Author's Note- Seven years ago I wrote an FF- The Beginning of a New End to exorcise my IPKKND demons after the show ended. I watched it again in the run-up to the 10th anniversary and found I still had a story to tell. It's related to my previous FF and especially to the accompanying Anjali-Aman OS.
My earlier work can be found in FanFictions (Search for The Beginning of a New End) or click here for the link to the posts- Thetelleroftales Index
FF- The Beginning at the End
Chapter 1-
Aman woke up with a start on Sunday morning. Sunlight was streaming into his bedroom, sneakily between the small gap in the curtains. The fluorescent lights on his phone display informed him that it was past eight and he sat up wondering why his alarm hadn’t gone off.
He checked his phone again as he stood up, to make sure he hadn’t missed the call that served as his Sunday morning alarm.
It was only after he had brushed his teeth and splashed some water on his face that he remembered the evening prior in its entirety.
His boss, ASR, called him every Sunday morning at eight for a semi-formal catch up. Aman slept with his laptop charged and ready on the bedside table. They reviewed the week past and planned for the upcoming one. This unusual time served them both well, both early risers in a household of people who preferred to sleep in, and over the years, this reflective conversation had increased their productivity during the week.
With a smirk, Aman realized that he wasn’t likely to hear from ASR on the morning after his wedding. Back in his room, he pulled the curtains apart to welcome the light and warmth as he stretched languorously.
Although he had missed the wedding ceremony itself, for reasons he couldn’t begin to contemplate before coffee, he had met the newlyweds shortly thereafter. The new, or rather, the recently renewed Mrs KKGSR had been most persistent in her invitation for him to join their family dinner.
It was his first time meeting her in person, but it took him less than a minute in her presence to find answers to several questions about his boss that had plagued him over the past year.
Aman shared a very unique relationship with his boss. When AR designs took over the textile company he worked for, he had been among a few of the employees retained by the new regime. From beginning as a manager at the firm, he had soon found himself promoted to an unnamed position serving as ASR’s right-hand man. The work involved running his day-to-day affairs at work and outside of it and put him in a strange position where he knew everything about his boss’s life without the two of them ever talking about it.
Sitting down to dinner with the happy couple and their close family had therefore been an illuminating experience for him.
Khushiji had treated him like a long-lost friend, chatting away nineteen to a dozen while ASR look on indulgently, saying little per usual but looking lighter of heart than Aman had ever seen him. It appeared that he had been right in suspecting, nearly a year ago, that his reticent boss had finally fallen in love.
“Miracles never cease, Priya” Aman said, shaking his head and addressing the portrait beside the window frame.
The lady in the photo smiled serenely.
Aman rested his forehead lightly against the cool glass of the picture frame. Learning to grieve had not come easily to him, neither had accepting that he had to go on living. That there were reasons binding him to this Earth even when his spirit seemed to have floated away with her.
Speaking to her helped, sometimes. He forced himself to step back, he blew her a kiss and hurried out of the room.
His therapist had recommending allotting specific time in the day to indulge his grief, it kept him from spiralling. But only Aman knew how much discipline it took to stick to those set time limits, to walk away.
The living room was unusually quiet, Amma wasn’t up yet. She had had a long day yesterday; with Aman returning late and Pari down with the flu. His obstinate daughter had refused to go to bed without seeing him. She had been unusually fussy over the past couple of days, with food and medicines, clinging to him like she seldom did, and it took him a while to realise that she was subconsciously missing her mother in this time of illness.
His own mother had been a pillar of strength and Priya’s parents, who lived in a flat down the corridor from theirs, chipped in too. Pari was always running from one home to the other and between them, her remaining parents and grandparents, they did their best to care for her.
In the kitchen, Aman set about making coffee. It was only after the rich aroma of the brew hit his senses that he allowed himself to think about the focal point of the past evening.
It had taken him longer than usual to recognise her. He had met her in the past, of course. But like most of his boss’s family, she had remained a faceless entity in his mind, primarily defined by her relationship with ASR.
He decided that he wasn’t to blame for the lapse. After all, how was he to make the connection between the saree clad woman chasing after him in the mandir to ASR’s beloved sister, Anjali Jha?
Retrieving the newspaper from the front door, Aman sat at the dining table, sipping his coffee and replaying the events as it had unfolded- Anjali cornering him in the temple, their auto rickshaw ride to the coffeeshop and finally, her request for help.
