CHAPTER 45
In the gleaming darkness of a full moon night, Sheesh Mahal came into its own, like the old stories about houses that came alive only during the still watches of the night. During the daytime, the hustle and bustle of the household muted the effect of the cavernous halls and the tinkling chandeliers, dulling the reflections of the antique mirror work that embedded the plaster walls. At night, with the slanting rays of the moon playing with the reflected candles lit in recessed holders, Sheesh Mahal trembled and shone. The moonlight played with the mirrors that were everywhere-- irridescent shards of flashing silver light revealing why this palace had been called the "Mansion of Mirrors" by generations of Malliks.
Khushi, who was terrified of darkness, somehow found that even without any of the hallway lights, the reflected gleam from a myriad tiny mirrors, and the sheen from the cut-crystal candles provided her with enough illumination to prowl the halls quite comfortably. And so she wandered, now climbing stairs, now darting into corridors and entering doorways, feeling as lost and empty as the halls she went through.
He was not here.
She could not sleep on a bed without his dark presence, could not breathe in a room without his breaths mirroring her own. Her body felt weightless without his arm, casually flung around her waist, to give it a ballast and an anchor. So she walked on and on, not knowing where she was going, nor why, but padded on, barefoot, her hair streaming behind her, another ghost in these ghostly halls.
She did not know why she had believed, all the while, right up until she had been shown her new bedroom, that Arnav would come for her. She had just---felt it. And when it came to him, her awareness of him had never let her down as completely as it had done this evening, when every sense had screamed that he was close by. And when her every sense had been wrong, in insisting on this. To be asked to sleep now was a travesty--- slumber would no more come to her, without him, than peace would.
One final twist had led her to a flight of marble stairs, which lead, as far as she could tell, to the roof. She climbed, up, up, up--feeling so weightless and unsubstantial, she felt as if she could climb forever. She reached a carved door, and pushing it open, emerged out onto the roof. The night sky above her looked as if someone had taken a lapful of diamonds and strewn them carelessly across a blue velvet cloth, while the swirling ribbons of clouds from this high vantage point looked close enough to reach out and touch. Khushi stretched her arms above her, staring up at the night sky.
She allowed the soft wind to smooth her hair from her face, taking in the twinkle of the city lights in the distance, enjoying the whisper and murmur from the fountains in the courtyards. She stood there for many minutes, absorbed, looking at nothing in particular, as her mind refocused, thinking about what to do next. She would call him, Khushi decided, as she leaned against the carved stone balustrade, looking into the distance. She would pick up her phone and call her husband. Tell him she missed him, ask him to come to her. She would try again; give their love a chance again. The truth was simple, really. When it came to her Arnav-ji, no matter what he did, what he said...She would always try.
Khushi now feeling calm and centered, had made up her mind, and she turned, ready to go back down to her bedroom. Thinking to herself that she would perhaps try and get some sleep, Khushi glanced casually at the far side of the roof.
Time froze.
There, seated on a bench, facing her, silently watching her out of hooded eyes was Shyam Manohar Jha.
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In retrospect, it should have been obvious. Shyam was in Lukhnow. This much both Arnav and Aakash had deduced while tracking Shyam's activities, given the fact that he maintained a law- office here in this city, and that he was NOT at his office in Delhi. This much was an educated guess. NK's work on Shyam's blackberry had revealed that he often came to Lukhnow to meet his friend or partner Druv, to do something in connection with that person here in this city. And the Raizadas had this residence, this Mahal right here in Lukhnow. A place where they normally never came to stay, but which was always kept ready for them, or for their family.
Where else would a man like Shyam stay, while he did his mysterious business in Lukhnow, other than at his wife's palatial home,the Sheesh Mahal? Anjali probably even knew that her husband usually stayed here while doing his work in this city, but no one had asked her anything. The Sheesh Mahal servants were too rigid and proper to speak or gossip to their newly arrived guests about their other, older guest.
Obvious.
