6. OS 21. An Unwilling Passion (8,9)

Part 8

ASR thought long and hard and came to a difficult conclusion. The only thing that could destabilize Khushi was affection...and gratitude and all sorts of emotional garbage that he steered clear of when others displayed it as he had enough of his own to live through.

And unfortunately for her, Khushi liked him, the corporate blood-sucking vampire who left his opponents gasping by the time he was done with them.

He took a deep breath. This was war and war meant no rules, no scruples. Not that he was overly concerned about his enemy’s well-being.

Yes, he would capitalize on her weakness for him.

The next night, ASR visited Khushi’s shed.

She looked wan. He could detect dark circles under her eyes.

“Khushi?” he called.

She looked up from the jalebis she was arranging in a carton and her face lit up. Her eyes shone as she exclaimed, “Arnavji?”

“I need to speak to you…in private,” he said.

“Ji,” she replied, leaving the jalebis and hurrying to his side. Payal moved away, curious, but too well-mannered to pry.

“Kya hua, Arnavji? Do you need help?” Khushi asked.

ASR looked into her earnest hazel eyes and had to draw in a deep breath before answering.

“Khushi, we have known each other for some time now,” he began.

“Ji, a few weeks,” she agreed.

“I was…err…disturbed by what you told me about your father and the loan. It is not right that you should be worried about money when I can easily afford to take care of it,” he offered.

She blinked. Incomprehension spread across her features.

“Why should you?” she asked in genuine astonishment.

ASR felt this throat tightening as he said the words he had never said to anyone. “Because you are my friend.”

As he watched in acute discomfort, her beautiful eyes filled with grateful tears.

‘Yes,’ he revelled in his victory. ‘She will take money from me now!’ No more slaving away in this hot shed for her and he could finally exact revenge on her aunt.

Khushi dried her cheeks with a sniff. “You are so kind,” she whispered. “So good. Aur aap hamein dost samajhte hein?” She shook her head in disbelief. “I have never had a friend like you before.”

Had Aman been fortunate enough to hear Khushi’s words, he would have assured her that she had missed out on nothing.

ASR waited for her to ask for money.

But she was too busy feeling extreme gladness and ecstasy at being considered Arnavji’s dost.

ASR asked with an inward sigh, “How much do you need?”

Khushi, jolted out of her euphoria, mumbled, “Ji?”

“How much money do you need?” he repeated. “I can give you a cheque. You can cash it tomorrow.” ‘Tell me, tell me,’ he urged silently.

Khushi shook her head in disbelief. “Aap ko kya ho gaya he?” she asked with a frown. “Why should you give me money? You are an employee working hard to earn his living. How can you be so wasteful as to throw away your savings on someone you met a few weeks ago?” she chided.

He blinked. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had reprimanded him. And she was angry about him wanting to spend money on her?

“It is late. Aap jaake so jayiye. When you wake up, such sanka notions will have left your bheja. Jaayiye, mere dost,” she insisted with a smile.

“Khushi,” he tried to protest.

A look of wonder dawned on her face.

“Arnavji, do you think sankaness is contagious?” she asked in all seriousness.

“What the!”

“Buaji calls me Sanka Devi. I think my craziness has spread to you and you have become Sanka Dev,” she said with a straight face.

Arnav’s lips twisted in a wry smile.

“This is what you get when you become Khushi Kumari Gupta’s friend,” she said with a laugh before leaving him.

                                                                     ***

He had to persist, he told himself. She would crack. All people had their price and Khushi too could be bought. Maybe her price was higher than most, maybe it was different than most. But she was bikau. All were. It would just take some time.

He had ample time, he told himself. There was no real hurry to return to Delhi. He could keep tabs on his office from Lucknow and Aman kept him in the loop. Lightning visits to the office had taken care of pressing work. And then were Akash and mama who called him daily. Yes, he had time. He needed to use that time wisely. Follow her wherever she goes, Arnav Singh Raizada, he told himself. Make your presence felt. Keep offering her money till she, hypnotized by the easy way out, gives in. The sleepless nights, the never-ending work and the toil would corrode her idealism one day and drop her right into his lap.

                                                             ***

Khushi was surprised to see him at the temple the next morning, but she was so full of news that it didn’t strike her odd that her reclusive friend was visiting Devi Maiyya.

“Arnavji! Aap? Mere saath aayiye na? I want to talk to you,” she squealed before tugging him to sit on a bench in the temple premises.

He looked at the spot on his arm she had clutched. Why did his skin feel a burn?

