FF - The Beginning at the End- Thetelleroftales - Page 3

It's beautiful.....glad to see something sensible according to track . Shyam never get a deserve closure in the show. I find it silly how he confirmed his crimes ....good going .... beautifully written

Thank you for your kind words! When you have time, do check out my earlier story- The Beginning of a New End, upto one point this story will run in parallel with it so you can correlate but more importantly, I wrote that one for the exact same reason you have mentioned- closure. 

Chapter 5-

When Anjali opened her eyes, it took her a few seconds to realise that she was not in her own room. 

Sitting up, she noticed that Nani was already up and about. Closing her eyes, she said her Friday morning prayers, asking for strength to endure whatever lay ahead. From Amanji’s frantic call last night to his well-intentioned but ominous text message, she knew that whatever BT had found was not going to be easy. 

“Good morning, bitiya” Nani said, as she emerged from the bathroom. “Sab theek toh hai? Aap raat ma idhar…?”

“Arey nahi, Nani” Anjali said, quickly. “Raat me inke kharaton ke vajah se hume neend nahi aa rahi thi, isliye hum yahan chale aaye.”

Nani pursed her lips at the mention of Shyamji but reassured her that she did not mind in the slightest and that Anjali was always welcome. 

Turning to the mirror, she proceeded to dry her hair with a towel.

Watching her, Anjali was overcome by a storm of childhood memories. Summer holidays spent with Nani and Nanaji, relishing her fabulous cooking and going out on walks with him, getting up to all sorts of mischief with Chotey and always playing pranks on Akash, the youngest and most innocent of them. 

Running a hand through her own hair, Anjali thought of how she had inherited their length and texture from her mother, who in turn had inherited it from Nani. As a little girl, Anjali had aspired for hair like Nani’s and had watched and tried to copy the way she cared for it by religiously applying oil and washing with the mildest of cleansers.

In front of the mirror now, she saw Nani struggling to hold up the sodden towel and reach the back and ends of her hair.

Anjali got to her feet at once, insisted that Nani take a seat in front of the dresser and whipped the towel out of her hands. 

“Aap rehne dijiye, bititya” Nani protested, but Anjali was having none of it.

Gently drying the now graying roots and thinning strands, Anjali helped her dress it in her usual bun and pin the pallu of her saree over it. 

“Bitiya, Akash kehet rahe ki Chotey aur Khushi bitiya Laxmi Nagar ke paas ma ek ghar me rehet hain” Nani said, meeting her gaze in the mirror. “Aur who Bali se bhi laut aaye rahe…toh hum sochat rahe ki hum ek baar unse mil aavat hain. Byah ke samai, Chotey kehet rahe ki hum unko milne jaa sakath hai.”

Anjali, who had vowed not to meet them until she resolved the question of whose word was true, assured Nani that Chotey and Khushiji would be happy to see her and offered to arrange a car for her but declined the invitation to join. 

When she returned to her room, she was relieved to find that Shyamji had already dressed and descended to the dining room for breakfast. It saved her from finding an excuse not to be alone with him as she dressed and got ready. 

Applying sindhoor, she looked at herself in the mirror. Last night, even before Amanji’s phone call, she had been shaken by Shyamji’s hints at intimacy and trying to conceive again. Given that it was what she had been hoping for since he was returned to her, she didn’t understand her own reaction, or rather, the lack of it. Was it because she hadn’t recovered from the trauma of losing their raajkumari? Was it because of Chotey’s words? “It’s my word against his.” 

Or was it because she knew now that Shyamji had lied to her face? One part of her insisted that it was a small, insignificant lie about where he had gone but another part reminded her that if there was one lie, there could be others or perhaps, there had been others in the past. 

She would know soon enough, Amanji had promised that BT had discovered the truth.

When she went down to breakfast, NK bhai seemed to be entertaining everyone per usual. As she sat down, Shyamji smiled and asked about her plans for the day. This was so unusual that she almost dropped the butter knife.