And yet the shock was horrific, like a blow to the gut that emptied the lungs of all air, that created a rushing sense of fear where, moments ago, nothing had existed but peace. Shyam watched her face dispassionately, as Khushi struggled to breathe, fear and shock having robbed her momentarily of all her senses. As she recovered, she saw the slight smile on his face, as he sat enjoying the effect his unexpected reveal had had on her. His lips curled up in a smirk, his eyes hot and hard with malice.
Somewhere, within Khushi, her spine stiffened. Cleansing anger enveloped her, as she faced the man whose last encounter had left her at death's door. She would not back down, she would not show her fear to a man who thrived on hurting others, on giving pain. Khushi was a fighter. Sometimes, that entailed showing strength when one felt none, sometimes it meant cloaking fear with courage, even when one felt nothing but pure terror within. So, to Shyam's shock, Khushi turned and instead of bolting for the open door leading to the stairs, she came slowly upto him. Khushi greeted him with a nod and stiffly sat down next to him, right onto the bench where he had sat for long minutes, watching her.
Admiration flooded Shyam as he looked at the pale face and stoic expression on the beautiful woman he had savaged. Nothing but the soft trembling of her clasped hands betrayed the fear he could amost smell coming off of her. But frightened or not, here she sat, so very vulnerable, and yet so full of a kind of simple courage that was both foolish and endearing.
Sometimes, Shyam could dimly feel sensations and emotions that normal people felt and experienced, and right now, he thought he could feel--pity. So young, so innocent. If only he had not seen her, if only she was not Arnav's key, his damnation and salvation, both. If only her own future death was not the path to Arnav's own demise !! In another lifetime, had she not come across Shyam's path, he would have wished her well, he would have wanted her to be happy, to go through life untainted. He would have allowed such bravery and goodness to go on, unchecked. But here she was, and here he was. One fated to die, and the other fated to be the one to kill. It did call for some kind of pity.
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Khushi was the one who broke the silence. "Anjali Di is here, Shyam-ji. Downstairs. She misses you, and cries at night, waiting for you to call. Her morning sickness has become better, Nani-ji was saying, only yesterday, that the time will soon be here for complete bedrest. But you know her. You know your wife, well don't you? She came to spend some time with her friend before she is confined to her bed. Did you tell her you were here?"
Shyam replied, just as politely: "No. I haven't seen her, she does not know that I am here in Lukhnow. I didn't know you had all come until this evening, after dinner. I will be leaving tonight. I will see her when I need to. How have you been, Khushi-ji? I hope you have recovered well? And how is that friend of yours? Sarita? I gave her a fright, I'm sorry about that. Is she well?"
Khushi answered him, all the while her senses cramped and pulled within her, screaming for her to move away, to flee. It was a primitive, atavistic response, her skin crawling, the same sensation that one felt confronted when with a snake. That same wariness, that same desire to escape, the same careful backing away from a sleeping tangle of evil lying across the path. She tamped down the rising bile in her throat as she responded to suave, honeyed questions, to barbed enquiries about Arnav, Payal, herself. She responded to Shyam, as if this man had never sliced open her veins, never left her weltering in her own blood for her crazed husband to find and save. She did not know quite why she did this, she only knew that she would not run, and hide, she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her terror.
Shyam looked at her, marveling at the strength he was being shown by this tiny slip of a girl. He amused himself by asking her probing, cruel questions, enjoying her self-control. He looked at the flashing eyes that refused to break their combined illusion that they were anything more than relatives, enjoying an evening outside, talking politely about their families. She was truly Arnav Singh Raizada's bride, Shyam thought, an ugly twist on his lips. That bas***d had, like his father before him, found himself an incredible woman, and then twisted her so that she saw nothing but him. He had bewitched her so that she could not even see the danger to herself as she tried to live for him, to be proud and strong and fearless for him.
