123. Recalling Arnav (Part 17-)

Part 17

Silence filled the air. The Guptas and the Raizadas stared at Khushi, their mouths open.

Arnav looked down at his clenched fists in his lap.

Finally Anjali croaked, “No.”

“You should have married him off, Anjaliji,” Khushi laughed. “To someone with a temper worse than his. That would have been a perfect punishment for Arnavji.” She looked at Arnav, a teasing glint in her eyes.

Arnav smiled slightly in response, his clenched jaw refusing to relax.

“He would have spent all his time saying ‘What the, What the!” Khushi laughed, unaware that she had remembered something more about Arnav.

Arnav drew in a deep breath to brace himself. She was beginning to learn him once more. She was on the way to recalling and knowing him. His fate would be decided soon.

“Hello Hi Bye Bye!” Mami said, fanning herself.

 “Hai Re Nandkisore!” Buaji whispered.

 It was as though Arnav’s presence had opened the floodgates of Khushi’s memory. She was regaining her memory very fast.

Unaware of the shock she had just given the families, Khushi dumped a load of pakoras on Arnav’s plate and moved his tea closer to his plate.

“Ab aap khayiye,” she told him.

Arnav nodded but did not touch the snacks. The boulder in his throat would not let him swallow.

“Jiji!” Khushi called Payal. “Your Jetji has some secret enmity with food. He is not taking the pakoras. Jiji, I will make his pasandeeda karela for him at night. We have to keep him healthy somehow.”

Payal’s smile faltered. The Guptas and the Raizadas looked at each other.

Khushi had remembered that karela was Arnav’s favourite vegetable.

“And I will make sugar-free halwa for you,” Khushi promised Arnav. “Ab aap pakore khayiye.”

Arnav nodded obediently.

It was night.

Khushi stood at her window, letting the wind play with the loose strands of her hair.

She shut her eyes, her mind racing to the night at Sheesh Mahal when she had fallen in to Arnavji’s arms. She had been scared, very scared as she had been pushed on to the stage. But when she had looked in to his angry eyes, the panic had stemmed, overpowered by some kind of magical spell that had fallen over her.

His arms had been hard, his hold tight. But soon the fingers on her waist had softened, gentled. The anger in his eyes had become something else; some nameless emotion had filled his eyes and trapped hers.

And when he had questioned her—there had been anger in his voice, a sense of betrayal, a need for revenge. But underlying the fury had been pathos, a deep anguish that had tugged at something in her heart.

That was why she had not been able to badmouth him to her family, curse him, vent against him. She had taken the blame on herself and stayed quiet, her heart and mind full of his hurt eyes and his pain-laced insults.

Khushi turned and walked to her bed.

As she lay there looking at the ceiling, she thought about the Arnavji at Sheesh Mahal and Arnavji now. Then he has been a monster or a man driven by demons. Now he was calmer. A man carrying some great burden on his shoulders. His eyes always looked wounded, sad.

Why had akhdoo Arnavji become such a dukhi atma?

She jumped out of bed and walked to Arnavji’s room to find answers. 

The door was shut but not locked. She pushed it open and walked in to stand by his bed and look down at his sleeping visage.

Arnavji was wearing a purple T-shirt with full sleeves. His eyes were shut and his head was resting against a white pillow with a small butterfly that she had embroidered on it many years back.

As she watched, a frown appeared on his forehead and he turned his head restlessly on the pillow. The fingers of the hands on his chest and stomach clenched.

Khushi placed her hand on the hand on his chest, rubbing his fingers gently, trying to comfort him in his nightmare.

As she watched, the frown vanished, the fingers relaxed and he slipped in to deep sleep.

‘Who is this man?’ Khushi asked herself. ‘Why do I feel there is an invisible bond between him and me, something greater than I know?’

She sat looking at his face, first minutes and then hours passing by as she studied his face and his features, trying to remember him, recognise him and maybe etch him on the canvas of her mind so that she wouldn’t forget him again.

Buaji came early in the morning to awaken Khushi.

Munna and Krishna would be arriving in a few minutes and Khushi had to accompany them to the sweet shop.

Buaji looked at Khushi’s pristine bed. It had not been slept in. Her heart jumped to her throat.

“Hai Re Nandkisore! Where is the Sanka Devi?” Buaji looked under the bed. It was free of Khushi.

 She peeked in to the bathroom. Again, no Khushi.

Buaji parted her lips to holler for Garima, but stopped herself.

She walked to Arnav’s room on silent feet.

The door was open.

Arnav was asleep on his back.

