10. OS 20. The Temperamental Tyrant (Part 10)

Part 10

Arnav slammed the door of his room and marched to the glass door leading to his garden and stood there panting, his hands on either side of the door.

Nani was getting more set in her ways as the years passed. More rigid in her views, more prejudiced. And mami deserved better than to be treated like a pariah in her own home, that too after years of marriage and in the presence of her only son.

He hit his clenched fist against the wall.

Mami deserved better.

Akash would get married in a few years. What if nani insulted mami before her bahu? What if Akash’s wife too despised mami for her ways? What would mami do? Where would she go?

Mama didn’t have the guts to battle nani and Akash was too polite for his own good.

So only he was left, Arnav Singh Raizada, Khushi’s Laad Governor. 

Infamous for his temper and his total lack of regard for the feelings of others, he could defend mami. Only he could defend mami. He had nothing to lose. And he didn’t give a fig about what the world thought of him.

Nani and di could take their high society, their sanskaar and their notions of aukaat and live by them, but not him. Clarity of thinking was a curse. So was being a Mallik who had witnessed his parents’ quarrel and his mother’s suicide and sat by his parents’ corpses as his di clung to him and wept.

Birth didn’t guarantee good behaviour or morals. Nor could money guarantee happiness. Or his chachaji wouldn’t have thrown him and di out of the house the day after their parents were cremated. Nor would his father have been a lecher and an adulterer.

No one knew this better than him. No one.

There was a timid knock on the door.

Khushi!

He strode to the door and pulled it open.

Mami, mama and Akash stood there.

Arnav blinked.

Mami cast herself on his bosom, hugging him so tight that he was in danger of collapsing for lack of air.

“Mami,” he tried to get out of her merciless clutch.

“Hamre Arnav bitwaa,” she wept. “Only you loves your mami...”

Arnav patted her on her back, feeling as awkward as a man unused to dealing with feminine tears and emotional outpourings could feel.

Thankfully mama and Akash stepped in and freed Arnav from mami’s loving death hold.

Arnav looked straight at mama and said bluntly, “You should have defended mami.”

Mama looked down, embarrassed.

Mami nodded enthusiastically.

“Arnav bitwaa, we caused great grief to amma and babuji,” mama murmured.

“I am sure you did. When nani found out about you and mami, she had two choices ahead of her. She could have sent both of you out of her home and life or she could have accepted you. She and nanaji decided to accept your relationship because they didn’t want to lose their son.”

Mama and mami nodded.

“Then why is she constantly finding fault with mami?” Arnav asked.

No one had an answer.

“There was a time when nani had a choice to make. She made it. Now why crib and cry about it?” he asked. He turned to Akash. “And you, Akash. How could you stand there and listen to your mother being insulted?”

Akash hung his head in shame. Bhai was right. He rarely gave advice and interfered in other people’s lives, but when he did, he was always right.

“No one expects you to be rude like me,” Arnav said with a slight smile. “But you can make your displeasure felt without being impolite.”

Akash nodded. It was his turn to hug bhai.

                                                                 ***

“Nani, please don’t take Chotey’s words to heart,” Anjali pleaded. “Please drink this glass of water.”

Nani waved it away, her face closed, her eyes flinty.

“Nani, what mama and mami did was years ago. It is over and done with and can’t be changed,” Anjali reminded her. “But you can rest assured that Chotey isn’t interested in that maid. What’s her name? Haan, Khushi. All he did was ask her for a glass of water.”

Nani shook her head in disgust at Anjali’s limited understanding. “What do you think happened a few minutes back in the living room, Anjali bitiya?” she asked, her tone sarcastic.

Anjali frowned. “Chotey asked that girl for a glass of water. She served us dinner. After we ate, we sat in the living room. The girl gave Chotey his glass of water and left. Then...” She paused.

“Then?” nani insisted.

“You scolded mami for drinking her milk noisily. Mami got up to leave. Chotey stopped her and...” She paused again.

“And?” nani insisted, her eyes mocking Anjali.

“Chotey said a lot of nonsense to rile up the family, especially you,” Anjali said dismissively. “Don’t feel bad about it, nani. You know Chotey. His temper is always in saatve aasman and he needs no excuse to lose control.”

“Anjali bitiya, instead of trying to make me feel better, employ the little brains you have in analysing Chotey’s behaviour and words,” nani said with open contempt. “Whom did Chotey support?”

“Mami,” Anjali said with a perplexed frown.

“Who was our maid,” nani added with a pointed glance. “As is Khushi.”

Anjali gasped.

“Manohar succeeded in spoiling our family’s reputation to the extent that people laughed at me at parties for being the fool who had let the maid seduce her son right under her nose. People ostracised us, people we had known for years, families that had known ours for decades. Manohar and Manorama broke my trust. They made an idiot of me.” Nani shook her head.  “I had expected little from the little maid I employed to do housework, but I had expected my son to respect his family and its standing, its parampara, its sanskaar, its reputation. But he became blind to all these, to us, to our expectations from him, to his future. He could see only the colourful maid.”

“Nani,” Anjali tried to protest.

“Mark my words, Anjali bitiya, Chotey is setting the stage to introduce that piece of trash from Lucknow as his bride,” nani said, her voice cold.

Anjali gaped at her nani.

“Leave me alone,” nani ordered.

Anjali hesitated. Then she turned and walked away.

                                                              ***

Nani sat in her rocking chair thinking furiously.

Manohar had spoiled his life with a wife like Manorama who had neither the manners nor the grace a Raizada bahu needed to have. She was as common as tap water. It had only been by God’s grace that Akash had turned out to be like the Raizadas and not like his mother or her crass relations.

She couldn’t let Chotey destroy his life.

Her throat closed over as she thought of all he had endured at such a young age. She couldn’t let him suffer disgrace or be unhappy after she was gone. ‘I have to make sure he has someone worthy of him as his wife, a girl who will love him and look after him, a girl who will give him all the love that he missed out on, a girl who will make him proud and happy, a girl he will feel proud to introduce to his business acquaintances, a girl from an eminent family. But before that I have to exorcise the Khussi bhoot. Once he is free of her, I can look around for a girl who will suit Chotey.’

She sighed and leaned back in her chair.

She was tired.

Tired of looking after a family that didn’t give a hoot about things that mattered. Tired of trying to do a hundred things that needed to be done. Tired of playing many roles to fill the gaps Ratna, Arvind Mallik and her own husband had left in their lives.

‘But I can’t let Chotey spoil his life. How can I face Ratna when I meet her in heaven? Won’t she ask me why I didn’t take better care of her only son and let him throw away his money and life and reputation on chasing gold diggers like his father did?’ she asked herself, agitated.

HP knocked on her door.

“Come in,” she said.

HP walked in and placed a silver tray with a glass of badam milk on the table.

“Hariprakash?” nani called.

“Ji, naniji?” he asked.

“Have all of them gone to bed?” she asked.

“Yes, naniji.”

“Khussi?” nani asked.

HP smiled. “We are cleaning up,” he replied.

“I—I haven’t talked to her...” nani said slowly. “She has been working here for months now.”

HP smiled.

“Ask her to come here to my room after her work is done,” nani said.

“Ji, naniji,” HP replied before leaving.

Teaser for Part 11 and onwards

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.