Chapter 266

Chapter 345: The Two Brothers

Next morning, in her violet sari, Chandraki had got on the back of an oxen cart that was headed to the town.

The cart had barely passed the dusty path from the Village outskirts when Raoul, dressed handsomely in an Indian dhoti caught sight of her.

"It's true," he found himself realizing, "She's back... and beautiful."

The villager riding the cart would have gone on but Raoul hailed after the cart, "Hoi, there!"

The villager stopped his cart and his oxen halted to look over his shoulder at the young man running towards the cart.

Chandraki, too, looked in the direction of the man and an obvious frown crept on her expression.

As he scrambled onto the cart and seated opposite her, she scowled abstractly at the cart floor riddled with dry hay.

She could feel his gaze studying her interestedly and then heard him clear his throat as though in preparation for a conversation.

Instantly she leapt off the cart and addressed the cart rider, "I've changed my mind. I'll accompany my mother when she goes in the afternoon."

Without sparing a single glance in the Malik's direction, she strolled on, her head lifted in proud majesty as the dust kicked in the traverse of the cart that carried a most forlorn looking young man, staring at the girl who had rejected him, receding into the distance.

Later that afternoon, Vandhana Varma invited Chandraki on a trip to the town, secretly intending to buy a gift for her daughter in welcoming commemoration of her return from abroad.

The indulging mother had juggled every expensive option to laud her prized child with, until she came to the conclusion that her eighteen-year old would look divine in a golden necklace. Deciding thus, she made for the town jewellery shop, leading Chandraki after her.

As soon as her mother began telling her to try each necklace on, Chandraki realized what her mother was up to.

"Amma," she vetoed modestly "I really don't-" But her mother would hear nothing of her.

"You try them this instant, Raki," said her mother firmly, "Why cannot you let your mother lavish you with gifts? After all, she hasn't seen you for eight long years. Show pity on her and help me choose the best for you."

Chandraki let out a frustrated sigh, "You are impossible, Amma, what with your empathy talks!" She picked a simple necklace that had an alluring golden heart for pendant and held it around her neck, "This is the last time I'll let you have your way, Amma. Next time, my word should be the last."

"Isn't it always?" Her mother remarked with a smile as she marvelled at the beauty of her daughter, her loveliness doubled by the glory of the gold held around her neck.

"We'll take that," Vandhana Varma told the shopkeeper, handing him the necklace, "Would you write a bill addressed to Veer Varma and-"

"No gold of ours will be sold in the name of the Varmas!" proclaimed a voice behind them, startling everyone.

Chandraki looked over her shoulder to find Devananda Singh Malik walk through the door, indignation engraved on his features.

Chandraki shot to her feet in defence of her mother, "You have no right to say that!"

"I do," stated Devananda flatly, standing tall and proud, "The owner of this shop bought all this gold from the Malik legacy. His shop wouldn't be standing here, making happy profits, if it weren't for us."

Chandraki narrowed her eyes at him, "Once you sold the gold, it no longer belongs to you. You cannot make claims over-"

"The owner of this shop values my word," alleged the bold young Malik, "Ask him if you don't believe me."

All eyes turned to the man behind the counter who had his hands (which had rings on his every finger) folded before him in an appearance of pleading. His flustered gaze looked from the virulent Varma woman to the mighty Malik heir.

Then the shop owner woefully addressed the latter, "Sire, if I had known these women were Varmas, I wouldn't dream of insulting you by selling your divine gold to them!"

"How dare you-" Chandraki glared at the shop owner and then turned to her mother, "Come, Amma, we don't want their filthy gold!"

Though embarrassed by the whole spectacle, her mother modestly rose to her feet and led the way to the exit as though nothing had happened.

Following after her mother, Chandraki's steps slowed down as she reached the spot where Devananda stood rooted. Chandraki halted a moment to offer him a stern reminder, "You will pay for this, Malik."

"We'll see about that," Devananda snorted.

"You certainly will," promised Chandraki confidently and then was about to move on when relentless fingers grasped her wrist.

"What-" Chandraki shot a startled look at Devananda's hand and then scowled up at him, "You filthy Malik!!! Unhand me this instant!"

Devananda smiled down at her, "Next time I see you loitering about in my gold shops..."

Chnadraki hissed, "Next time I visit one, it will be to burn that shop down."

Devananda let out a light chuckle, humoured by her baseless threat.

"Unhand me!" repeated an exasperated Chandraki. "Or I'll-" She lifted her other hand, warning him of a deserving slap.

Devananda complied, his grip releasing his hold on her.

Chandraki dabbed her wrist, with the end of her sari's pallu, where his hand had made contact, "Not even the Ganges can clear me of your muck!"

With that, she tossed back her long, plaited hair and strolled out of the accursed shop.

As soon as Chandraki and her mother were out of sight, Devananda beckoned the shop owner to a clandestine request. But he made the proposition in quite a hefty tone.

"Hand the gold to me."

"The one the Varma woman was to buy?"

Devananda rolled his eyes, "Which else do you think?!!"

The shop owner immediately supplied the young Malik the golden necklace.

Devananda glanced at the object in his hand and then thrust it into his shirt pocket.

The shop keeper stared at him questionably.

Devananda readily clarified, "We do not want gold in this shop that has been touched by the diseased Varmas. I will see to it that this necklace is melted down to be purged of their touch."

The shop keeper nodded in support of the proposition and then bowed respectfully as the Malik heir strode majestically for the door, his smirking lips merrily humming away.

Devananda sat on the divan watching his grandmother drop her knitting and study the gold necklace he had handed to her.

His Badi Dadi looked suspiciously at him, "Why do you want me to keep this necklace in safekeeping?"

Devananda held his grandmother's hands, "It is an important necklace for me and I trust it to be safe only in your blessed hands."

The elderly Sreelatha Malik eyed her grandson knowingly, "Tell me, who is it?"

"Who?"

"The girl whose besotted my darling Deva's heart."

Devananda sat up defensively, "There is no girl."

"Ah," Sreelatha Malik shook her head as she got to her feet and headed for her dressing table, "I know you better than the back of my hand. If you don't want to tell your dear grandmother who she is, then don't."

Devananda rolled his eyes, "I do want to tell you, Badi Dadi. But not yet."

"Not yet?" Sreelatha looked at him, as she shut the jewellery chest into which she had safely deposited the gold necklace, "Is the identity to be kept a surprise or is she, perhaps... forbidden?"

Devananda stared in amazement at his grandmother. How had she guessed it so correctly?! What magic do mothers have in their hearts by which to know the secrets of their children's hearts?

"Well, something of that sort," he mumbled cautiously and then, as his grandmother returned to sit on the divan, he laid his head on her lap, "Badi Dadi, you will like my girl, won't you? Even if she doesn't haven't a pleasing family background?"

Sreelatha laughed lightly, "My silly darling, if you have found reasons to fall in love with such a girl, would I not find the same reasons to not hate her?"

And then she kissed him on his forehead and returned back to her knitting.

But unknown to him, her worried glance occasionally fell upon her grandson's dreamy expression, her heart grieving in the knowledge that he could never have the girl his heart beat for.