PBD INDEX
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 29 Part1
Chapter 29 Part 2
Chapter 30
Chapter 31 Part 1
Chapter 31 Part2
Chapter 32
Chapter 33 - Part1
Chapter 33 - Part2
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36 - part1
Chapter 36 - part 2
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
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Chapter 44 - Part1
October 3rd, Bangalore
“Vasantha… will you ask someone to fetch two bags from the store room?” Ameena requested. “To put clothes in. About this size should be good,” she demonstrated. “Also, you’ll see a stack of Saris on the dresser in our bedroom. They’re wrapped in brown paper covers. Can you please get them too?” Waving the spatula, she complained to her son. “Abdul forgot Sara’s Saris even after her warning to not forget. Poor girl had to rush to hospital after lunch yesterday and your bhulakkad friend acted exactly as she had predicted. Are you going to his penthouse or is he coming here today?”
“It will be his house.” Jalal said, dipping the Dosa in chutney. “I’ll deliver it for you. Who’s the second bag for?”
“Sayyid’s daughters.” Ameena said, scraping the thin crepe off the pan. “There was designer expo at Hitex last week. They Facetime-ed me and selected some suits.”
“You checked in two suitcases for people’s saris and salwars?” Jalal quipped, sharing an entertained glance with his dad. “What’s the deal with women and Hyderabad anyway? As if Bangalore has no boutiques.”
“Sara prefers handlooms and she trusts my taste, but you know that already.” Ameena said, eyeing the duo seated at the kitchen island and helping themselves to pan-to-plate hot Dosas. “And Sayyid’s daughters buy everywhere. If they were born in the sixties, they’d have asked Neil Armstrong to bring them some suits from the Moon. Anyway, who is ‘women’? Who else loves shopping in Hyderabad?”
“Aren’t Sara and Smitha enough?” Jalal masked the slip up with a sigh. “They’re always in need of something or the other from Hyderabad.”
“Understandably so.” Usman remarked. “Hyderabad has the diversity that Bangalore lacks. We are a fusion of Nizami, Mughlai, Marvadi, Andhra, Telangana cultures and thanks to the IT boom, we are more westernized than the West itself. It’s a consumer’s paradise.”
“Can’t deny that.” Jalal seconded, munching on a cucumber slice as he waited for his next Dosa.“I’ve some errands to run before lunch. You guys need me for anything?”
“Nope. What are you in mood for lunch?” Ameena asked, sliding the paper roast crepe into her son’s plate.
“Maa.. Don’t raid Mani’s kitchen in his absence. He will not appreciate it.” Sharing a knowing look with the entering Vasantha, Jalal jested. “But if you insist, treat us to your Jaffrani Pulao and Mirchi ka Salan. Tomorrow is Eid and you’ll anyway make gosht and chicken. Keep it simple today.” Vasantha smiled in approval, putting the Saris aside. It wasn’t often that she got to taste other cuisines. The last time when she was in the Ahmed household for the baby shower party, she got a chance to taste some of Ameena’s authentic Hyderabadi dishes. That was more than a year ago and needless to be told, she was looking forward for another taste of the rich and flavorful Nizami delicacies.
“Why am I not asked for my preferences?” Usman frowned and the mother and son ganged up, with Vasantha playing judge, about how only Jalal deserved all the royal treatment. Their bantering fled from one topic to the other till they landed at Jodha and the impending death anniversary of her parents.
“Last year when it happened, we were in Delhi with Dadu and Taya.” Usman said. “We visited Saradhi ji later, I think a few days after the final rites.”
“You didn’t see Jodha then?” Jala asked.
“No.” Ameena shook her head. “She was in her room. Prameela ji insisted to call her out but I let her be. That time was hardly appropriate for introductions and small talk. If it were me, I’d prefer to be left alone. I was so fed up with people flocking our home after the debacle with the Khans that we said enough is enough and flew to Delhi. To be honest, I didn’t even know what to say to a girl whose life upended overnight. Why put her through more misery with mundane questions and consolations?”
“Why didn’t I hear of the accident?” Jalal turned to his father. “Did you help with the police case, Abbu?”
“He did.” Ameena said, taking a seat at the island while Vasantha took over the Dosas.
“We mentioned it much later to you. It must have slipped your mind amidst the chaos that your life was then. You hardly had time for anything other than work.”
“Hmm.” Jalal agreed. His mind must have been out of its element, else how couldn’t he draw parallels between Jodha and Saradhi ji’s surnames ever? Or perhaps it’s her name that threw him off the track. It’s hard to peg a typical Telugu family like Saradhi ji’s to give a Rajasthani name to their child.
The conversation shifted to how time flies when Jalal’s phone buzzed with a notification. Seeing a video message from Jodha, the wise man exerted caution and plugged in Bluetooth audio before hitting play.
bahon ke darmiyan do pyar mil rahe hai (Two hearts are meeting in the middle of embracement)
bahon ke darmiyan do pyar mil rahe hai…
A coy looking Jodha danced, side hugging a grumpy looking penguin that wore his green shirt and sat atop the bathroom vanity. What in the world! Jalal couldn’t contain his laughter.
“What are you laughing at?” Ameena slanted to steal a peek but Jalal pulled the phone away winking. “Forwarded joke. Not parents’ appropriate”.
khulte band hote labon ki yeh ankahi (The lips that open and close do say something)
mujhse keh rahi hai ke badhne de bekhudi (They're telling me to let my restlessness grow)
mil yoon ke daud jaaye nas nas mein bijliyan (Meet me in such a way that lightning flows through my veins)
For the last line Jodha poked a finger into the toy-man's heart, shook violently like getting electrocuted and in a blink, she switched to an overtly demure - bahon ke darmiyan… do pyar mil rahe hain!
The video ended with her posing towards the camera, a haughty elbow on the toy man’s shoulder and her fingers shaping into a ‘wait n watch’ warning.
Crazy woman! Jalal laughed impressed. She’s bringing it on indeed! He replayed the clip, this time focusing on each and every expression of the silly girl.
“Perfect, thank you!” Seeing a young maid fetch two bags, Ameena looked up from her plate. “Keep the bigger one aside and the Saris can go into the second one.”
Vasantha took the bag from the girl, unzipped it and spread it wide open. The young maid picked the pile of saris and proceeded to pack them. Soon, she hissed abruptly withdrawing her hand.
“What?” Ameena inquired and the girl took the Saris out explaining that something pricked. She ran a cautious hand over the insides of the bag, unzipped the inner pocket and took out a two inch thorn strand. The couple looked at the strange thorn, debating on how it must have gotten inside when Jalal’s gaze snapped from his phone to the scene before him. He studied the bag and the thorn, which was now placed on the countertop, and something clicked in him. His fingers shot out to grab the strand and brought it closer. The tip of one of the thorns was stained, bringing forth a hazy memory of a certain foggy winter morning.
Ah… the eclectic beach girl! His eyes twitched with humor. Wonder who she is and where she is now! His smile turned mischievous, imagining sharing this piece of information with his possessive woman. She might excuse you for helping a damsel in distress! His intuitive mind suggested. But admitting that you kept the thorn as a token of that meet-cute… that’s suicidal. She will gladly gouge your eyeballs out with the very sweet token!
“Why are you inspecting it as if it is a museum object?” Ameena broke his reverie. “How did it come into the bag? That too into an inner pocket as if someone had placed it there?”
Jalal dropped it next to his plate, sniggering. “It’s from Goa. I remember it digging into my shoe near the parking lot. I might’ve slipped it into the bag to dispose it later.” He lied through his teeth without missing a beat. The young maid repacked the bag and was about to take the thorn away when Jalal dismissed her. “Leave it.” He winked at his curiously watching mother. “I have to prick someone with it.”
Usman stared at his wife and son’s exchange, the corners of his eyes crinkling with content. For the father, it felt like eons since he had last seen this youthful cheer on his son. Four Wheels, marriage, divorce, crisis – the past few years had been acutely taxing for all of them, especially for Jalal. Of course, the young man took everything in stride but as parents they didn’t miss the deep set seriousness that had become the very fabric of their son off late. It wasn’t like his playful demeanor had entirely vanished… but the diminution was palpable.
Usman zoned out, his mind trajecting the path of retrospection.
As an ambitious teenager when Jalal spoke of his larger than life dreams, of the innovations he wanted to bring in Automobile industry, he secretly wished his son lost his momentum as he aged. It’s not that he wanted his son to settle for less – Jalal could attend the best universities of the world, learn till the end of everything that is there to be learnt and when he is satisfied, he could build a career doing whatever he is pleased to do. All he hoped for his son was to not fall prey to an all-consuming passion for profession and lose sight of the significant aspects of life like love, friendship, content, companionship.
But who was he kidding? Jalal was, after all, his blood. If he had allowed ambitions, accomplishments and adrenaline to define his very existence then why’d his son choose differently? So… when Jalal announced his decision to become an entrepreneur, an all-devouring pursuit in itself, he knew he couldn’t talk his son out of it. His wife wasn’t happy with their son’s decision either, because as the first victim of her husband’s power-hungry chase she knew all too well what a sneaky ‘rat race’ these big dreams could be. They all begin with nobler intentions, holier than thou ideologies… but sooner than later, the race becomes so vicious that you no longer remember why and where you’re running.
True to their worries, their son’s rat race very soon led to the first fallout – the divorce! One might blame Aliya for her insensitive actions but the absence of companionship, the lack of mutual understanding in their marriage since day one that led to the D-Day, couldn’t be ignored.
When Jalal got engaged, he and Ameena had cautioned him – that marriage needs the same dedication as his career, if not more. At least for the first few years, until they’ve established a strong sense of trust and partnership, both Aliya and he has to diligently work on each other. Careers can be built and broken… but relationships, when broken, leave a vacuum that no amount of ambition can fill! Life’s funda is simple – people need people! And people mend people – not projects, not successes, not bank balances!
But their caution, like with everything else on the younger dynamos, fell deaf. Two years of slogging away their lives, one for Regal and one for Four Wheels, only occasionally remembering that they’re wife and husband and not business partners – where did their aspirations take them to?
To regret, hurt and a lost life!
If only the tiny life knew what a grave mistake it was committing by choosing two ambitious people as parents!
The elderly man snapped out of his trance, the past leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. His eyes fell on Jalal and recalled his son’s face when they had heard of the abortion.
His son was devasted but the irony is that he couldn’t tell the grieving boy - I told you so– when he himself was a non-existent parent for most of Jalal’s growing years. When Jalal was born, he vowed to not have another child, for he wanted Jalal to be his single and prime focal point. But then… life happened and he didn’t know when his focal point had shifted from his family to his own goals, to his own pursuit, to his own achievements. So… now when their son went about mourning his baby, they could do nothing but stand doggedly by him, gather the broken shards that the young man was and piece him back together.
“Bye Abbu! Will be in time for lunch.” Jalal leaned in for a side hug. “Call me if I’m needed. Will be right back.”
“Will do.” Usman smiled, not missing the undeniable spring to his son’s step.
Hope raised in his heart as he watched the mother and son traipse away.
So far… this visit to Bangalore has been very fulfilling. He got up to wash his hands. There is an unmistakable lightheartedness to Jalal as if a boulder had been lifted off his back. Must be the doing of a certain someone… The shrewd man’s smile stayed obscured behind his thick mustache. …whose topic uncannily slipped into their conversations more often than not. Maybe… The wishful father’s lips recited a prayer. …it’ll be different this time. Maybe Jalal will have his priorities sorted this time! Maybe, this time, his son is shown how to count the true blessings of life!
Six hours later…
Ding!
At the notification pop-up, Jalal’s grimly set lips cracked into a delighted smile. Here comes the third dose! Steering Jaguar towards the private cellar, he couldn’t wait to see what his idiot served this time because the second dose was so compelling that his mind still reeled over it. It came two hours after the first one and unlike the cheesy bahon ke darmiya, the second one had no drama. It was straight, simple and hard hitting.
Aaja mahi mere, aaja mahi mere, aaja mahi mere aa… (Come, come my beloved)
Aahista pukaaro...sab sun lenge (Call me softly or else everyone will hear it)
Bas labon se chhulo... lab sun lenge (Just touch me with your lips, and my lips will hear it)
Haan... aankh bhi kal se, phadak rahi hai… aaja... (My eye is fluttering since yesterday, come)
Aaja mahiya, o oo… aaja mahiya… aaja (Come, my beloved)
Aaja mahiya, o oo… aaja mahiya… aaja (Come, my beloved)
He lost count of how many times he had viewed it, getting lost in her smile, her body hugging sky blue salwar, her silver bangles and her free flowing tresses. Towards the climax, the girl kneeled before the bed, perched her chin on her left palm and nodded sweetly, gesturing to come to her.
If this is how she persuades… The clip ended and he knew he’s a goner …he would let her insult him every month.
Coming out of his thoughts, Jalal parked the car and unlocked his phone.
aa ja re, ab mera dil pukara, (Come to me, my heart is calling now)
ro ro ke gham bhi haara, (even pain got defeated by all my tears)
badnaam na ho pyar mera… (don’t let my love be tarnished)
aa ja re, ab mera dil pukara, (Come to me, my heart is calling now)
aaa… mmmm!
