Added Chapter 23: All The King's Men: PreRish - Page 90 - Page 23

When are gonna update 😭😭😭

I just realized I hadn't commented on the last update. 

Your brilliance in presenting the deal and the succeeding acceptance deserves an applause. Everything sounded so practical and commanded the power of convincing even a sceptical reader. 

I do not think Mr Bajaj is beyond redemption. His brutal honesty, class, and mannerisms make him so likeable. Actually I find it tough to dislike him. His daughter has already exposed his secret endearing side. And there must be a history behind his present. 

When are you updating it? 

Soha!

Okay I am finally caught up.

I knew it, I knew it, he was testing her. I mean those tasks were quite random. I think what tipped the scales in P’s favor was she challenged him and he was entertained by her. 

I just love practical RB- dry, to the point and no nonsense. Its is what is, no need to sugarcoat it. He definitely did not pull any punches describing her need for Anurag Basu even though he does not return those feelings for her.

“Tell me, I am bakra,” was my favorite line from the update and then him not getting the reference was just hilarious🤣

Update Soon!

Very interesting story!!! Do continue soon. 

A marriage proposal, no wonder Prerna thought it would be a prank and she is a Bhakra😆. Ohh Sneha has a heart problem, so sad. When a lady who looked after the kid from her childhood can cheat, then any outsider can. His point to ensure that he would give the responsibility of his daughter only to the family is valid from his pov. You know what, I LOVE this Bajaj. He is so DAMN practical and he does not shy away giving his opinion brutally. And my respect for him increased when he asked her to stop loving Anurag, even if she does not agree with his proposal. God, she needs some brains. The final nail to make her agree, Anurag and Basubadi. Damn his insults are so good to listen, especially when they are for her ex-bf😆. So she did agree with her own terms and conditions.

Let's see how this goes from here. So maybe next chapter we would get to see how Prerna and Sneha interact with each other for the first time. So looking forward to it.

Gorgeously elaborate proposal.. 

I really wonder how Mr Bajaj is overlooking the aspect of physical intimacy in this marriage.. 

Will he have his philandering way after marriage or what?!? 

And also Prerna is a young beautiful girl.. How can she have such a platonic relationship of contract?!? 

A figment of my imagination.. Prerna gets over friendly with some classmate of her and that makes Bajaj the territorial possessive husband.. 

Really eager to know more.. 

When are u gonna update 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Please update 😃

Sorry, guys. I know I'm supposed to update but I'm on vacation with limited connectivity. I should be able to upload in a week's time.

It's Amazing story 

Love it plz Update soon

Finally. I know I've updated much later than usual. So I've tried to make up by posting a really long one. It's written more in the style of snippets. I actually didn't like the later half of the update but I think I've hit a roadblock so let's see. Everyone reading and commenting, you guys are too kind. And the only reason why I've stuck with this so long. Or my sloth-iness would have taken over.

Part 16

She found herself avoiding the mirror as she fastened her hair into a knot. Her mother had laid out flowers for her to wear, the scent of jasmine and marigold thick in the air. In mere three weeks, her home had transformed from a sleepy, quiet residence to one filled with raucous wedding preparations.  Her mother had taken charge of the arrangements with gusto, wanting to ensure that the wedding, though small, would be a thorough traditional affair.

Out of the many surprises that Prerna weathered, Veena Sharma’s liking for Mr. Bajaj was the oddest. He had come home late one evening to break the news of their impending marriage to her mother and to ask for her blessing. Prerna, terrified of the confrontation, had hidden deep under the covers of her bed, visualizing her mother’s hostile reaction and anticipating the worst of Mr. Bajaj’s answering rage. But the two of them had emerged out of her mother’s bedroom with pleasant, if not easy, camaraderie. Throughout the following dinner, Prerna kept shooting nervous glances at Mr. Bajaj, wondering if he would scorn at the shiny steel plates, or the decidedly humble spread, the rickety beams of their old home, or her mother’s unpolished insistence that he eat more. But the man before her seemed to take on a different persona entirely, melding seamlessly with her family. Instead of the usual contempt in his midnight eyes, genuine pleasure reflected in them as he listened to Veena regale tales of Prerna’s childhood. He remained polite and respectful to her family throughout the evening, while still being reticent in all matters that concerned him, dodging pointed questions with the ease of a honed politician. He finally took his leave after deciding on a wedding date but not before bending down to touch her mother’s feet. For the life of her, Prerna couldn’t fathom what Rishabh Bajaj was made of.

