Oneshot

Jungli

Aditya Kumar Tripathi drew in a long breath, taking in the crisp night air as he stood on the balcony of the Tripathi house. The calm of the night did little to quiet the chaos that played in his mind. It had been an eventful day at the Tripathi house today and to say that he was exhausted was an understatement. Then again, exhaustion was the only thing he felt these days, especially since the last few months. The constant ping-pong between Imlie-Malini-Malini-Imlie and the tug of war between the two ladies about who was more important to him, and the constant competition to prove each right and the other wrong, had left him emotionally and mentally drained. He had reached a point where he wanted nothing but just to be left in peace, but that was a huge ask, apparently. Especially now, with Imlie back in their house. What his own repeated attempts had failed to achieve, his mother's ill health had done without even asking for it. Imlie had returned to the Tripathi house today, to care for his mother and nurse her back to health after her heart attack yesterday.

He rubbed his throbbing temples and moved back into the house. As he aimlessly wandered around the house, Adi came across the subject of his musings. Imlie sat on the couch in the living room, stretching her arms and rolling her neck from side to side. It had been a long day in the Tripathi household with Malini leaving no opportunity to create a ruckus and drag Imlie into it, and Imlie, never the one to be taking things sitting down, had returned in kind. Their constant bickering and squabbles had left him with a pounding headache making him wonder why the hell was he putting up with the two of them in the first place.

Because one was his current wife, while the other, the owner of Tripathi house and his ex-wife, he reminded himself bitterly. What a bloody joke his life had become!

Up until a little over a year ago, he had had the perfect life – a stable job, a successful and rewarding career, and a loving fiancé in Malini. Life had been  beautiful, until the blasted assignment in Pagdandiya which had wrecked his life like a tornado swirling through a city – a remote village, a stormy night, a break for shelter against the elements in an abandoned hut, with his tour guide for company, and the next morning, an ultimatum – marry or die. Imlie, his tour guide, was the one he had been ordered to marry by the village elders; hooligans, more like, simply because they had spent the night together.

Memories of the day still haunted him at times. It had been a nightmare and at that time, Aditya had known only one way out. He had chosen death, Imlie had chosen life. Imlie, an eighteen year old peasant girl, had stood up to the crowd for him till they were both left with no choice but to get married. And in the year that went by, they had lived the choices they had each made. So much so that by the end of this one year, he had literally felt like his life had reached the end – so tired and empty was he, mentally and emotionally; while Imlie, Imlie had gone through the grind and was on her way to rising like a Phoenix from the ashes. Death and life. Choices.

As they tried to stay afloat, navigating the deluge of drama that erupted in their lives following that forced marriage, one thing was evident – Imlie knew how to make choices. And, at the end of the year, it was one such choice that had led her to Aryan Singh Rathore.

A soft knocking sound brought him out of his reverie. Imlie seemed to have heard it too. She sat up straight, her focus on the door as if expecting the sound again. And there it was, a little louder this time. Before he could go check who was knocking at this ungodly hour, Imlie was at the door, opening it already. Aditya had no intention of arguing with her at this time of the night so he stayed put in his place; his position anyway giving him a clear view of the door. Imlie opened the door, and lo and behold, there stood Aryan Singh Rathore – the man responsible for fuelling Imlie’s rebellious streak, the man due to whom Imlie had refused to come back to him, the man who was his intern-ex-wife's CEO-boss.

“Think of the devil,” Aditya muttered under his breath.

“Imlie, what the hell do you think you're doing?” Aditya heard an annoyed Aryan say as he all but barged into the house.

“Shhhh!” Imlie tried to silence him.

“What shh – ”

That, thought Aditya, was Aryan Singh Rathore for you – a man with never a care in the world, walking into any place like he owned it. Though this time, he did own the Tripathi house. Correction, Imlie owned the Tripathi house because Aryan Singh Rathore had bought it in her name and she was doing them all a favour by letting them stay there. With such lavish bestowals from Mr. Rathore, who would want to return to an impoverished journalist like him? Aditya sneered as he stood there by himself. But Aryan was not the reason she walked out on you, his conscience whispered. Aditya ignored the voice of reason as he continued to observe Aryan and Imlie from his vantage point.

Imlie cupped her hand over Aryan’s mouth to muffle his words, pulling her petite form to its full height and yet, she was a full head shorter than Aryan.

“Why are you screaming, akkadbagghe? You'll wake the whole house,” Imlie replied, her hand still cupped over his mouth as he struggled to get away while she refused to let go. In the ensuing scuffle, her hand pushed his shades askew, and onto the bandage over his right eye. Aryan winced in pain, and Imlie immediately let go.

