the tenets of your family, you and nana agreed to the marriage. You conducted the marriage in as private a manner as possible with ill will in your heart. You didn’t want her as your daughter-in-law and expected the marriage to fall apart, given the differences between mama and mami. But their relationship endured. It has been twenty-eight years, but you still think of mami as beneath you. You still think her a usurper, an intruder, an unwanted part of the family.” His tone was flat, his voice quiet, but the words were firmly spoken and completely meant.

Akash’s eyes glistened with tears as he looked at his superhero bhai defending his mother.

Tears poured down mami’s cheeks, wetting and spreading the inches of makeup she had piled on. Her kajal was, unfortunately, not waterproof.

“Bas karo, Manno,” mama said softly, patting mami’s hand and trying to console her.

“You are crossing the limits, Chotey,” nani warned.

“Chotey, tum chup raho,” Anjali pleaded.

But Arnav wasn’t done. In a mellow conversational tone, he continued, “You married off your daughter to a well-to-do, respected family living in one of the biggest havelis in Lucknow.”

“No, Chotey,” Anjali implored.

“Arnav bitwaa, bhy speak of old tragedies?” mami tried to stop him from self-flagellation.

But Arnav continued, “And how did that go?”

He waited for nani to respond. She remained silent.

He went on, “That marriage succeeded so spectacularly that they both died in the worst ways possible, their children had to change their names and run away from Lucknow and the Mallik name has become synonymous with debauchery and infidelity.”

He met nani’s eyes directly. “Mami stepped into our mother’s place. And she gave me her entire cache of jewellery so that i could start a business. I can and will never forget her kindness,” he said quietly.

“Arnav bitwaa,” mami protested.

“She stood with us when the whole world laughed at us and rejoiced in our fall. You might remember that the next time you are tempted to rebuke her for not being born a Raizada,” he reminded nani.

Satisfied that he had made his point loud and clear, he walked away.

8. OS 20. The Temperamental Tyrant (Part 8)

Part 8

“Take one more poori, Sanka Devi,” buaji insisted, placing one poori on her plate.

Khushi looked at it with little interest.

“Kaa hua, Nandkisore?” buaji asked, her eyes wide in shock. “The biggest Chatori in the world doesn’t want an extra poori?”

Khushi looked at the clock. It was time for Arnavji’s lunch. ‘I hope he eats well,’ she thought. ‘Nahi to he will faint again.’

“Khussi!” buaji hollered.

“Ji, buaji?” she asked, startled. “Kya hua?”

“Wahi poochath he hum, Nandkisore,” buaji said in exasperation. “What is wrong?”

Khushi shook her head. “Nothing, buaji,” she insisted. “I was just thinking about...about work.”

Buaji rolled her eyes. “Thinking about work? What is there to think about work? After all, what kind of work are you doing? Are you working in an office? Are you a collector? Nahi na? All you are doing is making roti and sweeping floors. What is there to think about these, Nandkisore?”

Khushi looked down at her plate and forbore to comment.

“This girl! She will drive my Sasi babua gray before time, Nandkisore. Look at your jiji, Parmeswari. How sanskaari she is! How polite! How sensible! She will never bring dishonour to our family,” Buaji claimed. “Boys will stand in line to marry her.”

Khushi smiled. “And boys will run away if they have to marry me,” she stated. “Madhumati Gupta will have to go about the streets of Lucknow begging boys to marry her sanki niece.” Her eyes twinkled.

“Hhmmpppffff,” buaji snorted.

Khushi’s face fell. “I wish jiji were here,” she said.

Buaji sighed. “One of you has to stay with Sasi babua and help him run the shop, Nandkisore. You know the financial trouble we have been having this last year. Only Nandkisore knows what will happen to the shop and to your babuji.”

Khushi looked down at her plate, feeling miserable. Devi Maiyya had much to answer for.

                                                                 ***

Arnav paced the length and breadth of his room. Where was she?

He looked at the clock. 

He had been waiting for over three hours. How dare she leave him alone? 

“Unbelievable!” he exclaimed.

Khushi walked into the Raizada Mansion to see a flustered HP.

“Bitiya, go and see Arnav bhaiya before coming to the kitchen. He asked for you and when I told him you had gone to see your buaji, he insisted that you meet him before resuming your duties,” HP said, agitated. “I hope he doesn’t lose his temper with you.”

Khushi looked at HP, all perplexed. She was entitled to take half a day off every week. The last few weeks, she had gone to meet buaji when Arnavji was at office. Today too, she had timed it accordingly, but apparently he had returned early.

She walked up the steps to his room, bewildered. Was he angry with her? If so, why?

