Three
“And you know what happened next.”
Silence fell in the room as Khusveer turned to look out of the large French Windows. Fateh took a deep breath as he digested all that his father informed him. His mind full of questions and muddled thoughts, he went towards his father.
Fateh Singh Virk had always admired his father. From a young age, he had remained in awe of his persona, his aura, and his intimidating presence that had filled every nook and cranny of his life. Being the eldest son, he had been brought up as the heir; often put to various rigorous training regimes. Kept away from his mother for long intervals, Fateh had been exposed to the matters of the Virk Empire from an early age. He had been made to tag along with his father or grandfather as they conducted business; hiding none of the games and plots from his young eyes.
And Fateh had soaked it in.
His talent for boxing and his unfurling merit had made him an even better asset to his father. Because that was how Khushveer Singh Virk saw all his children – as assets or liabilities. He had witnessed firsthand the fates of those who ended up being liabilities and this had made him push himself harder and harder to make his father proud. His series of victories in the under 14 tournaments and then under 18 ones had sealed his success and given him the recognition of his potential. As such, his father had taken the measured decision of sending him away for further training. Ten years had passed since the day when he had been sent from his home and as he stood in the present, facing his father; it felt as if nothing had changed.
His father was still that majestic persona despite the hit to his reputation and dreams. And he was still that animated doll who would end up nodding his head to perform.
“What do you expect of me Papa Ji?” he asked, his tone steadier than what he would have imagined. His face remained blank, hiding all his thoughts as they always did.
“I do not have to spell it out,” Khushveer murmured as he turned to look at him. His eyes blazing; he held out a hand and grasped his shoulder tightly. “You are my heir and this is the first time I am giving you an opportunity to prove yourself. To date, both your elder sister and brother have miserably failed. On the other hand, that Harman Sandhu’s son seems to be as adept at games as his father. So, this time, I want to see my son tackle them. I want to see you manage this situation. They have managed to give me a deep wound,” his voice turned guttural, “and I want it avenged.”
Fateh laid his hand on his father’s grip and clutched it tightly. He bowed his head and watched the dark gaze soften.
“I trust you, my boy. Go, make me proud.”
His father’s words fell on him like liquid steel, binding his body in a firm grip as it hardened. He gently kissed his hand and backed out of the room, his thoughts in a disarray. For all the years he had been away; he had missed his home, his siblings, and his entire world. All except the corroding acid-like enmity that had festered as a perpetual wound in their family. He had seen everyone change by it, some turning harsher, others becoming more fearful. It had altered everyone to a large extent; some so changed that they could not be recognized as themselves anymore.
It was to one such person that he hastened to meet and an hour later with Buzzo by his side, he stood in front of his younger brother's room. Hesitation crept into him. It had been years since they had communicated freely. In these ten years, he could count on his fingers the number of times they had conversed on phone. And yet, some bonds never fade, and bringing back a memory of their childhood, he raised his hand to knock thrice with a sharp rhythm and rapped his knuckles flatly in the fourth knock; slamming his palm on the fifth. It had been their code when they had been untainted by this corrosive enmity.
The door opened with a creak and Amrik looked back at his brother. His face was expressionless as he eyed him and slowly opened the door wide.
“Welcome Fateh Veere,” he said slowly as if testing the long-spoken words. Fateh took a deep breath and entered his room.
The room was rather dark, the walls painted in shades of brown and harsh greys.
Wooden panels covered the walls with bookcases adorned on them; stuffed with big fat volumes. A large king-sized bed dominated the room, with grey velvet sheets covering it. It looked comfortable and luxurious but also looked as if it had been never touched. Next to the bed lay a small cot, barely large enough for a man to sleep. A rather flat pillow lay there with a sheet heaped next to it. It looked worn out and messy; its use was apparent.
There was a large mirror on the wall, with an intricately worked border. On the extreme right, Gym tools were stacked on various platforms; from weights to other accessories. The closet was fitted into the wall and opposite it lay a door that opened to the balcony which overlooked the main road.
Without a word, Amrik handed switched on the laptop.
“I suppose you are here for information?” he asked tonelessly. He browsed through the files and clicked on open. “Here’s everything about the Sandhus that I could gather. You can begin your work from this,” he paused, and something shifted in his eyes, “unless you would like to do your own research. Mine may be faulty.”
Fateh eyed him carefully and with a sigh closed the laptop. Amrik stared at him puzzled and Fateh did what he had wanted to, since the moment he came to the room. He reached out to him and pulled him into a hug, wrapping his arms around him. Amrik stiffened and stayed stoically for some time before his body began to relax. His hands slowly inched up and he hesitantly patted him on his back.
A grin spread on his face and Fateh tightened the hold, making Amrik groan; almost.