“You are very lucky for us, especially for me,” she enthused, her eyes shining. “You said you are my dost last night aur pata he kya hua? Today morning babuji received a phone call from Agarwalji. He wants to bring his wife and son to visit us today.”

ASR frowned. Where had this abomination sprung from? “Why?” was all he replied.

“He wants his son to marry jiji,” Khushi trilled. “You can imagine how happy we are.”

ASR could only stare at her.

“No dowry, no gifts. They want a quick wedding. He is an only son and well-employed. Aur sab se achi baat, jiji will be staying in Lucknow after marriage. She can continue working in our shop after shaadi,” Khushi was incandescent with joy. “Arnavji, this is like a miracle. Sab kuch sahi ho raha he. Everything that was wrong in our lives is slowly being set to rights. Devi Maiyya has decided to shower us with her blessings. Aap ko pata he, I couldn’t believe this when babuji told me in the morning.”

ASR too couldn’t believe his ears.

“Jiji is happy too as the shaadi won’t strain babuji too much financially and she can be here with us, working at Satwik Mishtan Bhandhar even after shaadi,” Khushi confessed happily.

ASR fumed as his plans went up in fire and the fumes hurt his nostrils and choked him.

                                                                 ***

Part 9

“Find out everything you can about Agarwal. Every bloody thing. Every single detail, even the toothpaste he uses,” ASR growled at Aman.

“Sir? Agarwal? Who?” Aman asked, confused.

ASR shook his head to clear it. “The man who wants his son to marry Payal, Khushi’s sister. He is coming with his family to visit the Guptas today.”

“It will be done, sir,” Aman replied quietly, understanding ASR’s panic.

                                                           ***

ASR watched Khushi running about in the courtyard of Gomti Sadan with frequent trips to the shed to get everything ready for the visitors in the evening.

“Khussi,” buaji called.

“Haan, buaji?” asked Khushi.

“Bring the jalebi in, Nandkisore. And the peda. I will arrange them on trays,” buaji said, dragging the cot in the courtyard to a side.

“Ji, buaji,” Khushi replied, running to the shed to emerge from it with a plate filled with sweets.

“Sanka Devi, suno,” buaji said. “Change the covers of the cushions in the living room.”

“Ji, buaji.”

“Suno, Nandkisore,” buaji continued. “Stay with your jiji when it is time for her to dress.” 

“Of course, buaji,” Khushi replied even as she cleared the courtyard of big vessels set out to dry.

“Oo kaa he, bitiya, if the boy likes Payaliya and she likes him, we may have the shaadi within a week or so.” Buaji’s face fell. “We may not get time to get used to the fact that she is leaving us.”

Khushi blinked back her tears and put on a smile for buaji’s sake. “Buaji, don’t be sad. I will be here with you always,” she reassured her aunt. “Hamesha.”

Buaji dried her eyes and teased, “Parmeswari, are you saying that I will have to bear you till I die? Hai Re Nandkisore!”

“Yes!” Khushi said with emphasis. “And you are not going to die anytime soon. Your Nandkisore likes his peace in heaven. Will He be so foolish as to call you there?”

“Hai Re Nandkisore! This girl!” buaji exclaimed, throwing a jalebi at Khushi who caught it and popped it into her mouth. She then danced her way to buaji and hugged her so tight that the middle-aged lady cried out for help.

ASR’s lips twisted in a smile as he watched Khushi’s antics. Her zest for life was almost contagious, he mused.

                                                                 ***

Arnav watched the Agarwals being greeted by the Guptas. The senior Agarwal was in a sherwani, the junior in formal wear and the mother was wearing a rich sari in red.

ASR’s eyes fell on the decorations. The chains of marigold adorning the house swayed in the breeze and the rangoli that Khushi and Payal had made in the courtyard gleamed in the evening light.

 As he watched, a marigold flower fell from a chain and landed near the bright green, orange and red of the peacock rangoli.

His phone rang.

Aman.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Senior Agarwal runs a textile shop in one of the markets of Lucknow. The son got a job three months back. He saw Payal at the market and asked his father to approach the Guptas,” Aman said.

“No dowry, wants immediate shaadi,” mused ASR.

“Just like our story,” Aman added. “For Khushi.”

“Yes,” ASR concurred. A moment later, he said, “I don’t like it.”

“Sir?” Aman asked.

“Dig deep,” was all he said.

“Yes, sir,” Aman agreed. ASR’s intuition was always spot on.

