Hello all, I am back. Chapter 3 served here, waiting to be garnished by your reads, likes (in case you approve) and comments (my life line)😉
Dirty - Chapter 3
He walked with heavy steps and a sunken heart towards the door. He had searched everywhere, treading the roads nearby on foot and then as told by Payal, took a taxi to Sheesh minar since his frail health did not permit the exertion of walking over long distances, but there were no signs of his daughter. Anywhere. He opened the door, his blank eyes fell on the old clock on the opposite wall which showed 1:30 at night. A disconcerted Shashi Gupta was further disheartened to see his wife sobbing holding on to the bedpost, his sister sitting in the dining table chair, holding her head in her palms, cursing. Payal sat pale and still in the opposite corner, "You didn't find her?" she brought her hands to her mouth.
Just then a scooter engine resounded in the courtyard. "Khushi..", Payal sprang from her chair, "No, you don't move" objected Garima and stormed towards the door in anger.
Khushi had wrapped her pink stole around herself like a serape. Still clutching on the file, she shambled with guilt laden steps in her lachrymose atmosphere. The sight of the extinguished havan-kund, the festive lights turned off, the vessels of untouched food and the crestfallen faces of the shop-workers made her feel miserable. "Now she comes.." taunted a neighbor from behind. Garima grabbed her arm, "Amma.." Khushi began,
"Just shut up and come inside." Garima chided as she dragged her daughter in.
"You numbskull, dunderheaded clod." bellowed Madhumati, "satisfied atlast?"
"Jiji, atleast listen to what she has to say." Mr. Gupta interjected.
"No. That's your problem Shashi, you always defend her, had you spanked her hard when she was a child, we wouldn't have to see this day." she said fuming.
"Babuji, I thought I could help you..." Khushi tried to find her voice. "Do us a favor, don't think at all...every time you think, we all end up in deep trouble, what were you thinking of yourself that you were some TV serial heroin who could sort out all the problems alone?" said an exasperated Garima.
"I'd agree with your mother there Khushi, you could have at least consulted us before", Mr. Gupta said softly.
"What? Are you running consultancy services here? That lad is a junior engineer," Madhumati rounded her eyes upwards and lifted her head towards the ceiling- a gesture she assumed whenever she had to describe something grand (as per her), "their demands were genuine."
"Whats illegal can't be genuine." Khushi said quietly.
"And you are the city magistrate?" spat her mother.
"I told you Garima, the day you got this useless orphan of your sister home, I told you she'd be the doom for all of us." Madhumati growled.
"Enough jiji, not another word against my daughter," warned Shashi and then took Khushi's cold hands in his, "come my child, you must be hungry." Khushi could not reply to that, she had had her fill of reality today which was already way too much for her digestive system to handle.
****
The late night gibbous moon peeped through the curtain less barred window left wide open for the gentle breeze. But none of the sisters could sleep. For the past 3 months, everyone who met Payal told how her life would change after marriage. She was preparing for the UPSC exam scheduled for January the following year when they had found a match for her, the consequences of which had adversely affected her studies. She had been unable to clear the exam in her maiden attempt and chose to proceed with a change in subjects this time, but even history wasn't exactly a cake and with the entire wedding thing coming up, she had given up on administrative services all together. Her thoughts drifted to Abhishek, how differently he had behaved tonight from what she had known him to be. She had conceived of him as a simple, educated, shy small-town boy who had once told her how he was loath to have any sort of material expectation from his would-be in laws. And yet today he had hung his head and kept silent, didn't utter even a single word in her family's defense when his mother had let out a stream of invective. Waste, what an unqualified wastage of her precious time these months had been.
On the other side of the bed was a disgruntled damsel whose thoughts swayed like a canoe tossed at a tide, each of which equally appalling in measure as the encounter with that bully of a man, okay less than that. She felt with her fingers the bump that had formed on her forehead due to incessant banging against the bedpost upon discovering the gross error committed on her part. Stupid. stupid. stupid, Sheesh minar not Sheesh Mahal, I should have known, the Mahal was too grand a place for the Sharma family and the 95 baratis from Mathura to afford a stay.
No matter how much Payal tried to convince her that she was happier not being tied with the lame Abhishek, Khushi felt weighed down by the guilt. Bua was right, she indeed was a numbskull. But why she had to remind her that she was an orphan? Didn't she love Amma and Babuji like she would have loved her own parents? Or didn't they love her the same way? Why would buaji always do that? Why would she leave her behind when she was a child while take Payal home whenever they visited the local fair?