Khushi was lying on him, her legs coiled around him to keep him in place. The fingers of her left hand were curled around the neck of his T-shirt, holding on tight to him. 

Her right arm was on his left. Her head was tucked in the crook of his neck and she was clinging on to him like a limpet.

Both of them were fast asleep.

“Hai Re Nandkisore!” Buaji whispered as she leaned against the door for support. 

Part 18

Arnav woke up first. Wrapped in the cosy warmth of Khushi’s arms and body, he opened his eyes reluctantly. And saw the most beautiful sight of his life—Khushi clutching his collar and resting in a Taekwondo pose on him.

He stared at her, scared to blink for fear that she would vanish as she had vanished many a time in the past five months when he woke up from his dreams.

As he gazed his fill and relished the feel of her in his arms, Khushi woke up.

She lifted her head and looked straight in to his alert, waiting eyes with sleepy ones.

“Good morning,” Khushi mumbled, smiling.

“Good morning,” he replied, waiting for it to strike Khushi that she was sharing his bed and lying on him.

Khushi looked around. The smile vanished as if someone had wiped it off and  horror took its place. Her eyes widened to their maximum limits and her mouth fell open in an Awww.

 She pushed her torso off him by trying to rest her weight on her arms.

“I am sorry…maaf keejiye….hum pagal he….I am so so sorry…what will Buaji say if she sees me sprawled all over Jiji’s Jetji? He Devi Maiyya, raksha karna…why do you push me in to such situations…it is all your fault…” Khushi chanted as she slid off Arnav and fell off the bed on to the ground.

Arnav got off the bed and held out a hand to help her.

Khushi looked at the hand. 

The image of Arnavji in a black coat and light blue shirt, his face cold and stern, holding out his hand for her to help her up flashed through her mind.

Khushi gulped. She looked at Arnavji’s face. It was soft, affectionate, amused. A tender and indulgent look filled his eyes.

She took his hand. ‘What is the use of quibbling over taking his hand after spending the night crawling all over him, Khushi?’ she asked herself.

“I—I couldn’t sleep,” Khushi made excuses. But that was not his fault, was it?

“I just came to look at you, Arnavji,” she added. Was he a picture or a painting in a gallery for her to gaze at? She sighed, disgusted with herself.

“It is OK, Khushi,” he said softly, tickled beyond belief.

Khushi sighed heavily making Arnav want to laugh out loud.

“It is not OK. You are kind, Arnavji. That is why you said it is alright. But it is not alright,” Khushi explained seriously.

Arnav nodded, trying to keep a straight face.

“Waise, I don’t go around stealing in to other people’s bedrooms and sleeping on them,” Khushi made it clear.

Arnav nodded.

 

“I am not like that—that is, I think I am not like that…” her voice faded away as she tried to figure out her personality and her virtues and vices.

“You are not,” Arnav supported her and got a blindingly bright smile for his efforts.

“If you say I am not, then you must be right,” Khushi declared. “Because you can remember me, can’t you, Arnavji?  I may have forgotten myself, but you didn’t forget me, did you Arnavji? You know me, don’t you Arnavji?”

Arnav swallowed at her plea for recognition.

“Yes, Khushi. I remember you. I will never forget you. I know you. Through and through. Better than I know myself,” Arnav said softly.

Khushi smiled, happy.

Aman called.

“They have located Sunehri, Sir. In Gopalganj, about 60km from Lucknow,” he said.

Arnav’s jaw tightened.

Aman gave him the address. Arnav noted it down in silence.

“Sir, would you like me to come over?” Aman asked.

“No, I will manage. Just take care of the office and keep me in the loop,” ASR said.

“Yes, Sir.”

Arnav asked, “Khushi, what is this?”

Khushi turned to look at the junk that was her father’s milk scooter. She laughed. “This is Babuji’s scooter. He used to go every morning on it to buy milk to make sweets.”

“Does it run still?” Arnav asked.

“Let me see,” Khushi tied her dupatta across her torso and tried to start it.

To their shock, the scooter started with a cough.

Khushi laughed. “It is old, but it still has some life left in it.”

Khushi clambered on to it and began to edge it forward, inch by inch. “Come on, run. You are Chetak, Maharana Pratap’s horse. Don’t give up now. Chalo, chalo…” she exhorted the scooter, not noticing that Arnav had vanished.

He went to get his whte SUV and as Khushi was turning the scooter along a curve, he brought the car to a stop in such a way that Khushi could not help but run in to him.

His car being still and her scooter moving at a very slow pace, she was unharmed. She sat staring at him, the front of her scooter kissing the shining, polished exterior of his luxury vehicle.

