Palaces Of The Past - Chapter 1
Shashi Gupta checked on the preparations for the umpteenth time. He tensed, wiped a bead of sweat from his brow and then smiled. The court yard of Gomti Sadan was full of hustle and bustle. His elder sister Madhumati sang and danced in delight. It was funny to see the old woman indulging herself in such boisterous merrymaking but the event demanded it. It was after all, his daughter's marriage. But he was in doubt, somewhere..."Sahib, taste this, today's special- jalebi", the voice shook him off his thoughts. Shashi Gupta tried his best to hide the disappointment, not caused by the sweet but by the question, was it the last time he was being asked this? He nodded towards the worker and slowly brought a blue file to himself. They were the mortgage papers of his sweetmeat shop- his establishment, his livelihood. Though it was a very small shop in one of the narrow lanes of Lukhnow, but it had brought him respect, reputation and means to sustain.
But he was to part with it to meet up to the dowry demands laid by her daughter's would be in laws. And if he were to give all that he had in one marriage what about the younger daughter's future? The thought made him unsure about his action. He shared his beliefs with his wife Garima who was quick to reject it, calling it inauspicious.
Inside the room, Payal was in a dilemma, "Should we really do this Khushi?" she asked her younger sibling.
"But of course jiji, I am sure jijaji doesn't even know about what his mother's been saying. I'll talk to him, he'd intervene and marry you without the expectation of dowry...Oh, hell why ain't he picking his phone?"
Payal gave her a confused look.
"Look jiji, I think I should go and talk to him. His hotel isn't that far from here. I'll call as soon as I reach there." saying this she was already half way towards the door. She slipped on her sneakers, went out, sneaked the blue file, waved a good bye, pounced on her rickety scooter and was out of sight within minutes.
...
"Where the hell is Khushi?" Madhumati screamed. All of a sudden the merry making was brought to a halt.
****
Earlier that morning...
As his chartered helicopter hovered over, nearer to the lush farmlands of Lukhnow, the sight disinterred many memories that had been buried deep inside. Memories that he'd give anything to divorce himself from. And wasn't that exactly why he had brought himself there?
As the chopper aligned itself with the familiar helipad, Arnav Singh Raizada felt something choke his throat. He closed his eyes and immediately cut out the feeling.
An excited rage ran across the throngs of media personnel who had gathered in the lawns of the magnificent building since morning, their impatience increased manifold with every passing moment. The man soon to be under camera glare was no ordinary mortal. Arnav Singh Raizada appeared to be a dream. It had been merely four years since his name was heard for the first time and within that span, the founder/ chairman of AR conglomerate had acquired such a position in the Indian corporate scenario, that according to a joke common in his circles, if ASR sneezed, sensex caught cold. From fashion to fabric to construction, he had hardly left any green pasture unexplored, drawing profits (sucking according to some) from everywhere.
Many had questioned his ethics, tried to bring his ways under scrutiny for how could somebody be so rich in no time? But the young arrogant bas***d got away every time. Clean.
For the media, he was no less than a film star- dashing, rich and controversial. He would sell. He did. Indeed, they would encash even on the colour of his tie! What baffled them today was the reason why he had chosen Lucknow. It was amazing, so less could be known about him. Several guards and policemen herded them away, an armed guard rushed to escort him out, he disembarked the chopper, walking towards the building taking long strides, in a crisp white shirt, black Armani suit, black aviator sunglasses and a grey scarf around his neck instead of a tie. The press people showered him with questions, each of which went unheard by the aforementioned.
He came to a halt from where he could take a clear look of the monumental structure named Sheesh Mahal- large and imposing, old but un-withered as if mocking at the evanescence of human form. He took off his aviators, none of his present surroundings existed anymore...the clock seemed to strike backwards as he was transported in time, 14 years back... He heard happy music, sounds of giggles, of laughter. Amidst all this, was a young woman- one with a very sweet face dressed in red trousseau. She smiled at a teenaged boy, who returned her an approving grin and a thumbs-up sign and then.. the boy ran after an older woman.. a gun shot resonated in the walls of Sheesh Mahal...maa he cried...silence.