Shyam felt the old hatred bubble up, here, within the home of the Mallik clan, the home where he had never been wanted, or accepted. Where he was the son-in-law, but where he would never be the son. Here he was, sitting with another woman who---like his mother---was destined to never see her own child roam these halls, accepted and loved like Arnav and Anjali had been. Shyam spoke, lazily, watching Khushi cringe away from him, feeling appreciation for the control it took for her to not run away:
"Do you know what I am thinking right now, Khushi-ji? I am thinking that I could pick you up, right now, and throw you over that low, low edge. Watch you scream, as you shatter and die on the cobblestones below. You are so small, so light. So easily finished off, Khushi-ji. You should never have married him, you know. And fallen in love, as you have, despite the terror of what he did to you, on your wedding night. In spite of his monstrous actions, his cruelties.
I can tell, by your eyes, by the expression in them. Love, Khushi-ji? For Arnav Singh Raizada? You should never have loved him. I didn't think you would, you know. I knew he would love you, go mad from wanting you, how could he not? You are...you look like...there is no way he, a man of his bloodline...no way that he would not have loved you. But I never thought that you would fall that far, as well...Like her...If you had waited, I would have made other...arrangements... for you.
Oh, don't look disgusted. I would not have married you, actually.
Though of course your entire family thought so. It might not seem like it, but I know I am a married man. But I needed you to feel love for me, to believe I was serious about marrying you. It would have been easier for you, and if you had fallen in love with me, I would not have hurt you. You remind me of someone, someone who was, once, very special to me. I would have asked you to help me with Arnav, and then I would have made...arrangements. Why didn't you wait, Sonali? Why didn't you let me help you???"
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As if he was speaking to someone else, Shyam's voice modulated, changed, becoming, to Khushi's terrified ears, younger, more child-like. Innocent that she was, Khushi still knew that she was in real danger right now. Somehow, in speaking about her and Arnav, Shyam had changed, becoming more agitated, more intense. Gone was the suave questioning, the toying, drawled cruelties that had cloaked Shyam's insanity on the roof for the past few minutes. Something had shifted. Khushi knew, right away, that that facing her now was a madman in the disguise of a man. The cunning of insanity, of some deep purpose too twisted to comprehend shone in those flat eyes, the eyes that reflected the moonlight like polished pebbles in a swamp.
She knew, suddenly, as if someone had written it out for her, that Shyam Manohar Jha was irretrievably mad. And somehow, for some purpose, he had fixated on her as essential to his plans, to his needs. A madman's plans, that culminated in her death. Khushi, careful to remain neutral and calm, got up, stretching her arms casually as Shyam continued to mumble, almost to himself, asking her over and over again why she had not waited.
As she moved back, until she was close enough to the door to push it open, Khushi could feel her heart beat pounding in her ears, sickening her with pulses of adrenalin. He would do it, as soon as he stopped talking to himself in that odd, sing-song voice. She knew this. He would kill her. Shyam's voice, behind her---calling out her name---arrested her for a split second, before Khushi bolted.
Racing down the stairs, blindly making the twists and turns, through the endless passages and across the echoing rooms, Khushi ran. All she could hear, above her pounding heart were her footfalls slapping against the marble floors as she raced as if a hound of hell was behind her, snapping at her naked feet, trying to drag her to her death. The sounds of her breath, hewing in and out of her body as she turned and dodged behind this pillar and that alcove seemed to hiss and ring in her ears. Her blood pounded, making her almost dizzy with its roaring. Her terror and need to escape the monster on the roof gave her the accuracy and sense of direction to find her room that normal, sensible thought would never have granted her.
Khushi burst through the doors of the Bara Kaamra, and the sight of a shadow rising up to greet her entry was the final shock to her overwhelmed nerves. Khushi fainted, not gracefully, but like a log falling in the woods. As she crashed down, the floor coming up swiftly to meet her, she was caught up right into Arnav's arms. The last coherent thought that flooded Khushi's mind, just as her husband's scent announced to her darkening mind who had caught her was a puzzled question..."Who is Sonali?"
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Edited by napstermonster - 12 years ago
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