Chapter 12

Chapter 11

“Mohan, take a left here,” ASR said, unexpectedly. 

Aman, who had been sitting up front and perusing the contracts they had just signed, looked up.

“There’s a Java Café on College Road,” ASR said, reading the address on his mobile. “Take us there.”

Studiously avoiding Mohanji’s eyes at the mention of the café, Aman asked ASR what was going on.

“There’s something I need to check out” 

Aman turned in his seat and saw an uncharacteristic dilemma on his boss’s face. 

A week had passed since his meeting with Anjaliji at the café had culminated in a trip to the hospital, but she had steadfastly remained in his thoughts for a number of reasons. 

Upon waking from anaesthesia and finding her gone, Pari had come to the conclusion that she had indeed been a celestial visitation. She continued to prattle on about her, necessitating an explanation to his mother about how his boss’ sister had become a good Samaritan at his time of need. Still, the words fracture fairy never failed to crack him up. 

The second reason he had been thinking of her was rather worrying. It had all started on the very day after the hospital. He had received a text alert on his phone for a transaction that was neither from his personal bank account nor from the company’s. Remembering that he had provided his number for the account they had created for Anjaliji to bait Shyam, he dismissed the first few assuming that she herself was using it with a mental note to change the contact number at the earliest. 

A few days ago, he had received another alert the transaction amount of which gave him pause. He recalled, rather belatedly, that Anjaliji had succeeded in giving the card to Shyam, per their plan. A quick investigation in the accounts section at the office revealed that the money had come from Anjaliji’s personal account. An unpleasant thought crept into his mind that if she wasn’t simply transferring money between accounts, she was giving him money. 

And finally, there was the matter of the book she had gifted him- a rare compilation of Hindi couplets and poetry. 

“What the!”

Aman and Mohanji jumped in their seats.

“What’s wrong?” Aman asked, as his boss continued to stare at his phone.

With a long sigh, ASR looked up and said, “I might as well fill you in now. I think that Di is still meeting that bas…man.”

Aman who had been pondering his course of action, with considerable relief, asked, “Er, why do you think that?”

ASR’s face coloured. 

“Akash and I have been keeping an eye on her”

Uh-oh.

Aman cautiously asked what ‘keeping an eye’ meant and ASR had the grace to look sheepish as he explained that Akash and he were basically spying on their sister since the day at the police station.

“It’s for her own protection” ASR insisted, “The last time that bas…man managed to convince her of his innocence. He convinced her to meet him behind our backs even after I threw him out of the house. And now, knowing everything he did, how could she let him walk?”

Aman did not have an answer, it had been bothering him too. He had to find out who held that card. 

“What does this have to do with the café?” he asked. 

“She’s been visiting the café a lot in the last few days,” ASR said, “And her driver just alerted us that he dropped her off there.”

Aman turned to face forwards and noticed the affronted look on Mohanji’s face.

This explained why ASR had expressly switched drivers. Normally, he didn’t trust anyone but Mohanji to chauffer his sister. But he must have realised, as Aman did just then, that the man who had once risked his life to save Anajaliji would most certainly have refused to participate in this invasion of her privacy even if the perpetrators were his bosses and her well-intentioned but priggish brothers. 

“She’s meeting some man there,” ASR said. 

All at once, the heat in the car felt oppressive. Aman loosened his tie and cranked up the a/c, ignoring the sideways glance from Mohanji.

What did he care if she was meeting some man? She was free to meet anyone she liked. He only cared about keeping his secret and his job.

When they arrived at the café, his discomfort mounting, Aman followed ASR inside. 

They spotted her seated at one of the indoor tables at the rear end of the café, next to the glass doors overlooking the backyard garden. 

She wore a demure but elegant peach-coloured saree with a silver border and matching filigree silver earrings. She had gathered her luxurious tresses on her left shoulder from where they cascaded down to her elbow.

“What the!”