Soon she found herself at his door.

Swallowing nervously, she knocked.

“Come in,” he called tersely.

Khushi opened the door carefully and stepped into his room.

Arnav Singh Raizada was seated on his recliner, glaring at his laptop.

“I told you I will come down for tea. Why did you come up the stairs, HP?” Arnav thundered before looking up. His voice died away.

Khushi stood before him. Like a dream. Like a vision. Like the manifestation of his dearest wish. Like a secret need revealed.

They stared at each other, both speechless. He from sheer joy and she from uncertainty.

Then she asked, “Aap theek ho? Shall I bring tea?”

He stood up abruptly. The table moved and the laptop slid on its surface, but Arnav Singh Raizada had bigger things to worry about.

“Where were you?” he asked, breathing heavily.

Khushi frowned as she murmured, “At my buaji’s house.”

“Why did you leave without telling me?” he asked, his hot eyes intent on her.

Her mouth fell open.

Seeing her shock at his hyper reaction to her absence, sense slowly seeped into his hot head.

She was looking at him as though he were a maniac.

Breathe in...breathe out...breathe in...he told himself. He had to save face...and fast.

“Is this your sanskaar? Your sense of civility? Where is your sense of professionalism?” he blustered.

“Arnavji,” she said slowly. “I am entitled to go home for half a day every week. Why should I ask you before leaving?” She placed her hands on her hips. “Laad Governor kahin ka!”

His mouth fell open.

“What the!”

“Aur nahi to kya. What is your problem?” she asked bluntly. “I have been going home for the past few weeks lekin aap ko pata nahi chala because I always go when you are at office and return here before you come home. How could I know you would return home early today?”

He opened his mouth to retort, but couldn’t come up with an answer in the face of such reasonableness.

“Agar tumhein kuch ho jata to?” he finally asked.

She stared at him for one moment, her mouth open before bursting into laughter.

“Hamein?” she asked, clutching her tummy. “You are worried something might happen to me? Aap bhi na! The villain hasn’t been born who can harm a hair on my body.” She claimed. “I am Sasi Gupta’s daughter.” She flexed her non-existent muscles. “Years of stirring halwa in huge vats and eating dher saare jalebis have left me as strong as Salman Khanji.”

He looked at the slender girl in a bright yellow salwar suit, pretending to be a pehelwan. A strong wind could carry her away.

His lips quirked. "Really?" he asked.

He fought a hard battle to keep the chuckles down, but failed.

Soon his shoulders were shaking with laughter.

Khushi could only stare at him in shock. Arnav Singh Raizada knew how to laugh! Hey Devi Maiyya! Miracles would never cease.

“I—I will bring tea,” she whispered before leaving the room, dazed at the sight of Arnavji’s amusement.

                                                           ***

Khushi walked down in a daze, still shocked by Laad Governor’s laughter. No, not Laad Governor. He didn’t look like Laad Governor when he laughed. He looked like a naughty child taking pleasure in little things in life, ready to be amused, willing to be engaged by the absurd.

Khushi shook her head to clear it. What a man he was! One moment an ogre; another moment a gentleman. A faint smile teased her lips.

“Kaa hua, Khussi?” nani’s stern question jolted her out of the trance.

“Ji..i...?” Khushi was startled into stammering.

“Muskura kyon rahi ho? What is amusing you?” nani asked suspiciously. Why was Khushi smiling on her way out of Chotey’s room?

“Kuch nahi, naniji,” Khushi said, all flustered.

Nani’s lips twisted in contempt. “A young girl doesn’t smile for nothing. What’s it?” she asked, her eyes cold.

Unsuspectingly, Khushi replied, “Nothing, naniji. Woh...Arnavji laughed. That’s all.”

Nani was shocked into silence. 

A moment later, she asked, "Chotey? Chotey...laughed? Why?”

Khushi shrugged. “Woh..I said something silly...and Arnavji laughed. Hum chalte hein, naniji. I have to take tea and biscuits to Arnavji,” she said and waited for nani’s permission to leave.

Nani nodded slowly.

Khushi left.

Nani stood staring at Khushi walking away, feeling her heart gallop so fast that she was in danger of collapse.

“Kya hua, nani?” Anjali asked, putting her phone away. She had been whiling away her time playing games on her phone.

“History is repeating itself, Anjali bitiya,” nani said, her face ashen.

“What?” Anjali asked, perplexed.

“Chotey laughed,” nani said.

Anjali almost had a fit. “Chotey? He laughed? Really? How? Why? When?”

“At something Khussi said,” nani said, sensing impending doom.