He alighted and walked up to her.

“Khushi,” he called, placing his hand on her shoulder.

She leaned against him, trembling. “Arnavji…”

“Hhmmm?” He could not say anything more.

“I—I …”

Arnav helped her get off the scooter.

He held her against him, letting the scooter fall on the ground. He helped her to the cot in the courtyard. Khushi sat there, panting, feeling her head spin.

Arnav sat close to her, giving her his shoulder to rest against.

They sat silent for long.

Finally, Khushi said, “Rs25,000 for a minor scratch on your vehicle, Arnavji?"

 Part 19

“I should not have—I was too shocked to see you in Delhi…” his voice trailed away. His arm around her shoulders tightened in fear that she would move away from him.

Khushi settled herself more comfortably against him.

“It was Bediji’s scooter,” she explained.

Arnav rubbed her head gently, his fingers lingering on her silky tresses.

“Buaji started wheezing. I needed to buy her phoo phoo. That is why I took Bediji’s scooter even though it was late. And then I had to run in to you,” Khushi pouted.

Arnav smiled. “Do you have a license, Khushi?”

Khushi turned her head away.

“You are a menace, Khushi. On the roads & otherwise.” Arnav smiled gently.

Khushi glared at him.

“I may be a menace. I am being truthful here and not denying that I do make people want to pull out their hair with both hands or strangle me sometimes. But I am nothing compared to you. You are the big menace. The baap of all menaces.” Her pointed finger poked him in the chest.

Arnav looked at her serious, miffed face with gentle eyes.

“I was happily walking about Lucknow’s galiis and you had to humiliate me and my family to such an extent, even broadcasting my nocturnal visit to your godforsaken fashion show to every house in my city that you made it impossible for me to stay here,” she huffed after recounting his sins in one breath.

 “Do you know how angry Amma and Buaji were? Amma banished us from Lucknow. She exiled us to Delhi,” she fumed, breathing fire.

Arnav looked suitably penitent. “Really?” he asked.

“Aap pooch rahe he ‘Really’? Am I making up stories here?” Khushi asked. “Yes, really. And poor Jiji. I sinned and Jiji too had to pay the price. She had to accompany me to your rotten Delhi. How could she let me go alone? Horrible Delhi. Just like you. Aap ko pata he how much vegetables cost there? I can buy an entire farm of vegetables here for the price I had to pay for a bunch of greens there.”

Arnav looked at her, his eyes fixed on her face.

“And I had to see that Shyam Manohar Jha there,” Khushi grimaced.

“Where did you see him in Delhi?” Arnav’s eyes perked up.

“Where did I not see him? He was everywhere. In the market, behind the pots, by the kaddu at the vegetable vendor’s, behind trees, in tea shops—he was everywhere. He was giving me darshan every day like God.”

“Did he—did he try to talk to you, Khushi?” Arnav asked.

“Why couldn’t he talk to me?” Khushi asked, perplexed. “He was not dumb and I am not deaf. And I had to ask him for help to get a job in Delhi. I had to pay your debt of 25,000 and I knew no one in Delhi except him,” Khushi sighed heavily.

“He got you a job?” Arnav asked.

“Why are you asking me stupid questions as though you have amnesia? Bimari hamein he. Aap ko nahi he. Samjhe aap?” Khushi growled.

“Khushi…”

“How could you be so cruel, so rude? And that too to the girl who was going to be your brother’s wife’s sister? Not that you knew it then, but that is not an excuse,” Khushi declared.

“I am sorry, Khushi,” he apologised,  a break in hs voice.

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” Khushi gave it to him. “Dropping me from a height, He Devi Maiyya! What if I had broken my neck and died? Would you have given me my life back? How would you have explained my death to my Amma, Babuji and Buaji?”

“I—I was wrong, Khushi. I—I thought—I was angry to see you there…” Arnav tried to explain but found he had nothing to say.

“Is your anger a good excuse for attempting  my murder?” Khushi raised her brows and stared at him.

“No. I am sorry,” Arnav said.

“I should have died and then you would have been sorry. Really sorry,” Khushi declared. “But I would not have been able to see you apologizing to my family. Because I would be dead then,” she reasoned. “So this is better.”

 She snuggled closer to him.

 “I was scared of you, but it was fun too. Fighting you every day, beating you at the challenges you posed,” she smiled. Suddenly the smile died away. “But making me stand in the rain at night was too much. How could you?”

“I am so sorry, Khushi. I can’t tell you how bad I feel…I felt…” Arnav tried to explain.