If she lied, she would be guilty of the same crime as him. Misleading her spouse about her whereabouts. 

She was saved from her rambling when he laughed and said,

“Rani Sahiba, hum jaanthe hain ki aap shaadi ki saalgirah ke liye kuch intezaam kar rahin hain, hain na? Humse toh aap jhoot bol hi nahi sakthi!”

She looked away to find that her family wore expressions of varying degrees of distaste. 

"Salgirah ke kuch din baad hi saale sahab ka janamdin bhi hai" Shyamji continued, "Kyun na dono avsar saath me manaaya jaye? Akhir puraane gile-shikve door karne ka isse acha mauka hume nahi milega. Aap sab ki kya rai hai?"

"Arnav bitwa toh hum sab ko ekdum bye-bye bol diye" Mamiji said, uncharacteristically sombre. "Humko nahi laagat hai ki who humre saath koi jashn manae khaatir agree karega"

"Aur waise bhi, Bhai ko apna birthday celebrate karna pasand nahi hai" Akash said. 

Shyamji conceded, saying he was only trying to patch things up between everyone. Presently, he left for work and she announceded that she too was heading out. No one looked particularly surprised, perhaps presuming she was off to the mandir again. 

When she arrived at the café half an hour later, they were just opening the doors. As the cleaners were still finishing up indoors, she was offered a table in the garden. 

It was a charming, functional garden with neat rows of shrubs interspersed with flowerpots. Her mother’s garden had been different, more disorganized and less clinical, more to do with nurturing than aesthetics.

She had always missed her mother the most on her worst days, remembering small details about her, words she had said that eluded her mind in normal circumstances. 

When Amanji arrived, she was so lost in thoughts about her mother that she didn’t notice until he walked right up to the table. 

He greeted her and sat down, passing a folder to her across the table. The coffee she had ordered arrived and pushing the file aside, Anjali reached for it. 

“Suniye” she said to the waiter, “One more coffee, please.”

Amanji looked like he was about to argue, he checked his watch and with a small sigh, sat back and nodded to the waiter. 

“Aapki beti kaisi hai, Amanji?” Anjali asked, “Unka zukhaam kam ho gaya?”

“She’s fine now, thank you” he said, “Anjaliji…”

“Unke baare me bataiye na, kya woh shararthi hain ya fir silent type hain?”

He let out a loud snort. “Silent? Aur Pari? Anjaliji who bohot badmaash hai, aajkal toh uski shehthani had se zyaada bad gayi hai”

Peering at her with an inscrutable expression, he glanced from her face to the file and back before continuing,

“Parson usne Amma ko bola ki woh Nana-Nani ke yahan jaa rahi hai aur unko ki woh humaare ghar vaapis aa rahi hai” he said, “Aur beech me basti ke baaki bachon ke saath ice ka gola khaane chali gayi.”

Anjali couldn't help but smile, remembering the time Chotey and she had done the same. 

“Wohi ice gola jiske vajah se usse sardi-zukhaam hua tha in the first place” he said, recalling how strict a telling off he had given her while wiping off her sticky fingers. 

He told her how she had predictably gone into her now well-rehearsed tirade about what a monster he was, Mummy hoti toh nahi daanthi, Mummy chahiye and the out-of-control spiral from there. 

"Hum aaj bhi har dukh me, har bimaari me unhe yaad karthe hain" Anjali said, "Choti-se-choti taqleef me bhi muh see Mamma hi nikaltha hai, aur fir Pari toh choti bachi hai"

The hardest part for him, he confessed, was knowing that Priya would most certainly have handled everything better even though no one knew better than him how naughty Priya herself had been as a child. 

Shaking his head, he told her of the time when as children, Priya had snuck him out of the house in the middle of the night to the khabristaan behind their basti. She wanted to complain about their strict schoolteacher Rifat Bibi to her late husband and convince him to give her a ghostly talking to about being nicer to them.

