KHUSHI by Jalebi Jane (EPISODE 031)
NO DOUBT. No doubt, those of us who have truly loved will fully comprehend the sensations which arose in Khushi's heart when she lifted her husband's chin to meet his eyes. No injury he had caused grieved her as much as the tears she found there. He immediately turned away without offering a word and shot out of his seat. He took three steps away from their table. His back towards her. His hands at his hips.
Though a new wife, Khushi read the turmoil in his posture. Her pain made him powerless, and Arnav Singh Raizada was uncomfortable---if not unfamiliar---with powerlessness.
She waited. We know, Sisters, the role of a woman in love is often to wait. Waiting is the most taxing aspect of love.
After a short interval, he returned to the table, met her eyes briefly---the message in his eyes inscrutable---and seized his phone. He jabbed at the screen and put the phone to his ear.
The person at the receiving end must be the unluckiest soul in the world today, Khushi thought to herself. For he would be the recipient of every wretched tormented feeling Arnav could not express.
She hoped it was not Aman.
Khushi liked Aman; she knew there was no man mo---re unfailingly steadfast and diligent at ARGroup than Aman Behl. Although, I suppose if it had to be someone---it was best that it be Aman. He seemed impervious to Arnav's storms; he remained tranquil and unaffected. Never rising. Never resentful.
"This is Arnav Singh Raizada---" he began. And continued, "oh, you know who it is? The reason I felt it necessary to introduce myself is that you have had my brief for two full days and I have not heard a word of progress. Aman felt you were the man for this case---but if you cannot handle the assignment, then say so! Don't f**k me around! Fifteen minutes. ARGroup Headquarters."
He ended the call and turned his attention to her. "We need to go," he said, dropping some money on the table to cover their bill, and taking her hand.
For the second time this morning, Khushi had to nearly run to keep pace with her husband. He spun out of the hotel parkade and drove headlong into traffic shattering ten traffic violations in the same number of minutes. She felt for him; yet, she was not so altruistic to not feel for herself as well. He had asked what hurt her, she had informed him; he must suffer the consequences, as must she. She was certainly not going to comfort him. That she had decided.
No sooner was that decided was it promptly forgotten.
She couldn't do it. What he suffered, Khushi suffered. Again, any woman who has loved would forgive her next act. When they screeched to a halt at a red light, she reached out and placed her hand on his thigh. She couldn't meet his eyes, but it was not necessary, as she immediately felt his own warm hand cover hers. She exhaled softly, her eyes stinging with tears, and she turned her blinking eyes to blindly look out of the window.
IT WAS A VERY GOOD THING for Mr Chopra that he was already seated and prepared when Arnav Singh Raizada---followed by his wife---entered the conference room. This was not the day to test his patience.
Arnav showed Khushi to a chair, and then shook the hand of Mr Chopra who now stood to greet his client.
"My wife," Arnav made the introduction and watched Mr Chopra's face for a sign of recognition.
Khushi greeted the man with a cordial namaste.
Mr Chopra responded with the same greeting---began to lower back into his seat---but halted midway.
There it is, Arnav said to himself. The penny has dropped.
Mr Chopra brows came together, he flipped open his hefty file leafing through some papers and came to a sheaf of camera stills. The topmost image was of the Lucknow fashion show. Mr Chopra's eyes returned to and remained fixed on Khushi, who was unaware she was being scrutinized so closely.
At this point, Aman entered the room. Arnav had stopped at reception to send for him. He greeted only Khushi (with a wordless nod) and pulled up a seat. He began to tap on his tablet, ignoring the two men.
Mr Chopra looked to Aman and seeing that the young man's attention was not to be his, he looked at Arnav and began, "Sir, I wonder if I might have a private word with you."
Arnav sat down. "It's not necessary. Yes, my wife and I met at the Lucknow fashion show. Yes, my wife was engaged to the target."
Arnav felt Khushi's eyes on him. He saw her surprise.
Yes, Sisters, you are surprised.
Arnav had known for a few days that Khushi's once-betrothed, Buaji's paying guest and Anjali's husband were united in one dark entity: Shyam Jha. The envelope which Hariprakash handed to Arnav when they returned from the Mandarin Oriental restaurant---yes, the night Arnav and Khushi become one---contained bank details tracing payment from Buaji's paying guest directly to Shyam; a paying guest who had once been engaged to marry the youngest of Buaji's nieces. The braille dots had connected and Arnav had discovered exactly how deeply Shyam had betrayed his sister, how severely he had imposed himself into Khushi's life and all this helped him understand fully---for the first time---what he had overheard on the terrace on that dramatic night.
