Posted:
Two Graves
When you take revenge, dig two graves. One for your enemy, and one for yourself...
I have no business being here, really. I'm not an intern. In fact,I'm not at all interested in joining the corporate world. I'd toyed with the idea of being a fashion designer once, but I lost interest once I realized that the number of girls aspiring to join the profession were too many. I wanted something that was different, something that set me out from the rat race. Being unique is in my genes.
I finally decided on hospitality. Not many people seemed to consider women cooking food as hard work. Quote Sridevi in English Vinglish: 'If a man cooks, it is an art, but if a woman cooks, it is her duty." I was determined to challenge that perception. Cooking in no way made me some kind of a doormat whose only ambition in life was to impress her in-laws. I wanted to show that a woman is capable of breaking the glass ceiling by using just the salt and pepper that men take for granted everyday. The name of my business: Jalebi Catering Company. People found it cute, till they met me.
I already had an excuse ready as to why I was here. I was not a new person in the office. After Shukla, the old catering guy, died, I had made it my mission in life to fatten up the tired workaholics of ASR Industries, the formidable ASR included. I had replaced the bland, overpriced meals in the canteen with better fare. I had persuaded the models to give up their salads and take to meals that would make the flashing lights and constant hours on the rampwalk considerably easier to bear. The executives believed in skipping meals altogether, so to make them eat anything was an achievement.
So nobody was really going to corner me and interrogate me as to why I was in the waiting outside Mr. Raizada's office at this unearthly hour. My job didn't require me to come to the office. I was a behind-the-scenes person, like the factory workers and the dealers. But I was here anyway, for the reason why most people lived: Money. Mr. Raizada had made it is his mission in life to become as rich as possible, so he couldn't possibly begrudge me in wanting to get some dough too.
There had been a death in the family. I needed money for the funeral. The excuse was really silly actually. I was a successful entrepreuner. I was no Raizada-Fate didn't think I was deserving of that title-but I could easily afford a cremation. Still, I had my reasons as to why I found it necessary to ask the MD of the company for help when I could have got it from a manager, and nobody was to intrude into them. And besides, I was an Important Person. I was the CEO of a company-a company that had a turnover of only 20 crores a year-but I was climbing up anyway. Mr. ASR never ignored important persons.
Finally, the door of his cabin opened, and Arnav Singh Raizada blessed me with his presence. Even though his hair was greying, and he had spectacles, he was still a very handsome man. His eyes were his redeeming feature. They were hazel, a very devilish color. When exposed to sunlight, they would change hues, as if showing different facets of his personality. Thankfully, in the artificial lighting of the office, they remained a soft brown, instead of doing a Technicolor jig.
"Hello, Mr. Raizada. Sorry for disturbing you," I said. My speech was rehearsed.
"Take an appointment with my secretary," he said briskly, and walked on.
I breathed patiently. I knew he would try to run away. Running away from his problems in a SUV was his speciality. "My mother's dead," I blurted out.
My words had their desired effect. He turned around and looked at me. The stern expression on his face had softened. I mentally smirked. The guy had lost his parents when he'd been fourteen. He was a sucker for orphans. He donated huge chunks of his money to institutions for Dickensian tragedies like him. He had spent his whole life feeling victimized, and he saw himself in children like us.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. "Is there any way I can help you?"
"Sit," I said firmly. "Please sit here. I want to tell you something."
He frowned. I took delight in his confusion. He had been expecting me to ask him for money. But money was just my fake excuse. The real reason I was here-was something that would shock him beyond his works.
He settled himself beside me on the couch, and I knew that the battle was half-won. Mr. Raizada rarely listened to people. He just said ;'What the' and stormed out. But I had finally achieved what countless others before me hadn't. I had got him to focus on a problem bigger than his own.
"My mother was a very simple woman. Like all other women of her class, her ultimate destination in life was her husband's home, having no formal education or such to speak of. Ironically, she only spent time in her husband's house before she got married. After she got married, she spent her whole life in her maayka."
