EPISODE 22
“You just missed Kirti!” Krishna exclaimed, upon Pallavi’s return to the shop.
“Did you tell her where I was? Or whom I was with?”
Krishna shook her head.
Pallavi congratulated herself on her foresight.
When she and Raghav left Koffee Kahani, he appeared to expect to walk back with her. His vehicle was parked not far from the shop. But she had stopped him. She told him that it was best not to be seen together—and in the future, he should not visit the shop.
People knew who he was—and it was possible that someone might let it slip in Kirti’s presence that he was a frequent visitor at Deshmukh Saree Emporium.
She was a bit surprised that he hadn’t thought her overly fastidious. He had given a nod of agreement and stepped away from her side, gesturing with his hand that she should carry on.
Just as she had turned the corner, she looked back—curious to see which direction he might have taken—and was strangely exhilarated to see that he remained at the door. His eyes were on her.
“She dropped these off for us to review—” Krishna was saying, opening a folder for Pallavi to see. “She called them ‘preliminary sketches’,” Krishna laughed in awe, “but they look quite polished to me—Didi?—you don’t like them?” Krishna was frowning.
Pallavi shook her head. “I’m sure they’re lovely. It’s just that I have such a lot to acquaint you with right now that seems more urgent.”
Krishna said, “Yes, you came in jumping this morning with some big news—.”
Pallavi sighed, “I wish we could just shut the shop and go for a two-hour lunch and chat undisturbed.”
“What a good idea!” Krishna exclaimed.
“Should we?” Pallavi bit her lip hoping to be convinced.
It felt so self-indulgent. She had just spent an hour at coffee this morning—and now she was considering a two-hour lunch.
If Raghav Rao saw this conduct she imagined he would say, ‘Do you do any real work or do you just play at being a shop-girl?’
She could imagine exactly how his brow would quirk, and how his lip would curl—and that expression in his dark eyes—
“—Let’s go! Before someone comes!” Krishna laughed. She ran to get her purse from the storeroom and quite literally pulled Pallavi down the steps. Together they drew the shutter down. While Pallavi locked it, Krishna told their neighbour that should anyone ask, they would be back by two.
Hand-in-hand, they ran off like two schoolgirls playing truant.
***
“Married in Mumbai?” Krishna’s spoon paused dramatically over a giant thali. “But why fake his death?” she asked.
A very good question.
It seems, Sisters, Mandhar had never been interested in following in the footsteps of Baba—to dispense sarees at Deshmukh Saree Emporium. No, his dream was to work as a fashion photographer.
“Telling Aayi and Baba that he was visiting friends, he would make frequent trips to Mumbai to shoot for magazines. There he met a model and they married.”
“Without telling anyone?” Krishna asked.
Pallavi shrugged. It had been over twelve hours since that revelatory conversation with Aayi—and it still hadn’t quite sunk in.
“So when you and your college friends went to Mumbai that weekend—that weekend you met him—he was already married to her?”
“Yes. He saw my inheritance dangling like ripe fruit to be plucked!” Pallavi spat out the words, unable to prevent pure venom from entering her voice.
Krishna placed her hand on top of Pallavi’s and said, “After lunch we fly to Mumbai and throw him off his seafront balcony.”
Pallavi laughed. “Oh, Krishna—please tell me you are not joking—because I want us to do exactly that.”
“I’m absolutely serious.” Krishna solemnly declared. Adding, “In fact, I don’t understand why Aayi didn’t take you and Baba with her when she went to meet him.”
Almost to the day of the first anniversary of Mandhar’s leaving, Aayi had learnt from the investigators that Mandhar was not dead—but living the high life in Juhu with a woman of foreign extraction.
Pallavi said, “She didn’t want to alarm the family. Aayi was convinced Mandhar had come under the influence of some black magic. And she wanted to understand everything before she told us.”
“I don’t mean to be disrespectful of Aayi—she is a wonderful person—but that is just ridiculous!” Krishna stated, popping a piece of poori into her mouth.
“I know, Krishna—and she admits now she was in denial. When she saw Mandhar again she said it was like meeting a stranger. He had no guilt nor remorse. He kept repeating the same thing—ever since he was a boy, Baba had stifled every freedom in his life and that the only way he felt he could be himself was to be dead to them.”
Krishna sighed. “Well, Baba does like to have his own way.”
Pallavi nodded. When Aayi had repeated Mandhar’s words to her last night, she had understood—in part—why he might have felt it necessary to do what he did. “Yes, after living with Baba this past year—I know how difficult he can be. But that does not excuse Mandhar—!”