His very own Nargis dramatically looked up from the mattress and sang morosely to the camera. What! Jalal’s shoulders shook with mirth as he rotated the phone to landscape. The sadly pouting girl filled his screen, the camera angle capturing the quiver of her lips vividly.
aa ja re, ab mera dil pukara, (Come to me, my heart is calling now)
ro ro ke gham bhi haara, (even pain got defeated by all my tears)
badnaam na ho pyar mera… (don’t let my love be tarnished)
aa ja re, ab mera dil pukara, (Come to me, my heart is calling now)
aaa… mmmm!
Thank God for the theatrics! Chortling, he shook his head and gave a staunch kiss to the cute idiot. Had he been served with another sweet calling, he would be halfway to Jayanagar now. Locking his phone, he picked the bag from the passenger seat and stepped out.
~~
Hyderabad, Same night
Rao Saab, guilt is such a wasted emotion! What good will you achieve feeling guilty? Nothing…except ruination. Replace it with ruthlessness. Before regretting your choices, remember that no one hands over a farthing freely to you, even if it was yours to begin with. Not even your altruistic friend is capable of such magnanimity. Man up, sir! Don’t fool yourself. Backing off at this juncture will not absolve you of any compunction. You are half way through deep shit waters. Why swim back? Plunge forward. At least you’ll get your retribution and trust me… that’s the best place to be at. I tell you because I was there. Time and again when my chances were confiscated, I didn’t wait by the side for scraps to be thrown at me. I slit throats and gouged out the morsel that was rightfully mine. You’re a man after my heart Saab. You listened to me! You empathized with my losses when no one did… which is why I agreed to finish this for you. I say it again, I’ll do this for YOU… not just for the lure of money you dangled at me. Your friend was my payback, not his daughter. She lives or dies, I don’t give a f*ck. But you do! She has to die if you have to claim your stakes and I’ll see to it too, like I did with your friend and his wife. But for that, I need a clearcut go ahead from you. You can’t put me in pickle with your flickering conscience. Call me when you made up your mind. Whatever it will be, will be the final call, Rao Saab. No more dillydallying. Good night!
Rao buried his nose deeper, trying to catch a whiff of the fading scent. The fresh paint from the walls overpowered everything in the vicinity, including his own stinky alcoholic breath. No wonder his friend’s musk from the year old shirts felt faint! He ran a pining palm over the stack of clothes, locked away in suitcases in the spare bedroom for almost a year. Since the tenants vacated ten days ago, Raghu’s home had become his refuge of sorts. He could now freely frequent the home, during the days to oversee painting works, and at nights to find peace when liquor failed to snub his raving conscience.
The battered man lay between the suitcases throwing his bestie’s shirt over his face. Look at me, my friend! Look at what your dear Rao has become! Are you having an ‘I told you’ moment up there? You were always a better judge of character and I, as always was blindsided by envy!
A lone tear slid from the right eye and sank into his sideburn. If only I had never crossed paths with that viper. He rued, cowering with dread. If only that one fateful evening had panned out differently!
Three years ago, Hyderabad
“There is an inside joke about this hospital.” Srini said, darting an impish glance at the crisp white sheets covering him. “… that they never run out of patients because their bills take care of it.” Boisterous grins echoed in the semi suite room of the city’s most accoladed cardiac center.
“The only perks of Sarkaari Naukri, besides the pension, of course,” Rao seconded. “…is health insurance.”
“Else banda will be entrapped in a perpetual loop here.” Another friend chimed in. “Collapse, get a stent, see the bill, collapse, get a bypass, see the bill, collapse, get an open heart, see the bill, collapse…”
“Bhai saab. Don’t even joke about it.” Srini’s wife pleaded, smiling. “He was kick starting the bike one moment and the next he crumbled with the bike on top of him. My palms sweat even now thinking of what’d have happened if I weren’t there to see him off. Each time I close my eyes, I only see the image of him crumbling down. Please… no jokes about collapsing.”
The friend, understanding the woman’s sentiment, held up his hands apologetically but the ever pragmatic husband fended off. “Destiny is inevitable.” He sprouted philosophy which his wife didn’t appreciate. “Whatever is bound to happen, will happen.”
“Yeah, yeah! All that is good to say but with two unmarried and unsettled daughters, I’m not jinxing my fate with jokes.”
While they bickered, an attendant came to announce the end of visiting hours and the friends got up bidding adieu.
Raghu and Rao walked towards the elevator while the other two friends excused themselves for a quick washroom run. As they waited, they saw a little boy being wheeled out of the elevator. A young couple trailed behind the boy and the nurses and Raghu frowned, recognizing the man. From the dynamics of the man and the woman, it was evident they were a couple and the astute man’s lips pursed in thought.
“Who are they?” Rao asked his friend. “That man looks familiar.”
“Shyam Kumar.” Raghu said, his gaze chasing the folks that disappeared into the ward. “Remember the bank clerk who forged my signatures?”
“Right, right. He’s out?” Rao looked surprised. “It has been four years already?! You think that boy is his son?”
“No idea because he was unmarried when he was arrested. In fact, he mentioned in his statement that he needed money for his wedding. He couldn’t arrange it and had to resort to fraud out of compulsion. When did he marry and have a son? Doesn’t that boy look older than two years?”
Rao nodded shrugging. “He brought his son here means it must be some serious condition. How does he even afford the treatment here if he’s out of jail only recently. I don’t think the government health card covers the premium treatment this hospital is famous for. Should we check on him?”
Raghu stood indecisive and before he could make up his mind, Shyam stepped out talking to the nurses. His eyes fell on the two men staring at him and his face tightened with recognition. Raghu greeted him, breaking the ice and the friends approached the worried man asking after him. Shyam told them that his son was born with Atrial Septal defect, a hole in the tiny heart big enough to warrant a surgical closure.
“I’m doing on and off gigs as a driver and electrician, sir.” Shyam shared his current state of affairs. “But no wants to give a second chance to a released convict. The court punished me only for three years sir, but the society will continue to punish till I die. Honesty and all belong only in moral stories, sir. In the real world, no one wants honesty. Everywhere I went for an interview, they’d ask me how I lost my last job. When I told the truth, they closed the door on my face as if I tainted their offices with my blackened presence. They are all private financiers, sir…” he smirked impassive. “They think that I don't know how much corruption goes beyond their thousand count khadi suits, Navratan rings, layered gold chains and fat coffers. Fuxking hypocrites calling the kettle black.” His bitterness wrung deep.
“So, here I’m, nine months since the release and yet jobless. My son’s condition was diagnosed recently when he had fainted while playing. Doctors recommended surgery as soon as possible but all the government hospitals in the city put us on a two year waiting list. Private hospitals like this do not accept government health card for critical surgeries Sir, but they accept it for any 'three-day' inpatient admission. Everyone suggested this hospital because it is the best in town. If not the surgery, at least he will get quality care before his condition worsens. He is on daily medication currently and his doctor says that he has good chances of sustaining without the surgery for another year if he doesn’t physically exert too much."
The other two friends had joined and the conversation was cut short but Raghu and Rao got the gist of the situation. “I know some NGOs that are into health care.” Raghu opened his pocket address book and shared the contacts with Shyam. “Especially ‘Little Hearts Foundation'. I’ll put in a word for you. Contact them immediately.” He smiled promisingly to the young man and was about to leave when Rao offered his visiting card to Shyam. “Our bank vehicle will need a driver soon. The current driver will go on a two month leave. It won’t be for long but it can be a good start.” Rao patted on Shyam’s shoulder. “Think about it.”
Raghu stared at his friend’s hand on Shyam’s shoulder for longer than a moment before nodding and walking away. Later in the car, after dropping off the two other friends at their homes, Rao broached the topic. “I thought that Shyam could use some help, but I see that you don’t approve. Why?”
Raghu didn’t comment for a long time. “That man is not what he seems, Rao. Don’t take everything he says at face value. His son needs help and we’ll do what we can. Beyond that, any association with him can be trouble. Did you notice the bitterness and envy behind his rant about job hunt? He’s painting himself as a victim as if he had committed some helpless crime but you remember what he did, right? He scoured through rejected loan applications, approached the people, convinced them that they'll be granted the loan this time, increased the stake of loan by appending his necessity to theirs - like if someone needed a one lakh loan, he made them apply for 1.25 lakhs and took the 25k as his share. He prepped up all paper work and forged not one but a whole bunch of official signatures under bank’s seal. That is not desperation, Rao – that is meticulous, pre-meditated, organized crime. And when he was nabbed, he pled guilty citing his need for money for his upcoming wedding and implored us not to take it to the authorities. He promised to repay the swindled money, collect the loan amounts and set everything right. Like the hell, that is how the bank works! He came to me personally asking for a second chance. He begged for mercy saying that the wedding will be canceled if he got arrested and that his fiancée will greatly suffer. He even swore to slave away his life for me if I protected him this one time. He claimed that I was the most considerate man to ever exist. Funny that he remembered it only after getting caught.”
Rao remained silent, understanding his friend’s tacit reasoning. Had Shyam been an honest man, he’d have approached Raghu first with his problem. As the branch head, Raghu held the powers to arrange for something – like an interest free loan from the bank or a hand loan. But Shyam wasn’t in for help, he was in for free money. A loan came with stipulations like monthly EMIs but fraud money has no such limitations! Every penny is free and unaccountable!
“If the woman we saw by his side at the hospital was the one he was betrothed to four years ago,” Raghu guessed. “…then she must be pregnant at that time. That explains his urgency for the wedding and the three year old son.”
Rao nodded and left the topic at that. He nearly forgot about Shyam until the latter showed up at the bank three days later, asking for him. He had initiated the help, so he couldn't shoo away the man without an explanation now. He had to welcome Shyam and engaged in small talk while he fished for an appropriate excuse to deny the job. The small talk led to Shyam narrating his struggles, the hardships he had been through in life before making it to the position of a bank clerk.
“The people I got the loans sanctioned with my forgery are the people like me Rao Saab," he explained when Rao asked about his reasons behind the crime. "...needy lower middle class householders! Who lends a plumber or an electrician or a daily laborer a hand loan of one lakh for some basic need like a tuition fee or a hospital expense, Saab? Not the banks, not the government. Private financiers are our only respite and once you are in the lair of a loan shark you know there will be no egress. Their hefty interest rates bleed the daily wages out of us, not to forget how we are treated like slaves until the loan is repaid. On one hand these banks deny us basic help citing that we don't have surety, guarantee, supporting documentation, this and that and on the other hand, they sanction hundreds of crores at negligible interest rates to the rich and the affluent. I have seen the records Rao Saab. I've seen how many of these rich people default their payments. The numbers are simply mind boggling. It angered me Saab... I will be denied a two lakh interest free loan if I asked for, but these people get to swindle crores and crores? What kind of justice is this Rao Saab? So I decided to mete out my own justice. Why should I feel ashamed when all the rich have no shame showing off their filthy corrupted faces on TVs and News?"
Shyam condemned the disparities to his heart's content and by the end of it Rao was caught up in a dilemma. Maybe Raghu was hasty in his judgement? He knew his friend's uptight moral standards which had always been a sore point between Raghu and the rest, including himself. They all weren't as scrupulous as Raghu and compromised with their values when it suited them. His friend is too good for his own good and that made him an object of envy in the bureaucratic circle. After all, you scratch my back and I scratch yours is the prime nature of the administrative workforce. Morality, integrity, honesty will get you only so much. If one has to take a leap in their career, one first has to bend the pole aka rules. People can't always be black and white. They should act grey if situation demands. Raghu understands this, yet doesn't encourage or associates himself with such people or circumstances which is why his promotions and perks are always falling behind. They all had started their careers at the same time but most of them are materially well ahead of Raghu, again including himself. Though he had reached the pinnacle of his career sooner than his friend and though the world sees him more successful than his friend, only he knows how much he envies Raghu's uncompromising nature within the heart of his hearts. Since their friendship from the university days, he had nurtured this deep need to prove his friend's ways fallacious. With years, when time and again he had failed to do so, the tenacity seemed to only intensify!
I’ll prove you wrong this time, my friend! Rao decided to be his own judge and give Shyam the benefit of doubt. He rang the bell for his assistant and ordered for an offer letter to be dispatched for the temporary driver position. Shyam shook Rao’s hands with utmost gratitude and pledged his eternal loyalty to the saving grace. At that moment, Rao felt superiorly chivalrous and a better human than his old-fashioned friend.
~~
I laughed at your judgement then! Another tear snuck out. Guess who the joke is on now? You warned not to take Shyam at face value. I thought you evaluated him based on one incident but I forgot that he had worked for you two years before that. Like with every other thing, you were apparently right! That man is a viper. He is an expert manipulator. With powerful word play, he played me right into his manipulation so much so that when his son died and he blamed you for it, I commiserated with him. His rage, his revenge felt justified. That too when I saw that his retribution can be my golden ticket, I stubbed my conscience and allowed your annihilation. Only after you’re gone did my eyes open to what a ‘tiger-ride’ I got into, Raghu! It felt thrilling at the beginning. I was tricked into believing that I was in charge; that I was the one taming the tiger and taking it for a ride, on a course that I dictated. Huh! What a pitiful illusion it was! Only when I reached the point of no return did I realize that I'm only a puny rider, a kathputli at that. That it was and had always been the tiger's joy ride and I was only it's collateral.