Anjali couldn’t help laughing as she pictured it. Then she thought of how Amanji had not only lost his wife or the mother of his child but his best friend from childhood. 

"Aap isiliye abhi bhi ussi basti me rehte hain?" she asked, the words out of her mouth before she considered that it might sound indelicate. 

She was sure that Chotey paid him well, so there had to be a different reason why he still stayed at the basti and rode around his sturdy but old motorcycle. 

She apoligised for the intrusiveness for her question but hoped that he would continue talking, anything to keep from looking at the file in front of her.

“Nahi, nahi” he said, at once. “It’s not that. ASR is very generous. It’s just that…jab Priya bimaar thi, we had a lot of expenses and oopar se I had taken a lot of loans and advances to take her abroad for treatment. Doctors had warned me that there was no use but I…I couldn’t give up and fir vaise hi hua, she passed away before we could go.”

Spotting the look of pity on her face, he continued,

“Don’t worry, its not as if I am struggling” he said, “It’s just practical to stay there because Pari can grow up around Amma and her Nana-Nani. Priya was their only daughter, and they miss her a lot. Plus this way, I’m able to save money…after all, sab kuch Pari ke future ke liye hi toh hai.”

Anjali nodded, trying to discretely wipe the moisture in her eyes with the napkin. Their coffees arrived and they sipped in silence for a few minutes.

“Anjaliji…aap file dekh lijiye” he said, eventually.

“Hume nahi dekhna, Amanji” she said, placing her cup down and turning to him. “Aap hi bata dijiye, yehi likha na ki Shyamji hume dhoka de rahe the? Ki unhe Khushiji se…pyaar ho gaya tha? Shayad unki galathi bhi nahi hai, woh hai hi itni pyaari aur hum…humaara pair…”

“Don't talk rubbish!”

He opened the folder and thrust it under her nose. His expression had hardened, and his eyes were steely as he looked at her. 

She lowered her gaze and tried to read but her vision had gone blurry. It took her a few attempts for the words to make sense. The document seemed to suggest that in addition to his infidelity, Shyamji had made attempts on her life in the past? 

She remembered the number of times he had saved her from hurting herself and therefore she could recall with ease the number of times she had been in peril. It seemed inconceivable that he had meant to hurt her. To get rid of her? 

Sunny…Rocky…the words started swimming in her head. 

It hadn’t been only about Khushiji or her, either. The file continued, in its clinical documentation of events. Anjali felt like she was reading a novel or a news report about someone else. Her hand flew to her mouth when she got to the part about Chotey’s kidnapping. So it had always been about the money.

She was only vaguely aware that Amanji had received and answered a call on his mobile. 

“Anjaliji, BT ka phone tha” Amanji said, “Laptop se kuch aur information mila hai aur hume turanth hi office bulaaya hai. Chaliye.”

Chapter 6-

Aman was becoming increasingly concerned by the way Anjaliji was mumbling to herself all through the rickshaw ride from the café to the office. She kept turning the pages of the folder in her lap back and forth. Was she trying to make sense of it, correlating dates and events? Or was she in shock and losing it?

He had to mute a call from ASR for fear that he would recognise his sister’s voice. He would surely get an earful about not taking the call but for now, there were more pressing matters.

When they arrived at the office, he led her into the backroom. He tried to assess her condition, but BT was already in the board room where he had set up a projector. 

Aman left her side with reluctance.

“Target ne Raizada mansion me bohot dinon se camera surveillance lagake rakha hai” BT said, casting a glance at the wall behind them. Perhaps he had his own suspicious about who was behind it. Wasn’t it usually the husband or wife who wanted to catch their cheating spouse in the act? “Ussi ke footage me se hume yeh clips mile”.

He turned on the projector and the screen came to life. “Jo aap dekhne jaa rahe hain, who kaafi dardnaak hai”

A man in a white kurta filled the screen, his back to the camera. He was seen entering one of the rooms of the house. A blue bracelet on his hand, he reached for a bottle of pills on the dresser and casually replaced them with different ones that he retrieved from a pocket in his kurta. 

