JALEBI by Jalebi Jane (EPISODE 024)
ANY WOMAN WHO IS SURE OF HER OWN WITS is a match, at any time, for a man who is not sure of his own temper.* And on this evening, when our Hero's temper was so changeable, our Heroine would have certainly taken advantage of it.
Alas, it was not to be.
For Khushi's own wits had been absent.
They had abandoned her the moment she had decided it was necessary to kiss Arnav to prove to him that she was not naive. Never mind, Sisters, that it was obvious she was entirely naive. Never mind that Khushi's en---tire education on this subject of kissing had come from novel-reading and cinema-viewing. And augmented, of course, by her glorious imagination.
But the substantial weight on her ring finger was not a product of that imagination. No. Not only had her boss just plundered her mouth, but the many-carat-ed multi-facet-ed yellow solitaire which now claimed her hand proved this was no fantasy. Arnav had slipped a ring on her finger and said, "When I return, you can tell me whether you want to be mine." He had made her an offer of marriage.
So this was not a game, then. This was real.
This afternoon she had been convinced Arnav's declaration had been a scheme of some sort. Some new trick. Some fresh torment. But as she herself had realized, a man like Arnav Singh Raizada would not go so far as to propose marriage to merely to score a point. To toy with a matter as serious as a rishta in our society was even beyond his audacity.
And impolitic too.
For he would be publicly censured---condemned even!---if it came out that he, a high-level CEO, had played such a game with an employee. Whatever our shortcomings, our nation was ever-ready to show outrage at the abuses of power and privilege. And the media were ever-ready to skewer the head of ASR Group. Arnav had never made his contempt for journalists a secret. That made them pursue him with a ferocity unmatched.
But more to the point!---now that there was no longer even a contract between them, what could Arnav possibly gain from playing a trick? Yes, she doubted the intention behind his proposal, but how could she doubt his pragmatism? Mr Raizada did nothing unless it served him. And proposing to a girl who could bring him nothing was entirely out of character. There was no rational reason for him to do it!
So it must be the other thing. The irrational reason. Pyaar etc, as he had called it.
Khushi's mind reeled as this conclusion flooded her. And it was confirmed by her recollecting his words: "Ever since our first meeting, I have felt a pull towards you which made me uncomfortable. It caused me to treat you badly."
Could it be that all this time that he had rebuffed her, he had secretly desired her?
Her gaze grew distant as she flitted through all their past encounters---and yes!---she had to concede that even when they had been nose-to-nose, ready to tear strips of each other, underneath it all there had always been a palpable something-else. She had felt it without wishing to acknowledge it.
Although sometimes---very privately, very late at night---she had indulged in scenarios of what it would be to have Arnav Singh Raizada unleash that relentless intensity of his upon her body.
Oh, do not imagine it to be anything like a real wish on her part. It was the healthy curiosity of a healthy young woman. Just one of those places where our minds will sometimes travel to. The stuff of fantasy.
But when he kissed her this evening---the manner in which he crushed her to him---it had been as if he had special insight into her fantasies. As though he too had very late at night indulged in thoughts of her---
"Khushi!" came Payal's approaching voice, saving our Heroine from her dangerous speculations.
She deftly managed to bundle her left hand into a kitchen towel just before Payal entered. She could not let Payal see the ring. How would she explain it, when she herself had no explanation for it?
Payal scolded, "How long does it take to prepare a tray of simple refreshments? Never mind now. They've gone. And what did you do to Mr Raizada? He left without a word."
"I didn't do anything to him!" Khushi protested. Adding under her breath, ask what he did to me!'
Payal continued on her track, "Mr Behl made some feeble excuse about catching a flight and followed him out."
"It was not an excuse," Khushi corrected. "Mr Raizada mentioned that he is going away for a few days." She poured a cup of tea for Payal, and immediately realized it was a mistake as the action drew her sister's eyes to the towel bandaged around her hand.
Payal was asking, "Did he say why they came here this evening---?" when she interrupted herself and asked, "---Have you hurt your hand?!"
Khushi diverted her with, "It's nothing. Have your tea, Jiji. I just need the washroom." And with that she fled.
Khushi found Payal sitting on their bed, sipping tea, when she emerged from the washroom. It had been a long visit. But a failure. No amount of soap lather would remove Arnav's ring from her finger. The rock held firm.
Much like The Man himself.