“I wanted to go home early. It was Jiji’s birthday. Ek, she had to leave Lucknow and come to Delhi because of me. Do, we could spend just ten minutes together on her birthday, from 11.50 to 12 at night. And it was all because of you.”

“Khushi!”

“And I could not even get her a gift. I was planning to go out during my lunch break and get her something. And then you had to give me a load of papers to correct the spelling of your name? What was so urgent about it? And then that stupid model’s coat! Am I a coat hanger to hold up her coat till she decides to wear it? How dare you give it to me and ask me to hold it?”

“I am sorry, Khushi. I…”

“I did not spill juice on her precious coat. Pamji and Simji did.”

“I believe you.”

“What is the use of believing me now? You didn’t believe me then. And how dare you give me that chota kapda and ask me to wear it? What did you think of me?”

“Khushi!”

“Imagine me wearing that short dress and walking before my Buaji! She will exclaim ‘Hai Re Nandkisore’ and die on the spot of a heart attack!” Khushi glowered at him.

“I am sorry, Khushi. I didn’t know you well…”

“To jaanna chahiye tha na? You should have tried to know me before punishing me,” she said.

Arnav could only nod.

“And coming home wet and cold to see Shyam Manohar Jha settled in as a paying guest in Buaji’s house. He Devi Maiyya! What ghor paap did I do in my last birth to be punished with his presence!”  Khushi bemoaned her fate.

“Khushi…” Arnav whispered.

“You are no better!” Khushi chastised him. “Making me take measurements of the male models in your office! He Devi Maiyya! If I had not tied a rakhi on one boy’s wrist, made him my bhaiyya and made him take the measurements, how would I have managed?” Khushi wiped the sweat off her forehead.

“You did—what?” Arnav gasped.

“What else was I supposed to do? Do you know what I felt as I saw all the naked boys standing in that room when I walked in?” Khushi narrowed her eyes at him.

“Err—I can imagine,” Arnav said.

“I am sure you can. And dusht rakshas, you sent me to the guest house! A guest house that was falling around my ears,” Khushi pushed her face closer to his to make her displeasure clear.

“I didn’t know that it was in such a bad condition,” Arnav made his excuses quickly, trying to get in a word between her accusations.

“You should have known,” Khushi stated. “It is your building and you sent me to it. You should have known.”

“Yes, I should not have sent you there,” Arnav sighed. “I am sorry.”

“Ab bas bhi keejiye. How many times will you say ‘sorry’?” Khushi asked. “Suniye, you listen to all my scoldings first, chup chap like a good boy. After I finish you can say one sorry for all of them,” Khushi suggested, a twinkle in her eyes.

Arnav looked at the laughter in her eyes with wonder.

She looked away, her eyes resting on his car and her Babuji’s scooter.

“Waise, you rescued me from the car in the car park and got wet in the bargain,” Khushi conceeded.

“I put you in danger.”

“You did. And then you saved me.”

Arnav looked at her.

“And that night at the guest house. You had to come to save me,” Khushi looked in to his eyes.

“I sent you there.”

“You did. And then you saved me.”

Arnav sighed.

“First you endanger me, hurt me, make me cry. Then you come to help me. Is it an acquired habit or one you have been suffering from birth?” Khushi asked, her eyes laughing at him.

Arnav looked at her, silent for a moment. Then he said, “Khushi, I can confidently say that you have, single-handedly, changed the course of my life.”

Khushi laughed. “I am sure I did. Remember the day I came to give my resignation to you? I was so happy to shout at you, to say everything I had been wanting to say to you for so long. I am sure no one has ever abused you so in your entire life.”

Arnav looked at her.

Khushi frowned. She caught hold of his hand. “Arnavji, if I left you and your office, then how did we meet after that? We must have met. Otherwise how would Jiji meet Jiju?”

He covered her hand with his, silently asking her to be patient.

They sat together for long.

Finally Arnav turned to look at Khushi’s peaceful face.

“Khushi, in my office…”

“Ji?”

“Err…whom do you remember—in my office?” Arnav asked, his heart in his mouth.

Khushi frowned. “Pamji, Simji…”

“And?”

A smile spread on her face. “Amanji.”

“And?”

“Manjuji.”

‘Who?”

“Manjuji, your canteen manager. She is so nice, so kind,” Khushi’s smile grew soft at the thought.

“And?”

“Jiju.”

“Anyone else?” Arnav could hear his heart thud in his chest.

Khushi frowned and moved restlessly in her seat. “I don’t know any one else.”