So here she was, on her wedding day, dealing with a flood of emotions the only way she knew how. Eating her weight’s worth in sooji ka halwa.

She finally turned to look at herself in the mirror. A pale, harrowed face of a stranger stared back at her. Was she really going through with this? Bartering away her starry-eyed dreams for a lifetime of cold practicality? Even her wedding saree was a practical affair. An ostentatious package had arrived the earlier evening, the designer’s name embossed in liquid gold on the ivory box. A man made famous by Kolkata's narrow streets and vice versa.

Sabyasachi Mukherjee.

Shivani had let out a low whistle before scrambling to pull the wrapping off, discarding the note attached to the parcel. She held the note now, rubbing slow concentric circles into it.

Prerna,

I am told that it is customary for the groom to gift the bride her wedding dress. I realize that this is not your idea of a happy wedding. Even so, I’m taking the liberty of sending you a wedding present. Consider it a token of my appreciation for being so good to my daughter this past month. 

RB

So there she stood, in a plain blood-red organza saree with a matching raw silk blouse, her mother’s gold bangles adorning her wrists, jasmine flowers in her hair, a sense of loss sweeping over her. The loss of her love, the loss of a loving marriage, loss of unborn children, she and Anurag had spent hours talking about. Her marriage was going to be a sham. A hollow phrase for a twisted arrangement. The only saving grace being Sneha Bajaj. 

If Prerna had any doubts as to why Mr. Bajaj had chosen her to take care of Sneha, they were answered by the end of her first meeting with her. Sneha or Kuki as she was fondly called, was a precious bundle of all that was good in the world and the center of her father’s universe. She was shy but it had taken Prerna minutes to coax her out of her shell, drawing from the inexplicable connection that existed between them. They had spent the day in the gardens of the Bajaj estate, painting stars and stringing wildflowers in each other’s hair. She told Kuki the lost stories of Arabian Nights by the fountain springs, and even cajoled her into eating some dal chawal by promising to teach her a song, a prospect so alluring for the little one that she practically swallowed her food. Mindful of her ailment, Prerna had gathered a tired Kuki in her arms and taken her for an afternoon nap in her bedroom. She took her into bed with her and propped herself up with pillows against the headboard to let Kuki curl into her side. Prerna had always been good with children, but this was different.

This was elemental.

A deeply fierce urge to protect this child and her innocence surged through Prerna. To hold captive her sparkling smile, her tinkling laugh, her sassy responses, to destroy all that would hurt her. She craved this boundless permission-no, the absolute necessity- to hold and kiss and stroke this tiny person. Cradling the swaddled child in her arms, she distractedly touched her lips to the baby hair on Kuki's crown. Where else in life, she wondered, was love so pure and untouched?

It seemed she had become a mother the moment Kuki first nestled trustingly in her arms.

Prerna smiled at the memory, fingering the card on the dressing table.It was a stick figure depiction of Kuki, Mr. Bajaj, her, and a dog.

Kuki’s idea of a perfect family. If only she knew.

It was against all reason for two people who hardly knew each other, with no ties at all between them, with different characters, different upbringings, to suddenly find themselves committed to living together, to sleeping in the same house, to sharing two destinies that perhaps were fated to go in opposite directions.

“Okay, okay. I can do this, I can do this! Just breathe.” Mentally she prepared herself but it didn't help with the feeling of jumping off a cliff deep in her stomach

A knock at the door jolted her out of skin. She quickly fixed her hair and grabbed the handle to swing the door open. On the other side Rishabh Bajaj stood waiting. Prerna saw his eyes widen slightly on seeing her, his hawk-like gaze looking at her critically, no doubt.

“May I come in?”

She moved away from the door to make space for him, her room feeling small and stuffy in a short instance. He walked over to the window and turned around to face her, in all his wedding glory. He was fitted in an ivory embroidered silk achkan, the high collar accentuating his angular jawline. a single emerald pocket square breaking the monotony.

Never a hair out of place, thought Prerna begrudgingly. Hers always ended up looking a nest of sparrows.