“You’re such a big idiot! How did you even manage to hurt yourself above the eye?” Imlie rattled on as she held his hand and dragged him to the couch in the living room.

“If you knew where to keep your damn footwear, this wouldn’t have happened! Jungli!” Aryan tossed back.

“Don't blame my shoes! I'm sure you were walking around with your head in your phone when you stumbled and hurt yourself,” she retorted, pushing him down on the couch.

Aryan seemed taken aback for a split second by her comeback but was quick to respond, “Walking around my house with my head in my phone is not a first, Imlie. Falling due to your shoes definitely is.”

He tried to push back her fussing hands as she tried to check the bandage, “What are you doing, Imlie?”

“Will you sit back for a second and let me just examine it?” she swatted his interfering hands away and gently slid off the shades he was wearing to camouflage the injury.

“It’s fine,” he drawled, rolling his eyes as he shook his head.

“This looks painful,” Imlie winced as she examined the bandage over his eye for any signs of fresh blood. “There’s a faint swelling over the eye, but the bandage looks clean.” Satisfied, she sat on the couch beside him, but a look of guilt crossed her face. A few moments passed in silence.

Despite all that had passed between Imlie and him, it still hurt Aditya to see the concern in her eyes for Aryan. Imlie had always been someone to go out of her way to help anyone and everyone, but Aditya had never liked her mingling with people of the opposite gender – irrespective whether it was the butler, Sundar, her childhood friend, Pari, or even their lawyer, Kunal Chauhan. The moment she said a good word to or about someone, he’d immediately felt his hackles rise and like some traditional snob, he had viewed her encounters with other men with suspicion.

But by the time it came to her interactions with Aryan, he realized they had both reached a threshold – his insecurity had gotten the better of him and he'd accused her of having an affair with Aryan, bedazzled by his riches, thus effectively adding another item to the growing list of issues between them that displayed his lack of trust in her. And while his accusations had been based solely on his insecurity over the crackling chemistry in their interactions, he now dreaded that Aryan and Imlie were fast becoming a reality, in that sense.

“I’m sorry,” Imlie’s voice registered in his brain from somewhere in the distance. For a confused moment, Aditya thought she was addressing him, but then he heard Aryan's voice.

“It’s o— ”

“But it’s your fault too!” she pouted.

Aryan raised a brow in response – the injured one.

“Give that infernal brow some rest! How on earth can someone look so pretty even with an injured, bandaged brow raise?” she reprimanded him.

“What?” Aryan seemed amused but from what Aditya had seen, the man was a pro at masking his emotions. “Pretty?” he heard Aryan ask matter-of-factly.

“Pretty, beautiful, same difference,” she shrugged.

 “What are you doing here at this hour, anyway?” she asked a moment later.

“If you had cared to answer your damn phone, I wouldn’t need to be here,” he retorted. “Why are you working from home without my knowledge?”

“I spoke to the editor because you were busy in meetings and he was okay with my request, so long as I kept up with the timelines,” Imlie replied nonchalantly.

“I am your boss, Imlie,” Aryan challenged.

“And you were busy,” she replied flippantly.

“Fine, but you could have spoken to me in the morning before you left the Rathore Mansion,” he grumbled.

In the days since Imlie had moved into Aryan’s house as a paying guest after being ousted from the hostel, Aditya had often found Aryan’s nature to be quite territorial where Imlie was concerned. His personal interest in Imlie had left Aditya baffled – what Imlie did, where she went, who she interacted with, Aryan was always hovering on the periphery, ready to swoop in and save Imlie at the first sign of trouble. Just like Imlie had always been there for you, his conscience teased again.

“Are you sulking?” he heard Imlie ask and looked up in surprise only to realize that she was talking to Aryan again.

“What nonsense? I don’t sulk. I'm —”

“— Aryan Singh Rathore, yes, I know,” Imlie completed his sentence, rolling her eyes.

Aryan looked away as Imlie continued with her antics and his eyes fell on the extra pillow and blanket lying on the edge of the couch behind her.

“Are you sleeping here, Imlie?” He asked incredulous. “On the couch in the living room?!”

“Yeah,” she shrugged.

“Yeah? You own the bloody house and they can’t spare you a room for a couple of days while you're here to help them?” he asked, enraged.

“Shhh... Relax, ABP! There was only one spare room but they've got pest control done in it so I can’t sleep in there tonight. But I will shift there tomorrow,” Imlie explained in an effort to calm him down.

“Imlie, are you serious? This house belongs to you. Does anyone here realise the meaning of that? You haven’t gifted it to them. It is a temporary favour. The least they could do is show you some courtesy and give you a proper room!” Aryan seemed like he was barely reigning in his temper and Adi rolled his eyes at the man’s attitude. It wasn’t like Aditya or the Tripathis had begged him to release the mortgage on their house and allow them to stay there. He’d done it of his own accord. For Imlie.