Arnav’s throat closed over. Her mind had pushed Lavanya in to some dark abyss.

Arnav, in full ASR-style formal clothes and closed face, walked to his car.

“Arnavji!” Khushi called.

Arnav turned to see her in her yellow suit, all ready to go to her shop.

“Where are you going so early in the morning?” Khushi asked, all cheerful.

“Gopalganj.”

Khushi frowned. “Are you going to the temple there?”

“No. I have an appointment there,” Arnav said shortly.

“Appointment? In Gopalganj?” Khushi’s face held bewilderment. 

“I need to meet a lady there,” Arnav said.

Khushi looked at him, her eyes direct on his eyes that were hidden by sunglasses. Her face paled and she said softly, “You are going to see some girl? For marriage?”

“What the!” ASR exclaimed.

“Are you going to see some girl to marry? You should take your family along with you. They too might like to see her,” Khushi smiled from a pale face.

“Of course not! What—nonsense…I am going to see a middle-aged lady. For business purposes…” Arnav spluttered.

Khushi drew in a deep breath. “Oh!”

Arnav turned away to open his car door.

“Then why is your face so cold? Like it was in your office. Cold on the outside but with a fire raging inside in your heart?” Khushi asked.

Arnav turned to look at her, shocked.

Part 20

Arnav parked his car at the end of the street and looked around, his jaw clenched.

 Seedy. That was all he could say of the decaying garbage piles in the corners of the narrow roads and the rundown edifices, the unkempt people loitering around aimlessly, the women collecting water from public taps and fighting amongst themselves, shouting abuses loudly and the shabby, half-naked children playing on the road.

He opened the door—and gagged. The stench of rotting sewage was overpowering.

He covered his nose with his hanky and looked at the paper with the address. 

Door 171 of Kamini Chawl meant nothing to him.

He approached the owner of the local tea shop.

“Where is Kamini Chawl?” he asked.

The man eyed ASR’s expensive clothes and his upmarket car with eager eyes. “Whom do you want to see? Why are you here?” Morbid curiosity filled his voice.

“Where is it?” ASR was in no mood for any nonsense.

“Go ahead,” the man pointed to a narrow alley. “As you enter,  you will find a huge building to your left. That is it. But you won’t be able to take your car there.”

ASR nodded his thanks and walked briskly in the direction pointed out. He came to a stop before the huge decaying building made up of hundreds of small apartments.

He swallowed. Sunehri apparently hadn’t profited from his father’s death or her dancing.

He entered the building avoiding the questioning and curious glances of many. He walked up the dirty, narrow stairs and corridors, avoiding the many clotheslines on which shabby underclothes danced in the breeze.

Finally he stood before door 171. A brown door that had once upon a time been white stared at him. There was no doorbell. He knocked, first gently and then loudly.

“Why are you knocking down the door, you son of a ***?” came the growl from within before the door was pulled open.

Arnav stared at Sunehri, his eyes wide in shock. ‘His father had—his father had cheated on his mother with this—this was the lady who had ensnared his father?’ he wondered.

Middle-aged. Thin to the point of being invisible. Her face was gaunt, the cheekbones pronounced. Her stringy hair was piled up on top of her head in a shabby bun.

His resentment seeped away slowly. His picture of a femme fatale who had lured his father to his doom faded in to nothing.

“Kya he?” she asked, none too pleased. Her voice was rough, her expression feral.

“I—I am Arnav Singh Raizada,” he said.

“To?” the lady asked, her hands on her hips.

“Are you Sunehri?” he asked.

“And if I am?” Her animosity was a live being.

“I need to talk to you,” he said.

“TALK— to ME?” Sunehri asked. “Men don’t usually want to TALK to me.” She smiled, full of contempt.

Arnav swallowed in distaste. “It will be worth your while,” he said, taking a sheaf of notes out of his wallet.

Sunehri looked at his face and at the notes. “Come in,” she invited.

Arnav looked around the tiny room. The walls needed paint, the little furniture there was needed to be thrown out. Curtains were non-existent but the room was dust-free.

He sat down carefully on the only chair in the room, a chair that shuddered at his weight.

Sunehri sat on the floor, her knees raised, her legs spread, facing him, her wary eyes trained on him.

He placed the notes on the tiny three-legged leaning table near the chair. 

Sunehri looked at the money and then at him suspiciously.

He took the money, walked up to her, and placed it by her on the floor. He returned to his chair.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“Information.”

“About what?”

“Arvind Mallik,” he said softly.

Sunehri’s shocked eyes looked in to his for a moment. Then she said, “Get out.”