“Hum confirm toh nahi kar sakthe hain” BT said, sounding slightly apologetic “Lekin hume shaq hai ki who bacha giraane ki davaai hai”

Aman’s jaw dropped. He turned to the mirror, knowing well that he couldn’t see her but before he could think any further, the clip changed. 

It cut to what appeared to be a video of ASR and Khushiji’s mehendi function and…was that Anjaliji’s god bharai? Aman recalled that both events had been on the same day, it was also the same day that Anjaliji had suffered a miscarriage.

Things turned even more bizarre when the same blue bracelet clad hand was then seen sprinkling…was that glass pieces on a door mat? 

What the hell?

With rising trepidation, Aman watched the screen as Anjaliji appeared once again and stepped right into the shards of glass. 

“Hey Bhagwan!” 

He had to cover his mouth with a fist to keep from screaming out. 

The pain on her face made his gut clench. BT who had probably seen it before, shook his head sadly and actually placed a hand on Aman’s shoulder for support.

And though he could not imagine it, it got worse. So much worse. The same pair of hands were seen now fiddling with the fairly lights wrapped around the staircase, sparks could be seen flying at the fraying end near the steps.

Aman grasped the edge of the table and watched in horror as Anjaliji, her feet dragging and trailing blood behind her, made her way to the same steps. 

“No…no…no”

Aman’s mind could not grasp the futility of trying to prevent an event in the past from occurring. 

Blood pounding in his ears, he didn’t hear her shriek when she got electrocuted and he didn’t hear the devastating thud with which she fell. But a soft moan that came from somewhere behind him pierced through the deafening silence on screen and in the room. 

“Hume lagta hai ki aap iss bechari aurat ko pehchaanthe hai aur hume bataane ki zaroorath nahi hai ki who neela bracelet kiska hai” BT said, softly. “Target sirf cheater ya criminal nahi hai, Sir. Woh ek paapi hai jisne apne haathon se apne bache ki jaan le li, aise logon ko bhawan bhi maaf nahi…”

Aman cut him off with hurried thanks. Asking him to leave all the evidence as is and promising him his due payments, he hurried past the man. 

When he opened the door to the side room, he found her sitting on the floor. Her back to the wall, she had probably turned away unable to look at the screen anymore and slunk down. Her hands clutched at her knees, she looked at him when he entered, a vacant stare in her eyes. 

He knelt beside her, raising his hand to her head. What comfort, what solace could he offer? His eyes burned with tears. God had taken Priya from him but Anjaliji, all her misery had been caused by a man, the very one who had vowed to love her. 

No, he decided, it was sacrilege to even call him a man. He had to be a demon. 

It took him a second to realise that she had spoken, her voice was so low. 

“Humne apni raajkumari ko khud maar daala”

“What?” he said, withdrawing his hand and pulling back to look at her. Had she lapsed into a state of shock?

“Jab Chotey ne unhe ghar se nikaal diya tha, tab sabke peet piche hum unse milthe rahe” she said, speaking feverishly. “Chupke se unhe ghar me bhi vaapis leke aate the, tabhi toh woh yeh sab kar paaye…tabhi toh, humaari bachi ke maut ke zimmedaar hum khud hain”

“Anjali” he said, shaking her arms. “Jo kuch hua… usme aap ki koi galathi nahi hai. Aa paisa sochna bhi mat.”

“Par unhe vaapis lekar toh hum hi aaye the na” she said, turning to face him with desperate eyes. “Unhone humaare Chotey ki jaan khatren me dal di…Khushiji ke saath, unke parivaar ke saath…aur humne unke baare me hi itna bura socha. Woh donon toh hume sach bataane ki koshish karthe rahe aur ab…itna bada dhoka. Ek pal me humaari bachi humse chin gayi…humari raajkumari.”

She broke then, gut-wrenching sobs as she held on to him. 