ASR’s words directed Aman’s attention to the person seated across the table from her. An unexpectedly young man, he was dressed in jeans, a varsity sweatshirt and muddy sneakers. A backpack that had seen better days was tossed on the floor bedside his chair. 

For once, Aman concurred wholeheartedly with ASR’s truncated curse.

He followed his boss who marched up to their table, forgetting that once they had established that it wasn’t Shyam that Anjaliji was meeting, it was no longer either of their business. 

“Chotey!” Anjaliji exclaimed, on spotting him. A deer caught in headlights. “Tum yahaan?”

“Client meeting,” ASR said, turning his gaze to the young man who wore an expression of awe and squeamishness that one associated with a fan unexpectedly encountering their celebrity idol. “Aap yahaan?”

Although the question was addressed to his sister, ASR continued to glower at the boy.

Her smile of greeting to Aman interrupted, she turned back to her brother and with a sigh, she said,

“Chotey, yeh Dhruv hai. Dhruv Malik”

ASR’s attention snapped back to her at once. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. 

“Dhruv, Chotey” Anjaliji repeated. “Hum bachpan me inhe Roofy bulathe the?”

Slowly, ASR turned to the young man, his face awash with disbelief. 

“Dhruv, yeh Arnav hai”

“Humne pehchaan liya Di” Dhruv said, “Aap kaise hai, Arnav bhaiya?”

ASR did not seem capable of a response.

“Chotey, tum baitho na” Anjaliji said, placatingly. “Hum sab samjhaathe hain”

ASR complied and Anjaliji indicated for Aman to take the fourth seat at the table.

Feeling disconcerted, Aman sat down.

“Chotey, kuch mahine pehle Chachaji ka dehanth ho gaya” Anjaliji said, glancing back at Dhruv, whose face fell. “Unke jaane ke baad, Chachiji kaafi taqleef me aa gayin. Even though they were separated, unka legal divorce nahi hua tha. Iss vajah se Chachaji ke saare loans unke sar pe aa gaye. Aur ussi samay, Dhruv ko Delhi me engineering college me seat mila that oh Chachiji ne maddad ke liye hume phone kiya…sirf Dhruv ke khaatir.”

Anjaliji smiled at Dhruv who looked nervous.

So young Dhruv Malik was Chachaji’s son? Aman remembered him well. The paternal uncle who had ousted the newly orphaned Anjali and Arnav from their ancestral home and the very one whose financial ruin ASR had orchestrated by buying back Sheesh Mahal from under his treacherous nose. 

Although he had been working remotely at the time, due to Priya’s deteriorating health, Aman had been instrumental in making ASR’s dream of vengeance into a reality. In the course of his research, he had come across the estranged Chachiji but the existence of a cousin had fallen through the cracks of the paperwork. But what of ASR, had he simply forgotten?

“Aakhir jo kuch hua, usme Chachiji aur Dhruv ki koi galathi nahi thi na, Chotey” Anjaliji continued. “Isliye humne unki maddad ki.”

“Hume maloom bhi nahi tha, Bhaiya” Dhruv said, speaking fast. “Amma ne humse yeh baat chupakar rakhi ki humaare college aur hostel ke fees ke paise kahan se aaye. Woh toh iss baar semester ki chuttiyon me jab hum ghar gaye tab Di ka sign kia hua cheque dekha. Isliye hum unka shukr ada karna chahthe the…humaara aur koi iraada nahi tha”

The young man’s soliloquy seemed to affect ASR deeply. His eyebrows furrowed together, and his mouth opened, but no words came forth.

“Jaise hi humaari Naukri lag jaegi, hum paise lauta denge, Bhaiya” Dhruv said, earnestly. “Devi Maiya ki kasam”

This was the last straw for ASR who stood abruptly. 

“Chotey, please gussa mat ho” Anjaliji said, touching her brother’s elbow. 

She scrambled to her feet and Aman and Dhruv followed suit, the younger man looking stricken.

 “Kaante toh mujhe hamesha dard dete rahe, lekin uski sazaa main phoolon koi nahi de saktha” ASR said, in a low voice with his eyes closed.