Around half a dozen pigeons flew from the ancient French window sill, bringing Arnav back in the reality- the present. His ice cold gaze fell on Mallik, the man with a moustache who sat right across him on the table, chewing tobacco. They were seated in one of Sheesh Mahal's elegant patios across the arcade, a place where as a child Arnav would have... he quickly brushed aside the thought and studied the second man on the table- Khan the usurer who gurgled his hookah blowing spurts of smoke. Mallik forced out a sardonic laugh and tried to start a conversation by stating he always favored a clean deal and how he'd stick to his word. He had intended to leave a good impression on the moneyed party, initially he had hoped to only see one of his subordinates but Raizada Sahib had surprised him by showing himself (although he had expected him to be a bit older), little did he know that Raizada sahib had planned for him a couple of other surprises as well.
ASR gestured to his assistant who bowed and placed an open briefcase that flaunted bundles of currency notes in bills of thousands. "All that in cash?" Mallik was pleasantly surprised. "Look Khan that clears the entire debt along with interest compounded annually." Khan looked at ASR who hadn't spoken a word since morning. He simply shut the briefcase, swiveled and pushed it towards Khan. Mallik was disappointed. He forced another laugh out, "That was supposed to be my money, Mr. Raizada here either has a sense of humor or he simply missed his mark."
Arnav rose to his feet, placing both his hands on the table and fixated his entire attention on Mallik which sort of unnerved the older man.
" Arnav Singh Raizada never misses his target.. Money's not my hobby, its business." He said coldly and turned on his heels walking briskly towards the arcade, his fleet of men following. Mallik gave Khan a helpless look. Khan pulled off the pipe, "apparently Mallik, your partner turned out to be a wily one, he chose to trade straight with me and now he's the new owner of your mortgaged estate. Considering your arrears, I had no option but to comply with him." Mallik sank in his chair. So, he had been played, he concluded. He saw no other rescue but to beg and plead in front of the new master.
He rushed towards the marching man, having difficulty in keeping with his pace," Raizada sahib, I have been wronged, you can't do this sir, I always believed you were a man of principles."
"And should I say you were a fool to believe that." Arnav retorted, still walking, "Look, I do plain business and the conscience is such a nag...I learnt early in life, if you have one, then kill it..", he stopped, and turned to face the despondent man, "right?... Uncle!". Mallik froze in his tracks as if a thunderbolt had directly hit at his skull. How could he have mistaken, the familiarity of his features, he was but of course the son of his deceased step-brother. He could now very well place him, the 14 year old vulnerable boy and his crippled sister - two people he hadn't cared to find were whether living or dead? But Arnav was no longer vulnerable, he was right there, staring at him straight in the eye. "You... you are A..Arnav Mallik !" he gasped shaking all over.
"Arnav Mallik is long dead. You killed him." said ASR, with no trace of emotion in his voice and walked away, leaving the bewildered old man staring at the ground which would soon cease to exist beneath his feet.
****
In the evening...
Khushi applied the brakes when the road lights required her to, she pulled out her feeble looking phone and cursed, " God Khushi, couldn't you just charge it?", it didn't show any signs of recovery, it in fact rang for the worst. " Oh god jiji! I told you I'll call when I reach there, look my phone's battery is running out so I need to cut this short but be assured, the mission will be accomplished" she said sounding more confident then she felt, she had never attempted something so bold without consulting her parents before, " over and out now - beep- no you not out- beep- ouch my battery...gone?" She banged her fist on the cell phone and looked around to find that she had turned a few heads. Well when you are sporting a green lehenga, pink chunni, yellow helmet, white sneakers and driving a blue scooter with large aluminum milk cans hanging on either side, you sure make quite a sight! "There you go." she muttered.
***
At Sheesh Mahal...
