Chapter 5
3:22 AM
Eleven years, he sighed silently. Eleven years- and he still couldn’t get her out of his mind long enough to let his life get back to normal. He smiled politely at the man standing in front of him, discussing the new Anti-Corruption case he’d taken up, as he sipped his wine- but his eyes followed her. There she was, smiling at something that the woman standing across from her was saying, looking as beautiful as ever.
Eleven years of their marriage, and his Rani Sahiba was just as gorgeous as the day he had first laid eyes upon her. He had seen a few strands of grey marring his originally coal black hair- but she had not changed one bit. At least, in her looks.
His eyes followed her, as she walked over to the about-to-be bride’s mother- that ever regal gait of hers, still not failing to draw him in, and took the thaal the woman had been holding, away with ease- as she smiled at her, no doubt saying something along the lines of ‘Let me help you with that.’
She wore an Emerald Green Kosa Silk Saree with fine zaree work done around its edges and beautiful golden-silver butta work done on the pallu. She wore a scarlet-red V-neck full sleeve blouse, with a low cut back, with the same golden-silver butta work done all over it and a red silk dori holding it at her back, A tantalizing view of the creamy expanse of her flat stomach teasing him as it hid behind the pallu. A simple yet beautifully finessed Emerald- Gold necklace covered her delicate neck, along with the heavy gold and black mangalsutra he’d had made for her exclusively from the best of his Designers on their first Anniversary. A pair of Golden jhumkas dangled from her ears, studded subtly with minuscule emerald and ruby stones. Her long glossy black hair was tied up in a traditional Bengali bun at the back of her head, with an Emerald studded round hair-pin placed in the middle of the bun, keeping it in place. Her Emerald nose-pin glinted beckoningly on her slender nose, as it caught the light, making him want to kiss her there, as he took it off, the crimson streak of sindoor that adorned her hair parting complementing as well as enhancing her beauty many-fold in his eyes.
She looked as heavenly as ever.
And yet, he felt- like he had felt for the past eleven years, now- that something important was missing. Shyam Manohar Jha was a man confident of his own capability. No, it was not that he doubted his wife’s fidelity or his position in her life. He knew, with an undying certainty, that he ruled her life. And yet, he felt incomplete. An inexplicable hollowness had become an integral part of his married life. One, which he could not- no matter how hard he tried- get rid of.
He had watched, mutely, over the past eleven years- his Rani Sahiba withdrawing into herself. Slowly, but surely. At least, in front of him. She had taken over his house- she had increased his social standing remarkably, she had adapted herself to the role of a perfect wife impeccably. And yet, he craved something else. Something entirely different. Something he didn’t know how to define.
He watched the gamut of emotions dance across her face, as the bride was brought down to the mandap. The smile that was wistful, the eyes that were faintly moist that she inconspicuously wiped with the back of her fingers, the fingers, inexplicably fidgeting with the Family heirloom antique ring he’d gifted her on their first night. The subtle way her hand went up to her throat and traced the beads of her own mangalsutra as she saw the groom place the holy necklace around the bride’s neck.
His attention, as always was the case when she was around him, was completely focused on her.
What was she thinking? He wondered, for probably the millionth time. And at that precise moment, she lifted her eyes- and looked straight into his. The emotion displayed in those black pools was such, that for a moment he was taken aback. The intensity that her eyes had betrayed for that infinitesimally small moment, when she gazed at him- before they went carefully blank, as she pasted one more of her polite smiles across her angelic face, shook him to his core. What had he missed? What had been going on in his wife’s mind and heart for all these years that he hadn’t been able to fulfill? Why did that inexplicable unfamiliar, yet fulfilling emotion break his heart? So shocked was he, that he didn’t realize when she had closed the distance between them, and looked up into his face.
“Suniye?” (“Listen?”) She called him, the polite smile firmly in place, as she lightly held onto his forearm. She waited till he looked down at her and tilted her head towards the now newly married couple standing on the stage. He nodded his head, and proceeded to follow her up the stage- to bless the new couple’s married life.
He watched his wife as she laughingly hugged the new bride and congratulated the groom on getting such a nice girl to marry him teasingly, smiling warmly all the time - something she almost never did in his presence, he realized.
