165: OS: 7: The Other Woman (Parts 31-32)

Part 31

Khushi looked through the stack of files in the overflowing cupboards and cabinets in Shyam’s room, seeking a particular file.

She frowned. Where was Usha Kanwal’s case file? She looked at the piece of paper in her hand with the details.

As she lifted her head to threaten the cabinet to give up the file she wanted, her eyes fell on a very familiar white monster coming to a halt in the office car park.

She clutched her heart, all Ushas forgotten.

As she watched through the window, Heartthrob Singh Raizada stepped out of the vehicle.

She gasped.

“Kya hua, Khushi?” Shyam asked without lifting his head from the papers he was perusing. He was used to her clumsiness and her accidents on the work site.

She turned to look at him, her eyes wild and unseeing.

“Shyamji,” she quavered.

He looked up with a frown. “Khushi, you look pale. Are you sick?” he asked.

She latched on to the excuse. “Yes, yes. Shyamji, may I go home? I..I don’t feel so good...” her voice trailed away.

“Tum jao. Ask Ram Lal to help me find the files,” Shyam said. “Ask Birju to give you a lift home or ask him to get you a rickshaw.”

“Ji,” she murmured, rushing out of the room as if creditors were chasing her and baying for her blood.

She saw Sharmaji walking towards Shyamji’s room and ducked behind a pillar till he passed by. Then she crept along towards the small exit near the storeroom that few used.

 Seemaji left her table to go to the washroom.

 Khushi ducked behind a partition till the coast was clear. She then crawled and sidled to the small door, opened it and slid out with a sigh of relief. She cautiously circled the building and ran out of the gate after making sure that Stalker Singh Raizada had entered the office.

Sharmaji lifted his head to see Arnav Singh Raizada striding in to the office. He smiled. “You are in luck, Raizadaji. Shyamji is in his office.”

Arnav opened his mouth to say that he had come to see Khushi, but stopped himself.

Sharmaji knocked on his boss’ door and opened it for Arnav with a smile. Arnav had no choice but to walk in to his Jiju’s room.

“Arnav?” Shyam exclaimed. “Kya hua?”

Sharmaji shut the door to give them privacy.

“Jiju...” Arnav began.

“Anjali is alright,” Shyam smiled. “Sleeping in a new house without all of you felt strange to her but it did not drive her to hysterics.”

“Di called in the morning,” Arnav said lightly. “I am not worried about her. Jiju, I came to meet Khushi.”

Shyam’s brows hit his hairline.

Slowly he turned to look at the cabinet by which Khushi had been standing. The window was open and through it he could see Arnav’s car in the car park.

He burst out laughing, realising the virus that had caused Khushi’s mysterious ailment.

Arnav stared at his Jiju who couldn’t control his mirth.

As soon as Shyam could speak, he choked, “Chotey, the bird has flown.”

“What?” Arnav asked.

“Khushi became sick as soon as she saw you park your car, took permission from me and if I know her, is on her way home to hide behind her Buaji,” Shyam chortled. “You should have let Mohan drive you.”

Arnav heaved a sigh, his lips twitching.

“She will lead you a merry dance,” Shyam remarked, delighted. “You need to be shaken out of your complacence.”

“She thinks I proposed out of guilt because I was nasty to her,” Arnav confessed.

Shyam laughed. “If you had to propose to everyone you have lost your temper with, you would have a thousand wives by now. And you would have had to marry Amanji at least a hundred times.”

Arnav looked away in amusement.

“So what is my saalesaheb going to do now? Chase her to her home?” Shyam asked.

“No. Buaji is waiting for me with her belan there,” Arnav frowned.

Shyam chuckled.

“Khushi has banned me from visiting Laxmi Nagar,” Arnav thought aloud.

Shyam tried very hard to bring his laughter under control. He said, “Meet her here tomorrow. I will arrange it. Can you get here by ten?”

“Definitely,” Arnav replied. “Thank you, Jiju.”

“I will take your first-born in lieu of thanks,” Shyam teased.

Arnav smiled.

Khushi ran in to her house, her eyes on the road behind her. Was he following her? She wouldn’t put anything past Bulldog Singh Raizada!

“Hai re Nandkisore!” Buaji exclaimed. “What are you doing here at this time of day, Sanka Devi? Did Shyamji finally throw you out of the office?”

“No, Buaji. I..I wasn’t feeling very well...” Khushi muttered.