The shape of the place had been changed beyond recognition, at least the rearward portion where the golden stage was set. The outer ambit was adorned in large scale mural imitations representative of the city's rich medieval bequest. The assemblage consisted of hundreds of invitees from the fashion industry, socialites, famous media personalities and several Bollywood giants who had all flown to the non metropolitan. The buzz said that ASR had bought the hotel but how could one be sure, unless he chose to speak? ASR didn't disappoint the media this time. He had donned a classic black Dolce and Gabbana three piece suit and A. Testoni's Black Label Norvagese shoes for the occasion, he came walking on the ramp with model perfection escorted by two female models draped in red silken outfits, the kind only models wear during ramp walks. "Good evening ladies and gentlemen, AR's biggest fashion event this year,... tonight." his voice came over the microphone, an ever so slight yet palpable American accent, that sent an immediate hush among the audience.
" Sir, we have heard you have bought this property?" chimed in one reporter.
Silence.
" Mr. Raizada why was Lukhnow chosen for this event?"
"I'd appreciate if you would keep your questions limited to the show." He replied curtly.
"But sir, isn't it true that you bought Sheesh Mahal for someone special?"
"Thats none of your business."
He turned to leave only to be greeted by the familiar voice that pacified him in it's immediacy. "Arnav?" said Anjali.
"Di?"
"What are you doing here?", they said at the same time.
"Jinx."grinned Anjali. "You first."
"Well, they have developed a new technology for chicken textiles, obviously, Lukhnow was the first choice for setting up the mill." He answered assisting her down with her artificial foot.
"Granted, but may I know, why are you at Sheesh Mahal of all the places?"
"Location advantage...I mean.. its best suited...for the..", he hesitated," you know...for the mill."
"You'd...you'd demolish our old home?" She gasped in disbelief.
" It was our home, di, not anymore." Anjali could sense he had difficulty in keeping his voice straight. " Arnav, how long are you going to live with the past and the bad memories it brings?" She said softly," move on sweety."
I am not living with my past, he wanted to scream, "If I hadn't moved on, I won't be standing here di, besides, it's you I can't be certain about, I mean, do you still care for this old junk?" Anjali opened her mouth to reply but was cut short by Arnav replacing his microphone," Ladies and gentleman, Anjali..my sister." He said introducing her to the gathering.
"I think I should leave now." she whispered.
***
Her rachitic scooter protested, jolted back, huffed and stopped. " Awright grumpy mate, just there." she sniggered patting it's headlight. Khushi scrambled down, did her ritual of reciting all names of the gods- as many as she could remember and dashed towards the grand entrance. She noticed the fountain, some other day she would have sat by it, admiring its beauty, but not today, she was in too much of a hurry.
"Room no: 51 please" she asked the receptionist politely.
He studied her, she didn't seem the kind who usually landed there. "In a hurry? Any worry?"
"sorry?" she said.
"That rhymes!" he said delighted.
"I said room no 51, JEn Abhishek Sharma is there. Ain't he?"
"oops, late madam, anyway, go straight- take first right- then left- then right- then..."
"Oh shut up!"
She ran, searching around, till she heard music that sounded English not regular Indian 'baarat', but what else?
"Excuse me, choose one finger please," she asked a startled onlooker. She tapped on Khushi's index finger. "Whatever was that for?"
"Go where the sound comes from." She replied, ecstatic.
"Oh you mean the fash..." Khushi didn't stop to listen to the entire sentence.
For Mark Antony what had been the glorious break, now seemed to be a suicidal mission. When his appraisal had been sent for consideration at AR's head office, he had been on cloud nine. And then, he was informed of being allotted the last 5 minute slot of the yearly fashion extravaganza, he wouldn't have wanted anything more. Should he manage to impress the finicky boss, he would never require to look back. But things didn't quite turn that way. The 5 minutes were supposed to display six perfected costumes and the punch- the show stopper showcasing the exquisite trousseau collection's 24 carat gold embroidered chunri. Had he been that Mark Antony, he would have engaged Jennifer Lopez for the task, instead he offered it to the veteran actress Keesha Oberoi who only delighted in the comeback via ramp. He could have asked a contemporary actress but that idea was redundant, besides he had always been a secret admirer of Keesha. But now he was regretting the decision. "Why hasn't she reached yet? Where the hell is she?" he demanded from her manager on phone.