“Chotey?”

“Roofy, tum itne bade ho gaye?” ASR said, his eyes glistening with tears.

Anjaliji let out a small sob as ASR awkwardly patted the young man’s arm.

“Kya bhaiya” Dhruv said, wiping away the dampness in his eyes with the back of his hand. “Chauda saal ho gaye aur aap bhi toh itne bade ho gaye.”

Aman passed Anjaliji some tissues, she was crying softly now.

ASR asked Dhruv about his studies and hostel and was delighted on hearing that, like himself, Dhruv played the drums for his college band. 

Presently the youngster took their leave citing rehearsal but not before both brother and sister invited him home to visit. 

“Humaari Nani aapko bohot yaad karthi hai” Anjaliji said.

Dhruv thanked them, promised to be in touch and took their leave.

Aman followed ASR and Anjaliji out of the café, lagging behind to give them privacy to talk. He couldn’t hear the words but sensed the tone.

At first ASR sounded indignant, perhaps because she had kept yet another secret from him and he watched as his downcast eyes transformed her reprimand into gentle instruction.

“Di, if you’re free, aap humaare saath office chaliye” ASR was saying, when Aman caught up to them. “I want to discuss how to help Chachiji also”

Anjaliji agreed. “Hume bhi tumse kuch baat karni thi, Chotey”

During the journey, Anjaliji explained to her brother how their Chachiji had got in touch, her financial woes and her request for help for the sake of her son. She said she had been helping pay for Dhruv for the past few months.

ASR apologised to her, he had assumed that Chachiji went to live with her parents and had never bothered to consider their financial status.  He insisted that he would take over Dhruv’s expenses and try to provide legal help to their aunt as well. 

“Aman, fix a meeting with Mr Roy as soon as possible,” he said.

Aman nodded and set a reminder on his phone. He was only vaguely aware as Anjaliji changed the topic shortly. She was saying something about seeking Khushiji’s help to convince ASR to move back home.

ASR’s indignation changed into relief when she reassured him that Khushiji had refused. Anjaliji apologised for trying to manipulate them and added that she was happy that ASR had chosen a wife who supported him against all odds. 

Aman tuned them out to address the niggling doubt in his mind. Even if she had retrieved the card from Shyam and given it to her young cousin, the expenses outstripped the needs of an apparently simple and scrupulous college boy. Something didn’t quite add up.

“Aur haan Chotey” Anjaliji said, dragging Aman back to the present. “Agle hafte hum Akash aur Payalji ke first wedding anniversary pe unke liye surprise party plan kar rahe hain. Tumhe aur Khushiji ko aana hoga”

ASR didn’t reply.

“Please Chotey, sirf party ke liye bula rahe hain” she said, “Agar tum nahi aaoge toh hum samjhenge ki tumne hume maaf nahi kiya”

“Theek hai Di, I’ll ask Khushi” he said. And after a beat, “Aaj raat Akash ne New Year’s Eve dinner plan kiya hai”

“Haan Chotey, Akash ne bataaya” she said, “Aap log jao aur enjoy karo”

“Agar aap nahi aayengi toh main samjhoonga ki aapne mujhe maaf nahi kiya”

Slightly taken aback by ASR’s ploy, Aman turned in time to see her stunned expression before she broke into a small laugh and gave in.

At the front entrance of the office, ASR’s phone rang, and he excused himself. Aman turned to her, determined to ask about the credit card but Anjaliji took the opportunity to ask after Pari. 

He thanked her for her concern. The cast was still a novelty and she had been strutting around the basti showing it off like a battle scar. 

She turned her laugh into a cough when ASR returned and as he followed them in, his mind still on the darned credit card, Aman felt torn between his loyalties to brother and sister. 

ASR was his boss but Anjaliji had become his friend? Or so the inscription on the book she had given him suggested- "When I was set on fire, I finally saw who poured the fuel and who fanned the flames. Of those who doused me, with the same embers I have scorched in my heart the names."