Removing his glasses, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, with a loud sigh.
"Common, Arnav," Harsha exclaimed, animatedly, to go sit in the nearby chair. "I don't think its for debate. We all have had to take off our moral garb and hang it in a corner, years ago. "
"Sir, its a tip-off, but in return we might get Shankar to open up the estate roads for Kallar people," said Shrivastav, a balding, middle aged man and Arnav's Cheif revenue officer of the district, who despite being older, ever insisted to address him with the respect, his seniority deemed.
Might - the uncertainty bothered him and he shook his head. He didn't clarify that his dilemma wasn't over matters of principle, but rather about taking risks, whose outcomes he couldn't predict. With Shankar, the tea baron who owned the majority of the rolling Nilagiri slopes, that grew tea, it always felt like he was giving up more than he got back in return.
The district officials, informed of an unprecedented move from the government to rail down on black money, by an internal leak from the center, now contemplated to trade the information, to seek the favor of the local tycoon, for the welfare of the Kallar people. When his choice came down to either waiting few more years for government approvals, to connect the Kallar village with the town roads, or have Shankar open up his estate gates, to bypass the seven kilometer walk it otherwise took the village folks to get to the nearest roads, it was an easy one. And yet, the thought of the government's plan to demonetize the high denomination notes in circulation that would in-turn render Shankar's hordes of black money useless, was an appeal he couldn't fight off. However, the vision of children playing by the banyan tree in the village center, in the early hours of the evening, not having to take the long way back from school, to their homes, made the decision for him.
As he readied himself to voice his assent, he heard the sound of anklets rounding the corner. The jangle was a new sound in his home that stood out even more against the morning quiet. He opened his eyes to catch her entering the study they were gathered in and he put on his glasses again, to take in the vision of her that greeted everyone in the room, with a small smile and tray of tea and biscuits. Her mass of wet hair lay over one shoulder and her fiery orange saree, with a weave of blue and gold squares, made for a classic traditional look, that was unlike any he had seen of his kin. Despite the distance between them, he noticed, for the first time, the weight of silver bangles that collected by her wrist, the long drawn line of kohl that went well past her eyes and curved upwards, the fragile dot of black, a few inches to the left of her lips. And with that, he tore his gaze away from her, to the others, when the devil indeed appeared to be in the details.
"Morning!" she said, handing a cup to Harsha, who raised his eyebrows in delight of the hot tea he handed her.
She walked to Shrivastav, seated a few inches from Harsha and accosted him with a welcoming smile. "Good morning ma'am," Shrivastav stood up, taking the tea from her, as she bent down to place another place . "I'm Shrivastav. The CRO, ma'am," he added, his voice showing a mark of sudden reverence, he hadn't heard before.
She nodded, holding a smile. "Please, call me Kushi," she corrected, uncomfortable with the measure of obeisance from the elder.
With that, she turned to make her way towards him, where he stood, leaning by the bookcase placed next to the window that overlooked the courtyard.
Catching a glimpse of the almond butter coated Marie biscuits on the tray, which was what he preferred with his morning tea, he figured, either Anjali or Kamalamma must have prepared the biscuits for him.
"I'm sorry," he said in a small voice, choosing to be discreet, even as she placed the tea on the table next to him. "I ended up falling asleep here."
She smiled looking up at him, their proximity, requiring her to tilt her head back more to catch his eyes. "It ok," she whispered.
"I know you wanted to talk," he added apologetically. She handed him the small plate of biscuits and took a step back.
Almost, as an after thought, she spoke, even as she was preparing to leave. "I suppose, we'll talk-" she said, quietly, pausing to draw his attention. "When you are ready," she ended, smiling, the smell of sweet shampoo teasing his nose just as her words were, while her efforts to ease the air between them, impressed him far beyond his smile could convey.
He held his smile from before, watching her receding form and waiting for her to pass by the window next to him. She didn't look at him, as she slipped passed the window, however the disappearing sound of anklets had never unruffled him, as it did then. A knot appeared in his chest, as he realized she wasn't the woman he'd known in his childhood. And for the times he hadn't known her, she'd grown to be the woman who incited his curiosity now. The unfamiliarity that folded itself into the familiarity from their past, made for an intrigue he couldn't place.
"Erhm," Harsha cleared his throat, calling his attention, back to the subject in discussion.
He smiled, mildly embarrassed, for being caught, indulging in his distractions. "Do what's needed, but be precise about what's being asked of him and the consequences, if he fails to meet them."
The men nodded with the matter settled between them all. "You aren't joining us?" Harsha prompted.
"No," he shook his head, taking a sip of his tea, "I -" he begun and then corrected himself to respond again. "We have to be some place."
Note: Apologies! It was a bad week, but will try and have "the" conversation written in the next day or two. And for your part, you indulge me with your comment, won't you?
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