"Dead." crackled the manager's annoyed voice over the receiver.
"And she had to die today?"
"You should have been more lucky." and she cut the line.
"s**t." Antony cursed.
One of the major differences between the Hindi film industry and Hollywood is the way a 5 month stint at the rehab proved to be detrimental for Keesha Oberoi's acting career, especially when the press came with her medical report on page 2 of a national daily. Her producers had cringed and her mother had decided to marry her off to a London based industrialist. When Antony's proposal came after two years of her not-so-happy marriage, she had only hoped to remind the film-makers of her existence. When she flew down to Delhi, she decided to pay her husband a visit, who had flown to the city earlier for business and found him sleeping with another woman. She returned to her hotel and tanked so much of alcohol that when the room service found her lying unconscious on floor with a bottle, the hotel authorities sent for an ambulance instead of a conveyance to the airport to catch a flight scheduled for Lukhnow.
****
He must be hallucinating, thought Mark Antony when he saw her coming. She seemed to have stepped down from one of Keesha's earliest photographs, perhaps 15 years previous to this date, when she had been a new comer, untarnished by the over-competitive smoke of the industry. He rubbed his eyes and realized she was not her. Khushi approached the short heighted man watching her so intently. The music seemed to get louder with every step. " Excuse me, you know where can I find..." she began. She appeared to be the perfect choice for Antony, the very Indian features, the coy bearing, yes she would do. "Listen, if you knew you could save somebody's life by giving your 5 minutes.."
"No, some other time I would have but right now I need to see Abhishekji most urgently..." she said interrupting him but her voice was mostly drowned in the music.
"Please you can meet whateverji after five minutes, you would be heavily compensated for this.", he added.
Before she could react she was thrusted in the hands of about half a dozen girls forcing minimal makeup on her face. "Look you must be mistaken, I need to go..." she protested and even thought of kicking them but was only too polite to do that. " Marky! who wears sneakers with a lehenga." one of the girls exclaimed, slipping a strapped pencil heel on her foot. "I do." Khushi shouted. The girl was in no mood to cooperate, Antony observed, they could no way make her wear the show-stopper's costume apart from the extensively gilded chunri. They flung that across her shoulders. "Fine guys leave her." said Antony dejected, only wondering how he'd explain ASR and face his temper which had never been remotely close to 'good'.
The moment Khushi was freed, she leapt and dashed towards the nearest exit, but too late, that was no exit but a world different from hers, his world. She found herself on a stage, shocked to the core, scared as hell, she looked around to see about five hundred odd faces looking at her and cameras taking her pictures. She staggered, her feet went cold, her heart hammered in her rib cage.. "keep walkin'.." said one of the two models who were making their exit from the stage, leaving her on her own. She tried to walk but could not make her balance, feeling butterflies. A faint murmur erupted in the crowd that soon became audible..loud enough for ASR who had been busy replying to emails from his phone, to throw a glance at the stage. She too looked at her right and froze. His chocolate brown met her walnut colored eyes.
As if she wasn't already scared, his piercing gaze sent a chill down her spine. He stood up, his eyes burning holes through her. Petrified, she brought her veil close to her face wishing she would disappear, vanish into thin air. It struck her, she could run away right? Wrong. In a bid to extricate herself from the infernal prison of his glare, she turned away, stretched her leg to break into a sprint causing her sweepingly long garment get tangled in her heel. She threw her hands up in air, struggling to regain balance, fidgeted, tripped and fell overboard into something...someone.
*****
Edited by cineraria - 9 years ago
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