“The house is not mine, it’s yours,” Imlie said, her tone changing ever so slightly, as if adopting formality. And Aditya had hardly ever seen Imlie and Aryan talk within the bounds of pure formality even in office, let alone outside of work. Especially, Imlie. She was too generous with the various nicknames she came up with for him. And Aryan, he hardly ever called her out for it.

“Imlie, don’t,” Aryan warned, “that conversation is done.”

“Then you've got to believe me that I'll move in there tomorrow,” Imlie reasoned.

But Aryan wasn’t one to be easily fooled. He continued, irritated, “Why not share Rupi's room? How can you sleep on a couch, in the living room, no less! Doesn’t a lady need privacy?”

Aditya saw Imlie’s features soften at that. The gratitude and awe that Aditya saw in her eyes for Aryan made him sick. As Imlie continued to stare at Aryan with a puppy face, Aryan raised a brow and snapped his fingers to get her attention.

“ABP, what’s going on? Are you concerned for my comfort?” Imlie changed tactics and switched to teasing him again.

For the first time, Aditya saw Aryan flustered as he replied, “Why would I be? I'm worried for the poor soul who dares to step out of their room in their sleepy state and ends up tripping over you just because —”

“Like you?” Imlie burst out laughing at that. A carefree, wild, sweet sound that had the potential to mesmerize and enchant, just like he had often been mesmerized in the past. Just like he saw Aryan being mesmerized now.

Aryan stood abruptly and said, “I should be leaving.”

“OK, sorry, stop, stop!” Imlie called out, her hand shooting out to hold his and stop him from leaving.

“What’s that?” she asked, eyeing the paper bag in his hand as she pulled him back on the couch.

He sighed and handed the bag to her.

Imlie opened it like an excited kid and pulled out two food containers from within. 

“Kadhi chawal?!” Imlie exclaimed as she opened each container and drew in the aroma of the kadhi.

“Your comfort food,” he shrugged.

“You remembered! You’re the best friend one can have,” she replied, her voice laced with excitement and gratitude.

“We’re not friends, Imlie,” Aryan drawled.

“But —”

“Mohan had prepared it for dinner, so mom asked me to get it for you, that’s it,” Aryan said by way of an explanation.

The man was lying through his teeth and no one could convince Aditya otherwise. He was willing to bet Aryan had it especially cooked for her just before he got here, because when it came to Imlie, the darned man was so perceptive, as if attuned to her every need.

“Kakimaa is the best! Let me say thank you to her,” Imlie jumped to grab her phone from the coffee table.

“At this hour?” Aditya saw Imlie grin sheepishly at Aryan’s question.

“I'll pass the thanks to mom,” Aryan said, effectively deflecting any future chance of his secret being foiled, thought Aditya.

Imlie pulled out a spoon from the paper bag and dug in, savouring the food as if she hadn’t eaten in days. She offered it to Aryan, lifting a spoonful towards him but he refused, citing his no-carbs-after-8 rule. As Imlie relished the food, Aryan sat quietly, taking in the sight of her, her animated expressions as she regaled him with tales of her village and how kadhi chawal had come to be her favorite, while Aditya stood in the corner, witnessing their camaraderie with a dull ache in his chest. Aditya hadn't seen Imlie this carefree and happy in a long time, or maybe ever. He had seen her laugh, fool around and have fun, but with Aryan, she seemed as if she didn’t have a care in the world. She seemed alive.

Imlie had finished eating and the containers had disappeared back into the bag. She leaned her head to rest on the couch and closed her eyes, “This was bliss, thank you!”

Silence lingered in the air as Imlie relaxed on the couch while Aryan sat a few feet away from her, checking something on his phone. It had barely been a few minutes but Imlie had already dozed off.

Aryan looked up to see Imlie shifting on the couch, her head lolling as she struggled to find a comfortable position. He swooped in to close the distance between them just as her head was about to hit the sofa seat. She settled her head on his shoulder and curled a hand around an arm as she snuggled closer into him, seeking warmth.

Aditya balled his fists at the sight, the nails biting into his skin, teeth clenching in anger as he tried to restrain himself from crashing his fist through the glass top of the dining table before him.

Aryan sat unmoved for the next few minutes while Imlie dozed comfortably against him. Then, he gently tried to extricate his arm from her grasp but Imlie tightened her hold on his arm. Aryan let go and shifted back in his place.

Some time later, he tried again but this time, he was met with a sleepy grumble from Imlie, “ABP, let me sleeeep.”

