10. OS 21. An Unwilling Passion (Part 14)

Part 14

The next few hours were very strange for an Arnav Singh Raizada who never changed his mind once he had made it or questioned his own decisions.

He paced his room, conflicting thoughts eating into his peace of mind and corroding the certainty with which he had viewed his past.

Did he want to give Garima a chance to clear her name? Would he be able to listen to the details of his father’s clandestine romance with composure? Or was it better to leave Lucknow and effect revenge from the safe environs of Delhi?

Khushi’s face swam into his vision.

Maybe he should give Garima a chance to say her piece. It was the last time he would have to wade through the nightmarish incidents of his past. He could then leave Lucknow and return to Delhi.

Khushi’s tear-filled eyes filled his mindscape, pushing out every other thought. 

Yes, he would give Garima a chance.

                                                                           ***

Arnav knocked on the door to Gomti Sadan the next day after he had seen Garima and Khushi enter the house.

Khushi opened the door, standing absolutely astonished. She had never expected to see him again.

He felt a pull somewhere inside at the sight of her pale face and bruised eyes.

“Arnavji...aap? Aayiye na?” she invited him in. Was he here to listen to amma?

“Where is Garima?” he asked quietly.

“Aap baitiye na? I will call her,” Khushi led him to a seat, praying fervently that her amma was innocent of the crimes he had accused her of.

“How is your father?” he asked.

“Better,” she said with a sigh of relief. “It will take time for his full recovery, but doctor saheb is hopeful.”

She went away to summon Garima.

Arnav looked at the polished shine of his shoes. His time in Lucknow was coming to an end. It was time to decide the fate of Garima and her family. By tonight, her fate would be sealed.

He looked away unseeingly at the amateur efforts by Khushi and Payal to decorate the living room with their works of art and embroidery.

“Bitwaa,” Garima murmured as she came to join him.

“I want to know how you came to meet Arvind Mallik and why you came to see my parents’ corpses before the cremation,” he said curtly, briefly.

She sighed soundlessly and sat down, pulling the ghoonghat to cover her hair fully. Then she locked the fingers of both hands and looked at the floor.

“Hum aap se jo kuch bhi kehne wale hein, woh sab Payaliya’s babuji knows. Lekin I have no proof to offer you that I am speaking the truth,” she said softly before launching into her tale. “We lived in Kanpur, my babuji and I. My jiji, that is Khussi’s mother, lived with her husband and daughter in Varanasi. Our mother died when we were young.”

Arnav said nothing, just tried to tamp down the bitterness rising in his throat.

“We had a shop adjoining our house,” Garima continued, looking up to meet Arnav’s eyes. “It was by the road. Your father stopped there one afternoon to buy something. He was passing through our area. Babuji had gone out. Isliye dookan mein hum the.”

Arnav’s lips tightened. His face was a mask, expressionless.

“He came often...to buy things from the shop. He used to talk very sweetly to me. He met babuji a few times. Pata nahi woh Kanpur mein kya kar rahe the...he told babuji that he was on some business.” Garima sat lost in thought. Then she continued, “After a few months, he came with his brother to meet babuji.”

“With his brother?” Arnav asked, astonished.

“Ji,” Garima said, nodding. “They asked babuji for my hand.”

Arnav stared at her as if poleaxed. His chacha knew Arvind Mallik was married! Why on earth had he helped his brother commit bigamy?

“They said that their parents were dead and that he had only his brother to bring with him as a family to make a formal proposal,” Garima recounted quietly. “Babuji was uneasy, but had to accept that he had no other relations. He asked me if I was willing to marry Arvind Mallik. The fool that I was, I said yes. He summoned our neighbours and they fixed a date for our sagai.”

Arnav couldn’t believe his ears. He stared at Garima with wide eyes.

“Sagai was at our house with his brother and our relations and neighbours as guests. A few days later, Arvind Mallik and his brother came to visit babuji again. They said they were setting up a big factory in Kanpur and that they wanted to buy a large plot of land. They asked if babuji would sell the property on which our house and shop  stood.” Garima said with a sigh. “Babuji was torn. He didn’t want to sell, but nor could he refuse his soon-to-be-damaad.”

Arnav clenched his fists. It had all the makings of a scam.

“They asked babuji for the papers to our property. Babuji handed them over. They took the documents and left. Uske baad do mahine, there was no news of them.” Garima had to blink away tears.

Arnav felt himself flushing in shame. He belonged to a family of crooks and lechers. Yes, he did. There was no hiding from the truth.

“Babuji began to get worried. We had no way of contacting Arvind Mallik and babuji fretted day and night. Finally....” Garima’s voice died away.

Arnav sat still, immobile, feeling time stand still.

“One night, while asking me if I had any way of contacting the Malliks and worrying about the property papers that had been taken from us, he suffered a heart attack. I ran to call the neighbours and we took him to the hospital, lekin....” Garima dried wet cheeks. “Phir kya tha? Jiji and jiju came with Khussi and took me to stay with them in Kashi. I told our neighbours to inform me if Arvind Mallik came looking for me in Kanpur, but.... Two months later, jiju was transferred to Lucknow. I was relieved. I was certain I could locate Arvind Mallik and get the papers from him and get married to him.” Garima leaned back with a heavy sigh.