The despondent man wiped his eyes with his friend’s shirt. The viper said it’s my call to stop or go ahead but I bet he will not renege nor will allow be to backoff. Ten percent of seventy crores is too much for him to cease. He’ll blackmail me into submission if push comes to shove but there is no stopping. I’m sorry Raghu. I’m sorry Vasu. I'm strapped to the tiger now. I can’t dismount even if I want to. My family, my reputation, my everything is at stake! I have to proceed with killing Jo but only time will tell whose doom is impending – you daughter's or mine!
Bangalore, same night
“Day or night… bindi in sight
Rain or shine… dupatta in line!
Blanket folded… haha ha
Wet towel on the bed… na na na!!”
Putting the hairdryer away, Jodha picked up the Sweet Almond oil bottle.
“Water… water…where are you?
Here I’m… In the bucket, only one for you!”
What’d be the rich people’s version of this? Her slick fingers paused. What do the posh mothers drill their daughters with? She thoughtfully slathered the oil over her feet. Obviously, not about dupattas and bindis! No rich girl in my class ever fidgeted with a dupatta. Hell... there weren’t any suits in sight half the time. Only skimpy tops and torn jeans!
And they definitely don’t care about water ration or strewn towels when they are born into jet showers and a horde of staff to clean up after them! So… what exactly are these wealthy girls taught?
Peeling the tiny maroon sticker off the wall, she slapped it to her forehead and stared at the mirror. You will be the last of your kind Jodhu! She told her reflection. Your middle class mediocrity will soon be an extinct art form like the village theater. Your parody rhymes have to die with you because they’ll make no sense to the children born into Ahmed household.
She sighed dramatically. Pardon me Vasu and Ammamma! Pardon me for my inability to pass on your generational wisdom!
Slipping a scrunchie on to her wrist, she stepped out of the bathroom and broke into a sprint hearing her phone ring.
“Of all days, you chose today to sleep early?” Jalal quipped as soon as she answered. “And here I thought you wouldn’t catch a wink until I caved in.”
“Ek to chori upar se seenazori?” Jodha remarked, plopping onto the bed. “Twenty two hours and four videos ke baad ab aapko fursat mila to acknowledge me and that too with a taunt?! Tch.. tch!” She switched the fan on and finger combed her semi wet scalp. “I wasn’t sleeping. I was taking a shower if that helps you sleep better tonight.”
“Shower at ten thirty?” Jalal’s husky brag seared her ear. “Somebody missing me.”
“Oh! How I miss you!” Jodha drawled conspicuously, pulling the pillow into her lap. “But sorry, the shower is not in your honor boss. It’s because of a slimy green ogre. Forget that. You finally called…” she asked impish. “Does that mean we are good? The persuasion worked?!”
“Girl… you can’t mention an ogre and leave it at that.” Jalal demanded. “What happened? Are Ramesh’s thoughts troubling you?”
“Aw! How perceptive! Bandi here is impressed.” She rocked back and forth, hugging a pillow. “Agree that Ramesh is an ogre… but why’ll I call him green? I was referring tothe OG slimy worms. This evening, Peddamma’s Rotary club dropped off a minitruck load of plants. The club’s October goal is plant distribution. She forgot about it amidst the sudden Tirupati visit and all. They sent almost twenty plants – outdoor ones are okay, they can be left as is until we return from Hyderabad but the indoor ones will die. So… some were packed off to Badepapa’s office, some were sent with Ranga to distribute in his apartment and the rest we had to transfer to pots. Here is the thing when it comes to gardening boss. I don’t mind the physical labor as long as the green, brown, black or whatever palette they came in creatures stay out of my way. This is FYI too because you own a garden. No crawling minions on or around your beautiful roses, please.”
“What if there are?” Jalal probed, amused.
“Then forget your garden, you won’t see me anywhere within ten mile radius of Indira Nagar. Bless all God’s creation boss, but my universal kinship draws a line at these creepy fellas. There is no love lost on my side but for some God forsaken reason, they love me a little too much… like a bubblegum to a slipper.” Her lips curled in distaste. “Same situation this evening too. I didn’t know when but a green worm fell on my braid. My shrewd matlabi mother kept mum as usual, ‘coz, of course why alert and lose the free majdoor?! But you know what they say about fitrat, right? She might feign ignorance but how long can a creepy by nature fellow stay put? Eventually it moved and Mrs. Traitor whacked it away acting so surprised like she just saw it… mahanati kahin ka!” Jalal sniggered imagining the hells that might have broken loose thereafter.
“That’s it! There ended the gardening stint. I bathed immediately but didn’t wash my hair. I thought I’d sleep off the feeling, but no! The moment I tried to sleep, all I could think of was prickly crawling legs doing jazz over my head. Hence the midnight shower! I bet ya, between these back to back washes and blow dries my hair line will recede by an acre before I hit thirty.” She blew out her famous theatrical sigh. “But enough of my Keeda Puraan! What’s up? Oh…by the way, was the persuasion up to Sir’s liking? Is that why I’m bestowed with this call?”
“You didn’t check your messages?” Anticipating her reaction, Jalal pursed his lips.
“Ah? No. I just got out of the bathroom and heard the phone ring. Wait!” She put the call on the speaker and opened the Messages app.
‘You still game for that good bye hug?’ She read his text loud.
“Good bye hug?” One second she repeated in confusion, and in the next she squealed, springing up. “You’re here?”
Jalal switched the phone to his right, her scream having singed his left eardrum. “Yes.” Chuckling, he confirmed, but she was running already. In less than two minutes, he heard her rasp. “But I don’t see you.”
“Come to the back gate. You security guard is having tea and town hall with fellow guards at your front gate. I had to turn and drive to the back.” He was still explaining when he saw her silhouette wave from the terrace. His hand lifted to return her hi but the girl vanished like smoke. Wow…that’s fast! Shaking his head, Jalal dropped his hand. This girl should be nominated for the Olympics!
“How long had it been?” Jodha whined between rugged breaths. “You were here and… and wasted all that time listening to my worm chronicles? Seriously man! What should I do with you?”
“Whatever you want to.” Jalal offered, reposing against Jaguar and counting seconds before the Akkineni Express barged out of the back gate. Jodha darted back downstairs and briefly stopped by her ajar bedroom door to switch off the lights and the fan. She drew the door shut and tiptoed to the opposite bedroom, her ears perking to catch any sign of activity. All through this, the call kept going on, so Jalal passed time by guessing her act from the sounds.
Perceiving no sounds or light seeping out of the threshold, she was convinced her parents were in a deep sleep. She whizzed downstairs, tiptoed towards the kitchen and once she’s out, she made a mad dash for the Govardhanam tree next to the back gate but stopped as if brakes were applied on her feet.
Oh… sh*t! She peeked down and swore, the shape of her unbound curves too conspicuous to miss even under the mellow moonlight. Two peaks proudly strained against the lilac satin silk and the miffed girl muttered a string of curses at her over enthusiasm. You are dressed for sleep idiot, not for company. She did one final gauge of her braless, sleeveless torso and decided to walk back in. Definitely not for the company of a struggling celibate. The poor man could do with less teasing, for God’s sake. She was unlocking the kitchen door when her eyes fell on the laundry ropes by the wall. Next to the rows of washed Saris and petticoats was Prameela’s travel shawl. She threw the phone into her pant pocket and twisted her hair into a bun, blessing the club for saving her atrip upstairs. If not for them, the washed laundry wouldn’t be forgotten. She draped the shawl around her torso, tucking its ends securely and ran back to the cement chapta around the Govardhanam tree.
When the call got disconnected Jalal surmised she’s close. The awaiting man took a step towards the gate, betting between her jumping into his arms first or him kissing her first. He frowned at the zero activity behind the gate. No jiggling of keys or clanks of metal latches came but he heard grunts to the right of the gate. He looked on and his eyes popped out at the figure that had emerged atop the ten feet wall.
“What the f*ck!” His heart lurched to his throat. “What are you doing?” Pocketing his phone, he scampered to the landscaped bushes adjacent to the wall. “Don’t you dare jump!” He warned yet hoisted his arms up, because… no trusting the unpredictable girl!
“Hello to you too!”Jodha chirped from ten feet above and kneeled, giving Jalal a sh*t scare. “Catch this.” She waved her phone. “Whenever you’re ready!” She waited for his hands to cup and on count of three, she slid it right into his hands and stood up. By the time Jalal secured the device and looked up, she vanished - again.
F*ck me! He swore, making a mental note to never spring surprise visits on this crazy woman. He scurried, following her gait towards the Arjuna tree at the farther right corner. He hadn’t reached the foot of the tree when she had already stepped onto a sturdy branch and held on to another one above her head with both hands. His palms sweated seeing her ziplining pose and prayed she knew what she was doing. He rolled his sleeves back and braced his feet apart, standing on guard while the lithe girl navigated her way to the core of the tree. Jodha descended to the center of the trunk like a pro and was about to glide down on all fours when shrill tweets and a whoosh rose in the air.
“Shoot! I’m sorry. I forgot about you.” Wincing at the flapping wings, Jodha cooed. “Don’t leave please. I’ll be quick.” She nimbly crawled down a few inches, cautious enough to not shake the tree with her weight and intimidate the resting birdies. Torn between awe and anxiety, Jalal hauled his arms up and the minute she came within reach, he enwrapped her midriff and peeled her off the trunk. Folding her knees and falling back on his chest, Jodha perked up. “See... I told you. I’m gone before you knew.” She sweet-talked the birds. “Go back to sleep now.”
“You little monkey.” Hugging her backside tightly against his throbbing chest, Jalal hissed. “You will never do that again.”
“Hey…” Taking offense to his tone, Jodha tipped her head all the way back and met his stern glare. “Why are you angry?” She hurled him a charming smile. “You should be thankful that I am so resourceful. You only said that the security guards are all assembled, right? We don’t use that back gate often. It’s kept locked mostly. If I open it now, it’ll creak worser than a ninety-year old’s bones and wake up the entire colony.”
“How did you even climb up so fast from the inside?” Feeling the opposite of thankful, Jalal strode to his car. “You keep a ladder handy? Is jumping walls your daily thing?”
Jodha whirled her head to object, but at his dare-you-sass-now glare, she wisely zipped up. No poking the surly bear!
“There is a cement chapta around the Govardhanam…” She thumbed to her right with utmost sincerity, “…that white flowered tree. Peddamma got it done when its branches grew out of reach. As children that used to be our summer hangout place. We, meaning Gautam, I, Peddamma’s brother’s sons and other kids in the colony…”
Jalal prodded his chin towards the boot and the chattering girl bent forward, feeling for the unlock latch. “We all used to play Unch Neech under that tree. You know Unch Neech? It’s like a tag game. The catcher will decide if its top or ground and others can be tagged only if they are on that surface.” The trunk lid began to unfurl and Jalal hobbled back saving the monkey from a punch to her face. “You won’t believe how many times I used to climb that tree to not get caught. So much so that they collectively banned the Govardhanam from the game… losers!”
Of course! Jalal could easily envisage a miniature Jodha briskly crawl up the branches while the boys gave a chase. Meenu-mouse! He gave a chastening squeeze to the bundle in his arms before unceremoniously depositing her in the boot.
“Haye…haye!” Pouting at his ungracious drop, the disgruntled girl scrambled to sit upright. “Also, FYI… my grandfather’s village has mango groves.” She dusted the dry debris clinging to her shawl. “I was the designated ‘Mango Plucker’, because one – I was the youngest of all our cousins and two- my grandfather made it clear to the villagers that no scolding or complaining against the little Akkineni princess.” She jutted her chin in the air like a spoilt princess. “Long story short - I can climb trees like I can count numbers in sleep Mister…” she snapped her fingers in his face, simply to annoy the man. “or recite the alphabettttttttttttt…” she yelped the last part as Jalal yanked her ankles up, sending her spiraling back.
“Without slippers?” The piqued boss condemned like he didn’t hear a word of what she said.
“Who climbs trees with slippers, City Snob?” Pushing her torso up, the petulant girl rolled eyes at his ‘Who is Sita’ kind of question after listening to the whole Ramayan. At his slicing stare, the impish girl smiled saccharine, baring her teeth. “I mean Mr. City Bred. First rule of climbing – no slippers.” She patiently educated, tugging her feet away before he found any bruises and delivered another sermon. However, Jalal held her ankle in an ironclad grip and inspected her soles. “Appreciate the concern, boss. I understand you’re worried because this isn’t your forte! Whenever must you have climbed trees in Banjara Hills!” She nodded sympathetically, her mockery not lost on the astute man. “But climbing wasn’t the reason I didn’t put on slippers now.” She attempted freeing her feet again. “The shoe rack was by the front door and I snuck out through the kitchen door. A little dirt won’t be detrimental, Your Highness. So… please…” she signed to let go and Jalal dropped her feet, not finding anything other than a sprinkle of dirt and pink dents from the tree bark.
“Thank you.” The cheeky girl bowed, diving her head into Jalal’s stomach. “While you’re at it, check this too.” She undid the bun and gave the curled mass a good shake. “Look for any gooey little foreign bodies, please. I’ll die of hypothermia if I have to take another head bath.” Tilting her head in all directions, Jodha forced his attention.
