ArYa FF: Dil Jaanta Hai - Thread 1 (chapt 1-10) - Page 77

Vidhi's phone came in the early hours of the morning. A slumbering Arti reached for the cell phone and groggily spoke into it, "Hello?"

"Arti, its Vidhi" said an anxious voice, followed by a stream of frantic words none of which made any sense to the half-asleep Arti.

"What...Vidhi...slow down. Kya hua? I don't understand...slow down. Tell me again" Arti said, sitting up, rubbing her eyes trying to wake up fully. What she heard next startled her into wakefulness.

As Arti made ginger tea and sat on her swing sipping the strong fragrant brew, she thought back over the last few days...

Earlier that week...

The day after the clay-session was a Monday, a day Arti always had to work late in office. By the time she reached the orphanage that evening, the sun had already set and the younger children were getting ready for bed. She found Deepak in the room with the doll-house, Yash sitting right next to him.

Yash had spent the day meeting with vendors and suppliers for the wedding, getting the preliminary work done so the Khans and Ansaris could finalize the contracts. He had made time however to visit chor bazaar and find two whittling knives. Now, in the evening, the two were bent over blocks of wood as Yash taught the basics of wood carving to Deepak.

Deepak was the oldest of the children in the orphanage and he felt his responsibility keenly. He had held, cared for and loved each and every child that had come there after him. They all looked to him as their Bhaiyya, the elder brother they found as a miracle. But in his role as elder brother, he had often given up his own wants and desires so that some other child's needs could be met. After all, money was always at a premium in the orphanage. It wasn't till Arti came that Deepak even discovered his talents in the arts. In these few months, Arti had taught him the basics of sketching and painting, but he wanted to learn more. And the doll house project had fascinated him - the thought of carving wood, shaping something out of a blank block of wood entranced him. So when Yash sensed his interest and offered to teach, Deepak leapt at the chance.

Yash came every evening after that. The two spent hours in the doll-house room, carving blocks of wood, till Deepak was able to carve a recognizable form without breaking the wood. He had jumped with joy and run straight to Arti with the little dog figure he had made. It was a very amateurish attempt - but it was a recognizable first step.

The next day Yash called Arti at her office. She was surprised - she hadn't realized that he knew where she worked. It felt...creepy.

"Namaste Artiji", came the deep voice over the phone.

"Namaste Yashji. How did you get this number?" Arti asked, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice.

"I asked Khan Sahab" Yash replied in a surprised voice. What did she think? That he was stalking her? Huh.

"I called to check with you. Can you come with Deepak this afternoon, at four?" he continued determined to dispel any misconceptions the woman may be harboring about him.

He didn't give Arti details, except that it was a surprise for Deepak. She agreed and taking an early leave picked Deepak up. They met Yash in front of an old building, deep within Chandni Chowk. Yash didn't give them a chance to ask questions, hustling them up the narrow staircase.

They entered a room strewn with canvases, paints, sculptures...he had brought them to the studio-cum-home of his friend Shiraaz Mishra, a talented artist who chose to live with his muse despite doing reasonably well for himself. At Yash's insistence, he had agreed to meet Deepak and if he thought the boy had talent, then train him further.

The meeting went well. Initially over-whelmed, Deepak quickly overcame his shyness as Shiraaz talked to him. The boy showed the artist some of his sketches and proudly displayed the dog figurine he had made. When Shiraaz countered with a much more detailed dog sculpture of his own, Deepak showed his true instincts and talent as he pointed out and asked questions about the details and nuances in the artist's sculpture. He won the man over when he looked at him with glowing, hopeful eyes and asked in his shy voice, "Sir, will you teach me how to do this please?"

Shiraaz had agreed to tutor Deepak for at least one year and depending on his progress, the tutelage could last longer. Yash had paid in advance for the tuition, removing the main obstacle the orphanage authorities would have posed.

Yash had taken the older children and Arti out to celebrate. The children insisted on chaat.

"Ok, we will have chaat. But where?" asked Yash.

"In the best chaat-place in the world of course" Arti replied grinning at the three kids with them.

She took them to Bangla Sweet House - a shop that had grown over the years to take over almost one whole section of Gol Market. The kids were thrilled and ordered two of everything. Poor Yash willingly paid the tab not realizing that one plate of each dish was for him!

The children plied him with the food - the chaat just kept coming. Alu, fruit, papdi, chole, samosa - Yash lost count of the varieties he had tasted. And the kids would not take no for an answer, "But Uncle, you must taste this one...Kya nahin nahin Uncle, this one is the best...Have you tried this one Uncle? Oh but you must..."

Yash loved chaat but this was an overdose. Finally he clutched his stomach and exclaimed, "Bas! I can't eat any more. Aur nahin!"

"Oh but that is not possible Yashji!" exclaimed Arti as she came towards him. To his horror, he saw her holding out a small bowl. "Yeh toh apko chakhna hi padega, kyun bachhon?" (you must taste this, right kids?)

Yash groaned aloud, "What is it?"

"The king of chaat - gol-gappe!" the four said in unison.

Yash held up his right forefinger "One. I will have one - bas! OK?"

They nodded happily and Arti held out the bowl to him. As he hesitated, Deepak stepped forward and picked up the gol-gappa, "Open your mouth Uncle" he coaxed and plopped the puri dripping with paani and chutney into Yash's mouth.

Yash closed his eyes as the crisp, tender puri burst in his mouth, filling his senses with a sweet, tangy taste. And just as quickly he snapped his streaming eyes open as the spicy after-taste hit. "Water!" he gasped, fanning his tongue with a napkin while the kids fell over themselves getting him a glass of chilled water. Yash gulped the water down and looked at Arti piteously, "Bas Artiji" he pleaded.

Just then his phone rang. He glanced at the caller id and Arti saw him tense. Murmuring a quick "Excuse me" he half-turned as he answered the call.

As Yash listened to the brief phone call, Arti saw him transform in front of her eyes. In an instant the carefree, smiling Yash was gone. In his place was a man with a face carved of stone - his expression as cold and as immovable.

He ended the call and turned to ask her briskly, "Can you all get back?"

She nodded and without another word, he strode away.

Present...

That had been the evening before. Gol Market was well supplied with auto-rickshaws and Arti and the children got back to the orphanage without trouble. Arti had wondered at Yash's transformation and his abrupt departure, but did not question it. After all, how did it concern her? And then Vidhi called...

Arti sighed as she got off the swing and went to shower and get ready. She wasn't sure which emotion was uppermost - annoyance or anxiety. How could she go to meet Yashji at this hour? She had no wish to go there. And she was darned sure Yashji would not want her there either, especially if what Vidhi had said was true. But how could she say no to Vidhi?

Annoyance - yep, that was it. She was sure she was annoyed. What was Vidhi thinking? And what in heaven's name was wrong with Mr. Yash Scindia?