“What are you doing here? If someone sees…”

“You can back out, still.” He interjected, impassively. “It’s not done until it’s done. So, you still have a choice.”

Prerna searched his stony face for some sign of remorse that prompted his statement. She thought of Anurag, she thought of Moloy Kaka, she thought of Kuki.

“No. I don’t.” She replied resignedly.

“There’s no going back for you, you understand? If you marry me, Anurag Basu will never forgive you. If we don’t work out, I’ll escape unscathed, but you? Among other things, you’ll still have to live with his hatred. ” He said quietly.

She remained silent. She had known this when she signed the contracts. There would be no about-turns on this one.

“Okay, then. I had to ask. One final thing.” He paused, as if looking for the right words.

“Yeah? Go on.”

“Our contract contains a sexual relations clause.”

Prerna felt her face burn in embarrassment. She had purposefully avoided that clause because from all that they had discussed, it had seemed plenty clear that they would not be sharing a bed in any real sense. Was he going to spring this on her hours before their wedding?  He’d touch her over her dead body! The perverted bast*rd! The lecherous assho-

“Whatever damsel-in-distress scenarios your brain is concocting right now, toss them aside. The clause deals with infidelity. I do not require your body’s fidelity, Prerna. Nor will I give you mine. You’re free to see whomever as long as you’re discreet about it and do it without emotional entanglements. I don’t have the time to deal with more jilted lovers.” He said, his lips twisted in familiar disdain.

Prerna spluttered, flabbergasted and completely unable to process the outrageousness of his words. “Are you actually, very really, in fact, telling me that I can casually sleep around?”

“I’m saying that all else being equal, you’re free to do what you want with your nights.”

“Your permission doesn’t absolve me of the vows I will make today. And I intend to stay faithful to those marriage vows, Mr. Bajaj.”

“Why? I don’t.” He said matter-of-factly, seemingly puzzled by her righteousness. “I don’t need or require your fidelity in bed. And you’re young, passionate, energetic. You really want to live like a nun?” He shrugged, ignoring her apparent mortification. “It’s going to be a lonely life, Prerna.”

“Maybe. But I won’t make a mockery of this marriage any more than it already is. It goes against everything I have been brought up to believe, Mr. Bajaj. So in all ways that I can, I intend to stay faithful to you and our family.

He stood against the window, the sunlight streaming in behind him, washing him in sunset colors. He looked unconvinced, as if unable to see the motive in her sincere declaration.

A short eternity passed before he spoke.

“We’re going to be married soon. You should probably call me Rishabh.”

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

 “Mama, look! My tooth! My tooth!”  A little bolt with pigtails came crashing down the stairs, a pearly tooth clutched in her chubby fingers.

“Kuki! I’m saying it for the absolute last time. No running, do you understand? You have to be careful! You cannot scare Mama like this, bacche.”  Prerna shot up from the dining table in flash and grabbed her daughter mid-run, a pang of fear clutching at her heart.

“Mama, looook! My tooth fell off.” Kuki wheedled, unconcerned by her mother’s scolding.

“Hmm. I can see that. We’ll just have to hide it under your pillow tonight and wait for the tooth fairy to come.” Prerna said in a loud conspiratorial whisper, nodding at her husband who was coming down the stairs.

Kuki shook her head, pigtail flying, scoffing at her “Papa says that there is no such thing as a tooth fairy. And if I really wanted something, all I have to do is ask him for it.”

“Well, your papa doesn’t know everything. I have seen the tooth fairy and she leaves only the good -est children presents. So you’re going to have to finish all of your breakfast and take your medicine without any fuss before the tooth fairy even considers taking your tooth.”

Kuki’s eyes widened in shock over this revelation and she began counting soundlessly on her tiny fingers, all her possible transgressions since that morning, her nanny steering her to the kitchen for breakfast.

‘Prerna turned her reproachful gaze to her husband of two months, ready to give him a piece of her mind but he beat her to it.

“Don’t fill her head with imaginary sh*t. She doesn’t need to build up fairy tales only for them to come crashing down. All she needs to know is that I can give her whatever she wants.” He said callously, fixing his gold cufflinks beneath the blue blazer he wore.