He missed his Menaka. The only time he was allowed small glimpses into that old Menaka personality of hers that had so enraptured him- was when they made love. And even then she shut him off. As if turning a switch off. He had noticed how she wouldn’t stay by his side, snuggling into his chest anymore. She would just get up and get dressed, turning away from him.
It was not that he wasn’t satisfied… physically. Hell, he couldn’t be any more satisfied. Each and every whim and fancy and fantasy he had- his wife would fulfill dutifully. She was exciting to no end- even after eleven years of living with her- he couldn’t get enough. She was feisty, demure, loving, tender, rough… everything he had ever hoped for in a lover. And yet, he was left wanting for something more… something he just couldn’t identify for the life of him.
“Rani Sahiba?” he whispered, watching her eyes widen as she looked up at him. She had recently developed a habit that he absolutely loathed - absolute and utter acquiescence. One of these days, if he told her to go jump off the Manohar Villa’s roof, something told him she would do it - she would love to. He swore under his breath, watching her look at him in utter confusion. Confused, are you? Muddled? Out-of-sorts too, maybe? Good, he thought viciously. That means at least psychologically we are on the same boat still - although in every other way, they are but ships passing in the night. He laughed, now she had him paraphrasing Wadsworth. Shyam had always known himself to be a contrary sort of man. He thrived on challenges. Maybe his passive aggressive little wife had figured it out and was merely torturing him with the antithesis of it. Shyam closed his eyes briefly, maybe he should have let her go all those years ago. He had meant to, certainly. She was still looking at him, he could see - A smile, and a brief nod, negative, “It’s nothing, please continue doing whatever it is you are doing Rani Sahiba. I think I’ll go freshen my drink,” he could see her eyes widen again - She knew that he wasn’t much of a drinker. Growing up with his father left him with very little tolerance for loss of control, but then, today seemed to be an extenuating circumstance, one Rani Sahiba herself didn’t know - 25th anniversary of his mother’s suicide by self-immolation. Shyam laughed dryly, wondering when he had gotten so soft that it now seemed to have crawled underneath his skin. Something that had never had happened before - he could all but smell the ripe, sizzling smell of burning human flesh. Such was her ego, her pride that the whole time - the whole time she hadn’t screamed. Not once. Shyam. The thirteen years old child had sat there, having sworn on her head that he wouldn’t get up. Did that make him a partial murderer as well? Why hadn’t he realized at that age that promises like those were redundant? She had died anyway. He breathed in deeply, and walked towards the bar that wouldn’t look out of place in a 7 star hotel. Well, he smiled at the barkeeper, a pretty young woman - no older than Anjali on the day of their marriage. Had he done a great disservice to her? He had often wondered, after all - what had a man like him to offer her?
He could have easily have set her up somewhere in Mumbai - helped her continue her education or something. Why had he married her? As the girl smiled back, he motioned for another drink - A peg of Dalmore Single Malt Scotch. As the girl smilingly served him his order, he turned around to look for her, the barkeeper forgotten.
She pouted enticingly, not adverse to a rich, married lover - she had had high hopes for this one but then, she smiled, genuinely for the first time in the entire evening - this one, she knew, this one wouldn’t stray. Already his eyes were searching for the pretty woman he had come with - a rarity in occasions like these where they all chose to lose each other. She shrugged and moved on the next beautiful man approaching her, now he looked unhappily married, she thought with a grin.
Anjali watched Ananya, the new bride, smiling lovingly at her husband- the ever present tide of bitterness engulfing her in itself, as her eyes scanned the Hall of their own accord- for that beautifully masculine face. The face, she had realized, she craved. Pathetic, she sneered at herself. Falling in love with a man who is never going to see you as anything but a means to an end. But what could she do? How could she not fall in love with the man who, in his own small ways, tried to be the perfect husband to her? Of course, the image of a Perfect Husband in his mind varied greatly with the one in hers. For him, it seemed, to be a perfect husband was to be able to provide his wife with an unlimited amount of riches- money, jewellery, clothes- you name it and she had it. There was unlimited space. Her husband was a very freedom loving man, and he automatically assumed that she must be too, whereas, it just made her feel lonely. Alone. Then, he hadn’t given her that one thing she had craved for the past 11 years - a child. Every time she would raise the topic, he would answer in that precise, almost musical Urdu - “Rani Sahiba, there will be no child. If there is, I am afraid our journey together has to end,” and then, he would turn away, leaving her to deal with these devastating words - over and over again until, 7 years ago, she had stopped asking.