Anjali frowned. “Khushi? That girl in the kitchen? She made Chotey laugh? But when did he meet her?”

Nani waved away the question as irrelevant. “What matters now is that they don’t see each other anymore. Prepare her cheque. It is time to dismiss her,” she said.

Anjali fidgeted in discomfort. “But nani, HP can’t manage the work on his own. We will have to get another maid. And only God knows how long that will take. Till then we will have to help out in the kitchen. No, nani, please don’t send her away till we find another maid,” she begged.

Nani nodded thoughtfully. “You are right,” she said slowly. “Call the agency and ask for another maid. Till the new girl turns up, keep an eye on that Khushi. Or she will make us very dukhi.”

As though they had summoned her by talking about her, Khushi appeared, tray in hand, ready to take tea and biscuits to Arnavji.

“Khussi,” nani called.

“Ji?” she asked.

“Give me the tray,” nani instructed.

Khushi handed it over, wondering what was going on.

Nani pushed the tray towards Anjali who had no choice but to take it. “Anjali will give Chotey’s tea to him from now on,” nani declared.

“Ji,” Khushi replied with a smile. Now brother and sister could spend some time with each other and not be such strangers. Happiness filled her heart. It was sad that Laad Governor sat holed up in his room while the rest of his family lived a life he knew nothing about. Now that would change. His sister would take him tea, talk to him, ask about his day, share details of hers.

Khushi’s smile widened. She wanted to dance and squeal in excitement.

Now Laad Governor would lose his scowl and be more mellow in his interactions with others. He wouldn't spout nonsense about the world being evil. Nor would he remain buried in his laptop all day.

“Devi Maiyya ki jai ho,” she murmured as she turned to leave.

7. OS 20. The Temperamental Tyrant (Part 7)

Part 7

Khushi fell to her knees by him, her legs giving up at the sight of the usually invincible Laad Governor collapsed on the floor of his bedroom.

Was this the man who had broken every piece of furniture in his room in anger? The man whose steely gaze could silence a storm? The man who left even his family uncertain about him and his moods and made them walk on eggshells around him? The man who was filled with bitterness but could be heart-meltingly considerate at times? The man who was more a force of nature than a man?

Tears filled her eyes.

“Arnavji...” she called feebly.

His head moved restlessly against the leg of the bed. He was in danger of slipping and falling to the ground.

Jolted into action, Khushi crawled to him and caught him by his shoulders and held him close to her.

“Arnavji...” she wept, her chin on his hair. “Kya hua aapko? Uddiye na, udd jayiye!”

Her tears trickled down and fell on his hand as she prayed desperately for him to be fine. She promised Devi Maiyya a kilo of jalebis made in desi ghee.

He moved his head listlessly.

“Arnavji,” she cried, cupping his face in her hands. “Please wake up. Please...”

“Khu...shi....” he murmured.

She smiled through her tears. “Yes, Khushi. It is me. Aap udd jayiye. Kya hua aapko?”

“Khu...shi,” he whispered.

“Yes?” she asked, sending a thousand thanks to Devi Maiyya.

“Sweet...kuch meeta...” he managed to say.

She frowned. “Aapko meeta khana mana he,” she said. “Did you eat something? Did that make you sick?”

“Shut up, Kh..Khushi,” he murmured. “Meeta lao.”

“Arnavji...” she protested.

“HP...call HP...” He tried to stand up.

“I will bring it,” she promised rashly.

Leaving him propped against the bed, she got up and ran to the door. At the door, she turned back. “I will be just a moment. Aap kahin mat jayiyega,” she said, as though he had it in him to get up and walk away.

She waited for him to assent to her request.

He grunted.

Reading it as his willingness to stay put, she ran for her life, unlocking the door and almost tumbling down the stairs in her hurry to get help.

Soon she was trying to stuff jalebis into Arnav’s mouth, aided by a flustered HP.

“Arnav bhaiya, open your mouth, please,” HP begged.

“Say aaaa,” Khushi insisted, trying to push a jalebi past his lips.

Arnav parted his lips to obey and was soon choking on the extreme sweetness of the jalebi.

Khushi held a glass of water to his lips and urged him to drink. “Peejiye na,” she breathed, grateful to Devi Maiyya that he was alive and breathing.

Soon HP and Khushi helped Arnav to lie on the bed.

HP, relieved that Arnav bhaiya was fine, said shakily, “I will bring dinner here.”

“I will come and get the tray, Hariprakashji. Don’t climb the stairs. Aap kasht na karein,” Khushi said, mindful of his aged knees.

HP nodded and left the room to get the food ready.