City snob?! Jalal smirked, eyeing the spiky thing stuck to her shawl on the back. Cupping her nape, he plastered her face to his stomach and slithered his warm fingers into her hair. Like a man in charge, the deft boss navigated his way through her dense locks, occasionally picking at dry pollen and Jodha felt like she was transported to heaven. Oh my! She sagged, hugging his midriff and pressing her cheek into his sweatshirt. After a thirty six hour drought, hugging him, inhaling his scent felt like the first monsoon rain on arid land. Her feet shackled his calves to draw his lower body in between her parted thighs and the captivated man’s wicked intentions took a back seat. His abdomen convulsed according to the rhythm of her hot breaths and he could sense the brewing danger as two significant parts of his body sprang to life –his mouth and its arch rival down south. Protesting against the favoritism his stomach got, they both set forth their demands for indulgence parity. Before they launched a full pledged morcha, Jalal exhaled deep, bringing the uncompromising rivals to a pact. Your time will come soon! He promised, rather half-promised because his mouth might get some action but he knew his other mate is in for a long haul. Kissing the top of her head as an interim bribery, he judiciously detached his lower body before the transfixed girl got flustered. Deciding to hop on to the next part of his plan, he pretended to verify her tresses one final time, unaware of the prayers Jodha sent the universe’s way. Do not meddle with my ‘Law of Inertia’, please. She beseeched the cosmos. This object at rest loves to continue at rest. Kindly do not waste your external forces here.
Perceiving the limpness in her fold, Jalal stopped his ministrations and twisted his head, checking out her side profile. “Oy… did you sleep on me?” He clutched her cheek and gently pulled her ajar. Seeing her drooped lids, he grazed them with his thumbs, instilling action into them. “Wake up. We have plans.”
Though every fiber of her protested, his last statement stirred enough curiosity for the inert girl to lift her lids up. “We do?” She asked, lazily parking her chin against his stomach. “What plans?”
“Will it be okay if you…” Jalal halted, his eyes suddenly squinting at something on her back.
Frowning, Jodha tried to follow his gaze but Jalal plastered her cheek back to his stomach and commanded her to not move.
“Huh?” Puzzled by his maneuver, she murmured into his shirt. “What is it?”
She only got a forbidding ‘shh’ as if she spooked something with her questioning. “Stay put. Don’t move.” Jalal left her head suspended at an awkward angle and swiftly jogged away.
“Why aren’t you telling me what it is?” Jodha asked innocently, obeying his order and trying not to take a peek at her back. From the corner of her eye, she observed him snap a twig from the outside bushes and her lethargic neurons fired into action. She had abundant experiences to infer what warranted a twig, yet, testing her luck, she asked childlike. “What is it for?”
“It’s okay.” Jalal sympathetically sighed, evading a direct answer. “I got you.”
“Is it a caterpillar?” Her pupils dilated, his evasion confirming her suspicions. “Jalal…”
At his continued silence as he returned to her, she begged. “Tell me na!”
“Shh, calm down Sweetie.” Jalal hushed her again and pinned her head to his stomach. He slowly and diligently pushed her hair aside, his sluggish movements shooting her blood pressure at ten points per second. “It is a caterpillar, isn’t it? But how?! We don’t have them in the garden.” She ranted, fisting her palms to curb the growing itch to yank the blasted shawl away. “Peddamma gets pest repellants sprayed periodically. She knows I cannot stand them. Of course, it rained last week but still, it’s very rare to…” Jodha trailed off, answering herself. Despite their meticulous efforts, even she knew that occasionally some larvae festered in the garden. There were times when she was caught unaware by the unwanted guests crawling on the exterior walls or crossing the driveway.
She had pulled the shawl from the laundry rope. She gave herself a mental smack. And put it on without verifying. Even if she had, she wouldn’t have spotted the brown creature in the dark.
“Sheesh… what are you waiting for?” Just the thought of another worm lounging on her body, twice in an evening, pricked her skin. “Knock it off. Now!”
“On it.” Taking his sweet time, the conniving man prodded her spine with the twig here and there.
“Where is it? Did it get on to my hair? Is it moving? Why are you taking so long?” The impatient girl fired question after question, bunching his sweatshirt and permanently wrinkling it.
Lidding the bubbling laughter, Jalal carried on with his silent probe. An eternity later, he hurled something afar, scooted away from her and dusted his hands.
“Is it gone?” Unwitting to take a chance, she sat in the same position and tipped her eyes up.
“Yes.”
Only after Jalal blinked in assurance did she release the pent up breath and got up. Two minutes is all it’d have taken to trek back upstairs! She cursed her laziness that bound her to the ghastly shawl. Now suffer!
“Did you throw it far enough?” She searched hysterically, vigilantly watching her step. “Is it still alive?”
“Yes.” His somber nod displayed a stark contrast to the satisfactory glint in his eyes.
“Show me where you threw.” Jodha insisted. “I won’t get sleep if I step on it with my bare foot.” Crossing his arms, Jalal pointed next to the front tire of the Jaguar. Taking baby steps, Jodha halted at a safe distance and focused on the non-moving spiky thing.
“But…” Her brows furrowed, evaluating it from a different angle and broke into an innocent Eureka grin. “It’s not a caterpillar!” She happily clapped. “That’s the flower of the Arjuna tree. They are usually white but dried flowers look brown. That’s why you got confused. God…” Clutching her heart, she walked back to him. “I was scared for nothing.”
“Oh! I see!” Jalal shrugged as if he didn’t mind standing corrected. “Good for you!”
The ingenious girl halted, his ready agreement too telling. Wait! She stared suspiciously. How in the world would he mistake a dead flower for a live caterpillar?
“You knew?!” She took a step, poking an accusing finger into him. “Didn’t you? You knew all along it wasn’t a caterpillar.”
“Badi aayi country chicken!” Breaking into a condescending grin, Jalal hopped back. “Look at you –sh*t scared of harmless tiny worms but calling me a city snob.”
“You beast!” Jodha facepalmed, not believing she walked right into his trap. “I confided my worst fears in you and you take advantage of them?” Her claws came out lunging for a chunk of his bicep but Jalal dodged the attack. Wobbling from side to side, the raging bull cornered him like a Kabaddi player closing in on an opponent. “Shameless man. Heartless man.” Her right fist stroke but the agile man ducked. “How could you even think of tricking me?”
Guffawing, Jalal ducked and dodged until he captured her left wrist and tossed her charging body over his shoulder. “Put me down.” The firecracker wriggled, making Jalal’s gait unsteady. Leaving her wrist, the winner schooled the loser with a spank and kept a strong hold on her curved back.
“Easy monkey.” He chastened but the monkey went wild.
“You spanked me?” Jodha gasped in disbelief. “Even my dad never did.” Her fingers immediately sought his waist muscle. “Leave me.” She squished his skin, but the taut muscles didn’t twist to her satisfaction.
Could you exercise a little less… big oaf?! She murmured crankily, the pleasure of a satisfying pinch eluding her. “Leave me and go back to your country.” She nipped wherever she could, her pinches feeling like love bites to the Hulk.
“Chup.” Enjoying the free access to her back too much, Jalal spanked again. “Don’t wake up the entire colony.”
“Me?” The irked girl threw her hands up incredulously. “You are the one laughing like Voldemort and I’m waking up the colony? Serves me right for not banging that wretched iron gate open. Had I done that, I wouldn’t be in this predicament.”
Laughing, Jalal unlocked the front passenger door and dropped the fussy monkey on the seat. Jodha bounced right back, opening her mouth to protest but Jalal shut her up with a smooch. Her eyes flared at his dare and she petulantly refused to participate until Jalal retracted, grinning at her adorable pout. “Shush darling and listen.” Lugging her seatbelt, he cupped her cheek. “Tell me this. Will uncle or aunt notice if you’re gone for few hours?”
Whatever snappy comment was on her lips, it died. “Few hours?” She frowned bewildered. “It is nearly eleven pm. Where are we going now?”
“You’ll see.” He plugged in her seatbelt, pecked her scrunching nose and disappeared.
What the heck? Jodha craned her neck in the direction he left. “What do you mean I’ll see?” She demanded as soon as he returned with a wet wipe and a pair of socks.
“And what are these for?”
He handed over the objects to her and advised. “You might want to put on the socks. We will…”
“Why?” Jodha cut him short, waving the wipe at his face. “You’re worried my bare feet will dirty your Jaguar?”
Shaking his head, Jalal snatched the wipe and socks from her and kneeled down. “Aren’t you cold?” Wiping her soles with quick strokes, he pointed at her shawl. “It will take awhile till we return. Your feet will freeze under the AC.” He placed one clean foot on his thigh jolting the stupefied girl to her senses. “Wait…” She hastily withdrew her foot and seized the socks from him. “I’ll do it!”
Jalal complied without a fight, smirking at her qualms. What will she do if he revealed that he’s an expert ‘foot-service provider’? That he had served random girls on the beach and saved them from their foot problems?! He bit his lip, fully confident that the sass queen wouldn’t let him live down the incident. Once she comes to know, she’ll make it her mission to taunt him every waking moment of his life. No more pissing the monkey off! He wisely chose silence and hauled the wipe into a bush. Definitely not now when he needs her full cooperation.
He went to close the boot and got back to the driver seat. Leaving their phones on the center console, he turned to the girl who hadn’t answered his original question.
“Where are we going and how many hours are few hours?” Jodha enquired again, pulling up the socks.
“Answer to the first – you’ll shortly know. Second – two, maybe three hours?”
That long?! Her head snapped, her eyes fluttering with worry.
“Is that a problem?” Jalal asked concerned. “Will uncle find out?”
“How’d I know?” Her wrists flicked. “I never ran away at nights to answer you from past experiences.” She rolled eyes, thinking through. “Usually, we don’t check on each other after retiring to our rooms. And before coming out, I verified if they were asleep. So… I think it must be okay. But they do get up early.” She forewarned. “By five or so. Hopefully we aren’t going too far to return in time.”
“Definitely not.” Jalal assured. “But what if they notice?”
“Pray it doesn’t come to that because if they find me gone, they’ll first call me on my phone.” She mulled over. “I can say something and hold fort for maximum fifteen minutes.”
Putting the Jaguar in reverse, Jalal frowned. “That rises another concern. How are you going to go back in?”
“Same route.” She seriously imitated climbing the tree and was granted an unamused stare. “Jokes. Drop me off at the front gate.”
“But what will you tell the night security?”
“Man… you ask too many questions.” She plummeted onto the headrest. “You think I conjure all kinds of situations in advance and keep a stockpile of stories ready for dispatch?! I’ll think of it when the time comes.”
“It’s called being prepared, idiot. I don’t want you to get into trouble.”
Shaking his head at her ‘appreciate-the-concern’ sneer, Jalal shifted gears and asked her one last time. “Ready?”
“Hmm?!” Jodha indecisively chewed her lip, wondering if she should go and change when there is still chance. Too late! Her alter ego drum rolled. That obstinate man would rather cancel the plan than allow you to climb that tree again. Now rot in the suffocating shawl for three hours. Serves your lazy as* right!
“Hey… we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” Mistaking her vacillation for apprehension, Jalal asserted. “We can just talk here or go on a short drive and be back soon.”
“Oh… I’m not thinking about my parents.” She swatted his uneasiness away. “It’s about me. You see I’m not exactly audience-ready, right?” She swept at her Devdas shawl and beige Lenin pants.
“No worries. There won’t be any audience.” Jalal assured, eliciting a happy consent from his girl.
“Then let’s go. Can’t wait to see what this no-audience midnight jaunt of yours is!”
She kinked a brow and Jalal winked, putting the Jaguar in drive.
Trailing his sight on the receding taillights, Saradhi emerged from the shadows of the overhead tank, his forehead furrowed.
Jalal and Jodha?! He stood staring at the now vacant road, wrapping his head around the proceedings of the night. Granted, he had an inclination of the unspoken tension between the two but to think that their feelings had escalated to this level this soon, so much so that the ever sensible Jalal would sneak his daughter away right from under his nose, was a revelation.
Now that the couple drove away, he was once again left to his rumination that had brought him to the terrace in the first place. Like the previous night, sleep eluded him tonight as well. Rather than toss and turn and disturb Prameela, he decided to take a stroll and think freely under the open skies. He was processing and reprocessing everything that has been happening and has to happen right from Prudhvi’s discoveries to Abhi’s proposal to the impending trips to Jodha’s safety to his next course of actions, when swift footsteps garnered his attention. ‘But I don’t see you.’ He heard his daughter cry and he slipped beside the overhead tank. From then, he had remained a mute spectator, witnessing what all needs to be witnessed from his hideout. To see that his daughter would climb trees for her boss and that the boss would freely toy around with his employee from pranking to spanking, was an epiphany.
Jalal and Jodha! A bitter sweet smile splayed on his lips. How should he see this? As a divine intervention to address his worries or the destiny of his daughter unfolding itself?! The very idea of Jodha being fortified by the powerful Ahmeds gave a boost to his dwindling morale. If his daughter becomes the Ahmed's daughter-in-law.. The father in him couldn’t stop selfishly wishing … all Rao’s in the world can come together and still can’t touch a strand of his daughter’s hair.
~~
Is he taking her to the guest house? Watching the houses roll by, the intrigued girl kept playing detective. Or something akin to ‘Tank Bund’ in Hyderabad? Or is there a beach nearby that she didn’t know of?