Arnav had to look away from her. The way her tale was going, his father was more than an adulterer. He was also a criminal. He had a very clear idea what his chacha was made of but had expected his father to be a better man. Foolish in the extreme. Welcome to reality, Arnav, he told himself. Your father and his brother were cut off the same cloth. Not much to choose between them apparently.

“We settled down in Lucknow and I began to ask around about an Arvind Mallik. Someone told me that the Malliks were a rich family living in Sheesh Mahal. I was sure that the Arvind Mallik I knew couldn’t be from such a rich family and so I sought him elsewhere. One day....” She had to pause to draw a few breaths before she could continue. “One day I saw him at the temple.” She swallowed hard before saying with her head lowered. “There was a lady with him, with sindoor in her maang. I was shocked, lekin I comforted myself thinking she might be his sister-in-law or a cousin. I tried to approach him, but the crowd.... I ran out of the temple premises to see them leave in a car. I ran after the vehicle like a mad woman, but.... A man on the road asked me why I was running after the car. When I asked him if it was Arvind Mallik, he said it was and that he lived in Sheesh Mahal with his wife and children, his brother and mother.”

Garima took a few moments to compose herself. Then she continued, “I was heartbroken. I had gotten engaged to a married man! He had taken the documents of the only property we owned and had indirectly caused babuji’s death. It took me a few days to compose myself and then I decided to confront him. The property was my jiji’s and Khussi’s too and I couldn’t beggar them through my foolishness.” Garima wiped away a tear that had escaped her eye and continued, “I decided to go to his house and meet him. No more lies, no more pretense. I went there one evening. The whole house was decorated...lights, band, baaja...sab kuch...guests all around...I just wanted to find him. He came out to join the guests and I saw him. I went up to him. He was shocked to see me and scared that the guests would notice us talking. He took me to stand in the shadows by a flight of stairs. I asked him if he was married and he said yes. He asked me to leave, saying that it was his daughter’s shaadi and that he would meet me the next day. I asked him for the papers to our property and he said he needed some time to return them. I asked him why he had gotten engaged to me when he was already married and he had no answer. He begged me to leave and I did.”

Arnav sat before her, his face ashen.

“I returned the next day.” A look of bewilderment presented itself on her face. “He was dead. So was his wife. People were going up the steps and into the house to view the bodies. I joined them and saw the corpses lying in the hall.” She sighed. “I returned home and said nothing to jiji and jiju.”

There was silence in the room. The pall of sorrow and regret was so strong that it overpowered him.

He wanted to leave, walk away from the horrible truth of what had happened years ago, but he owed her more than that. Garima Gupta was no home-wrecker. She was another victim of his family’s greed.

He made himself look at her. She sat there, her mind occupied by the tragedies of the past, her eyes wet.

“I...I am sorry,” Arnav murmured the words that had never passed his lips before.

She looked at him, her eyes revealing her confusion. “Why?”

“My family...they...they cheated you...” He could speak no more.

Garima smiled kindly at him. “Bitwaa, it was not your fault. You did nothing. I was foolish enough to believe Arvind Mallik’s lies,” she said softly.

“It was my father and my uncle who stole from you and lied to you,” he insisted.

“Yes,” Garima agreed, “they did. They were adults who lied to and cheated me. You were a child who knew nothing of what was going on. Don’t feel guilty for what they did. You are responsible only for what you do.”

Arnav felt lower than a worm. This was the woman he had tried to destroy? Humiliate?

He stood up and turned to leave. At the door, he stopped and asked her, “Did you get the documents to your property?”

She smiled wryly. “No. Apparently, the brothers had pledged the property without our knowledge. Years later our neighbours informed us of its neelami.”

His lips tightened. He left the house.

                                                           ***

9. OS 21. An Unwilling Passion (Part 13)

Part 13

There was a timid knock on the door.

Arnav frowned. Khushi had no compunction banging on his door. Who was knocking carefully?

He strode downstairs and unlocked the door to find Garima standing there.

He was taken aback for a moment, but his face showed little.

“I need to talk to you,” she said softly.

He stepped back but took care to leave the front door open. There was no way he wanted to get embroiled in a sordid scandal with a middle-aged lady.

Garima stepped into his house and without being invited to sit down, sat in a chair, her legs weak. Spending hours at the hospital worrying about her husband and wrestling with nightmarish memories from the past had taken their toll on her.

Arnav said nothing; he just joined her. He took a chair across from her.

They sat looking at each other in silence.

Finally, Garima mused, “Khussi said your name is Arnav Singh.”

Arnav said nothing.

“Did you lie to her?” Garima asked, tired.

“I am Arnav Singh Raizada,” he replied coldly.

“Raijjada?” Garima frowned. “Not Mallik?”

“No. You and my father made it impossible to live honourably in Lucknow with the surname Mallik,” Arnav replied, his tone cutting.

