Recap:-
Her whole body was tense, expecting a call or some preventative action from Maan, but it didn't come. She unlocked the door, moved into the protective shelter of the house and closed out the man who should never have re-entered her life.
It wasn't fair.
It wasn't right.
Maan Singh Khurana could only bring her more grief.
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AASTHA
PART - 6
MAAN barely controlled a burning rage as he drove up the grand carriage loop to the ' La Villa Potipatti', a 20th century grand mansion located in Bangalore, his father had bought, at Malleshwaram. Twenty million rupees he'd paid for it five years ago, and he could probably sell it for thirty now, given its heritage listing and commanding views. The 120 year old mansion was a mix of erstwhile heritage and modern comforts….
Khurana Constructions and Property Developments has world wide branches. But, in India, they were confined to north India... When, his father come to know the upcoming boom in the real estate business, and the interest of international ventures to invest, in the IT Park of India, he established his south indian main office in Bangalore…
Twenty million for a piece of personal property.
Next to nothing for a grandson!
Paid off, Dev had said. That hadn't added up to Maan, when the private investigator had found Geet and her son living in a very moderate rental villa. She hadn't even completed her fashion designing course, running a boutique to make ends meet.
No car. No credit rating. No evidence of a nest-egg account anywhere.
He'd wondered if she'd torn up his father's cheque, scorning to take anything from a family who'd made her out to be little better than a wh**e. Her whole demeanour this afternoon had been stamped with steely pride, determined on rejecting anything he offered. Their child was her son. Hers alone. Sold to her for a few thousand rupees—a measly few thousand rupees!
Maan still could not bring himself to believe his father had paid her a sum for an abortion. Such an act was totally against the ethics and royal culture of Khurana khandan and Maan Singh Khurana was nothing if not traditionally a pure Khurana…. But, if his family would have known the ethics and culture, he wouldn't have been all alone like this…. Geet would have been with him… in his embrace.. where she belonged to… His son would have been with him…. Thinking about Daksh, his lips curved up in a tantalizing glimmer of a smile… How cute he looked, when he throw a threat at him… 'not to hurt his mother'… Afterall..He is son of MSK…. His eyes got teary…he missed holding his baby when he is born… how amazing it would have been felt…. To just have your baby in ur arms… conceived with the woman he loves… and to weave the dreams of spending an entire life with….. he lost all those, 'coz.. he trusted his family over his life…
His eyes flared with rage…. 'Geet…. I am sorry. This time, I will make it up to you… even if it takes a life time…. and that's a promise'.
Vikrant Singh Khurana might want an unwanted bas***d child to disappear, especially if it could become a glitch in the Khurana – Rathode master plan, but demanding its life be ended?
No!
Nevertheless, Maan was determined on confronting his father with the accusation, given Geet's belief in it.
He'd lost her—lost five years of his son's life—because he hadn't believed her. He was not about to repeat that mistake. Let his father answer for what had been done… And not done. Maybe then the truth could be pieced together. For that, he would have to fly back to Delhi.
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He brought the Maybach to a crunching halt at the front entrance to the huge Khurana Mansion... Forty-five rooms, he thought derisively, more than enough to house a large extended family in the grandeur his father's ambition demanded. Dev would have obliged with the desired grandchildren, but Dev was dead and his childless widow, Naintara had returned to the bosom of the Rathode family for comfort. The nursery rooms were empty. So many rooms empty.
Maan felt the emptiness echoing all around him as he walked down the great hall to the sitting room his daadimma and mother favoured. His missed his daadimma very much… after Dev's death, she wanted to be away for a while to mend herself… so she has gone to visit her sister in London. His mother was occupying her usual armchair, dressed in mourning black, drowning her sorrows with, some stupid herbal slimming tea, in her hand, as she watched the early evening news on television.
'Where's Dad, Mamma?' he asked from the doorway.
She didn't turn her head. In the dull flat tone that characterised her every utterance since Dev's death, she answered, 'In the library.'
No interest in him. No interest in anything. Maan doubted she even heard or saw the news being reported. None of it impinged on her very protected life. But great wealth could not protect against miscarriages nor accidental death. Nor could it provide solace for the loss of her beloved younger son and all his life had promised.
He left her and moved on, bent on pursuing his own needs which were far more imperative right now. Besides, he remembered only too well his mother had not approved of Geet. If she had been in on the conspiracy, too…Maan gritted his teeth against the wave of violence that churned through him.
The machinations that had taken place behind his back were a dark ferment in his mind—a ferment he had to contain while he listened and observed, weighing whether he could even keep on being involved with his parents. Certainly, in Geet's mind, his family was the enemy to any future he might forge with his son. And she had no reason to think otherwise.
He entered the library without giving a courtesy knock on the door. His father sat at a magnificent mahogany antique desk, tapping at a pocketbook computer he carried with him everywhere, probably checking up on any movement in his investments. His agile brain kept track of an incredible array of figures which he could rattle out at any pertinent moment.