In fact, the ring was so snug that Khushi had scraped her finger raw in the simple effort to twist it. It was not much of a concealment but at least the diamond was now hidden, pressed against the flesh of her palm. Although the brilliant pave band still shimmered stubbornly, Payal did not notice it. Nor did she notice Khushi's clenched fist.
Or did she?
I wonder, Sisters. Because when Khushi approached the bed, Payal's first words did not pertain to the burning subject of what had Khushi discovered in Shyam's room. Rather, she ventured in a searching tone, "Mr Raizada appeared very concerned when I told him you were trapped in the garden room."
What Heroine could resist asking? Khushi certainly couldn't. "Did he?"
"He raced across the garden as though I had said you were engulfed in a fire," Payal nodded.
"It was probably your panicked words which raised his alarm," Khushi said, injecting a forced laugh.
But Payal was not in the mood for laughter. She shook her head and asked, "Khushi, do be serious. Is there something going on between you and Mr Raizada?"
"How can you ask that?" was Khushi's non-declarative reply.
Payal pressed, "even if you had not told me that you kissed him, I would wonder. There is something in the way he looks at you. And in how you react to him---"
"I told you: The kiss was an accident!"
"Precisely how does such an accident takes place?"
"Oh, Jiji---let it drop. It's not important." With those words Khushi turned away and began to remove her kurta in order to change into her nightsuit. She could not meet her sister's eyes.
But Payal would not let it drop. She persisted from another angle. An emotional one. She asked in an injured voice, "Since when have you begun to keep secrets from your Jiji?"
Since I met Arnav Singh Raizada.
And this realization unravelled Khushi. Tears welled in her eyes. She had consistently lied to her sister for the past three weeks; she had made it appear that her working relationship with Arnav was harmonious. She had painted a picture of her workplace which was so unlike her reality that to correct Payal's understanding now would confuse more than illuminate. She could not speak to Payal of him, nor of his unexpected proposal. And in this way, Arnav had succeeded in alienating her from her sole support system. Arnav had left her with this bewildering proposal and she could not even unburden her heart to the person who knew her better than she knew herself.
But never mind that now---! Shyam was their most pressing concern.
She blinked away her tears, and swung around to face Payal. "Look," she said, and her right hand reached into her bra, and fished something out. She offered the item in her hand to her sister.
It diverted Payal into another line of enquiry.
"From Shyam's room?" Payal asked, setting aside the teacup and sitting up to take the memory stick from Khushi's hand.
Khushi nodded, "it was taped to the blade of the ceiling fan. It must hold something incriminating. For why else would one place something up there. I'll go to office early tomorrow and see what it contains."
Payal agreed with a nod, her eyes filled with hope. Under any other circumstances, they would have immediately used a neighbour's computer to examine its contents. But the matter was too serious to risk. What if it somehow reached Shyam's ear that the girls had run to a neighbour's house late at night to beg the use of the computer? No, that would not do. It was best to exercise patience and prudence and have Khushi check it at the office where there was no such fear.
Although there was another fear, nevertheless. "What if he comes home this evening and discovers it's missing?"
"I taped the empty envelope back in the exact position I found it," Khushi said. "Unless he actually looks inside the envelope, he won't know." Then adding with more confidence than she felt, "as there was no laptop to be found in his room, he would have no reason to look for the stick tonight." And it was in speaking these words that a thought struck her. If he possessed a memory stick, he must have a computer somewhere. She voiced her thoughts, "Every morning after breakfast, he trots off with his briefcase. Where does he go? He must go somewhere to while away the time."
"True!" cried Payal. "Though he is not a legitimate vakil, he must have an office of some sort to keep up the pretence. Maybe Buaji will know!"
"No," Khushi insisted. "Let's keep everything between us until we have something concrete. You must follow him tomorrow morning, Jiji. Every snake has a den and this snake will have his den of operations. I feel certain of it. There was not a single piece of paper in the garden room. I suspect somewhere there is a computer, or a filing cabinet filled with evidence of his vile doings."
The thought of discovering a cabinet filled with material with which to punish Shyam was too delicious for Payal to resist. Though she was not built for this sort of adventure, she was prepared to pursue The Snake. Even adopt a disguise if she had to.
But what sort of disguise?
Khushi had a plan. (Didn't she always?) And this one involved her reliable, trustworthy friend, Parisa Khan, who was at this very moment tucked into bed, exchanging flirty text messages with her Aman Sir.
*Adapted from Wilkie Collins' -The Woman in White-
By Jalebi Jane
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