                                                          ***

A couple of hours later, ASR went to open the door in response to the incessant banging and saw Khushi standing there with a heavy tray balanced against her chest and supported by one arm.

He quickly took it from her.

She beamed.

“Arnavji, sab kuch theek ho gaya,” she said with a sigh of relief. Brushing past him, she stepped into the house and sank into a chair.

ASR left the tray on a side table and sat down in another chair, taking care to leave the door open.

“I can’t tell you how grateful I am to Devi Maiyya. She will get a big plate of jalebis made in pure desi ghee for this kindness,” she said, smiling away. “The boy liked jiji and she agreed to the shaadi.”

“Oh,” ASR murmured.

“Arnavji, they don’t want any dowry and they want the shaadi done simply and at the earliest. When babuji said he needed time to invite our relations staying in Kanpur and Varanasi, they said they are in a hurry and want the wedding arranged in a week’s time. They even phoned up their astrologer while at our house and fixed a date for the wedding. It is next Thursday, Arnavji, and you are invited. Babuji and amma will come to invite you formally, but I wanted to invite you first because you are my dost, my khaas dost, my special friend.” Khushi looked weary, but she was smiling away.

He nodded with difficulty.

She stood up slowly, her whole body aching after hours of heavy-duty lifting and cooking. Now she had to put in a few hours in the shed for neither the sweets nor their clients would wait for her to take a power nap. “Hum chalte hein, Arnavji. Aap please khaa leejiye. I will get the tray tomorrow,” she said, turning to leave.

“What is this?” he asked looking down at the tray.

“Dinner,” she said with a smile, “with three types of sweets made by the one and only Khushi Kumari Gupta of Lucknow.”

He swallowed hard. Each time she had brought him sweets, he had dumped them in the dustbin. When she had offered him sweet tea at the shed, he had sipped it once and left the rest without mentioning that he was diabetic. He hadn’t wanted to share personal information with her then. But now, it felt cruel to throw food she had prepared in the dumpster.

“I am diabetic,” he blurted out.

“Ji?” she asked with a frown. “Shakkar ki beemari?”

“Yes.”

Her eyes filled with sympathetic tears. “You can’t eat sweets? Out of politeness, you have been putting up with me each time I brought sweets for you. Arnavji, aap kitne ache ho.”

For the first time in his life, Arnav felt lower than a worm. His self-hate increased exponentially till he was in danger of being eclipsed by it. He couldn’t make a sound as she smiled sympathetically at him and left.

One hour later, as he dragged himself to the window of his room, he could see smoke coming from the chimney of the shed. Khushi was cooking.

5. OS 21. An Unwilling Passion (Parts 6, 7)

Part 6

ASR walked towards the shed on quiet feet, letting the dark mask his approach.

He looked in to see Khushi and Payal making sweets. Payal was rolling laddoos and Khushi was stirring something in a huge vat. Her face looked pale and there were dark circles under her eyes.

Regret poisoned his heart. He stood there feeling small, bad and ashamed of himself, but only for a moment. He pushed aside the cloak of remorse with determination to exact revenge for his mama.

“Khushi,” he called softly.

Her eyes rushed to meet his.

“Arnavji? Aap?” she asked, a smile blooming on her tired face. She turned to Payal. “Jiji, this is Arnavji who is renting the haveli next door. Arnavji, this is my jiji, Payal.”

Payal greeted him with a namaste.

Arnav nodded and turned his attention to Khushi.

“You are working late?” he asked.

Khushi smiled. “The customer will reach here early tomorrow morning for the sweets.”

“Why don’t you employ more people?” he asked.

Khushi looked away. Then she said, “We will. When the business picks up.”

“The market is dull?” he asked casually.

“It is improving,” Khushi tried to stop him from sympathising on their misfortune.

“If you need any help, I am next door,” ASR offered. She would ask for money and he would be ready to gobble up her home and business and spit her family out. He was an expert manipulator and she, a mere novice.

Her eyes widened. “Why would you help us, Arnavji?”

There was no answer to the question. He shrugged. He wasn’t a convincing enough actor to portray a philanthropist with a bleeding heart and she was a tough nut to crack. But she would crack one day. He had brought tough business competitors to their knees on many occasions and she was just a slip of a girl. She would bite. He just had to keep the pressure piling up.

                                                             ***

Ramlal paid the Guptas another visit.

“So Sasiji, what have you decided about the rishta I brought for Khussi?” he asked. “The boy’s uncle called again. He wants to know when they can come to see Khussi.”

Sasi looked at Madhumati and Garima.