Maan had always admired his father—a formidable go-getter who knew what he wanted and went after it, using every resource he could pull into play. Vikrant Singh Khurana had friends in politics, friends in the society, friends in many high places, all of them impressed by what he could do for them, and, of course, the occasional favour was asked and given in return.
But it wasn't just his accumulated wealth that impressed them. It was his business acumen and a charismatic presence that shouted leadership quality; the tall, powerful physique, the almost mesmerising intelligence in the commanding dark eyes, the thick thatch of wavy iron-grey hair, the hawkish nose, and the mouth that never spoke rubbish. And… Maan was just his replica in many ways….
He looked up from his notebook, surprise and pleasure instantly lightening the air of deeply focused concentration. 'Maan! Glad you came by! Have you spoken to your mamma?'
Family first…Maan's mouth curled in black irony. He'd give his father family! He crossed the room in a few quick strides and tossed the large envelope he carried onto the desk. 'Something requiring your immediate attention, Dad,' he drawled.
His father frowned at the disrespect implicit in Maan's manner. 'What is this?' he demanded curtly.
'Photos. Remember the photos you presented to me six years ago?'
The frown deepened. 'Why would you keep them?'
'I didn't. These are new photos, Dad.'
'I don't understand.'
'You will. Since you seem reluctant to look at them, let me help.' Maan snatched back the envelope, ripped it open, removed its contents and slapped the photos one by one, face up, across his father's desk. 'Geet Handa with my son,' he declared in bitter fury. 'My son who is now a schoolboy. My son whose first five years of life I have missed because I did not know of his existence. Look at him, Dad!'
The passionate outburst drew no more than a shuttered glance at the photos and a stoney-faced defence.
'How do you know it is your son?'
Maan's arm flew out in a fiercely dismissive gesture. 'Don't come at me with that.'
He drew himself up in towering contempt. 'Dev confessed to your indecent conspiracy against Geet on his deathbed. He told me about the pregnancy, told me you'd paid her off. Don't even start denying it!'
His father's mouth compressed into a thin line of distaste. He sat back in his antique studded leather chair and viewed Maan through narrowed eyes, eyes that were weighing options for dealing with this crisis. 'Surely, in hindsight, you realise she was an unsuitable wife for you,' he stated unequivocally.
'Don't go there, Dad,' Maan warned, hard ruthless steel in his own eyes. 'You've lost one son. You're very close to losing another.'
'I did what I thought was best for you, Maan,' he said, attempting a tone of appeasement. 'You were blindly infatuated—'
'I'm here to give you one chance—' Maan held up his index finger for pointed emphasis '—one chance to answer Geet's accusation that you paid her off with a few thousand rupees to have an abortion.'
'That's a lie!' He exploded up from his chair, hurling his hands out in furious counter-challenge. 'You see what a scheming little bitch she is, trying to turn you against me? I paid her money…. Not for her abortion… but to make her a living for herself…. I paid her one hundred thousand rupees, with more to come when it was needed!'
'Then why doesn't she have any money?' Maan bored in. 'Why is she living in borderline poverty?'
'She must be hiding it.'
'No, she's not. Trust me on this. A thorough investigation has been done. There is…no money! In fact, she has no support whatsoever. Her stepfather died, while she was still pregnant. Her mother died of cancer when the baby was only eighteen months old… and her half-brother, Brij, did a flit… She was left with nothing but old furniture and she has survived—with my son—by building up a modest boutique business.'
'Boutique,' his father jeered, his eyes flashing a filthy interpretation of that profession.
Maan's hands clenched. He barely held back the urge to smash his father's face in.
'Designer Boutique,' he bit out. 'A natural offshoot from the fashion designing course she was doing at university when I knew her—a course she didn't—couldn't—complete with neither the money nor support needed to go the distance. So the evidence—the evidence, Dad!—is all against your having paid her off with anything more than the few thousand rupees, for her abortion, as Geet says.'
His father bristled with offended dignity. 'You doubt my word?'
'I have every reason to doubt your word where Geet Handa is concerned,' Maan fired at him point-blank, not giving a millimetre.
His father's chin lifted aggressively. 'I can prove the money was given, to make her a living… And more to come.'
'Then start proving it!'
'The papers are at my solicitor's office.'
'Call your solicitor. Get him to bring the papers here. Show them to me…before you have the chance to cook up more lies behind my back.'
For several tense moments the air between them was charged with Vikrant Singh Khurana's fierce pride and Maan's explosive mistrust—a mistrust that Vikrant Khurana finally realised could destroy everything between them. He reached for the telephone and began dialling.