“Missed you chote!” he mumbled with a happy feeling growing in him as his brother responded. Amrik patted him almost hurriedly to be done with it and when finally, Fateh detached himself; Amrik looked flushed and harried with his hair all mussed up. But the best thing was, he had lost the stern look on his face and as he glared at his brother; it almost felt like the past was their present.
“So,” he coughed eyeing Fateh’s hand, wary of any more hugs, “information? Shall I mail you the file?”
“Naah,” Fateh drawled out, and clambered on top of the bed, as he flopped on it like a limp fish. Amrik almost winced. “I hate reading. You tell me. I am sure you must have memorized everything.”
“Fine,” Amrik bit out, sounding almost sulky that his brother seemed to have decided to settle in his room. And if that was not enough, Buzzo who had stayed by the door, now entered with a cheeky smile, planting himself on his recliner with a huff.
“Hullo Amrit!” he called out to him with a bright grin.
“It is Amrik; with a k. Not t,” Amrik gritted his teeth as he repeated the same thing for the umpteenth time. “It has been years now. How hard is it to memorize a name? Something must be seriously wrong with your brain cells.”
“Calm down Amrik!” Fateh called out. “You know he loves teasing you.”
Amrik rolled his eyes and settled against the wall, leaning onto it.
“You met Papa Ji?” he questioned, his eyes on his brother.
“Yes,” Fateh answered simply and rolled around to look at him. “Was the video that bad?”
“If you call confessing to destroying acres of land and rendering hundreds of men unable to cultivate again, along with farmer suicides and debt issues; just to take revenge on one family a bad matter –yeah, it was bad,” Amrik answered dryly.
“But Uncle Ji sure looked like one of those Bollywood villains, dashing entry, evil laugh, and angry eyes,” Buzzo blurted out, his face permanently shaped into a dopey grin.
Fateh rolled his eyes and Amrik looked at him calculatingly.
“I dare you to say this in front of Papa Ji,” Amrik posed and Buzzo immediately back away, his grin wiped clean.
“How did this happen?” Fateh went on as if nothing interrupted. “Papa Ji told me that the surveillance was your job –”
Amrik felt his temper flare. “If you mean to say that I did wrong –”
“Stop jumping to conclusions Amrik,” Fateh rubbed his temple. “I am not accusing you. I know you are perfect in your job. Whoever did it, is a very dangerous player to be able to hoodwink you. Have you perhaps thought that it was an –”
“– insider job?” Amrik finished for him. “Yes, I did. Papa Ji may not be happy with me but even he knows the possibility of that is the largest. Which is why no one knows you are back here. Biji and Mummy Ji have left for Maachi’s place along with Mahi. The servants are gone for the day. And the security has been increased. Only Papa Ji, Buzzo, and I know of your arrival. And that is how it will stay for now. Anyway, forget about what happened. Have you thought of how you are going to proceed?”
“I have,” Fateh replied musingly as he looked up at the ceiling. “But it is not something I can do alone.” He turned to look at his brother with a question in his eyes. “Whatever will happen next can not be a one-man plan. It will need a team and what better team than two blood-brothers, to avenge their family’s reputation?”
Amrik blinked back at him. “You want my help?”
“Not help,” Fateh shook his head and looked at him with a glaring intensity. “I need a partner and an equal partnership. I need someone to hold the rope as I jump and fish me out when I end up drowning. I need someone whom I can trust with my life. Someone who will never let me give up, no matter what. Can you promise me that Chote?”
Amrik looked at him thoughtfully. “Papa Ji does not trust me anymore,” he whispered softly, his eyes unreadable.
“Do I have a beard?” Fateh asked suddenly.
“What?” Amrik was nonplussed.
“Do I have a beard?” Fateh asked slowly.
“No,” Amrik answered, confused at the sudden change of subject.
“Do I have a perpetual frown on my face with anger on my nose?”
“No?”
“Well,” Fateh declared as he settled back on the bed, “if I don’t look like Papa Ji, I don't behave like him; then why will I think like him? I am Fateh and I will think like Fateh.” He shot him an imperious look. “You in or not?”
Amrik looked at him for a long time and a brief hint of a smile spread on his lips. “I understand you need another brain to help you plan it out. I am yet to understand the need of the clown,” he remarked, gesturing to Buzzo who was watching the dynamic with interest. At his remark, Buzzo swelled up and Fateh grinned.
“Well, we will need someone to get us food, don’t we?”
An hour later after sending Buzzo off to get pizzas, the two brothers sat on the floor, files, and documents spread around them.
“So let me get this straight,” Amrik looked at the plans, “you are not going headfast to Abhiraj or Harman Sandhu or his brother at all?”