“I will let you know today, Ramlalji. Let me talk to my bitiya,” Sasi promised. “Please have your tea,” he urged.

A few hours later, the family was in deep thought about the proposal.

“How can we marry off Khussi when Payaliya is umarried?” Garima asked.

“Woh bhi when we have the bank loan to pay off, Nandkisore?” buaji asked.

“Woh kaa he, jiji,” Sasi replied thoughtfully, “it will take us years to pay off the loan. How can we keep our daughters unmarried till the loan is paid off?”

“Woh bhi sahi he,” buaji muttered.

“Karein to kaa karein,” Garima lamented.

Khushi came into the house, calling, “Babuji...”

“Kaa he bitiya?” Sasi asked, his eyes seeing the lines of weariness on her face.

“Here’s the money that a customer paid in advance for two kilos of halwa. He will pay the rest tomorrow morning when he comes to get it,” she informed him, handing over the notes and coins carefully.

Sasi had to swallow to clear the huge boulder of sorrow blocking his throat.

“Bitiya, shaadi kar lio,” he advised.

“What?” Khushi asked, surprised.

“I am going to call Ramlalji and ask him to bring the boy and his family here,” Sasi decided.

“Aap kya keh rahe ho, babuji?” Khushi asked in bewilderment.

“Ramlalji brought a rishta for you, Nandkisore,” buaji admitted. “Get married, Sanka Devi and make a new life with your husband. We will find  a boy for Payaliya too.”

Khushi looked squarely at her father.

“Babuji, how will we conduct two marriages? Where will we get the money from? Aur agar hum dono chale jaayenge, then how will you run the shop?” she asked bluntly.

“Bitiya, it will take years to pay off the bank loan. We can’t keep you and Payaliya here. I will pledge Gomti Sadan and we will conduct your marriages. I will hire boys to work in the shop. Don’t worry about us. You and Payaliya should lead happy lives, not slave away in the shed.” Sasi was firm in his demand.

“Babuji...” Khushi tried to remonstrate with him.

“Hum kuch nahi sunenge, Khussi,” Sasi said. “The boy and his family will visit us soon. If you like him, we will conduct the marriage.”

“Wahi theek he, Nandkisore,” buaji agreed.

“Yes, jiji,” Garima seconded her.

“Babuji!” Khushi protested.

“Get some rest, bitiya,” Sasi said before leaving to call Ramlal.

                                                            ***

“Sasi Gupta has signaled his interest in the proposal for Khushi Kumari Gupta,” Aman informed him.

ASR’s fingers clenched around the phone. A long moment of silence later, he muttered, “Good.”

“They have arranged for the boy to visit today evening,” Aman added.

“I see,” ASR said softly.

When ASR said nothing more, Aman waited and then asked, “Sir, are you fine?”

“I am perfect,” ASR replied shortly.

                                                                  ***

Part 7

ASR stood in his room looking at the shed in which Khushi was cooking. Through the window, he had a clear vision of the small building. Once in a while, he could catch glimpses of Khushi as she worked near the small window of the shed.

It was noon.

Preparations were being made in Gomti Sadan to welcome the visitors, but Khushi and Payal were in their shed, working.

As he watched, Khushi came out of the shed to place a carton on a stack of cartons. She flexed her arms and threw back her neck to release the strained muscles.

Her eyes fell on him.

A smile bloomed on her face.

“Arnavji!” she called.

He managed to smile.

“You are at home at noon?” she asked cheerfully. “Don’t you have work today?”

“Meeting is over,” he answered.

She teased. “If your company wale come here, I will tell them that you are always at home. They will chide you for not working hard enough.”

The workaholic ASR was a slacker in Khushi’s eyes? ASR was amused.

“Khushi?” Payal called.

“Aati hoon, jiji,” she replied, turning to ASR to bid him farewell.

ASR watched her rush inside the shed and his eyes hardened. When the Guptas accepted the proposal, their slide to ruin and humiliation would begin.

Khushi returned to the shed and began to hum as she stirred the vat of halwa. 

Even though her face was beaded with perspiration, there was a smile on her face.

“Why are you smiling, Khushi?” Payal asked, arranging jalebis in a basket.

“Arnavji was standing by his window. Unse baat hui hamari,” Khushi explained, still smiling.

“And he made you laugh?” Payal asked curiously. “Woh kya he, he looks a bit khadoos. Isliye...”

Khushi frowned, cross at her sister for maligning her favourite neighbour. “He is not khadoos at all, jiji. He is really sweet once you come to know him,” she defended him.