He let her cry for as long as she needed, sliding down to sit beside her on the floor. She spoke on and off, between tears, of how she had met him at the temple four years ago. How he had wooed her, wanted to marry her despite everything and how her gratitude had painted her loved for him. 

She had consciously decided not to doubt him despite his prolonged absences and not even when everyone suspected him. 

“Apne pati se pyaar karna, unpe vishawaas karna galath nahi hai” he said, gently rocking her. “Aapke jagah pe koi aur hota toh bhi yehi karta. Apne aap ko sambhaliye, Anjali”

She sat back, wiping her tears in futility. They didn’t seem to want to stop. 

“Hum bees saal ke the jab humaari Mamma ne suicide kiya” she said, her voice low and hoarse. “Paapa ne unhe aise hi dhoka diya tha aur woh bardaasht nahi karpaayi…fir, humari kismet me kuch aur kaise ho saktha hai?”

He stared at her, suddenly frightened. He had to call ASR, he even pulled out his phone but she reached for his hand as support to stand up. 

“Hume chalna chahiye.”

He booked a cab and insisted on dropping her home.

They passed the journey in silence; she was staring out of the window, and he was struggling to think of what to say to her. Looking at her profile, he suppressed a shudder. 

She wouldn’t do anything stupid, would she? 

 When they arrived, he got out of the car and came around to her side. He was still wondering what to say when she said,

“Amanji, aap police me complaint karva dijiye” she said, nodding at the folder in his hand. “Hum nahi chahthe ki who iss ghar me vaapis aaye”

“Aap uski fikar mat kijiye” he promised, “I’ll have them pick him at his office straightaway. He will never return to your home.”

She nodded and turned to leave but he stilled her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Anjaliji…”

“Honsla rakhiye, yehi kehna chahthe hain na aap?”

He shook his head. “Aane wale din aapke liye bohot mushkil hone wale hain, hum aapko koi jhoota dilaasa nahi dena chahthe. Sirf itna kahenge…jab aapne apni Mamma ko kho diya tha oh aapko kitni taqleef hui thi who yaad rakhiye aur…aur aisa koi kadam mat uthaiye jisse aapke parivaar aur chahne walon ko firse aisi taqleef uthaani pade”

She blinked at him for a few seconds and then her mouth opened slightly. 

“Humaara woh matlab…humne jo kahan…” she stammered and then shut her eyes briefly. “Aap ghabriye mat Amanji, zinda rehne ke kuch wajah aur baaki hai humaare paas. Hum apne Chotey…Nani aur baaki parivaar ke saath aisa kabhi nahi karenge. Aur fir humse jo galathiyan hui hain, unhe sudhaarna bhi toh baaki hai”

“I think its time for us to tell ASR” he said, sighing with relief.

“Aap divorce ke papers aur police ka report hume bhijva dijiye” she said, “Parson Chotey ka janamdin hain aur hum khud unse milne jaenge.”

Very well written. More than anything else, when it comes to her miscarriage, it’s Anjali’s own culpability that she will find the hardest to come to terms with.  it’s good she has a supportive family to help her accept that while hindsight is a wonderful thing, it’s just that. Hindsight. 

Aman muting Arnav’s call has to be a first! 

Thank you!

It always frustrated me how two-dimensional Anjali was in the show. It hurt my feminist sentiments to see a character like that.

I felt it was important to address the fact that Shyam got away with what he did because she let him back in her life, even after he was thrown out and against the explicit wishes of her Chotey. 

Do consider reading my earlier story when you have time, especially the Anjali-Aman OS that can be considered as a sort of prequel to this story. 

chapter 2

Everyone is missing Arnav and Khushi at home. With dadi gone, will it change?

Hey, thanks for your support!

Sorry I sound like a broken tape but please read The Beginning of a New End, it's my earlier FF. The link is on the first page of this thread. Everything about this story will make a lot more sense then :)

chapter 3

Why is Anjali backtracking now? Her bravery is leaving her.

Anjali needs to stop feeling guilty and keep her mind open. She is almost there.