Arnav did not move. “I am Arnav Singh Raizada, Arvind Mallik’s son,” he said.

“His son?” Sunehri’s voice was a thread. “Arvind Mallik’s son?”

“Yes.”

“The bastard. May he rot in hell!” Sunehri made her mind very clear.

Arnav sat silent watching Sunehri. Her fury seemed to be an echo of his.

Khushi…Khushi, he chanted.

“I—we didn’t know about you,” Arnav said softly.

“There was no need for you to know about me,” Sunehri’s s lips twisted in a bitter smile. “Why should a man’s family know about the sluts he keeps on the side?”

Arnav swallowed.

“I heard that you came to Sheesh Mahal to meet him, to ask him for a house he had promised you?” Arnav asked, trying to swallow the bile rising in his throat.

“Yes.”

“You came to see his corpse the day after he died?” Arnav asked.

“Yes. I needed to make sure that he was dead,” Sunehri said.

Arnav’s eyes widened in shock. Khushi…Khushi…his heart murmured.

Sunehri sighed. 

Slowly, she said, “I was a dancer at a kotta in Lucknow. Then.” She looked at Arnav, a sour smile on her lips. “I did not look like this then. I had flesh on my body. Flesh that men were fond of preying on. Flesh I sold daily to survive.”

Arnav waited, his heart beating hard, loud. The truth was before him. It would come in to his grasp soon.

“A baharwali. A tawaif. A prostitute. That was me. Your father paid the Sahiba at the kotta for keeping me for his sole use. He moved me out of the kotta in to a small house that he rented for one year in my name. He used to visit me there. At the end of the year he dispensed with my services,” Sunehri smiled. “He didn’t have the guts to come and tell me. He just stopped visiting me. Nor was he bothered about what would happen to me. I couldn’t return to the kotta anymore. The lease of the house was about to expire and the landlord was pressing me to move out.”

Arnav looked at her lined face, his jaw clenched. The legacy he had inherited was as bitter as poison and as painful as a bed of thorns.

“Arvind Mallik had promised to buy me a house whenever our relationship ended. I needed that house badly. I tried to contact him, many times. But he managed to elude me. I was desperate. That was why I went to Sheesh Mahal to get hold of him.”

“Did you see him?” Arnav asked, swallowing hard.

“Yes.”

“Did he agree to give you the house?” Arnav asked.

“No. The rat wanted to weasel out of his promise. He pushed me out of his study with vague promises of meeting later. I walked about the house. There was some function going on there. The house was decorated and there was music being played. I mingled with the guests and found out that Arvind Mallik’s daughter was getting married,” Sunehri frowned. “That must be your sister?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“I see,” Sunehri nodded. “I thought that would give me additional leverage. That I could get the house out of him by threatening to reveal myself to his family on the wedding day. So I hung around without leaving as Arvind Mallik had instructed.”

Arnav’s chest felt tight. He focused his eyes on the painfully-thin lady’s weather-beaten face. 

Khushi…Khushi…Her name calmed his soul.

“I don’t know what happened for a few hours after that. There was some commotion. People were running up and down,” Sunehri frowned. “I wondered if someone had found out about me being there. Anyway I sidled to the study and hid myself behind a curtain, waiting for Arvind Mallik to make an appearance.”

“Could you talk to him again?” Arnav asked.

“No. He did come in an hour or so later, but his brother was with him. So I stood there for hours till the coast was clear and then ran home,” Sunehri said.

“You were in the study for long?” Arnav asked.

“Yes. I could not get out,” Sunehri said, a remnant of half-forgotten panic flashing across her face.

“He killed himself in the study,” Arnav said softly.

Sunehri jerked in shock.

“Did you see him die?” Arnav asked, his eyes serious.

Sunehri looked away, silent. “No.”

“Why did he kill himself?” Arnav asked, his voice free of judgement.

“Who knows?” Sunehri looked away.

“You know,” Arnav said, his voice ringing with conviction.

“Take this and go,” Sunehri held out the money. “The last thing I want is a police case.”

“There will be no case. I promise,” Arnav leaned back in his chair and refused to take back the money.

Sunehri laughed, her laughter holding no amusement. “You promise. And I should believe you? Your father too made many promises. I believed him and today…” her voice trailed away.

“I am Arnav Singh Raizada. I am not Arvind Mallik,” Arnav said. The righteousness of his Nani, the love of his Di, the maternal care his Mami had showered on him, the respect his Mamaji had for him, the love and unfailing faith his brothers had in him, the responsibility of hundreds of employees that he carried on his shoulders, the implicit faith and trust and love Khushi reposed in him  shone from his face, added conviction to his words.