Buaji quickly placed her palm on Khushi’s forehead. “Bukhar to nahi he. Then what is wrong with you?”

“I..I was feeling weak, Buaji,” Khushi stammered.

“Jaake let jaao, Nandkisore,” Buaji ordered her niece.

Khushi nodded obediently. “Where is Jiji?” she asked.

“Payaliyya went to buy some thread and buttons,” Buaji muttered as she opened bins in the kitchen, looking for supplies.

Khushi, unaware of what was coming, dumped her bag and crawled in to bed, pulling her blanket up to her chin.

‘Why did Flirtatious Singh Raizada come to the office?’ she wondered. ‘To see me or Shyamji?’ The sensation of his teeth nipping her earlobe sent her trembling. She shut her eyes tight. How could one man make her feel as if she was caught in a whirlpool? She felt his lips against her ear, her cheeks...his fingers trailing down the length of her arms....his husky voice tearing down her wall of defences...his hot breath against her skin making her legs tremble...

“Titliyya, open your mouth,” Buaji invited.

Khushi pulled down the blanket and parted her lips absently, her mind full of Attractive Singh Raizada.

Buaji poured half a glass of bitter kadha down her throat. 

Khushi sat up as though electrocuted, her eyes as wide as they could go. The pungent taste of the medicine sent all thoughts of Seductive Singh Raizada out of her mind. She leaped out of bed and ran to the bathroom with her hand covering her mouth to avoid spills.

Part 32

Khushi looked down at the long list of files she needed to find and at the many overflowing racks in the storeroom. It was like looking for many needles in an overstacked haystack!

She pouted. Why did Shyamji need so many documents? And that too immediately? This would take half her day.

The pout vanished suddenly. Being incarcerated in the storeroom had its own advantages, the most important one being that a certain man with haunting chocolate eyes couldn’t find her. She grinned and set about her work, a small smile and a song on her lips.

Tu hai lajawaab, tere jalwe hazaar

Mera bhi pata hai, main na maanu kabhi haar

Teri meri duniya mein behisaab nafrat

Main hoon ek Angel aur Devil mera dushman...

She heard someone enter the room and shut the door gently.

“Ram Lalji, I am here,” Khushi called.

There was no response. Khushi frowned. Had the peon become deaf and dumb?

The hair at the back of her neck stood up in alarm. A gust of wind ruffled her hair, throwing silky strands against her cheeks. Khushi clutched the dupatta at her neck, feeling her pulse thrum. Omnipresent Singh Raizada was somewhere close by.

She turned around to see him surveying her crouched form from a great height.

Khushi gasped. “Hey Devi Maiyya!” she exclaimed.

Arnav lowered his lashes to hide his triumphant smile.

She stood up to face him, the paper slipping from her hands. Was he real or a figment of her imagination? What was Busy Singh Raizada doing in Shyamji’s dusty storeroom?

“Khushi,” he murmured.

The low sound galvanised her into frenzied activity. She eyed the door with fraught eyes and made a dash for freedom.

“Khushi,” he tried to stop her. His outstretched hand caught one end of her flying dupatta.

Pulled back in her mad rush, she stumbled and fell with a cry.

“Khushi,” he ran to her.

“You..you..Moron Singh Raizada! See what you have done! Aaa....” she yelled in pain.

“Are you hurt, Khushi?” he asked solicitously.

“No, I am doing garba,” she retorted, the pain shooting through her ankle making her mindless with pain.

He held her by her shoulders and helped her to a chair, letting her lean heavily against him.

He bent down to sit before her.

“Show me your foot, Khushi,” he invited.

“No,” she said, pulling back her foot like a child.

“It might be  a sprain, Khushi,” he insisted.

“To?” she asked. "Aap se matlab?"

“Let me see if I can do something to stop the ache, Khushi,” he insisted.

“Who are you, a doctor?” Khushi fumed.

“Khushi,” he tried to calm her down and to touch her foot. But she swatted his hands away.

“Don’t touch me. Don’t come near me. You are the cause of all my troubles, all my sleeplessness, all my anxiety, all my...” she began to castigate her tormentor even as her ankle throbbed.

He leaned forward and in a quick move, his hard lips conquered hers.

Khushi blinked in shock. What was happening here? Why was his face so close to hers? Were his lips on hers? What was this heat stirring her insides?

His lips moved slightly to settle more firmly on her softness.

Khushi shuddered, her ankle forgotten.

He lifted his head to look down in to her dazed eyes.

"Khushi, tum theek ho?" he asked.