Whatever! The excitement of three more hours with him, all alone and all to herself added an ecstatic swing to her turn.
“So…” Her brows danced vivaciously. “Which one of the videos charmed you into this mind blowing decision, sir?” Her palm swept up and down. “Otherwise, this impulsiveness is sooooooo….” She sing-songed. “…not you!”
At the mention of videos, Jalal grinned back. “Which one do you think?”
“The last one, of course.” Jodha said, tongue-in-cheek. “I knew ‘Don’ is always lucky for me.” She winked, pun intended.
Laughing, Jalal recalled her last video that came in two parts.
~~
He was still at Abdul’s home when his phone chimed. Confident that anything coming from her is hazardous to open before his friends, Jalal escaped to the balcony.
“Imagine both clips like a female singing to a male.” Her text read, followed by a video that was captioned - “This is me now!” He clicked on it and the video began with Jodha strumming a two foot long sieve ladle to Kishore Kumar’s Sharaabi humming. She wore a black lawyer coat that hung loosely on her shoulders and a red polka dot bow was clipped to her neck. He was immersed in her hilarious expressions when the lyrics played.
Intehaa ho gayi intezaar ki... Aai na kuch khabar, mere yaar ki (The limit of waiting has been reached…I haven't heard any news of my beloved)
Ye hamen hai yakeen, bewafa vo nahin (I have faith that she is not unfaithful)
Phir wajah kya hui? Intezaar ki (Then what is the reason behind the wait?)
She put the fake guitar i.e. ladle away and waltzed, her gait sluggish.
Mmmm…
Baat jo hai usmein baat woh yahaan kahin nahin kisi mein… haye (The quality that she has, no one here has that quality)
Woh hai meri, bas hai meri shor hai yahi gali gali mein (She is mine and just mine and that's what is echoing in every lane)
Saath saath woh hai mere gham mein, mere dil ki har khushi mein… aye (She is with me in my sorrow, she is also with me in every joy of my heart)
Zindagi mein woh nahin to kuch nahin hai meri zindagi mein (If she is notthere in my life then there is nothing there in my life)
Bujh na jaaye ye shama, aitabaar ki (May this lamp offaith never extinguish)
Intehaa ho gayi intezaar ki... Aai na kuch khabar, mere yaar ki
The clip ended with Jodha kneeling before the phone and mock saluting with hooded eyes, in classic Amitabh style. Chuckling, he clicked on the next one that was captioned – “This will be me when you come to me.”
Ghamon ke andhere dhale, bujhate sitaare jale, dekha tujhe to dilon men jaan aayi (The clouds of sorrow are gone, the extinguishing stars have lit up, on seeing you, life has comeback to my heart)
Hothon pe taraane jage, aramaan deewaane jage, baahon mein aa ke tu aisesharamaai...(Music is awakening on my lips, crazy desires are awakening, you came in my arms and blushed such that …)
Chha gai phir wahi bekhudi… chha gai phir wahi bekhudi (Once again that intoxication has spread…)
Laa laa...laa laa...
Her imitation of six foot Don’s steps was so spot on that his snickers morphed into full blown laughter. When the clip ended, he went to check out the original song on YouTube and came back to replay her clips. He was still watching them when Chetan came looking for him and caught him mid-laughter. Calling out for Abdul to back him up, Chetan lunged for his friend’s phone. Jalal did try to save his prized entertainment, but there was only so much fight a convulsing man could put. He lost it eventually and the merciless bast*rds locked him out in the balcony till they helped themselves to all video clips.
“Saala struck gold with that girl!” Wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, Abdul slid the glass door open. “Which woman of this generation grovels up to a man? Even Sara and Smitha don’t.” He tossed the phone at its owner with barely concealed envy.“It’s always us keeling over their feet no matter who’s wrong.”
Agreeing with Abdul, Chetan chucked Jalal on the back of his head. “Why are you playing so hard to get, you rogue! Makeup to the poor girl… now!”
... To be continued!
Chapter 44 - Part2
~~
Basaweswar Nagar! Reading yet another elapsing signboard, Jodha checked the time on the dashboard again. It had been more than twenty minutes since they got on to the outer ring road and since then, signboard after signboard had rolled by, but neither the Jaguar nor its owner showed any sign of slowing down. Tearing her eyes away from the window, Jodha turned to the man driving with sheer focus.
“Did uncle and aunty reject me?” She asked, squinting her eyes. “Are we eloping? Is that why we are driving out of the city?”
Jalal grinned, giving her due credit for holding onto her curiosity thus far. “Would you?” He pried teasingly. “Elope with me that is, if it comes to that?”
“Hmm.” She tugged the shawl loose, letting her poaching shoulders breathe. “You’re the lucrative part of the deal, no doubt! But…” she intoned. “I’ve signed up for the whole package boss. I’m not settling for less.”
“What if our parents don’t give their blessings?” Jalal insisted.
“Oh, don’t worry about mine.” Scooping the mass of hair away from her neck, she faced him. “I know how to persuade them. And don’t worry about yours either. They’re very sensible people. I’m sure they’ll listen to reason.”
“Aha?!” Intrigued by her aplomb, Jalal asked. “What reason will you give them?”
“Simple facts.” Swirling her hair, she stated business like. “I just have to make them see that I’m not their ‘best bet’ but their ‘only bet’ when it comes to their egoist,” fisting the hair with one hand, she swept a palm up and down his torso. “…control freak, and unflattering son. By the time I’m done, aunty and uncle will be so glad…” she pulled the scrunchie over the bun. “…that I took their son under my wing when no woman in her right mind would give him the time of the day.”
“Cocky much, huh!” Jalal scoffed at her preposterous confidence.
“Nah… candid much.” Jodha retorted, perching her elbow on the center console and plopping her chin on it. The short rowdy locks of her layered hair rioted against the scrunchie’s detention and freed themselves. They fluttered under the AC breeze, framing her elysian features. Jalal’s focus briefly broke from the road to regard the cheeky angel. He gave her teasing eyes, glowing cheeks and the roguish locks a quick onceover and looked back to the road. If only his hands were free to show that cocky mouth who the boss is!
“How am I egoistic, control freak and unflattering?” Shifting gears, he demanded. “You can’t allege something and not back it up with proof.”
“You really want proof boss?” She impishly traced his nose with her index finger. Like it happened whenever he is offended, his nose appeared sharper and longer than usual. “Think twice, because the truth is bitter and this high and mighty nose…” she playfully chucked the pointy tip. “…might just flare up and break the windshield by the time I finish.”
“Your point?” Jalal gave her a bored drawl.
“Fine. You asked!” Sitting straight, Jodha held her hands up. “It’s high time His Highness heard about some of his transgressions too!” She fisted her right palm into a mic and expanded her left arm. “With the moon as my witness and stars as my audience let me recite the karnaame of Badshaah Jalal Ahmed of Jallad-dom. Where do I even begin?” She mused. “Maybe with the dhindora that anyone entering his realm should leave all their spunk, all their gall outside and step in, because in his turf… only His Highness can sass! Any saucy comment from the subjects is deemed a direct cut to His Grace’s order and the delinquent will be appropriately prosecuted. Proof? Ask a certain nayi naveli employee who was put to place on her very first encounter with His Majesty. More proof? Ask the colleagues of the aforesaid employee who witnessed her public castigation. Some more proof? Check Mr. High & Mighty’s call logs. One would think his girlfriend will be cut some slack but no! The poor girl was punished with thirty six hours of radio silence just because she committed a teeny-weeny…” she touched her thumb to the tip of her index finger.“… offense towards Sir’s pride.”
At his eye roll Jodha grinned catlike and forayed into best part of the speech. “And what to speak of Sir’s obsession to control everything under the Sun.” Slitting eyes in classic Jalal style, she imitated his barks. “How dare you take leaves when everyone is slogging; how dare you watch ‘Don’ instead of rehearsing my presentation; how dare you get into an accident right before my prestigious meeting, you could’ve gone and died after the meeting for all I care; how dare you talk back to me instead of shutting up and sucking up to my allegations; how dare you sweep roads with dupatta; how dare you roam in Wonder La all by yourself; how dare you go to Chickpet without first announcing it in the BBC; how dare your phone battery dies; how dare you sneak out at night without informing the whole colony; don’t eat Pani Puri there; don’t eat mirchi bajji like this; don’t you climb, don’t you jump, don’t you sit, don’t you stand, hell… don’t you dare breathe without my approval! Ha!”
She leant on the console, her fingers strumming her cheek and her lips stretched conceitedly.
“See how unflattering you sound?!”
The unhinged man ignored her provocation, his gaze keen on the upcoming exit. Once he veered onto the local road, he darted a listless stare at the waiting girl. “There is a saying – You and I read the Bible day and night. You see black, I see white!”
Her brow hiked, wondering the relevance of the quotation now.
“You may recite a ton of my shenanigans,” Jalal shrugged. “You see it controlling, I see it protecting.”
“Of course.” Rolling eyes, the amused girl poked him in the ribs. “Which narcissist ever in the history admitted that he’s a dictator?!” She relaxed into her seat. “You all crown yourselves as leaders and protectors and naïve janata like me fall prey to your ostentatious dominance.”
“Girl, you called me snob, oaf, egoist,” Jalal ticked his fingers. “…control freak, unflattering in a span of one hour and you’re naïve?!” He jeered. “Be for real.”
“I’m.” The brooding woman went on defensive. “…whether you agree or not; which is why you get away with bulldozing me all the time… like with your caterpillar prank or… Peenya Industrial Area?!” She cried, craning her neck to confirm the sign board they had just crossed. Swiveling back to the unbelievable man, she demanded. “You’re taking me to Four Wheels? Now? Like this?”
“Finally, Miss Hitchcock!” Jalal winked at her cantankerous face but Jodha didn’t share his amusement. Four Wheels? For real? She stared agape at road leading them to the industrial sector. So much for breaking heads on the perfect Sari, jewelry, make up, hairstyle for her first visit and this is how it goes! She checked her scandalous night dress, borrowed socks and melancholic shawl. Not even a comb in sight to tidy up her hair?! Why’d he do this to her?!
“Would it have killed you to give a head’s up?” She tugged on the scrunchie, turning to the man and whining with a prominent pout.
Jalal involuntarily slowed down, his mind half prepared to pull the car aside and take her sulking face between his palms. But knowing that they’d never make it to their destination if he touched her now, he kept his longing in check. “It’s Dussehra. The plant is shut down. You won’t see or meet anyone. We don’t even have to get down. You’ll get to see Four Wheels and tick off the top item from your ‘unfinished’ list.”
Unfinished list? Her forehead scrunched and then she remembered her yapping from the previous night. Didn’t get to visit Four Wheels, didn’t get to meet your friends’ wives… yada yada yada!
He took her frivolous ramble seriously?! Her jaw dropped.
“You’re taking me there like a military emergency just because I mentioned it in passing?” She gulped the disbelief. “When you could’ve utilized this time on something important – like your parents or the ton load of things waiting to be wound up before you flew?!” She banged her forehead, making Jalal squint at her odd reaction.
“Are you complaining?” Jalal threw her an assimilating glance. “That I preferred you over my parents and chores? Last night you didn’t seem to have a problem usurping my sleep or my time?!”
“Oh, I know I should shut up and lap up all the attention you’re lavishing on me. I usually am shameless and selfish like that too but this…” with evident worry, she flicked a palm at him and at the sprinting Jaguar. “… this level of indulgence is terrifying, Jalal. And sobering too! Why in the world would you take my yapping seriously? Because this ‘urgent exertion’ just so I could tick off an item from an inconsequential list is totally unnecessary and completely avoidable. Its cares me and makes me wary too! If you start burdening yourself like this J, I’ll weigh my words twice. No more blabbering! Who knows what you’ll take seriously and what not!”
J? Not taking his eyes off the road, he reached out for her hand. Who knew clipped initials coming out of a certain stern mouth could be such a turn on?
“Shh! Who said it is ‘just’ to tick off your list?” He gave a fond squeeze to her palm and brought her knuckles to his lips. “You’ll soon know why I’m taking you there tonight. Trust me when I say I’m adept at cherry picking your rambles, Sweetie! I know what to regard, what to ignore. You don’t have to stop blabbering on my account!”
“Did you just call me Sweetie and a blabbermouth in one sentence?!” Jodha huffed, jerking her hand back. “Insufferable man! Here I’m concerned about you and there you are, hurling insults at me!” Ignoring his smug chuckles, she peevishly shook her tumbling mass of hair and switched on the interior lights. She unlocked her phone and turned on the front camera, verifying her reflection.
“When I said we are meeting none, I mean none.” Jalal asserted seeing how unnecessarily she’s fretting.
She tossed him a you-don’t-get-it-it’s-a-girl’s-thing glare and returned to the camera. With a finger nail she partitioned her hairline and shifted the hair to a side, giving it some semblance of style. “If not anyone, there will be security guys, won’t they?” She asked, sighing at the lack of bare minimum adornments like earrings. The only solace was that she looked clean and smelled fresh, all thanks to the slimy ogre!
“Yes, but they’ll be surveilling from the quarters. There are cameras installed everywhere. They won’t be parading out.” Their car turned left into a broad two way lane and Jodha slammed her phone and her qualms shut. If he doesn’t have a problem, why should she?