The guilt, the rejection, the harassment- when all became too much for her, she left the bed. It was thirty minutes past four in the morning. She tip-toed towards the master's bedroom and could hear her parents' voices. So they too hadn't slept. She stealthily took out the key to the stores from under the doormat, unlocked the door, grabbed a jerry cane of kerosene and a few match sticks to set it ablaze...
The storekeeper would usually be the first person to reach the shop in morning. When he came, he slapped his forehead and called Mr. Gupta from his mobile phone, "Sasi Babu, Khusi bitiya...has made a mountain of jalebis again!"
Shashi smiled, at least one of his daugters would be back to normal now.
He distinctly remembered the day when Garima had brought this tiny bulb of a girl home, tiny though she may have been but her appetite was elephantine. She would be swinging on the kitchen door all the time and Garima would give her something to munch on. No longer had she busied herself in some other work, the girl would extend her hand with her palm open while batting her long eyelashes and holding on to the door with the other hand. "How can somebody look hungry all the time?" Garima would complain and send her to the shop. Later Khushi started hanging around the shop all the time, at times not even caring to change her school uniform, she would sit there nibbling at the sweets and entertaining the workers with her non-stop chatter. "Why don't you learn to cook some on your own?" Garima had said.
The day she had drawn the spirals of jalebi in the bubbling oil for the first time, it had become her only stress buster. On any occasion when she'd be sulking she'd begin to make the spirals and chomp on them hot.
She was never a scholar at school. The teachers would be all praise for the meritorious Payal and pull at their hairs at the mention of Khushi. Not that she wasn't bright, but her genius was directed at catching cockroaches from the bathroom in a box and putting them in her teacher's hand-bag, or drawing a moustache on the substitution teacher's face who slept on duty and similar things.
After tolerating an year of college, " I will not step inside that ugly building again." she had declared last year. "Then what will you do?" Payal had asked, "I'll cook and contest in the next season of Master chef."
"Can I talk to my daughter?" Shashi said sitting beside her who had in her hand a platter of jalebis.
"Havoo fargiven me (Have you forgiven me)?" she said through a mouthful.
"I was never upset with you, yes but I do feel you could have discussed things with me. I agree you were right and what you did was commendable but your way wasn't right. You should not go out without informing your parents, Lukhnow is a big city, what if something went wrong?"
But something had gone very wrong and she had only confessed to Payal an abridged version of the same.
"But what about amma and buaji?"
"Oh, let them be. Your amma and buaji are the last people you should take seriously when they are angry."
"Of course why take an old grunting crib seriously, wait till this girl have us all killed." Madhumati howled flinging her long braid from one shoulder to another and found a women hiding behind the chowk entrance. " You rotund sticky lizard, eavesdropping on our private conversation?"
Zeiba ignored the 'old grunting crib' and walked toward Mr. Gupta with a bunch of neighbours.
*****
"No I am not going there, it's not a celebration time." Garima protested,
"does that mean we sit and lament about it all our lives? Its best to forget bad things and move on", Mr. Gupta said, "Zeiba came over to invite us all for the urs, and we'll go there like every year, let the girls feel a change."
"Do what you like." she sighed.
*****
Revenge is a dish best served cold and Arnav Singh Raizada had burned for it since the day he was thrown out of his own house. Since the day he had lost everything life was worth living for. The images of his murky past lingered upon his conscious mind, so fresh as if it were only yesterday. The years spent in agony, heaving the baggage of helplessness, of humiliation, of rejection. Not a single night did he fall in blissful sleep, not a single day did he breathe in the carefree air of juvenescence.
The morning sun warmed the eastern facade of his ancestral home, perhaps for the last time. This was a portion of the edifice that had not been slaved under the 'Hotel' and hence been unattended. The terrace overlooked the changed face of the city alongside the river Gomti. A few bricks were missing in the wall toward his left, below that was a narrow alleyway leading to a nursery that was once solely tended by his mother, where he as a child, would spend hours watching her gardening.
The nursery was gone now. He slowly retraced his steps indoor, approached a door that had not been opened for years. It creaked from years of neglect, but the floor beneath his feet still shined. He walked toward the centre of the room, where he had last seen his mother standing alive.
Sunlight filtering through a large drape less skylight illuminated that patch of ground as well as the colloid of dust particles and pollens that met in its way. He fell on his knees, slowly bringing his slightly quivering hands to touch the ground. The contact in a flash sent him in the past...her lifeless body...blood.... Anjali's contorted face in a panic attack...another gun shot...violent screams, cries...another morning...a parchment that bore the letters 'deal with it' along with other words...nothing made sense. It was a day for Anjali's palanquin to depart not the dead bodies of his parents. They took him to the funerary grounds, the priest handed him a burning log of wood, he ran away terrified, "no I can't burn her...no."