Sunehri looked at his drawn face, its fine lines, his resolute eyes, the hard jaw.

“No, you are not Arvind Mallik. You are strong. He was weak. Very weak. I realised it too late…” Sunehri sighed.

“What happened that night?” Arnav asked.

“Why should I tell you?” Sunehri asked.

“Money. You can have five lakhs today if you tell me the truth about what you saw in that study,” Arnav said softly.

Sunehri’s face twisted in to a mockery of a smile. “I will either end up in jail or dead.”

“You won’t.” 

“I can’t take the risk,” Sunehri said softly.

“I promise. Even if you killed Arvind Mallik with your bare hands, I promise not to file a case against you,” Arnav said equally softly.

Sunehri smiled sadly but remained silent.

Arnav drew in a deep breath. What he had to do was difficult. Laying the cards on the table was always an exercise in vulnerability and it was alien to his character. But he had to do it. His mistakes with Khushi had taught him that and more.

He spoke softly, from his heart. “My mother saw you with my father.”

Sunehri looked up in shock.

“My sister’s wedding preparations were on. And my parents were fighting about you."

Sunehri’s eyes were trapped by his.

“My mother asked him about you. She cried. She left the room. We heard a gun shot. She killed herself,” Arnav said, his face and voice expressionless.

Sunehri gasped.

“My father killed himself in the study two hours later. He apparently shot himself out of love for his wife.”

Sunehri stared at him, willing herself not to make a sound.

“The wedding got cancelled. Di and I were left with the corpses of our parents. The next day Chachaji turned us out of the house in the clothes we were wearing.”

Sunehri’s eyes became moist but she still met Arnav’s grave eyes.

“That is why I want to know what happened that day. To find closure,” Arnav sighed. “My sister and I—we—for the past fourteen years…”

Sunehri looked at his face. Both of them sat looking at each other for long.

Finally Arnav stood up. . He had lost now, but maybe Sunehri would reconsider and put him out of his misery later.  He had learnt patience at Khushi’s feet.

He handed over his card to her.

“Call me if you are willing to talk. I will come with the five lakhs,” he said.

Sunehri remained silent.

He walked towards the door.

As he reached for the broken handle of the door, he felt a small tug on his other arm.

Part 21

Arnav’s breath came to a stop. 

He turned around slowly, unable to believe what was happening.

Sunehri tightened her hold on his arm. He looked down at the thin, claw-like digits fastened around his arm.

“Come with me,” she said.

Arnav nodded.

She led Arnav in to the flat, holding him by the arm. She took him to a tiny room leading from the living room.

 It was a pitiful excuse for a bedroom, capable of holding only a tiny single bed.

 But Arnav did not see the poverty of the surroundings.

He saw only the tiny figure of the girl lying in bed, asleep. Short hair framing a pale face, a thin scrawny neck, stick-like arms and legs lying limp on the cot…

He turned to look at Sunehri, a question in his eyes.

“My daughter,” Sunehri said softly.

“Oh,” Arnav said. “What is wrong with her?” he whispered.

“She was born this way. Paralysed. She can’t get out of bed,” Sunehri said.

She led him back to the living room.

“This is why I was desperate to get the house,” she whispered.

Arnav’s eyes widened. “She—she—My father…”

“Yes. Unfortunately,” Sunehri sat down wearily on the floor, leaning her frail body against the wall.

Arnav collapsed in the chair. Would his father’s iniquities never end? He felt his stomach turn, the palpitations of his heart deafening him.

“I told him. That day at Sheesh Mahal. He said it was not his responsibility. He said that a prostitute had to be responsible for her mistakes,” Sunehri said softly.

Arnav looked at her, feeling his head swim.

“He was right. Prostitutes are normally left with the evidence of their sins while their fellow sinners vanish with the dawn. I was willing to take responsibility for what my body had produced, but I needed help. I needed a house and I needed money because a pregnant prostitute cannot work,” Sunehri smiled slightly at him. “That was all I expected of your father, but…”

Arnav could not say a word.

“I worked as long as I could even when pregnant. But when she was born—she needed constant care. And as she grew up, things became more difficult. I could not leave her alone in the house and go out to work. Nor could I bring men here. She is paralysed, but her body is that of a young woman. If someone hits me on the head and hurts her…” The hand that Sunehri raised to cup her forehead trembled.

Arnav swallowed past the big lump in his throat.

“I have a few female friends, all in the same business. On some days they sit with her while I go to work. On other days they give me some money or food. That is how I have been managing.”