“Imaginary sh*t? Imagination is how she is going to learn to empathize, Rishabh. Of course you can get her whatever she wants but all that will do is spoil her. She’s only a child! It's not our job to toughen her up to face a cruel and heartless world. It's our job to raise her so she can make the world a little less cruel and heartless.”

He paused in his ministrations to look at her. Really look at her. His vacant gaze as undecipherable as ever. He bent down to pick up his briefcase and started to walk towards the door.

Well, that’s that, Prerna thought. She’d have better luck conversing with a concrete wall.

“Prerna,’ Mr. Bajaj called from behind.

“Text me what the tooth fairy is supposed to leave tonight.”

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

 She was nervous. There was no getting around it. Her hands were clammy, her head pounding, her stomach – a ball of lead. The man next to her showed no signs of any such distress, looking as regal as he always did, his tall form clad in an Italian tailored black-tie affair. Prerna watched the wide roads of Lutyens’ Delhi whizz past her, the nation’s capital thrumming in the late evening light. They were on their way to the wedding reception of the daughter of Karuna Ghosh – the cabinet minister of Information and Broadcasting. But that’s not why Prerna was feeling nauseous. No.

Rishabh had warned her that the Basus had also been invited to the reception and a run-in may be unavoidable. That’s all that he had said on the subject, going back to work on his tablet. Prerna had long since learnt not to expect more than a few words of instructions or conversation from her husband. Even after two months of marriage, she knew precious little of the man who called himself Rishabh Bajaj. She knew he took his coffee black and his tea with milk. He was allergic to shellfish and preferred vegetarian fare to meat. He followed an almost punishing personal regime, waking up at the crack of dawn to work out, before taking a cold shower and heading for work at 8 am. He would come home by seven in the evening to spend time with his daughter until after dinner where he’d shut himself in his study to work for a couple of hours before sleeping. Despite the luxuries in his mansion, he rarely gave in to any sort of celebratory excesses, finding only the occasional pleasure in his whisky or cigars. There were no mementos of his childhood, or family photos, no evidence of his likes or dislikes, just hordes of business magazines and books on every imaginable subject.

Her husband, Prerna had learnt, was a nerd.

A workaholic nerd.

A workaholic nerd, who at this moment was reading about steam engines, oblivious to her dread.

The shimmering lights and burst of a magnificent display of firecrackers in the night sky told Prerna that they had arrived at their destination. She took a deep breath steadying her erratic heartbeat. No doubt news of their marriage had reached the Basus soon after the event but she had had no communication with them since. She had even avoided her routine meetings with Moloy Kaka because she hadn’t known what to say to him. She stepped out of the Audi, adjusting the pleats on her shimmering white saree, hoping that the red color on her lips hadn’t smudged, leaving her looking like the Joker.

Why so serious indeed.

She silently took his extended arm as he escorted her into the grounds, her steps faltering, eyes darting at passing guests.

“Prerna.” Rishabh lightly touched her hand, as they made their way into the ballroom. “Don’t let them see your fear. Wolves attack at the first sign of weakness. Anurag Basu is your weakness. That can’t be helped. But your reaction to him, can. Hold your cards close to your chest. Don’t let them see.”

“How?” She asked desperately.

“Be Mrs. Prerna Bajaj.” He said, winking at her, that impertinent dimple popping up in his cheek.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Her husband had abandoned her. Yup. There was no other way to put it. He’d dropped her like a piece of unwanted baggage and was currently commanding the attention of atleast five portly men and double the number of simpering women.

Urgh, Disgusting. Did these women have no shame? Openly flirting with a married man? And it didn’t escape Prerna’s notice that Rishabh didn’t seem too inconvenienced with all the attention either. In any case, what he did with his nights didn’t concern her.

She stood to one side of the ballroom, holding a glass of orange juice, faking interest in some abstract modern painting when a saccharine sweet voice called out her name.

“Well, well. If it isn’t Mrs. Prerna Bajaj. I hear felicitations are in order. Imagine my disappointment when I didn’t receive an invitation. I thought we were old friends, Prerna.”

Nivedita Basu stood behind her, a wine glass in hand, flanked by her mother and brother on either side. Anurag looked haggard, Prerna thought. His once boyishly innocent face covered in three day old bristles, dark shadows lining his eyes. Eyes that were shooting daggers at the moment. She felt her heart splinter at the animosity that crackled between them.