Anjali probably didn’t realise how much he knew already about her. He had helped ASR arrange her wedding four years ago, he had made the booking for the flat she shared with her husband before they moved into Shantivan. He had made the payments, on behalf of ASR, to the hospital when she suffered a miscarriage and had helped his boss shortlist the best gynaecologists in the city to help her afterwards.
He also knew that ASR had stopped making payments into the couple’s joint account a few months ago and had diverted the funds to her private bank account. He also knew that ASR had changed his will to exclude his brother-in-law from it and was planning to open an investigation into the affairs of Shyam Jha, much like his sister had expressed an intent to do.
Their encounter had felt surreal to him, her reluctance to share her secret, to admit to him that she suspected her husband of cheating was ironic given the context.
He had agreed to help her, of course. But she wanted to keep the investigation from ASR, for the time being. This was a moral dilemma for Aman, but he was comforted by the fact that both brother and sister wanted the same thing.
Her conflict, her revulsion at her own suspicions and her terror at discovering the truth, it had affected him greatly. He felt in awe of her courage in approaching him but couldn’t help but wonder if it would last her the duration of the investigation and then its outcome.
If as she said, it was a matter of choosing whom to trust, between her husband and ASR, Aman had little doubt about the outcome and wished he could spare her the impending heartbreak.
Aman almost jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Aman bitwa, hum kab se good morning kehet rahe” Amma said.
“Sorry Amma, good morning.” he said, mustering a smile. “Humne aapke liye coffee bana diya hai, aap bas garam kar lijiye”.
Aman perused the headlines as Amma warmed her coffee and joined him at the table.
As the mother of ASR’s personal manager, she occupied a position of privilege in their society as pertained to insider knowledge about the business tycoon. Aman always gave her enough fodder to ensure her continued elevated status without ever divulging secrets. And since ASR’s wedding was no secret, she was all questions.
Her face fell slightly when he quickly deflected to enquire after her knee pain and Pari’s cold. Amma reckoned that a combination of staying up late and cold medicine explained why she was presently snoring through her blocked nose.
She did recommend that Aman wake her up shortly so that she could be fed in time for her medicines.
Aman lingered over coffee, procrastinating over the task of waking Pari, his phone finally rang.
“Aman, I have some instructions.” ASR said, without preamble. “Khushi aur main aaj shaam ko Bali ke liye nikal rahe hain. I won’t be available for a week.”
Swallowing his surprise, Aman plugged the Bluetooth speaker into his ear and pulled up the list app he used on his phone. He couldn’t remember the last time his boss had taken an actual holiday.
“Alright ASR” he said, “Go ahead.”
“First, I need a few of things sent to Buaji’s house by noon for our trip. Main list email kar raha hoon, as we speak.”
“Okay, not a problem” Aman said.
“Second, in my absence, sab work related queries Akash handle karega, I’ve already briefed him.”
“Understood.”
“Next, HP ke saath coordinate karo and make sure ghar pe…I mean Shantivan me everything is running smoothly.”
“Of course,”
“Number four. I need you to find a suitable apartment…” ASR hesitated. “For Khushi and me. I want it ready by the time we return on Friday.”
Aman had already typed ‘apartment’ when ASR trailed off.
He had surmised that due to some personal issues, ASR’s family hadn’t supported his re-marriage to Khushiji and hence the wedding date and venue had been changed.
But if ASR intended to move out of his own home, the conflict had to run deep. Of the many qualities he admired in his boss, commitment to his family was foremost.
He couldn’t help thinking back to his conversation with Anjali to work out the connection. But before he could check himself, chide himself to mind his own business, ASR had moved on and Aman scribbled hurriedly to keep up.
“Woh PI ka kya hua?” ASR asked, “Any update on that?”
And now, Aman hesitated. Both brother and sister had requested him to hire a PI to investigate the same man, and neither wanted the other to know.
“I…uh, I’ve shortlisted one fellow” Aman said, “I will finalize in a day or two.”
“Why the delay?” ASR sounded more surprised than demanding.
“Sorry ASR” Aman said, “Actually, we need someone jo trustworthy ho. So, PI ka hi background check karna padega.”
There was an element of truth to this and perhaps that’s why ASR conceded and moved on swiftly, simply asking him to pursue it as a matter of utmost importance.
“And Aman” ASR said.
“Yes, ASR?” Aman said, surprised by a small chuckle, a rare hint of laughter behind the steely tone.
“Kuch bhi urgent kaam ho, email ya text karo” ASR said, "Please don’t call me!”
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