“The doctors—they must have suggested some treatment?” Arnav asked.

“How can I carry her to the hospital? And will any doctor come for  a house visit in this chawl?” Sunehri asked.

 Arnav had no answer to give.

“I didn’t tell you all this to ask for your help. You owe me nothing. But I want you to protect me and Asha by not dragging me in to a police case.” Sunehri’s tired eyes looked directly in to his.

“I promise,” Arnav said.

“Arvind Mallik and his brother came in to the study. I was hidden behind the long curtains. I could hear them arguing. From what I could hear your father was angry about some properties of his he had asked his brother to transfer in to your sister’s name. They were supposed to be her dowry. When the boy’s family went through the papers, they found that the documents were forged. That the properties had in fact been registered in Anurag Mallik’s name.”

Arnav drew in  a deep breath.

“Anurag Mallik shot Arvind Mallik. I saw it,” Sunehri said softly.

“I believe you.”

She relaxed.

“But I couldn’t believe what my eyes had seen. I stood frozen like a statue for hours behind the curtain while the police came and Anurag told his lies and many people wailed and got the corpse ready for cremation. I returned home at dawn.”

“You returned later to confirm the facts,” Arnav stated.

“Yes. And to see if I could get some money out of Anurag Mallik. The landlord visited me that morning threatening to throw my belongings on the road if I did not leave by that evening.”

Arnav nodded.

“But when I came face to face with your uncle, I changed my mind. The cruelty in his eyes, the greed, his willingness to kill his own brother for money—they made me rethink my decision. And the realisation that I could be putting the child in my womb in danger if even a whisper of my witnessing the murder got out.”

“That was a wise decision,” Arnav said.

“Yes. But if you go to the police with this, I will have to give evidence. Then Anurag will kill Asha and me,” Sunehri said, anxiety filling her tired eyes.

“I am not going to the police with this case,” Arnav said softly.

Sunehri drew in a long breath of relief.

“I will deal with him in my own way. You will never come in to the picture. I promise,” Arnav said.

Sunehri nodded.

“Would you like to retire from the business?” Arnav asked.

Sunehri stared at him. Finally she nodded.

“What do you want from life?” Arnav asked her, Khushi having taught him to take other people’s wishes in to consideration.

“A roof over our heads, a house that no one can force us to vacate,” the woman said.

“And?”

“A steady source of income. I don’t mind what kind of work it is, how hard it is. As long as I can do it from my home,” the lady said.

“Would you mind leaving Lucknow?” Arnav asked.

“No. I would be glad to leave this city,” she said.

Arnav called Aman, and sitting in that dingy room, made all the necessary arrangements.

He told Sunehri, “Pack your things. An ambulance will be getting her soon. The nurses will help you move Asha in to it. You will be going to Delhi. I have arranged your stay in a small property I own. As soon as I get back to Delhi, I will transfer it in to your name.”

Sunehri stared at him in disbelief.

“My secretary, Aman will be getting here soon. He will accompany you to Delhi and make all the arrangements. I have asked him to get you a bank account. I will transfer a good sum in to your account. You will never have to worry about money again.”

Sunehri was speechless, her eyes moist.

“He will make arrangements for Asha to see a specialist. Let’s see what the doctor has to say. I will take care of all her medical expenses. I need to be in Lucknow for a few more days, but when I get back to Delhi, we can see about starting a small business from your house. Is that OK?”

Sunehri looked at him in wonder.

“Are you really Arvind Mallik’s son?” she finally asked, blinking away her tears.

“Yes. Unfortunately my mother was a very moral lady,” Arnav smiled slightly.

Sunehri too had to smile.

“You are not like him. You must be like your mother,” Sunehri thought aloud.

“I would like to think so too,” Arnav said. “Can I meet Asha once more?”

Sunehri wiped her eyes dry and took Arnav in to the tiny bedroom again.

“Asha?” Sunehri called softly.

The thin girl on the cot opened her eyes. She smiled at her mother.

“Asha, someone wants to see you,” Sunehri said, pointing to Arnav.

Asha turned her head and looked at him. She smiled.

“This is Arnav Singh Raizada,” Sunehri introduced him to her daughter, not claiming any relationship with him.

“Your brother,” Arnav said, gently touching the frail fingers of one hand lying on the cot.

Asha’s eyes widened. They looked in to his with astonishment, joy and hope. 

Her fingers clasped his in return.

“Khushi…Khushi..” his heart murmured. He wanted to see her, bury his head in her bosom and weep.

Part 22