“No! Nothing can excuse him,” Krishna affirmed.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, reflecting on what Mandhar had done.
Pallavi said, “This morning, I felt so free and light—“
Krishna interrupted, “—I meant to tell you, Didi—you look very pretty today!”
Pallavi smiled her thanks and said, “But when I saw Aayi, she seemed like she had aged a decade overnight. I felt so guilty, Krishna. You should have seen her face when I told her that he had virtually bankrupted the shop and stolen my inheritance—she was as white as this tablecloth.”
Krishna said, “Again—not to be disrespectful of Aayi—but she is right to feel badly. You were a young woman—without family or protector—brought home by their son— for the sole purpose of swindling your inheritance. He made you fall in love with him—all the while—he had a wife waiting in Mumbai. I’m sorry, Didi—but they must compensate you for your loss.”
“You know the state of their finances—they cannot dream of returning my inheritance,” Pallavi said.
“They have Deshmukh Niwas—” Krishna began.
“—I would never allow them to sell their home,” Pallavi declared. “I will have my inheritance back—” she continued. “Immediately after Mansi’s wedding, Aayi will tell the family what Mandhar has done. And I will seek legal redress.”
Krishna refilled their tumblers with water and said, “So we delay tossing him over the balcony until after your money is returned.”
Pallavi laughed, “That’s probably best.” And they clinked their tumblers to mark their resolve.
Krishna said, “Now that you know you are not Mandhar’s widow—that your wedding was not binding—what are your plans?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you planning to now return to Kolhapur? Because if you do—please take me with you!” Krishna begged.
Pallavi reached out to pinch Krishna’s gorgeous cheeks. “I’m going nowhere. I’m not Mandhar’s widow but Aayi and Baba are my parents. I love this family. I love this shop. In fact, I am determined to make Deshmukh Saree Emporium a super success. That is going to be my life’s work.”
And then Pallavi proceeded to tell Krishna about the other matter. About her bargain with Raghav. About Kirti. About the neccessity of absolute secrecy.
Pallavi had told Raghav that she would not disclose their arrangement to anyone—but Krishna would be informed. He had resisted but finally agreed when she told him that Krishna was her secret weapon—her Farhad.
***
Farhad entered Raghav’s office. The room was in darkness. He flicked on the lights—
Raghav was seated at the desk!
“Annah!” Mouthing a startled oath, he asked, “Why are you sitting in the dark?”
Raghav replied, “It wasn’t dark when I sat down.”
Farhad approached to hand him a large ornate envelope. “I came to drop this on your desk. It came by courier this afternoon. It’s from Mrs Raje’s personal secretary.”
“It’s an invitation to her birthday party—” and without allowing Farhad to express surprise, Raghav asked, “Farhad, you are a student of history—tell me about Baji Rao.”
Farhad turned crinkled eyes to the ceiling as if recollecting a long-forgotten school lecture. “Maratha. Peshwa. Diplomat. Warrior. Never lost a battle. Two lovers. Why are you suddenly interested in Baji Rao?”
Raghav turned to the window, and looking at the twinkling lights of the city below, he said, “I’m afraid I might end up being Baji Rao’s second lover.”
Farhad was silenced. And then he finally said, “The last time I came in here and you said you had met my cousin from Lucknow. This time you say you want to have sex with an eighteenth century warrior. Is this room haunted?”
Raghav turned to him and gave a laugh. “Possibly.” He reached for the paper knife and opened the invitation.
“Will you attend the party?” Farhad asked.
Raghav shrugged.
“If there is nothing else, Annah, I’m going out for dinner.”
“What’s her name?” Raghav lifted his eyes.
Farhad gave a laugh. “Ammi. She complains I don’t see enough of her.”
Raghav said, “She’s right. I take up all your time.”
“Join us,” Farhad suggested. “The best biryani in Hyderabad is made in Ammi’s kitchen.”
“Another time. Give her my love.”
Farhad strode to leave. At the door, he stopped and teased, “Lights off or on?”
But Raghav appeared to be deep in his own thoughts. Yet just as Farhad was closing the door, Raghav said, “Farhad, call up Vivek. I want to see him tomorrow morning.”
“The private investigator?”
Raghav gave a nod. “I want to know everything about a man called Mandhar Deshmukh.”
“Is he related to Pallavi Deshmukh?” Farhad asked.
“Yes,” Raghav said. “She is his widow.”
Edited by JalebiJane - 3 years ago
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