Khushi looked at the exhausted man lying on his bed, his handsome head resting against the white-coloured pillow. His chest was rising and falling and she took comfort from the telling movement.

“Khushi...” he called.

“Ji?” she asked, sinking to the floor by his side, her face at the same level as his.

“Don’t tell nani and the others,” he warned softly.

How considerate of him, she thought. But her silence in the present could harm him in the future. What if he fainted again? So she asked, “Arnavji, what happened?”

“I didn’t have tea and biscuits,” he admitted. “My sugar levels fell.”

“Aap bhi na!” she exclaimed after a moment of silent outrage at his neglect of his health.

“Khushi, don’t tell anyone,” he insisted, his molten chocolate eyes trained on her.

Khushi drew in a deep breath. “I won’t, if you promise not to lock your bedroom door again. Aap ko pata bhi he, Arnavji, how difficult it was to reach you?” she asked. Her face reflected her terror.

He looked into her tear-filled eyes and the words, “I promise” slipped out of his mouth.

She heaved a sigh of relief. “Tab theek he. I won’t tell anyone.”

He watched her closely. There was no sense of victory or joy in her at having manipulated him. There was just plain and unfiltered relief that he was safe.

“How did you get in?” he asked.

She pointed at the open window.

He smiled slightly. She must have struggled to open it and crawling through the gap couldn’t have been easy. She was one brave girl, her strength and presence of mind belying her young years. “Thanks,” he said softly.

Khushi swallowed hard. He was thanking her? Laad Governor was thanking her, Khushi Kumari Gupta?

“Aap theek ho?” she asked after a long moment of silence.

He nodded.

“I will go down and get your dinner,” she said quietly before leaving.

                                                             ***

Arnav sensed a gradual change in their equation. There were few outward signs of this change, but the change was real and palpable to him.

Khushi still did whatever the family wanted her to do and anything HP requested her to do, but her first and foremost priority was Arnav Singh Raizada and his well-being.

He could sense her eyes on him whenever they were in the same room. When he lifted his gaze to meet hers, all he could see were concern and care.

Arnav emerged from the car and nodded at the driver.

Khushi’s regard for him was pure, selfless, the care a friend would warrant.

But he couldn’t say the same for his regard for her. Her beauty captivated him; her voice entranced him. Her presence comforted him; her thought aroused all his masculine interest as no other woman had succeeded in doing. Ever.

He revelled in her attention. Her selfless friendship had brought down his barriers. He was consumed by thoughts of her to the extent that she had taken the place of his nightmares. Now his spare time and waking moments were taken up in ruminating on the difference her presence had made in his life.

He walked towards the front door of his house.

Khushi Kumari Gupta was a pari, as nonsensical it may sound, he thought. She had the magical ability to wipe the slate clean, to overcome horrors, to prompt him to shed darkness and seek light ahead, to survive life-altering ordeals with composure, to look at life with optimism, to smile in the face of adversity and put it to shame.

Love? Was it love? Of course not! He scoffed at the very thought. He enjoyed spending time with her. It was just pleasure in good company and a very potent sexual attraction from his side. That was all it was. 

And he had absolutely no intention of acting on it. Never. They were very different, worlds apart. And love and marriage were just words to make lust look better. No, he wasn't in the market for a relationship. Nothing could come of their friendship. She was his employee and he, her employer. Transient, temporary, meaningless. Their acquaintance didn't even qualify as a relationship. Not worth worrying about.

Arnav Singh Raizada walked into the house. The meeting at the Taj had taken all morning. He was in time for lunch. The rest of the family would have finished their meal by now. Good. He could eat alone and enjoy her company.

His smile widened.

Khushi always stood by him when he ate and regaled him with stories of her childhood and her family. He felt he knew all the members of her family. Her amma, her babuji, her jiji, her friend, Preetho, her buaji.... He had heard so much about her life that he even knew all the sweets in her babuji’s Satwik Mishtan Bhandar! Laughter filled his heart and soul.

HP came out of the kitchen and stopped short at the sight of his Arnav bhaiya.

“HP, ask Khushi to serve me lunch,” Arnav instructed. “I will be down in a moment.”

HP’s mouth fell open. A moment later, he said apologetically, “Arnav bhaiya, Khushi bitiya isn’t here. Shall I serve you?”

Arnav frowned. Where had she gone? To the temple? To the market? To watch a movie?

“Woh kya he, Arnav bhaiya, her buaji called. So she went to visit her at her house in Laxmi Nagar. Shall I serve you?” HP asked.

Arnav nodded slowly, feeling unsettled. He tried to keep his face expressionless as he said, “Ask her to meet me when she gets home. And serve me lunch in my room.”

HP nodded.