It had been 13 days, just that. Anjali stood against a wall, holding close to her a framed photo from their childhood, sobbing. Mallik hauled her away from the wall, "No more, can't bear to see this limping wreck, this useless cripple."
A scandalized Arnav had rushed to her rescue, "You don't say a word to my sister."
"Look who talks, mother's schizophrenic progeny or progenies? Why should I bother with you two? Why for the sake of heaven have you kill me some day?"
Ousted from his property, having witnessed the worst forms of treachery at 14, he had promised a sister who could not survive on her own, to return to her, her happiness.
And to have himself recompensed by exacting a revenge upon those responsible for his near fatal predicament. But how could a defenseless, penny less, gullible boy stand a chance against an enemy whose motive was as obscure as the enemy itself...
On numerous occasions, fate had pitilessly made Arnav fall into the abyss of absolute despair, all he needed was success. All he needed was the emperor of all remedies- money. So much money, surplus money and the power it entails could give him anything. But money is a treacherous companion, it comes in surplus only to those who are ready to put ethics up for a sale to be in the game. And to those who don't let anything else affect them as much.
At the present stage of his ordeal, ASR was an ace in the money game with an average turnover of about one hundred million dollars apart from the gold and land assets owned by his family and the Swiss accounts held by him. Making that sort of wealth had cost him the last seven years of his life, the years which he otherwise would have spent in a rehab or worse, in an asylum. But thanks his strains of severe workaholism that kept the ghosts of his past from haunting him. His inexorable pursuit had trained his mind to think ruthlessly only in terms of loss and gains and of course settling old scores.
Mallik had been an easy catch. His resources had told him that Sheesh Mahal was the only asset with man who was nearly bankcrupt on account of excessive gambling. Old habits die hard, ASR mused.
He needn't worry that Mallik presently enjoyed the same plight as his own 14 years back, if monetary considerations were the only criteria.
The sound of distant footsteps broke his train of thought. Arnav rose to his feet and caste a last glance at the empty walls with flaking distemper, Mallik had obviously auctioned away anything valuable.
"Sir?" said the man.
"Yeah Aman."
"Here are the progress reports of the plants, you had asked for." He said handing him the file.
"Very well, we should have the mills funtional by the end of the next month then, even if it means bringing the structure down within this week." ASR said sifting through the data.
"I can consider genuine delays, though." said ASR looking at his manager's puzzled face.
"I am afraid sir, but this could take longer since the land development ministry is not being so cooperative. I have fixed a meeting with Shiresh Yadav though, this afternoon."
"What the heck is that? We have the state government's N.O.C , we can't put our plans in jeorpardy for some frivolous minister, I'll let Akash handle him. Anything else?"
"We our scheduled Delhi this evening."
"Good to hear that." he said taking to the flight of stairs down. The PR office called on his mobile phone,"Sir, all the photographs and video recordings from the fashion show are now in our possession,..but I fear.. a local newspaper maybe holding an odd photo..."
"If that comes out for public spectacle be assured, instead of AR's PR you'd be at the counter of some local provision store with a suit slapped on your face, you understand that?"
"yes sir."
*****
The neatly laid breakfast table surprised ASR. No, the neatness wasn't unusual but paratha instead of oats was very unusual.
"Oh shit,... Di you're still here!"
"Do I scare you?" Anjali teased.
"Should that matter? By the way, have you been borrowing kitchens lately?" he said pulling a chair for her.
"Should that matter?" she said mimicking his accent.
"May I know the purpose of your stay here?" he said trying hard to remember the last time Anjali had cooked something for him.
"You ask too many questions boy. Well, I had to be here before you ravaged the entire city."
Arnav raised an eyebrow in slight mischief, "Weren't you the only girl who went to her school farewell in a superman costume?"
"it was a fancy dress competition, " she said defensively and paused.. lost for a moment, "Arnav, I think I'll visit my school... and since you are here, could I ask you for a favor?"
"Anything." he said while thrusting a fork into the paratha.
"Four years back I came here to pray for your success at the dargaha, I had tied a wish thread for the same and hoped that if my wish came true, you'll come to the darhaha to open the thread, and since by god's grace it did, I assume you'd be...
"This is not done di, no, I am not going to any damned dargaha. I have made my destiny, not some non existent super-power."
"Baby, you said you'd do anything."
"Good, I'll think twice before saying such a thing next time."
For the next five minutes she went on to explain her brother, quite unsuccessfully, the importance of faith. He ignored all of it with polite disinterest while rapidly tucking away the paratha with his fork. She flung a spoon at him, "Were you listening to me?"
"Uh, huh? Ketchup please."