“And you know him?” Payal asked, astonished.

“Of course,” Khushi replied happily. “He is a very nice man, bilkul seedha saadha.”

“He is old,” Payal said thoughtfully. “Matlab as old as Piyu’s eldest brother who has three children.”

Khushi fired up. “He is not old. He is perfect,” she claimed.

Payal shook her head, used to her sister’s craziness. A moment of silence later, she asked, “Khushi, about the boy who is coming to see you today...”

“Who?” Khushi asked, distracted by her halwa’s recalcitrance in achieving the perfect texture.

“The groom who is visiting us today to see you,” Payal reminded her with exasperation written large on her face.

Khushi’s face lost its smile. Then she said with forced cheerfulness, “Chodo na, jiji. Look at my beautiful halwa. Isn’t it fit for a king?”

Payal rolled her eyes.

                                                                 ***

ASR watched as a handsome young man, accompanied by an older man and lady, entered the premises of Gomti Sadan. He saw Sasi welcome them and lead them into the house.

His fingers clutched the back of the antique chair. It was done. Within one hour or so, the Guptas’ fate would be sealed. More than a decade of waiting to get hands on the woman who had as good as slaughtered his family and left di and him homeless had taken much from him. No sleep, no happiness. He sighed. No trust. No contentment. In fact, no life.

Khushi’s face swam before his eyes. Innocence shone brightly from her eyes.

He turned his head away. She was collateral damage. She would have to take the disappointment of having her groom ditch her before the wedding. It was nothing compared to the grief his di and he had suffered.

                                                                        ***

“Sasi Gupta informed the boy and the actors we hired as his uncle and aunt that he would contact them tomorrow and let them know if Khushi is willing to marry,” Aman said.

ASR frowned at the delay.

“Maybe he wants to discuss the financial arrangements with his family and needs time?” Aman suggested in order to soothe ASR’s troubled thoughts.

“Yes,” ASR concurred.

“I will keep you posted, sir,” Aman promised.

“Yes,” ASR concluded the conversation.

                                                                         ***

“Bitiya, why don’t you like the boy?” Sasi Gupta was bewildered. “Sarkari naukri, pada likha, handsome. And they don’t want dowry. What more are you looking for?”

“Babuji, I don’t want to marry him,” Khushi said flatly. She had no intention of marrying anyone when her family was in serious financial difficulty.

“Hai re Nandkisore! Why not, Sanka Devi?” Buaji was vociferous in her astonishment.

The vision of Arnavji floated before Khushi’s eyes. “He is too young,” she said.

“Too young?” Garima exclaimed. “He is four years your senior.”

“He looks like a doodh-peetha bacha. He should still be in the nursery,” Khushi summarily dismissed the boy.

Garima looked at Khushi as though she were an alien from outer space who had landed her spaceship on Gomti Sadan’s terrace and sauntered down to the living room.

“Babuji, I know the perfect man for Khushi,” Payaliya teased. “Ramlalji. She can never say that he is not old enough.”

“Jiji!” Khushi complained.

“Pagla gayi he ye Parmeswari,” buaji said emphatically.

“Offo buaji, you should see him in close-up. Not a single hair on his face.” Khushi shook her head in spurious sympathy. “He is too young to grow a beard. Humme pukka yakeen he that his uncle and aunt were lying about his age.”

“This girl will be the death of me,” Garima muttered.

Sasi drew a deep breath and asked, “Bitiya, what kind of boy do you want?”

The words just fell from her mouth, giving life to a hope she hadn’t even dared to hope. “A man who looks like a man, thoda gussewala, thoda pyaara, not a boy still clutching to his mami’s pallu,” she said briefly.

“She is a gone case,” buaji reported to Garima. “Sanka Devi has outdone herself today, Nandkisore. Badhai ho, Sasi babua, your daughter has become fully mad. All the fumes from the stove in the shed have gone into her brains.”

 Sasi sat down, defeated.

“Call the boy’s uncle and tell him we are ready for the shaadi, Payaliya’s father,” Garima urged. “Don’t listen to Khussi. If we decide things according her wishes, we are never going to find a boy she approves of and then what will be her fate? All her friends will get married, Payaliya will get married and Khussi will sit here at home, an old maid.”

“No, babuji. I don’t want to marry this boy,” she stated firmly. Her face brightened. “Jiji can marry him. After all, she liked him.” Khushi winked at Payal who scowled at her.

“The boy wants to marry you, Khussi, not Payaliya,” Sasi replied, sitting down, defeated. “I was hoping you would like him...”