She scooted to the window, flushing her inhibitions out and welcoming back the excitement of visiting Four Wheels. “We’re close?” Seeing the private road lined up with trees on either sides, she rolled the glass down. She stuck her face out, taking a deep whiff of the crisp, uncontaminated suburban air. The trees swayed in cadence offering a royal salute and up in the space, a stuffy cloud that had been hijacking the moon till then, blinked at the bizarre proceedings on the worldly terrain.
What on earth! It espied the shooting car and the white sphere sticking out of its window. Is it the moon? When did it escape for my hold and descend on earth? The puzzled cloud urgently followed the vehicle, simultaneously checking the sky above it. But the moon is still up there, so who is this new moon on earth?! It peeped back down. Or is it a different celestial body? It must be someone ethereal, otherwise why’d the trees bow down in a row like curtsying to an angel? And the wind? Why’d it gush so enthusiastically? True to the cloud’s musings, a gust of wind blew, ruffling the riveted nymph’s soft tendrils. Feeling tickled, Jodha let out a low chuckle. Tucking her locks behind her ears, she looked up, smiling at the resplendent tenth day moon.
Shoot! The cloud cursed, discerning its folly. In pursuit of this new muse, it had derailed from its original position and left its hostage behind. The moon, now free of the cloud’s covering, shined bright and glorious. Are they co-conspirators? It peered back and forth between the girl and the moon. One is laughing at me and one is goading me with its luminescence. The must have schemed together to fool me. Whatever! Today is not my day! It begrudgingly floated away.
Lodging her elbow on the window, Jodha surveyed the lane. Contrary to the high beam cool LED lights most streets sported, these lanes had warm solar lights installed, their mellow hues adding character to the croton plants on the divider. The cemented pavement was broader than a standard twelve feet local road and the architect surmised that the extra width must be for the large containers to maneuver freely. Soon, Jaguar reached a metallic black rectangular arch flagged by two buildings on either side. Noticing his girl’s reaction from the corner of his eye, Jalal halted the vehicle before the barrier gates, waiting for them to detect the sensor and rise. Jodha craned her head up, her beats gathering momentum as she beheld the shimmering steel inscription of ‘Four Wheels’ with its logo in the center. She beamed, having finally come face to face the sum and substance of her man’s wajud. She was keenly observing the logo, a slanted digit 4 that sat atop a slanted W, when the barriers raised. Instead of driving in, Jalal took a moment to hit the sunroof open. The rays of moon streamed directly on the absorbed girl’s uplifted face stealing her attention from the logo. Surprised, she glimpsed at the gaping space in the roof and down at the watchful man.
“Ready for a drive-in tour madam?” Extending his left hand, Jalal jested. She took his hand, gracefully bowed above it, and rose her head winking. “As you please, sir!” She grinned, all reservations about the suddenness of this visit tattering by the minute.
Serendipity! A sweet heaviness settled in her chest as Jaguar crossed the threshold.
Which Sari, which makeup, which planning can beat this midnight moonlit blissfully intimate tour?!
Jalal steered the vehicle slowly, explaining the buildings as they passed. “One is front desk and the other is security.” He thumbed to the two structures bolstering the arch. “See…no security folks to intercept us.” He gestured at the bare roads. “But the surveillance room must be ripe with gossip now.” He winked and Jodha grinned, eying the lit security building. They drove to the roundabout junction and Jalal paused, pointing at the wooden signboards. “That one takes to the corporate employee parking and that building over there is the auditorium cum cafeteria. For the factory workers, there is another parking and cafeteria near the plant.” Her curious glances scoured everything before resting on the sculptured logo at the center of the intersection. It is a five foot brushed nickel logo, its sharp edges looking striking under the deflection of the white LED lights embossed at its base. A layered rock fountain framed its backdrop, where water trickled down the rugged rocks and pooled at the circular basin around the logo. The white lighting from the foot of the logo fell back on the cascading water behind, giving it a snow shower effect. The fountain and the sculpture were encased within a two foot tall cement surround, ingrained with flower bushes and inground lights. Her skimming eyes returned to the polished surface and pronounced cuts of the 4 and w of the logo and a tiny smile erupted, a few chiseled jaws and chic bodies coming to her vision.
As sleek and polished as the boys!
She swallowed the cheesy comment and scanned around. The inner roads were spacious as well, accented by cobble stoned sidewalks, manicured landscapes and perfectly trimmed trees. The urbane setup was a far cry from her expectations and the disillusioned girl faced Jalal, sheepishly biting her lip. “My idea of a manufacturing plant is a rustic Karkhana with long sheds, smoky chimneys, dusty roads, dull lighting, wild trees and whatnot!” She giggled at her ludicrous imagination.“But this is sooooo… corporate. So suave. Sooo...”
In the placid ambience, the lilt of her laughter fused with the rhythm of the sloshing water, forming a captivating refrain. Recording it in his brain and uploading it to his ‘memory cloud’, Jalal mentally patted his back for the best impulsive decision he had ever made i.e. bringing her to Four Wheels that night. If his heart had been a prisoner earlier, from that moment, it became a lifetime slave of the sorceress tipping her head up and giggling under the canopy of moon.
“So much like the three of you! You guys definitely brought home a piece of the West with you.”
“Happy work spaces, happy employees!” Jalal smiled. “Had your fill of the fountain?! Ready for the rest of the tour?!”
“Sure.” She nodded, lounging on the window frame. They drove past some small buildings which Jalal mentioned as research labs, admin block, training center. They approached a six storied structure which didn’t require an explanation – the company name, flag and logo inscribed on it screamed loud that it’s the main corporate office. As they crossed it, Jalal signaled to the top of the building and Jodha looked up.
“We three are located there, on the sixth floor. For now, it’s just us and the board room. Rest of the space is vacant. Need to think of what to do with it in future. We all get a view of some or other portion of the plant from our cabins. All these roads that are so quiet now teem with activity on normal days. The production goes on in three shifts. During the day it’s the plant workers and corporate employees and at nights, it’s the night shift workers and the laborers loading/unloading cargo – there is never a dull moment here except on holidays like these.” Jodha soaked up each word coming from his mouth, not missing the affinity that underscored his talks. His eyes shimmered, his whole body exuded a pleasant disposition, clearly indicating that this is his favorite topic. Jalal kept sharing more operational tidbits when they entered a vast clearing and Jodha clamped her mouth shut with both her hands.
Acres and acres of land stretched before her! Amidst that, claiming three forth of the landfill is an impressive L shaped construction which wasn’t your archetypal high rise corporate building. It was compact but so widespread that Joda had to rotate her head left and right to comprehend its span. It was etched in concrete, steel and glass, emblematizing strength and substance and eliciting the impression of a robust and safe work space.
Multiple short roads lead to the numerous entry points of the massive structure. Jalal took one short path and parked at a vantage point, close enough for her to get a vivid picture of the unit and far enough to escape from the camera’s surveillance.
Good Lord! Jodha broke into an amazed grin, the lights inside the factory giving a glimpse of the heavy machinery, open spaces and high ceilings. An ambition this big? Her eyes rounded, awakening to the fact that the mammoth structure and the millions worth of equipment it enclosed, is a vision of three young engineers. When did they dream, when did they plan, procure, toil… for it to materialize this early in their lives?! She eagerly turned to ask.
“I have so many questions.” She crackled with excitement. “But first tell me this… how did you acquire all of this?” Her hand did a grand sweep. “What is it? Almost a hundred acres?”
“Close. Hundred and fifteen – starting from the private road we entered into till the loading bay and the cargo parking behind the plant.” Jalal undid his seat belt. “Sixty five acres was government sanctioned and the rest is private… or rather Chetan mostly.” Easing into his backrest, he crossed his arms over his chest.
“Chetan?” Jodha asked befuddled. “He owns the rest?! All fifty? But wait… didn’t Aliya’s father own some too? Or so I heard.”
“Don’t be duped by the cheeky, unassuming fellow you met at home. Chetan is Mining Syndicate Prince.” Jalal smiled at her stupefied stare. “Their family is into Mining for generations. They own lion share of Iron, Manganese, Granite Ore belt from Bellary to Tumkur. His father is the syndicate president. His oldest brother looks after their Mining business. His second brother is a politician, working his way to become Bellary MP in next elections and Chetan being the youngest was free to choose whatever he wanted to do with life and he chose to team up with us. Thanks to Kamath uncle, Chetan’s father that is and his say in the Karnataka government that the land acquisition, permissions and sanctions from the Ministry of Heavy Industries, approvals from pollution and environment board and every possible government heckle one could think of, got resolved seamlessly. That portion from there…” Jalal sliced his hand diagonally, virtually bifurcating the plant “…to the cargo parking is all private land. When government declared this as industrial zone, most individuals sold off their lands to the industrialists. Chetan’s father acquired twenty seven acres, Khan uncle bought eleven and the rest that were under few small companies’ possession were consolidated and brought under Four Wheels lease when we decided to set it up here. The sixty five acres from the government were granted to us at nominal price…basically free!”
“Does Chetan’s family know the Khans from before?” Jodha interrupted. “How are they both linked?”
“Through Granite.” Jalal said. “Khans are into granite business. I think I told you this before.” Jodha nodded, remembering him mention it when he shared his back story a few nights before. “That’s how their connections date way back. Aliya was the one who mediated introductions between Chetan and us in the first year of Engineering. Needless to say, we instantly clicked off.”
Wah! Fate linked the Khans of Hyderabad with the Kamaths of Karnataka in the past so that these three could become friends and partners in the present?! Life and its surreptitious networking!
“When did it even start? It’s hard to imagine that all this had formulated within few years. And why Bangalore? Why not Hyderabad?”
“You indeed are full of questions.” Jalal grinned, gladdened by her curiosity. “If you ask when did it start, I can’t put a date to it. It’s like the idea had always been there. During Engineering, at every break we got, we worked on ideas, did research, drew and redrew blueprints. At the risk of sounding like a brag, I must say that all the ground work – like what to manufacture, the scale, the location, the logistics – was all chalked out even before we graduated. Of course, the real execution was a long haul from our quixotic blueprints but what I mean to say is that we graduated with a clarity on what to do for the next fifteen years - two years of MBA, two years of work experience, two years to set up the unit, four years to breakeven and another five years to patent at least one proprietary product. Tall ambitions, one’d say!”
The girl, who had been concentrating with her arms folded, mentally agreed with his last comment. Tall ambitions indeed! Because which normal Engineering boys work on blueprints or graduate with a fifteen year plan? Study, merry, drink, smoke, look cool, make girlfriends – this is what student life is about! And after graduation, it’d usually be – get a job, buy a car, get a flat, jump jobs, visit places, try cuisines, get married, have children etcetera, etcetera!
“Even MBA was done with the idea that we’ve to equip ourselves to run an industry, which is why I took Financial Accounting, Abdul took Marketing and Chetan took Operations Management. It was like ‘Divide and Conquer’ and by God’s grace, everything had panned out as intended so far. As to your question – ‘why not Hyderabad?’ there are many compelling factors but the foremost is the lack of a Port. Sea transport is crucial for our imports and exports and Hyderabad has no international Port within a three hundred mile radius. Chennai, on the other hand has a well-established Port and is only six hours away from Bangalore. Our containers can leave here at midnight and be loaded off to international waters by morning. That’s a flexibility we cannot afford to lose, especially in this kind of setup. Also, there are Toyota and Nissan manufacturing units here, both in Bangalore and Chennai. It makes sense to stay closer to our prospective clients. Another reason is the government subsidies. There is abundant encouragement from Karnataka state government for heavy industries where as in Hyderabad, Red Tape is excessive. Also, the AP government’s primary focus for past seven years had been on bifurcation.” Jalal shrugged. “Hopefully things will change, now that the state is divided and a new government is formed.”
Jodha sat contemplative, her fingers unconsciously fiddling with the lock falling over her left ear. God’s grace?! Her eyes swept over the vast establishment, estimating the enormity of effort and money that went into it. More so like God’s grace, deep pockets, burnt backs and toiled nights!
“If the private fifty acres was under Four Wheels lease,” she inquired. “...why did you have to buy the eleven acres from the Khans when you and Aliya separated? The lease contract must hold good for its full tenure, right? What was it signed for - ten or twenty years?! You could’ve legally challenged them when they threatened to break the lease, couldn’t you?”
“Ten years. That was the original lease agreement.” Leaning into his seat, Jalal watched the inquisitive girl. “And yes… we could’ve gone to court for contract breach but it’s not that simple.” He eyed the physical manifestation of their dreams. “The first action a court takes in case of a dispute is to issue a stay order. All the plant operations would’ve been ordered to be stalled until the dispute is resolved.” He shared a meaningful look with the girl who discerned how suicidal that move could’ve been.
“At that time,” he smirked and sardonically corrected himself. “… who am I kidding? Even now, we are not in a position to afford a single detraction, a stay on production is far-fetched. So, the Sheikhs, the Kamaths, the Ahmeds, the venture capitalists and every single board member showed up at that negotiation table with the Khans. That was one hell of a sight.” His dry humor wrung her heartstrings. “The boardroom hadn’t seen that much action ever, not even at the inception of this beast.” His chin jutted at the steel and glass monster that callously glowered under the moonlight like it didn’t give a sh*t about the fracas that went behind it’s running.