Garima paled further, looking down at her clasped hands. Then she drew in a deep breath and lifting her head to meet his eyes, asked, “Why did you come here, to Lucknow?”

“For revenge.”

Her face became as drawn as a corpse’s.

Then she said querulously, her voice breaking, “Bitwaa, please spare my children. They are innocent.”

“Did you spare my di and me?” Arnav asked, his eyes filled with rage and anguish. “And what was my mother guilty of?”

Garima had no reply. All she could do was sob.

Arnav turned away and said coldly, “There is no excuse for having an affair with a married man and destroying his family. My father got what he deserved. Now it is your turn.”

He turned towards her to blast her but stopped in shock. Khushi was standing at the door and it was evident from her wounded eyes and wan face that she had heard most of the exchange.

Garima turned her head to see what it was that had caught Arnav’s interest and gaped at the sight of Khushi.

Arnav was too stupefied to speak and Garima got up from her seat and brushed past Khushi on her way out.

                                                          ***

Khushi walked towards him and came to stand by the chair in which Garima had sat. Her fingers clutched its back as she tried to get over the shock of what she had heard from Arnavji’s mouth.

“Kh...khushi...” Arnav whispered.

She was too tired to fight, too exhausted to hate. “Yeh...yeh sab kya he, A..Arnavji?” she asked, hoping she hadn’t heard what she had heard.

He looked into her guileless, honest eyes. Only the truth would do this time. He took a deep breath and began, “Garima Gupta, your amma, aunt, whatever,” he made a slashing movement with his hand, “had an affair with my father, a married man with two kids.”

Khushi gulped, her eyes locked on his face.

“My mother found out about the affair when Garima visited our home, Sheeshmahal in Lucknow, on the evening of my di’s wedding.” He looked directly into her eyes and his words hit her like bullets. “My mother shot herself with papa’s pistol in the library. Papa shot himself a couple of hours after her body was found. The wedding was cancelled and a day after the cremation, my chacha threw us out of the house.”

Khushi quickly sat down for fear that she would fall down.

His lips twisted. “But Garima was nothing but kind. She took the effort to visit us when our parents’ corpses lay in our living room for the public to pay their respects.”

Her bloodless fingers clutched the arms of her chair.

He tried to drum up all the hate he had displayed to Garima. “I want revenge, Khushi. I will destroy Garima and her family just like she destroyed mine.”

Khushi gulped.

He laid down the cards, making her aware of whom she was dealing with and how futile it would be to try to escape him.

“I own AR Designs. My firm purchased your father’s loan papers from Tiwari and pressed for immediate repayment,” he stated.

Khushi’s mouth fell open.

“I have more money and power than you can imagine, Khushi. I can....” he paused to think of words that would make her understand how powerful he was. “I can buy the whole of Lucknow and not feel the pinch. I am Arnav Singh Raizada.” His quiet words carried assurance. “I am a bad enemy and your amma/aunt is doomed.”

He waited for her response. Would she beg him to spare Garima? If she did, what would he do? Could he give up his need for vengeance for Khushi?

After a long moment, all she did was blink away the tears in her eyes and say, “I...I didn’t know...matlab I was a child...I have no idea what happened between your father and amma...You were a child too.” She shook her head to clear it. “I am sorry...ki aap ko yeh sab sehna pada...I am so sorry.” She drew in a deep breath to control her sobs. “All I know is the amma I have lived with for the past decade. She is so careful of our reputation that we aren’t permitted to visit our friends for more than a few minutes. Woh khud akeli ghar se bahar nahi jaati. I don’t know how she could be the person who helped to destroy your family.” A sob escaped her iron control.

Arnav turned away, a frown on his face.

When he turned back after a long moment, she was gone.

                                                         ***

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

Part 12

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

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

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

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

The bangs sounded again, much louder this time.

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

“K..Khushi?” he asked, shocked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                                              ***

Stroke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nani,” he paused.

“Kaa he, Chotey?”

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

Nani was shocked out of her skull.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something gave within Arnav.

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

Garima blinked heavy eyes.

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

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

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

Garima stood there, petrified.

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

Garima stumbled.

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

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

“Sir,” the lady at the reception called.

He turned reluctantly.

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

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

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

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

The receptionist gaped at him.

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

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

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

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

                                                              ***

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

Part 11

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ASR managed to nod.

“Khussi!” came a call.

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

He sat, watching the wedding preparations, uneasy.

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

Garima. The bane of his existence. His nemesis.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Buaji called Khushi.

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

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

                                                          ***

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

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

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

Sasi Gupta’s face reflected Arnav’s doubt.

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

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

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

Arnav tensed further.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hai Re Nandkisore!” buaji exclaimed loudly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was a loud gasp.

“The rascal!” exclaimed an elderly man.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                                               ***

There was perfect silence from the house next door.

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

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

Khushi came to stand behind Payal. 

He winced as he saw Khushi dry her cheeks.

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

“Sir?” Aman asked.

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir,” Aman responded quietly.

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

                                                             ***

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

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

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

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

Garima wept silently.

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

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