Needing to put a cooling distance between himself and his father, Maan moved over to one of the tall, narrow, lancet windows which gave a limited view of the east garden. Limited views was not only a problem with the old-fashioned architecture of this house. The limited view his father had of Geet Handa was deeply offensive to him, especially since she'd been innocent of the damning sins manufactured against her. He wasn't sure he could ever forgive his father for that. If the solicitor couldn't bring proof of some caring…
'Ashok, I'm sorry to break in on your evening but this is an emergency. I need the Geet Handa file and I need it now.'
Silence while the other man spoke.
'Yes,' his father replied tersely. 'I'm at home. Bring it here as soon as you can.'
End of conversation.
Maan didn't turn around. He had nothing more to say to his father at this point and the tension inside him needed some calming. Seeing Geet in the flesh today, being in touchable distance of her…it wasn't only his son he wanted. Had he ever stopped loving her…. wanting her?
It had driven him mad, seeing her with Dev in the photos, thinking of her giving his brother what he'd believed was all his, only his, the gift of herself in loving abandonment. Somehow he had to persuade her, she could trust him with that gift again. Somehow… and, maybe he can make her realize that he never stopped loving her….
'A trust fund was set up for the child's support and education,' his father stated, the leather of his chair creaking as he resumed his seat behind the desk to wait for the solicitor's arrival.
If that was true, there could not have been an instruction to abort the child. Not from his father. Yet Maan would not disbelieve Geet. So, where had the instruction come from? Had one of his father's underlings decided that cutting corners would be the best result for his boss?
'All she had to do was apply in writing for funds to become available,' his father went on tersely, hating being in a defensive position.
Furious at that, he spat out… 'Do you really think, she will go for it, Dad.?' Maan challenged, not bothering to even glance over his shoulder.
No answer to that.
Maan deduced the solicitor had told his father the file had not been re-opened since it had first been set up. It was the only answer that made sense of what he knew about Geet's life. Certainly she was not aware of any trust fund, and if she knew about it also, she would give a damn about it… Maan knew it….
There was a drumming of fingertips on the highly polished desk. Then came the first line of counterattack, to the accusation of irredeemable guilt where caring for a grandchild was concerned.
'I dealt with Brij Handa. Everything was worked through him. You said he did a flit before she had the child. If what you say about her circumstances is true, he must have scammed the money and never told her about the trust fund.'
Brij…neatly removing all responsibility from himself. But not blame, Maan thought viciously. None of this would have happened without his father's controlling hand behind it.
'Then you made a huge mistake of judgment in trusting him, didn't you?' he mocked. 'As well as not caring enough to check up on what was happening to my child.'
'Maan…' It was a brusque appeal, looking for some foothold on a meeting ground where he could twist around to regain some credibility.
'Let's wait for the file to arrive. That might…' He half-turned to stare long and hard at the man who had interfered so intolerably with what should have been. '…might…' he bit out warningly, '…go some little way to restoring a viable relationship between us.'
'You're my son. What was done was done for—'
'Don't say for me. You weren't thinking of me. Nor Geet. Nor our child. You were thinking of what you wanted. When you stop thinking of what you want and start respecting what I want, perhaps we'll have something to talk about.'
'I'm giving you what you want. I called Ashok to bring you the proof…'
'Step One.'
His chin came up aggressively. 'What is Step Two?'
'You will immediately start revising your attitude towards Geet Handa. If you speak once more of her in any kind of deprecatory manner, I will walk out and I won't come back.'
He grimaced but didn't argue. 'Is there a Step Three?'
'Step Three is full acceptance of her and our son in my life. That means no undermining act behind my back. And believe me, I'll know about it if you so much as raise a finger to interfere between us again.'
A giving gesture was waved. 'If you want to take an interest in the boy…'
'Not just the boy. I intend to do everything within my power to persuade Geet Handa to marry me.'
Shock cracked the facade of appeasement. 'Surely there's no need for that.' The words whipped out of him. 'I can understand about the boy…'
The violence Maan had held in check erupted, his body jerking into action, his legs closing the distance between them so fast, everything was a blur except the need to punch home his point. His fist crashed down on the desk, making his father flinch back in his chair.
'Understand me!' His eyes blazed unshakeable resolution as he reinforced it with all the turbulent passion stirred by the situation. 'Geet Handa should have been my wife. I want her as my wife. And I will have her as my wife.!'
Will Continue...
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Precap:-
'Geeet', he said more like a whisper…. The world surrounding her faded, it was as if she and Maan were alone in the universe… She couldn't bring herself to look up into the dark eyes she knew she'd recognize. The scenarios she'd so often pictured faded. The reality was she didn't have a word to say to him… Her heart fluttered, memories crowded painfully in her mind… Of the love she'd once felt for him….
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Dears... so that was about Part 6. I hope you all liked it. I know, you all are waiting for more, between maan and geet... but, before that, there were these issues to be sorted out... I promise you... within 2 - 3 parts, the whole story will be around, maan-geet-daksh...
I have added few photos and explanations in the below post.. pls go thru it.
Let me know your COMMENTS & HIT THE LIKE BUTTON...
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