“It wasn’t that Khan uncle dangled this trump card for his sadistic pleasure.” Jalal sighed. “It was his last shot at vetoing the divorce. He didn’t want to lose me as son-in-law. But he also understood that we reached a point of no return. End of the day, he had to cave in to everyone’s persuasion. Sheikh uncle…” his glance shifted from the building to Jodha. “Abdul’s father that is… he and Kamath uncle offered to pay the market price for the eleven acres but Dad didn’t let them. He said it wasn’t their mess to fix. He sold some of our properties, mortgaged some, but eventually bought back the land and the shares from the Khans. There were Khan family’s proponents on Regal Board. They had to assert their loyalty, obviously, so they too threatened to extricate themselves from the Board. That is when Abdul butted in. I never told you about Abdul, right?” Chuckling, Jalal shook his head. “That boy comes from Nawabi lineage and pushtaini vineyard money. You should see him with his father. Such contrasting personalities - father is your stereotypical aristocratic snob and son is a chummy rogue who can woo even wood.”
Jodha smiled with him, taking note of the extra adoration that goes behind the mention of Abdul.
“Sheikh Saheb is very mercenary in his spendings. He volunteered to buy the eleven acres because Abdul is a partner in Four Wheels but why’d he want to invest in Regal which they had nothing to do with?! But Abdul being Abdul, he convinced his father and saved Regal. Chetan volunteered to pool in some running capital for Regal too, but we resisted. He had contributed more than his share for Four Wheels. It didn’t feel fair to accept more.”
Taking a pause, Jalal commanded Jodha’s complete attention with an unwavering stare. “I’m divulging all this not just for your information, Jo. At times, you’ll see me caring for these suckers like I owe them my next breath. When it happens, I don’t want you to be hurt or insecure or envious.”
Jodha peered silently, a slight frown marring her forehead. Why did he think he needed to defend his friendship to her? Why’d she be insecure? Surmising it might have been one of the sore spots in his short marriage with Aliya, she softly nodded. Chewing her lip, she sat back reposed - her eyes on the plant but her mind reeling over the insights Jalal had supplied.
One is syndicate money, one is pushtaini money, one is self-made money! She thought back to her interaction with his friends on Sunday night. She spoke, laughed, jested with them like they were her equals. She studied Jalal with a sidelong glance. And she called this man names, teased him, goofed around like he’s a nobody!
She suddenly recollected an excerpt from the Mahabharat her mother told.
‘If Krishna is God then how come Duryodhan, his father, his brothers and all these villains didn’t see Him as one?’ Eight year old Jodha asked during the weekly Sloka sessions with her mother. “How could they continue to be ignorant despite seeing Krishna killing so many demons and also protecting Pandavas time again from one adversity after another?”
“That is called illusion, Jodhu!” Her mother said. “It makes us believe that temporary things are permanent, ignorance is knowledge and darkness is light. That’s what today’s verse - asatoma sadgmaya – that I taught you is about. And that is what our prayer to the Lord should be! Leave the Kauravas aside, they are born villainous. Even Arjun, a wise devotee, had his humbling moments on the battlefield when Krishna unravels His Universal form. Mayadevi puts us under delusion Jo, which is why we mistake the Lord for just another human when He walks among us!”
Hmm! She exhaled deep. How true! Like Arjun, she too got deluded when these people let her into their coterie. Keep the wealth differences aside - they might be too down to earth, too cool to put on airs and all, but look at their seriousness in life! What is she, who’d have become a doctor for white coat and cotton sarees if not for her brother, who doesn’t plan the next fifteen days forget fifteen years, who has no aspirations whatsoever in life, doing amidst these folks whose thinking, feeling, willing are soooo… out of her league?!
She gauged the magnificently erected structure, an embodiment of its pioneers and swallowed her share of humble pie.
“When I said the idea had always been there,” observing Jodha from his vantage, Jalal severed the stretched silence. “…let me expand on it. By eleven, Abdul and I grew out of assembling toy cars. We itched to get our hands dirty with real stuff. Abdul lived in Jubilee Hills and you know this odd thing about Jubilee Hills right…it has a basthi too! That area is like a coin with two sides! On one side are the posh residences of politicians and film stars and on the other side lived the poor and the lower middle class. In midst of that basthi was Shekhar chacha’s – ‘Chandra’s Garage’.”
Jodha sewed her brows, focusing on his tale but also guessing where it is leading to. “Chacha is one of those very few men with remarkable character. That man is gold with his skill but too simple at heart to encash his worth. He could breathe life into any dead car and is so renowned in that area that even the posh Jubilee Hills residents coveted his services. As young boys we had hero worship for him and used to beg to learn from him. But each time, he’d send us back, packing.” Jalal tittered nostalgic. “He’d say that that was the age for studies, not for fooling around. But we knew why he wouldn’t indulge us. It’s because of Abdul’s father! Like I said, Sheikh uncle is an out and out snob. If ever you want to witness a walking bigot Jo, tell me. I’ll leave you with him.” Jalal winked impish. “Uncle hails from the Nizami lineage or so he says. He practices clear class demarcation and expects his children to follow suit. He set standards on who his children should befriend but most of Abdul and his sister’s friends, including me – didn’t make the cut!” Jalal laughed. “But Abdul, the ever charmer, knew how to get away with his whims. Poor Sheikh Saheb! He had no choice but to tolerate us, the meagre peasants, around his son.”
“So, chacha knew he’d be in trouble if the Sheikh’s eklauta heir was seen anywhere near the garage. But we were no less; we made friends with Sekhar chacha’s ten year old son. That boy was cautioned against us by his father but we, the tenacious scoundrels, broke through the boy’s defenses and snooped out his weaknesses. Guess what they were! Gosht biryani and Sainik School.”
Chandra garage? Sainik school?! Something began clicking in the listener’s brain.
“Every time mutton biryani is made in one of our homes, a box is packed for the boy too. In return, he’d plead our case with chacha and get us an hour or two in the garage. The next year, when the boy took Sainik school admission test, we pestered our fathers to put in a word with the management. He got the seat, of course for his academic excellence but the favor wasn’t lost on chacha. He knew how our system works. Being brilliant alone is not enough oftentimes. Chacha and his son came to our home to express their gratitude. He told Abbu how skeptical he was of his son’s friendship with Abdu land me because we are so out of their league…”
Jodha’s lips parted, her pupils dilating. This was where he was headed?
“… and Abbu said and I quote – ‘League is defined by a person’s character Shekhar bhai, not by his net worth’…” Jalal’s orbs held hers captive. “…’when looked that way, we are way beneath your league’.” Jodha sat like a statue, not a single muscle on her face flinching even when Jalal inclined towards her.
“I once asked Abbu what is his ‘measure’ of evaluating people’s character?! Like on what basis does he decide some ones’ worth?” He pressed on the latch of her seatbelt. “He said and again I quote - ‘Simple Jalal. Observe what a person places value on – on material possessions or on people around them. Anyone with a genuine human touch is a green flag. Often times, we, including me, value wealth over people and emotions. Look at us – when you were a child, I bought you every toy, every game console available in the market but how many times did I sit down and play with you? What memories have we built together? What’d you have loved as a child, Jalal?! Me disbursing toys left and right and going about my ways or me actually sitting with you and doing something as simple as playing Ludo or checkers? I didn’t have the fancy stuff that you had while growing up Son, but I guarantee that my childhood was more satisfying than yours. It seems to be the pattern with every generation. We know that it doesn’t take much to make a child content, yet as parents we keep showering material things on them one after the other and feel proud about it, like a job well done! It is we that instill the seed in young minds that happiness lies in material possessions. And as our children, when you see us chasing after wealth, you follow our suit. In a world full of materialists like us, people like Shekhar stick out like sore thumbs. Just look at Shekhar - his son is an IPS! He could’ve moved out of the basthi to a high class locality or move in with their son and command all the respect an ACP’s parent would get, but no! He lives in the same two bedroom home, still wears the same grey uniform and opens his garage every day at Eight am sharp, like a priest opening a temple. To date, no car was denied service in his garage because the owner couldn’t pay up. He repairs first and then accepts whatever is given. When you spot these kind of people, who put emotions above assets, people over money, memories over material possessions, lock them and don’t let them go.”
Prudhvi’s father is a car mechanic?! The fourth wheel of Four Wheels comes from humble beginnings?! Jodha gazed dumbstruck.
“So…” Jalal scooted closer, cupping her cheek. “… when I saw a girl radiating with joy for sketching random kids on the street and didn’t mind running in the rain to give them the sketch, I knew she is different.” The astounded girl’s breath hitched, the profundity of his admission hitting hard. “And when I heard that the girl used forty five lakhs of insurance money on charity instead of keeping it to herself for her financial security, which in my opinion would’ve been a right move for a newly orphaned girl, I knew this girl was way above my league.” He cupped her other cheek too and angled her head up. Moon rays directly hit her face and refracted, reminding him of the New York winter nights.
Oh! How he missed those full moon nights after a heavy snowfall! White terrains, white buildings, white trees with white rays streaming onto them and deflecting in all directions making everything gleam whiter – what a breathtaking display it was! If someone was suddenly dropped into that setting, they’d be confused if it is a day or a night, ‘coz it’s too mellow for a day and too bright for a night. It’s like they stepped into an alter space! He was busy weighing what was more beautiful – snowy night with wisps of ice clinging to the twigs or snowy face with wisps of hair billowing around, when she chirped.
“Are you tantric?” She bunched his shirt. “Or is it Voodoo?”
He studied her lips wondering why she’s suddenly tweeting like a bird. His squeezing palms pushed her lips forward, making them gape and pout, like a trilling bird’s mouth. Ah! No wonder then!
“How did you even guess what I was thinking?”
As she demanded with all the allure of a bird, smelling sweet and looking crisp like the first fall of snow, his verdict was evident.
“I’ve been working on this puzzle for seven months now.” He pecked the pouting bird. “I’m ought to pick up some cues by now." He issued another besotted smack. "I won’t go that far and say I’ve you figured you out Snow bird, but..." He backed the first two with a third one to make the count complete. "Glad I wasn’t off the mark for once.”
Snow bird? She blinked. Did she not just sound, but looked like a bird too? She wished she had a mirror to check. “For once?” She snorted. “Whenever were you off the mark at all?” Her nose crinkled, the chirrup too shrill to her own ears. “Indeed, I was having an Arjun moment. You know Krishna and Arjun from Mahabharat?”
Jalal confirmed with a nod.
She had a lot to say. It’d be practical to pull back to sound human, but his feathery kisses convinced her otherwise.
“When Krishna shows Arjun His universal form on the battle field, Arjun says– ‘O Lord, I thought you were just my friend, my brother-in-law, my partner in crime. I ate, played, fought, sported with you like you’re my equal. But now, beholding this inconceivable magnificence of Yours, my heart is thumping. I’m cowering in fear. What a fool I was!’.”
Her hand left his shirt and cradled his jaw. “Likewise, seeing you in my realm made me delusional too. Eating, shopping, teasing, staying with you made me forget what you truly are! This…” she threw a sideway glance at the plant. “… is my moment of awakening! And suffice to say that it is both humbling and daunting.”
Jalal crushed her cheekbones some more so that her lips puckered some more. Planting a long smooch, he looked up. “This is exactly why I urgently got you here, Meenu Parrot!” His thumb grazed the O of her mouth for one fond moment and with a sigh, he let it go. He undid his clasp, allowing the cheek muscles to respire. Next time when his fingers swathed her jaw, his cradle was tender yet… serious?! Jodha wetted her lips, noticing the shift in his dark gazes. Resting one hand on his shoulder and the other on his chest, she curiously tipped her chin, bracing for whatever his ‘urgent’ and ‘serious’ reasons are!
“When you said yesterday that guys like ‘me’ don’t fall for girls like ‘you’, I knew you where you are coming from. Jodha… our palatial homes, gigantic factories, big fat wallets – you were so far exposed only to the opulence side of it and already find it disconcerting but this is not even the ‘D’ of daunting. The real menace begins once you step into this side of the world. Once you meet all kinds of superfluous, pretentious, offhanded snobs; once you socialize, patronize, acclimatize, why, even entertain them in our very homes with a buffoon smile, then you’ll see that ‘daunting’ doesn’t even cover it! The outlandish parties, the bizarre fundraisers, the meaningless Galas – once you witness what all we do in name of survival, in name of staying top of the game, you’ll throw up your hands and say – ‘Boy… I’m done with the lots of you’. You easily said you’ve subscribed for the whole package, but you have no freaking clue what it entails. It comes with a hell lot more than just a lover boy husband and too good to be true in-laws, girl!”
Her eyes picked gravity, the chirp and the cheer gone and the lover’s heart winced. Way to go buzz-killer! It scoffed but he steeled his resolve.