I looked at him. Apparently, my serious, to-the-point tone had impressed him. Satisfied that I still had his attention I continued, "She did have other hobbies other than dreaming about Prince Charming, you know. She was an expert in stiching stuff. She also made really good jalebis. But once my father entered, she forgot everything. She couldn't think of anything other than him, do anything other than worry about him. She was so lost in her love for him, that she never noticed the one thing he had left behind-me."
"My father abandoned my mother, for reasons best known to him. After that it was just the two of us. I must say, she did an excellent job of raising me. She worked so hard that we were able to buy a house of our own. I'm the first graduate in my family. She never let me feel like I was missing out on anything. Kids richer than me complained that their mothers never loved them as much as mine did."
"And yet-whenever I looked at her-I could only see that one man in her eyes. The one man whom I could never replace. Never mind if I had his eyes. I wasn't the original." I spat out the last word with as much venom as I could muster. Arnav Singh Raizada was truly terrified by now. He was an intelligent man, and I knew that at the bottom of his heart he knew what I was talking about.
"Of course, a mother's love for her child can never be doubted. It is endless. Maybe I'm just being paranoid here. Maybe she did love me more than my father. But still. I'm an only child. I'm not used to sharing things. My mother is not an object, agreed, but you see, I wanted to be the only one in her heart. What right did that man have to reside over there? He'd always tormented her. Called her a golddigger. Married her, made love to her, then dumped her for some stupid family rivalry. He was a real jerk. And yet she loved him. Not fair!! I was the one who was always by her side!"
He cupped my cheek, but I slapped his hand away. I was like a volcano, a force of nature. I could feel the lava burning my insides, rising through my throat, spewing everywhere, without any conscience. To my horror, I was crying. I hated tears. Tears were a sign of weakness.
"And you know what her last wish was before she died?" I roared. "She said, that since I was working for my father, I should finally reveal my identity to him, and request him to set her pyre alight! And she actually had the gall to suggest that you might refuse, and I would have to persuade you! Ha! As if you would dare to refuse!"
"Kshitija," he whispered. "Your name...it means horizon."
"Yes, but I hate the sea!" I whimpered.
"You're...you're Khushi's daughter...You're my daughter..."
"I don't care for DNA!" I spat. "You're in no way related to me. And there's no way I'm allowing a stranger to touch my mother's pyre!"
"So...that's what you came to tell me," he said numbly. "That you're not going to allow me to perform Khushi's last rites."
"That's right!"I said viciously, my veins filled with a rush of masochistic power better than any intoxicant I'd ever known.
He smiled, that bitter broken smile people give you right before The End. "You're just like me."
I lowered my head, and taking out the small mirror I carried in my purse, peeled off the lenses covering my eyes, and looked at him. For the past three months I'd been pretending to have ordinary black eyes, like the rest of the population. But there was no point hiding the resemblance between us any more.
"Kshitija Kumari Gupta, at your service sir," I said bitterly. "Of course, you never bother to find out your employees' last names, do you?",and he laughed, then began to cry. His entire frame shuddered as for the first time his shoulders lowered and he curled up into a ball. I tossed a handkerchief at him distastefully.
"Please," he pleaded. "Let me see her for a last time."
I walked to the elevator. He thought he was the only one who was stubborn, who could walk away and leave the other person shattered, and rev away in a SUV. He was so wrong.
"Tell her I'm sorry!" he called out, but I ignored him.
----------------
She kept a composed face till she reached home. Home being a lavish three bedroom apartment with Egyptian cotton bedsheets, custom designed kitchen, swimming pool in the balcony, the works.She lived alone. She had refused all contact from her family, as revenge for disowning her mother.SheI had put her father into lifelong depression, all as a matter of revenge too. She was sucessful, alone, with boyfriends she didn't care about. She broke down as she finally realized-she'd become like him. By taking revenge, she'd dug two graves.
No. She would not let him win.
She went to the kitchen, and hurriedly took out the rose water, saffron, and the other ingredients. Within a few minutes, her apartment was filled with the smell of jalebis.
----
hope you liked it...please press the like button and comment if you do!😊
Anupamaa