Khushi said with a smile, “I don’t, babuji. But I like jalebis and the batter is waiting in the shed for me. Hum chalte hein.” She walked away. Payal followed her.

                                                            ***

“The Guptas refused the proposal,” Aman said in a tone of disbelief.

“What the!” ASR exclaimed. Was it relief that spread its tentacles around his heart? He refused to examine the feeling closely, pushing it into his subconscious mind.

“We sweetened the pot till I was in danger of getting diabetes,” Aman confessed. “Handsome boy with a government job, no dowry, ready to marry immediately...but they still refused the proposal.”

“What was the reason given by them?” ASR asked.

“That Khushi didn’t want to get married now,” Aman replied.

ASR firmed his lips. He needed to meet Khushi and try to persuade her to accept the proposal.

“Hang on to the boy for a couple of days,” ASR instructed. “I will try and get her to accept him.”

“Yes, sir,” Aman concurred.

                                                                     ***

Khushi turned away from Devi Maiyya after a long session of praying and talking to her best friend, only to stop short as she came face to face with Arnav Singh.

“Aap?” she asked, feeling very happy at the sight of his khadoos face. “Kya hua, Arnavji? You were missing for a couple of days. Were you travelling for work?”

“I was busy,” he replied. “I thought of dropping in at night to talk to you, but your house was decorated with flowers and you had guests.”

“Oh, woh?” she asked. “That was just a boy and his uncle and aunt. They came to see me.”

“See you?” he asked as though he hadn’t orchestrated everything down to the last bit.

“For marriage,” she explained.

He expressed astonishment by raising one brow. “I see. So is your wedding fixed?” he asked innocently.

She shook her head in the negative. “No,” she replied.

“Why not?” he asked.

Khushi’s eyes fell for a moment as a strange emotion ran through her. Was it bashfulness? Or guilt that she had secretly stored away impressions of him in the dark recesses of her mind, only to be retrieved and savoured when she was alone?

“Kya hua, Khushi?” he asked, furious that his plan hadn’t worked out and furious that he was secretly relieved his plan hadn’t worked out.

“I didn’t like him,” Khushi mumbled.

ASR frowned. The guy looked like a movie star in the photo he had seen. What had Khushi found to dislike in the fellow?

“What was wrong with him?” ASR insisted.

“He..he was too young, too...” she searched for words.

ASR almost rolled his eyes. “Khushi? Don’t tell me you rejected a proposal on a flimsy excuse.”

She looked around. Devotees were thronging the shrine. “Shall we sit for a while, Arnavji?” she asked.

ASR shrugged. She had put paid to his schemes for now and there was nothing more important than destroying her aunt. He followed her to a bench and sat down by her.

“Arnavji,” she began, “waise I don’t talk about personal matters to others, lekin aap se...pata nahi kyon, I feel I have known you for years. My babuji pledged our house and took a loan from Tiwariji. He couldn’t pay it back on time.”

‘Now she will ask for my help. Here it comes, the sob story of the decade,’ he thought, filled with jubilation that she was the gold digger he had assumed her to be and with euphoria that she trusted him enough to ask for his help.

“Woh kya he, our shop caught fire and babuji borrowed money from Tiwariji to set it to rights. But it was only when he started work on the shop that he realised the true extent of the damage. So he was strapped for cash and failed to repay the loan. A company bought the loan from Tiwariji and asked babuji to return the money immediately. Babuji had to pledge Satwik Mishtan Bhandar to get back Gomti Sadan’s papers,” she explained, pausing to draw breath.

ASR remained silent.

“So now, we owe money to the bank. That’s why jiji and I are working extra hard to make money to redeem the shop’s papers from the bank,” she continued.

“Oh,” he remarked, waiting for her to ask him for help.

“Ab aap hi bataayiye, what will babuji do if I marry and go away? Can he manage the cooking and the shop at the same time? How will jiji do the cooking on her own? It is not practical, is it?” she asked reasonably. “Lekin babuji is very worried about jiji and me and our future. He wants to marry us off and to free us from the burden of debt. But I can’t abandon him.” Her face became drawn. “He gave me refuge when I had no one. Jo kuch bhi ho jaaye, I won’t marry till my babuji is financially sound.”

ASR blinked. His head felt stuffed with cotton wool. His Machiavellian schemes had come to naught because of her idealism and her love for and gratitude towards her adopted father.

He needed time to take stock and plan a new strategy.

"I need to leave," he said before getting up and walking away.