“Thank you, It was a small wedding.” Prerna responded with forced politeness, desperately searching for the composure she needed,

“Yes,  a small wedding indeed. I heard. And in such a hurry too. Almost as if there was an urgently growing need for such haste.” The thinly veiled barb finding its mark.

“I am impressed, Prerna. Rishabh Bajaj is a great catch. I didn’t know you had it in you.” Mohini Basu sneered.

The wolves are circling.

“If you’ll excuse me…”

“Come, now. Maa. Prerna here is a great package herself. I’m sure Mr. Bajaj is thrilled with his purchase.” Nivedita said in exaggerated sincerity, blocking Prerna’s escape.

Prerna felt the first pinpricks of tears threatening to spill. The boy she had loved for so very long stood silently watching her being picked apart.

“He is, Nivedita. He really is. Purchasing Basu Publications really did thrill me.” Prerna felt Rishabh Bajaj’s presence before she heard his words. The wall of his chest brushing against the small of her back, anchoring her to the shore. “And my dear. I hear the SEBI is in real hurry to make some indictments. Quite unfortunate. Let me know if need me to make some calls, would you? I’m always around to help my wife’s old friends.”  His fingers gently pushing a strand of Prerna’s hair behind her neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, a blatant sign of familiarity.

“Prerna, Nauheed has asked me to fetch you. Something about weekday brunches.” His hooded eyes swept across the Basus, “If you’ll excuse us?”

In one fell swoop, Mr. Bajaj had put her tormentors in place and name dropped one of the most powerful families in the country, handing her the perfect exit. She shot him a grateful glance, and began walking across the length of the ballroom, tears burning at the back of her eyes. She wasn’t entirely out of earshot when she heard her husband’s menacing growl.

“There’s room for only one bully at this table, Mr. Basu and that’s me. Tie yours up on a short leash or you won’t like the consequences.”

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

They sat in silence on the car ride back, Prerna’s throat aching from the unshed tears. She had been prepared for Mohini and Nivedita’s toxic hatred but Anurag’s spiteful silence had hurt her deeply. She furtively wiped an errant tear away just as the car swerved to the left, clearly not heading to their hotel.

“Aren’t we going back to our hotel? It’s late. What if Kuki wakes up?” Prerna asked, not feeling up to another social gathering.

“Alka will call and let us know. I thought we’d get some ice-cream first. There’s a great place in Hauz Khaaz.” Rishabh said, engrossed in his tablet.

“That’s sweet of you, really. But I’m alright. I don’t need ice-cream.” She smiled tiredly,

“What makes you think I’m getting ice-cream for you? I like ice cream. You can stay in the car, if you want.” He shrugged, still not looking at her.

Her goodwill dissipated immediately and she bristled under his nonchalance.

“You like ice cream? You don’t touch sugar!”

“Well, yes. Usually. Sweet treats are meant for special occasions. And this is a special occasion for me.”

“Yeah? Let’s hear it.” She scoffed, pretty certain he was making this nonsense up. He frustrated her to no end.

“My income tax refund came through today. See? Special occasion.” The car halted in front of a artisanal ice cream parlor, and Mr. Bajaj made a move to get out.

“What a load of bullsh*t! I don’t want ice-cream! I don’t even like ice-cream.” She yelled, following him out of the car, slamming the door.

“Uh huh.” He hummed, already testing a few flavours, ignoring her blustering.

“I’m serious.” Taking the tiny spoonful of strawberry and peach cream he offered her.

“As a heart attack, I’m sure.”  Dimples twinkling as he continued sampling.

One more taste wouldn’t hurt. Would it?

.

.

She ordered three scoops and a tub to go.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

 The King woke up in the darkest part of night,the time when the back alleys came alive and ugly creatures roamed unchecked. He stared into the blackness, listening to the steady beat of the wind against the window panes, thinking about the dream that had disturbed his sleep.

Her large amber brown eyes had shone with unfallen tears, her shoulders had been hunched in defeat.  Why she should haunt his dreams now, he could not fathom. He’d made men cry, fought his way out of the streets, destroyed many to survive, some so young they still had their milk teeth intact. If he were to be haunted, surely it was those ghosts that should be drifting through his sleep.

Not the doe eyes of a naïve woman who bruised as easy as a pear.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Cheers

Sohaa