Aman had brought in Mr Chopra to investigate what other lives Shyam Ja was leading. "Let's test Mr Chopra's prowess," Arnav had told Aman. The private detective had been provided only with the name of the target and the name of a young woman from Lucknow. His assignment was to discover their shared history.
Mr Chopra was certainly being tested now. His eyes darted from husband to wife, but wisely settled on the husband. He cleared his throat as though he was an orator, and launched into his monologue. "The target met Miss Gupta in Lucknow when he rescued her from goons excited by the footage screened of Miss Gupta falling...uhm...into your arms at a fashion show."
Arnav saw Khushi shift uncomfortably in her seat, her hands clasped and unclasped in her lap. He placed his hand on top of hers. Her hands were ice. Granted this meeting would not be comfortable for her, but henceforth she would hear everything he heard on this matter. There would be no more misunderstandings and miscalculations.
Mr Chopra continued: "Target tracked Miss Gupta to Delhi, and presented himself as a bachelor without family in the city. He took up a vacancy for a paying guest in the home of her aunt, where Miss Gupta was living at the time. Sources in the neighbourhood state that Miss Gupta was"---here Mr Chopra cleared his throat---"that Miss Gupta was cordial but showed no particular interest in the target. The target however showed a distinct partiality." Mr Chopra flicked through his notes, and read, "the target went out of his way to prepare food she enjoyed, arranged for medical attention when she was injured, and closely attended to the family when her father was hospitalized. That it came as no surprise when an engagement was announced soon after Diwali. The aunt attributed the hasty engagement to the father's medical condition, that it was the wish of the father."
THE MEMORY OF WHAT HAPPENED between himself and Khushi at Diwali freshly flooded Arnav's thoughts. He found it necessary to leave his chair and walk the length of the table. With his hand, he indicated that Mr Chopra should continue.
"Neighbours speculate that Miss Gupta---" and here Mr Chopra halted again, recollecting that the Miss Gupta of his engaging narrative was also the wife of his short-tempered-prone-to-violent-outbursts client.
"Speculate? Speculate what?" Arnav snapped.
The detective was forced to speak, but he kept his eyes fixed on the table. "As nobody seems aware that the target was already married when he entered an engagement with Miss Gupta, the general view in the neighbourhood is that he discovered Miss Gupta was romantically involved with her employer. That that is why he broke off their engagement overnight and left Delhi a disappointed man. The fact that...uhm, Miss Gupta did shortly thereafter marry her employer...er, that is you, Sir...appears to be evidence to confirm that theory."
And with that Mr Chopra's impartial history came to an end and the room fell into silence. Mr Chopra dabbed at his damp brow with a handkerchief---no doubt relieved to have survived this telling.
Arnav saw Khushi shrink further into her seat. He went to stand behind her chair, and placed his hands on her shoulders. He now began to doubt the wisdom of exposing her to all this. But Khushi was not fragile---if he left the decision to her, he knew she would rather be here than not. That the reason Shyam had nearly destroyed them was because neither had been open with the other.
No more silence.
But this silence in the room now was broken by Aman. "Leading two lives is an expensive undertaking," he said. It was a statement, but in it was a clear question for Mr Chopra.
Mr Chopra shrugged as though to say he could not answer that satisfactorily. "True. He maintains an office, but is hardly ever there. He has no staff. He files very few cases. Perhaps his income is generated through private consultation." As an afterthought, he added, "although it was hinted by one source that he's married to a wealthy woman, hence he would have little incentive to work. I'll be following that trail next."
Here Aman and Arnav exchanged quick meaningful looks. Aman instructed, "leave that matter about his wife with me, Mr Chopra. Dig further into his finances. There will be dirt."
Mr Chopra protested, "If---if---he had assets, Aman, I would track them to see how they were obtained. But this man owns nothing. He appears to live within his means. There is no tangible financial activity in his life, corrupt or otherwise. His hands are clean."
"Wrong," Arnav interjected. "If a man is treacherous in one quarter, he is treacherous everywhere. As Aman says, there will be dirt. Dig deeper. We'll see you back here in thirty-six hours."
This adjourned the meeting.
By Jalebi Jane
Jhanak
Shiv Shakti
113