*****
ASR was his snobbish best at Lucknow's oldest dargaha that celebrated the Khwaja's Urs. He ignored the lilting kawwali at the entrance, refused any offerings, brushed away the holy Jhada, covered his nose from the holy smoke and had only one thought on his mind - untie the thread, get the lock, drop the key, get the hell out of here.
The girls who followed moments later took a deep breath in the smoke. The younger one even nodded her head appreciative of the kawwali singers. She was most interested in any offering made, almost too interested in anything edible. She revised her long list of wishes to be made. The top wish was to get one chance to meet the man she had come to deeply dislike and kick his ass.
After offering her prayers at the mazar, Khushi told Payal she'd buy a lock, who in turn asked her to be quick. Their parents made their way to the entrance later.
Khushi secured the key in a small pocket of her kurti, and saw a man who had walked away dropping his key on the ground. She picked it up, "Excuse me sir, your key..." she rushed towards the man who walked too fast. The man stopped reluctantly, and turned with further reluctance.
She recognized him in a blink. She had never had a wish come true so soon. Even from a hundred meters, anyone could make out Khushi was bewildered beyond comprehension.
"Throw it." said ASR coldly without a hint of surprise on his face, no trace of recognition in his eyes as if he had never seen her before and nothing had happened last night. He turned and strode away.
Khushi saw him leaving, she clasped her throat, where had her voice gone?
"Yeeoww" she screamed, a few faces turned to look at her, she let go of her throat, her voice was back! Yippie. A second thought struck her, she had to kick him right? How could she let him go? "Wait...listen you...", what was his damned name, of course she didn't know anything about him apart from that he was a bad guy...,"Hey, bad guy..stop" she called running after him. She collided with everyone who came her way, mouthing an insincere apology every time. At a place where there are almost twice as many pigeons as humans, it gets difficult to keep a track. Her foot slipped out of her jooti as she ran but she didn't have time to place it back. Her shoes in one hand she sprinted barefooted on sands after her 'bad guy' till she ran past him because of inertia. She stopped all out of breath, "one minute, mizter ..." she dropped her jootis back on the ground and placed her hands on her waist, panting. "look you can't go like this..before you haf..I mean have apologized for yesterday."
"What have I done?" he said calmly.
Khushi shuddered remembering the night before, the fear gripping her again, don't be scared, this place is so crowded, he can't do anything here, she told herself. "you know what you have done, look mister...you can't.."
" I guess I have told you before, stay within your limits. Act in accordance with your social and economic standing, don't try to overstep your bounds, don't cross swords with me." with that he strode away.
She hated the insolent tone of his voice. "For your kind information, you are at present in the courtyard of worship, every one is equal in front of God, no rich, no poor, no disparity in the eyes of the ALMIGHTY!"
"Is he?" he said folding his arms. Eyeing her, he could sense her fear, he took a step towards her.
One step towards her and Khushi was a bundle of nerves. She frantically tried to place her foot back in her jooti, failing miserably as her foot hit the pebbles in every attempt. He saw that and strode towards her. Forget the shoe Khushi, just back off, she told herself and began retreating, she shut her eyes close anticipating to hit a pillar soon. She didn't, there was no pillar. (Yay). Her eyes opened abruptly as she felt smooth leather of his shoe touching her toe, she gulped as her legs felt numb and bent away, pulling her face further away, as far as she could from him, standing in that position.
" Watch your step Ms, next time you come in my way and I swear nobody would be able to save you, not even that god of yours." saying that he backed off and headed for the exit.
She finally found her voice back and shouted," whom are you threatening mister, you think I am scared of you (well I am) but I am not. I bow my head only in front of my parents and the almighty without whose will, not even a leaf flutters, then who are you and what can you do? Nothing, you get it. You are just an ill mannered, misbehaving, haughty, insecure, blah, blah (god please suggest me words) egg (huh?), I mean egg without yolk, only shell...that too cracked." almost satisfied with her new feat she walked away, her chin high.
Albeit ASR was convinced there were many who felt like flaying him, none had attempted anything close to this. He did not appreciate Khushi's venture nonetheless.
As he saw her receding figure, his frown disappeared behind a smirk. Happy poor family he thought looking at the two girls, an older woman whom she hugged and an older man. "Lets see what all-the-so-very-mighty does for you guys."
He pulled out his i-phone and speed dialed a number.
"Yes sir?" the voice enquired.
"do you have the event's footage in your possession now?"
"yes sir." said the voice with conviction.
"I want to see it on all channels in ten minutes..." he paused before his next sentence.." and I want you to make it bad, you know your dirty business well."
"yes sir." chuckled the voice.
******
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