“And you’ve to know this now because, with your parent’s death anniversary done and all religious impositions lifted, it won’t be long before your marriage topic gains traction. I bet your relatives must have already lined up proposals, waiting to present to you once the ceremony is over and done. The pressure will be on you - too much and too soon. When push comes to shove and you take my name, it will be no less than a pandemonium break out. Every single member of your family, friends and relatives, including your Badepapa and Peddamma, will oppose the idea of us. The socio-economic differences between us are too chasmal for them to ignore and eagerly bless us. Don’t take me wrong. Your foster father might be a liberal thinker but I don’t think even he is capable of permitting a divorced Muslim boy to court his very prized, ‘very single' Hindu daughter, even if that boy comes rolling in money. We will not have many shippers, Jo. I’m not saying this to frighten you. I want you to be prepared. There will be war, a tough one to boot. And if you were to fight it, first ‘you’ need to be fully convinced that it is worth fighting. For that, you need to be fully into ‘us’. If you yourself believe that you’re unfit or undeserving of me, then there is no defense against these external forces.” He tucked back her flying tendrils, one at a time. “Your relatives might object to my religion but your parents, especially Saradhi ji will take objection to my failed marriage. Rightfully so because your Badepapa had been there… seen everything. He’s my ‘divorce’ lawyer, for crying out loud. He respects me as a man and defended me out of sworn duty, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t see through my charade of a husband. Everything he tells you about me and my complicated web of work-life imbalance that eroded my marriage, will be true and undeniable. That is why I rushed you here. Not to cry wolf or to come clean before your father got to you but to simply present you my side of the things. You’ve seen only the lover boy side of me – who chatted late nights, flew to Delhi, or cut short his meetings to come home but that’s not the whole me. Before you choose or not choose to be fully into ‘us’, you need the full picture. And here it is…”
His hands left her jaw and caged her right palm between them, his eyes on the factory. “Most people see this as three rich fathers dishing out their sons’ favorite spread on a golden platter and serving them but for me, for many years, this had been the summum bonum of my existence. Abdul had Sara, Chetan had Smitha and I had this.”
Jodha’s breath hitched, his straight-cut one liner conveying the depth of his affections. What Sara is to Abdul is what Four Wheels is to him? That much obsession? She frowned, perusing the steel and glass structure in new light.
“People experience pain of separation from people, but for me, it was this. There were days at stretch when my bachelor apartments were untouched because I slept, bathed, ate, lived here. We’d go out on occasional breaks, drink and relax and while Abdul and Chetan returned to their girls, I’d return here. All this was before any of us got married. Even then they’d divide their time healthily, between ambition and love, but ironically for me there was no such segregation. Unfortunately, or fortunately, Aliya chose to step into my life as a wife in the prime of that obsession phase. We talked over it; we were clear on our priorities - I’ll make Four Wheels fully operational and she’ll make Regal international! Together we will show up for page 3 events but after that our time is ours. So… when we married with that kind of talks, there weren’t significant changes to my life except for shifting from bachelor pad to the mansion and driving back home instead of sleeping at office.”
Unbeknown to the speaker, the listener sat painting a vivid picture of his narrative, her stomach turning into knots. With that kind of marriage, how did they make a child? To her middle class mentality, casual flings, meaningless s*x never made sense. For her, s*x is about love and commitment, not just another physical need like eating or sleeping. She knew her opinion is less popular among her generation but she didn’t care. Forget meaningless flings …meaningless marriages weren’t a phenomenon she could wrap her head around either. Marriage means love, respect, companionship and lots of commitment – or so her experience had been, growing up amidst committed couples who slogged their lives for their children. Personal needs, personal space, personal ambitions for parents were unheard of in their middle class locality.
“My parents cautioned that marriage needs work but Aliya and I laughed it off. We had known each other for twenty years, what else new is there to work on? I was glad I didn’t have to divide my time between family and work, unlike others. I was glad Aliya was equally ambitious and didn’t act like a typical wife greedy of her husband’s time. We were cool, sorted, practical – at least that’s what we thought until our practicality killed our child.” His voice ladened with guilt. “I was ecstatic to be a father. A tiny new life felt like a cool addition to our home. Our parents were on cloud nine as expected. I convinced Aliya that she doesn’t have to worry about anything. All she had to do is safeguard it for nine months and deliver. After that, there will be a horde of nannies to raise the child. We will work hard to ensure that our child had dearth of nothing - best child care, best facilities, best education – everything best that money could fetch. I thought we’re game but who was I kidding? The Almighty sees through our pretenses. There is no hiding from Him. He knew what kind of environment AWOL parents create, so He chose to spare our child from that misery. When Aliya announced her abortion, everyone thought I was gallantly poised but the truth was, I was ashamed. Outwards, I was hurt with Aliya’s decisions, but my conscience knew I was also my child’s murderer. It took me a lost life to realize that what we had is not a marriage but a dysfunctional partnership. No child deserves to be brought up in such kind of an arrangement. When I opened my eyes to that truth, I couldn’t continue that sham of a relationship, because what else is the future for it? We can forgive each other and go on but then what? Will we ever be true companions? Will we ever be committed parents? I didn’t see it happening, not with Aliya at least because my heart was not into her. Whatever deep feelings my father had for my mother, my friends had for their wives, that’s not what I felt for Aliya. Now, will I ever find that connection with anyone was a question I didn’t have an answer to then, but one thing was clear – we were doing injustice to each other by dragging that relationship. That hardened my resolve for divorce.”
Jodha cut a glance to him, her heart going out for the repenting man. It craved to pat his aching heart and assert that he’s not at fault but her conscience reined her in.
‘It takes two hands to clap, Meenu!’ Her father used to say whenever she got into dispute with neighborhood children. ‘What did you do?’
She looked away, not offering any fake affirmations because she knew her man didn’t need any. 'As long as one questions what did ‘I’ do and stay true to themselves instead of pushing all the blame on to others – they are on the right path, Meenu'. Her father said. 'They might make mistakes but their redemption is long lasting.’
May be she should publish all her father’s, brother’s and mother’s quotations! Her mind briefly digressed. She’d make a sh*t load of money!
“It had been only a year since that catastrophe. Your parents will find it hard to believe that my ways have changed or that I’m fit for marriage so soon.” His hand squeezed hers, seeking her attention. “If only I knew how to assure them that the Jalal their daughter is getting is not the Jalal that Aliya got.” His eyes locked with hers, the vulnerability in them a punch to her gut as he admitted. “I’m not that man anymore, Jo.”
Jodha stilled, the only sign that she was following him was her fluttering chest. “Last time, neither my head was into the marriage nor my heart was into the woman I married. But I can see that over the past year, my head and heart have shifted places. I didn’t know when Regal became alluring all of a sudden. I didn’t know when Regal team meetings began to rouse more interest than R &D discussions here. Even when I was here, I didn’t know when I started looking at this babe from my sixth floor window and instead of orders and shipments, I thought of a woman’s quirks and comebacks. Oh, I definitely didn’t know I could be a hooligan pounding a scoundrel to near death for wrongly touching a woman. This short stay of yours at my home was my awakening to what a meaningful marriage could be, Jo. Now that I’ve experienced it firsthand, I don’t want to go back to silent walls and shallow conversations. You might think seven months is too soon to feel so strong. Your relatives might think I’m not your type. Your parents might think this is temporary obsession – that this too shall pass and I’ll ruin your life like I did Aliya’s but…” his fingers held hers in a vice-like grip, his gaze cutting. “…they all can go and f*ck themselves for all I care as long as you…” the intensity of his glare made her heart lurch. “… you zip up all that – I don’t deserve you, I’m out of your league sh*t and take me, woman. The question is… will you?”
~~~
Jayanagar…
Why aren’t they back yet? Are they okay? Jalal knows of the criticality of circumstances…he will be careful, but what if he too was caught unaware? The restless father sat up to take a sip from the bottle. Should he have stopped Jodha? Was he too laid back? It’s all too sudden to react but still… what’d Raghu do in such situation? Would he have called her back? Shucks – he has no experience playing this full time father role for a girl – is he mucking it up?’
He chugged a few mouthfuls and laid down on his side. For a minute, he got excited and selfish. Jalal felt like an answer to all his tribulations. If it were up to him, he’d get Jalal and Jodha married first thing in the morning and secured his daughter in the fortress called the Ahmed’s. But… His mind reeled over all the divorce proceedings. They’re good people, no doubt, but are they the right people for his differently upbrought girl?! Because with the kind of parenting Raghu did, it’s difficult for Jodha to adjust with any normal money-minded middle class family. How will she fit with the rich and the affluent Ahmed’s then?
Raghuuu…! His heart bled for his younger brother. Memories of their childhood flooded eating away his peace, nibble by nibble. With an age gap of eight years Raghu had always been more of a son than a sibling. More so when multiple abortions took a toll on their mother’s health and Uterus cancer took her away. Ever since, he took up the role of a full time father figure to both a distraught twelve year old and a shaken forty two year old. Whenever did he have the time to sit and properly grieve? May be he is cursed that way. When their mother died, he had his brother and father to think of. When his brother and sister-in-law died, he had a devastated twenty five year old to think of. May be it’s the responsibilities that he had been shouldering since early in life that didn’t make him feel the emptiness of a childless home, as direly as Prameela did.
His mind wandered to the wedding of Raghu and Vasu, the sweet memory easing some bitterness of the past. Vasudha’s brother, a super senior to Raghu in University, brought forth the rishta of his sister to both Rao and Raghu. Rao was skeptical of marrying too soon. He wanted to be financially stable before he took a wife and started a family but Raghu thought differently. He believed in building a life from scratch together with his partner. Also, his brother didn’t have the same financial liabilities that Rao had. They weren’t filthy rich, but they had enough to support their wives comfortably. Apparently, Raghu showed his interest in the proposal and when they all went to see Vasu, boy, his brother was smitten. In fact, they were all smitten. That girl had been such a chatterbox and a spitfire, a welcome change from all coy girls of the era!
An inadvertent smile creased his lips thinking of Vasu’s outgoing nature that broke through all Prameela’s barriers and how the two gelled like born sisters. It was the same nature that busted his reservations as an older brother-in-law and made him take her complaints like a father would.
‘Who chooses Assam jijaji, when he could’ve gotten posted somewhere in AP? Your brother is weird’. The newly wed Vasu would come to him and Prameela to complain. ‘Neither can I go there every month nor can he come. Now we have to wait till my final exams are done’. She was in her B.Sc Home Science final year when she got married. ‘Tell him to get a transfer na! He’ll listen to you’. Poor girl… if only she knew how persuasive her husband is! Once Raghu is fixed on something, he charms everyone into his choices, which Vasu came to know in due course, because despite her protests that she needed a stable home, that she won’t be a nomadic tribe, she’d enthusiastically follow her husband as he hopped on from one state to another, every two years! Assam to Gujarat to Rajasthan to Bihar and more – they lived in most of west and north India, till they finally settled in Hyderabad. “You always have a home Vasu.” His brother would tell his wife. “Home is where we are together. And I promise you a permanent home of your choice in a place of your choice but that’s for later. For now, we have the age and time to gather experiences and create memories. Let’s explore the world and humble ourselves.”
Gautam and Jodha! His thoughts drifted again. Such bundles of joy! Prameela and he had active contribution in those kids childhood. Raghu and Vasu saw to it! Each time his brother dangles a transfer letter, his sister-in-law would place a trunk call to Bangalore. On pretext of helping with transition, Prameela and he would travel and they all would explore the new city together. Summer holidays were a different ballgame. Prameela used to wait for April every year – for twenty days when the house would be cramming with children and their cat-mice fights.
What happened to all those joys? The sneaky smudge of mist behind his lids, pooled into a big fat tear and rolled down his cheek. Gautam is gone, Raghu is gone, Vasu is gone, his parents are gone… how cruel and lonely life had become! And the only direct blood relation that is alive is swamped with danger at every step of her life.
Before he slipped into the abyss of ache, Prameela’s hand circled his waist, disrupting his thoughts. “Can’t sleep?” Her groggy voice carried empathy and censure. “Thinking of Raghu and Vasu?” The exhausted advocate turned, taking refuge in his companion of thirty five years. “We have to be strong and alive for the responsibility they left us behind.” Her face snuggled into to his shoulder. “Don’t you dare drop the ball on us. Remember - help yourself first before helping others.” She started patting his chest in a slow rhythm. “Now stop lamenting and catch some sleep so that come another morning, you can take care of your wife and daughter.”
Saradhi broke into a chastised smile as his arms rounded his wife. Your wife and your daughter! He took a deep whiff of the habituated scent. Yes! He has a wife and a daughter to be grateful to. Soon… he’ll have a son-in-law and grandchildren to love and cherish. Where will Raghu and Vasu go? Jodha was their jaan! Isn’t it said that a loving soul that had to abruptly leave will come back as a child in the same family to finish off their karma?!
So be it! So be it!
With that hopeful prayer, the tired advocate focused on evening his breathing. Sleep is afar yet, he knew, but that’s okay because peace has returned.
Tap… tap… tap! His wife's patting went on!
~~~
To be continued...
Originally posted by: nushhkiee
Nahi batayengi... Fir bhi chalo 2 months I can wait
Usse jyada nahi
But waitt...it's Part 2 ... not next chapter ... so yesss .. 13 July!!!
13 July..chapter 44 part 2
Let's start countdown 😜 😜
Originally posted by: hemakeerti
Editing still in progress... will be back in 30 min to continue.. don't read until then
Yaar read half of it already - till Jodha's 'third dose' ... will finish the rest after dinner, hehe .. till then you will be done
Sorry...Too much very much greedy when it comes to PBD. Didn't notice the editing in progress warning
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