“Imlie, I need to leave. You can lie down on the couch and be comfortable,” Aryan said, his voice a soft whisper. Aditya found himself straining his ears to catch his words.

“I'm comfortable here,” Imlie muttered in her sleep.

Aryan tried again, a third time, and had almost managed to free his arm from Imlie’s grasp when she pulled at his arm again and securing it with both her hands muttered once more, “ABP, I swear to God, if you don’t stop moving and let me sleep, I'll ensure I won’t let you sleep a single night for the rest of your life!”

Aditya saw a ghost of a smile linger across Aryan’s face at that before he muttered, “Jungli.” The adoring affection that he heard in Aryan’s voice as he uttered that single word brought back memories of a time when Aditya used to address Imlie in a similar manner. She used to be his Jhalli... 

Aryan reached out with his free arm to drag the shawl lying on the edge of the couch closer to him and then picked and draped it over Imlie. He then settled beside her and closed his eyes. Aditya had seen enough. His stomach churned sickeningly, his throat felt clogged and his breath seemed caught in his chest, coming in short gasps. He blinked furiously to get rid of the burning in the back of his eyes but nothing helped. Aditya felt his legs going backward of their own accord, almost collapsing as the back of his legs hit a chair. He barely managed to hold himself before turning around and breaking into a run towards the bar. He needed a drink. He needed to get Imlie and Aryan out of his head for his own sanity.

A few hours later when Aditya stepped into the living room on his way back to his room, the sight that greeted him did nothing to soothe his sour mood but rather aggravated it further – as if someone had repeatedly driven a knife through his heart and twisted it.

It looked like sometime during the night, Aryan and Imlie had shifted to make themselves comfortable. Aryan and Imlie now lay on the couch with Imlie's head pillowed against Aryan’s chest, her hand resting on his stomach while Aryan’s hand was draped around her waist, holding her close. The serenity he saw on Imlie’s face in that moment, as she slept curled in Aryan’s arms, hit Aditya like a sucker punch to the gut, clearing his head of the alcohol-induced fog. And just like that, he realised why Imlie had chosen Aryan over him. Trust. Trust was the one and only reason, the biggest reason.

While Imlie had made it clear that she loved him when they were together, she had never trusted Aditya with any kind of intimacy. Because he had never trusted her about anything. He had always given preference to Malini’s words over Imlie’s. What Malini said and did had always been more important to Aditya.

With Aryan, Imlie trusted him not only consciously, but also subconsciously – enough to seek comfort from his presence. It wasn’t Aryan’s wealth, it wasn’t his background, it wasn’t his looks, it wasn’t his success and nor was it any unsavoury favours. It was Aryan’s unflinching trust in Imlie and her abilities – be it a challenging task with an unrealistic deadline or an assignment to interview one of the top superstars of the country, be it a combined assignment with a senior journalist – him, or opening the doors of his house to her when she was literally on the streets, Aryan had trusted her. 

In the months since Imlie had met Aryan, through some twist of fate, he had come to stand by her through thick and thin. And though Aditya hated Aryan’s guts because he was a man who didn't give a damn what the world thought but chose to carve his own path, he had to admit that Aryan Singh Rathore truly valued Imlie, treated her as an equal and was attuned to her every need. Where Aditya, her own husband, had shamed her, demanded divorce and announced his desire to marry Malini immediately, Aryan, despite being a nobody, had stood by Imlie through the worst phase of her life. 

Throughout Aditya and Malini’s wedding festivities, Aditya had seen how Aryan was fast becoming Imlie’s rock and the pillar of strength that Aditya never had been. Every step of the way while Aditya had tried to crush her, Aryan had lifted her up. Aryan hadn’t mollycoddled Imlie but made his disappointment evident every time she tried to succumb to the misery induced by Aditya’s nasty behavior. He had helped her stand tall, every single day. And through it all, Aryan Singh Rathore had become that man to Imlie that Aditya Kumar Tripathi never was.

And while they still insisted on calling their relationship that of a boss and employee, Aditya now realised that it was only a matter of time before they’d hear that Imlie had become Mrs. Aryan Singh Rathore.

Aditya felt defeated as he walked out of the living room, a hollow emptiness filling his heart as he finally realised what he had truly lost in this battle of I, me, myself.

His jhalli had become someone else’s jungli and he had no one to blame for it but his own self.

-fin-

A/N: I've been meaning to finish and post this OS since Friday but it kept getting pushed due to everything else that's life. It's been months since I last wrote something, and years since I was fully in the writing fanfction zone, so I'm really not sure how this one's turned out. If you made it to the end of this piece, please leave me a review sharing your thoughts! It will help me understand if I should or shouldn't waste everyone's time on any more of these pieces. 

-Sarcy-2022-02-15 21:02:16