“No,” Fateh looked at his plans. “You see, the Sandhus have been winning because they have played it smart. Brute force can only take you to an extent. Look at what happened to Papa Ji. He wanted revenge and he got it but years later it cost him his career. I don’t want to make the same mistake again. I will not put my career at stake. Also, I am not hurting any innocent. This is why this time we will focus on the other Sandhus.”
“Ok,” Amrik mused. “Whom do we start with? We have generations of enmity with them. I mean it began when Sukhmini Kaur Sandhu eloped with her lover on the day she was supposed to marry Bauji’s brother. Then her eldest son Harman Singh Sandhu and Papa Ji followed up with years of rivalry and plotting to hurt each other. Also, we have Rupi Sandhu who managed to –” he stooped short and looked at his brother, as understanding dawned on him.
Fateh gave him a slow shark-like smile. “As per your reports, Harman has two sons – Abhiraj and Navjot. Rupi Sandhu has a son called Dilraj. And most interestingly, he has two daughters too.”
“Tejo and Jasmine,” Amrik uttered their names, his brow furrowed. “We have never really bothered with them much.”
“Well brother, it is time to bother then. What do you know about them? Their behaviours? Their characters? Age? Are they married?”
“Well,” Amrik began, “neither of them is married yet. I guess the eldest will be married off soon. She is a year older than you. The younger one is eighteen.”
“Hmm,” Fateh leaned back on the wall. “How are they exactly? Do you have any pictures?”
“Here’s one of Jasmine,” Amrik handed the photo to him. Fateh looked at her carefully, his eyes flitting over the round dimpled face and wide eyes.
“Looks like a hair-brained idiot,” he remarked, chucking the photograph to the side.
“She is naïve,” Amrik agreed. “Sheltered and spoiled. She thinks she is a princess and should get everything she wants. Her family actually caters to it.”
“What about the elder one?”
“Tejo Kaur Sandhu,” Amrik bit his lip. “Now that is where we don’t have much information.”
“What?” Fateh perked up, suddenly curious. “Why?”
“She has been away for years,” Amrik shrugged. “Went for higher studies and rarely returned to Moga. She was pursuing her doctorate degree, I think. However, according to my sources, she would be returning soon too. Also, I have seen her once before but we do not have any photographs of her. She has no social media accounts; next to no social media presence. No pictures; nothing.”
“Forget her then,” Fateh dismissed the choice with a wave. “No use going after the bookworm elder sister when the younger one is easily accessible.”
“Are you sure?” Amrik asked slowly.
“Of course, I am. If I go after that Tejo girl, the family will expect marriage. Jasmine is a safe option till Tejo is unmarried. I just need to become their trustworthy member; I have no plans actually marrying any of them.”
“I was not asking about that,” Amrik pursed his lips. “Are you sure you want to go down the route of using the daughters? I mean, we have never done something like this and I don’t like it. These kinds of dirty games are played by them not us.”
“Exactly Amrik! These kinds of games are played by them. And this time they need to learn how it feels to be on the receiving end.” His voice turned dark as memories shifted in his mind. “Or have you forgotten what Rupi Sandhu actually did?”
Amrik looked at his brother silently. People had always called them the sun and the moon. Fateh had shone brightly, welcoming everyone with his sunny personality while Amrik had been like the soft dewy moon, silently following his elder brother. But what people never realized was that just like the moon had its scars; the bright sun also had layers of darkness, cloaked inside to hide it from the eyes of the world. And in moments such a these, they would become prominent.
“There is one small problem in this game,” Amrik said softly.
“What is it? I don’t think they know of me at all. Wasn’t my identity hidden from everyone?” Fateh questioned.
“It is not that. No one knows anything about you. But the problem is rather Jasmine Sandhu herself.”
“What is it?”
“She shares her grandmother’s obsessive dream of settling in Canada,” he replied flatly. “Remember that’s why her grandmother had eloped with Baldev Sandhu because he had promised to take her to Canada; something that Bauji's brother had refused. Well, Bauji had enacted his revenge by framing Baldev so that he could never apply for a Green Card but while enmity festered in her sons; her dreams seemed to have made house inside her granddaughter. Jasmine Sandhu will only come close to someone who has a job in Canada or is a permanent citizen there.”
“Seriously?” Fateh sounded almost revolted. “That’s the criteria to select a husband? Oh, God!”
“I know,” Amrik nodded and all of a sudden gave an impish smile that brightened his otherwise serious face. “You are the one who wanted Jasmine Sandhu. But it looks like you are going to be sitting for job interviews first.”
Fateh sent him a stink eye and for the first time in years, Amrik broke into laughter.
Edited by mistofshadows - 4 years ago
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