She had by that point, accepted the fact- that like every other dream she’d ever had about her future, this one would never be fulfilled either. And so, she had focused her energies into being the perfect wife to him. Hosting Dinner Parties at strategic times, keeping up appearances- acting the very much in love wife- The Queen to his Prince of Diamonds, portraying the role of the perfect Homemaker. She had busied herself in these tasks- her smile waning little by little every passing day. the ache in her heart growing, as she loathed herself night after night, for not being strong enough to push him away- for giving into her body’s needs...
Recently though, a seed of rebellion had taken root in her conscience - she could feel it spread, the tiny rootlings digging in, refusing to be unearthed. The tiny shoots, spreading, multiplying as they pushed towards the surface. She wasn’t old yet. Anjali had a secret account these days - squirreling away money into it - cash always, of course. She wouldn’t want it to be traced, never. Once she had enough... She smiled dreamily, a baby. She would have her baby. Their roads will indeed part.
A graduate degree in English Literature had to amount to something, didn’t it? She could work- she could earn... She would earn, for her Baby. And it was as if a new flame had been lit inside of her- a flame that could not be extinguished. Just a few more months, she thought with a smile. They would be ready to face the world, gently she patted her still flat stomach, and then darling, she thought with a dreamy smile, we will own the world a step at a time. Her child would then be conceived and, Shyamji would never know where his wife of inconvenience had gone to. The only thing that would wait for him were divorce papers, and papers absolving him of all monetary duty owed to her. Their paths would part, oh yes, she thought with a sad smile - their paths would part.
“Rani Sahiba? Chalein?” (“Rani Sahiba? Shall we Leave?”) That beautiful melodious voice asked from behind her, and she turned abruptly, bowing her head and nodding. The ever obedient Wife, she thought with a small sardonic smile. Even as he caught the tail-end of that smile, and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Why did it feel like that for a moment there, the real Rani Sahiba had slipped through the facade of rock? The Ice Queen he thought, wryly. The White Queen, he thought in terms of chess again - Alekhine’s Gun, he thought wryly. Her actions reminded him of that particular move. A formation where the Queen backs up two rooks on the same file. He sighed, what were his Rani Sahiba’s rooks right now? How did he feel about them?
The next morning, Shyam sat in the Living Room, reading the morning paper, as he waited for Babu, his youngest servant, to bring him his tea. However, the sounds of bangles clinking near him, made him look up in astonishment. Rani Sahiba had brought him his tea today? That hadn’t happened in years, now! She had buried herself in managing the house so deep- that he was lucky if he got to see her before nightfall most of the days. Today, apparently, was to be his lucky day.
His questioning look was answered by that ever present infuriating polite smile of hers. Mutely, he sipped on his tea his eyes still fixed on her. She looked at him into the eyes, then look away - an almost flinch. Was he that... fearsome to her now? Why? Shyam wanted to break something - an impulse he had never encouraged. Instead, he silently folded the crisp newspaper and came across the new it thing in Mumbai Dailies - The write to Domestic Goddess. They called, Menaka’s Musings. Menaka, for god’s sake, he smiled. The only Menaka he knew, refused to acknowledge who she was. These days though, Shyam smiled softly, he felt that he had more than enough to do with it. Had he not turned away at that precise moment, he would have noticed the strange letters that had arrived for his Rani Sahiba. Rani Sahiba, who never got any correspondence from anybody in the past eleven years. But then he had, and before Shyam had turned around, the letters pockmarked “To Menaka’s Musings” had been swiftly hidden away under the tray holding his now empty cup. The slight widening of her eyes, however, he didn’t miss.
And that fear she betrayed in that one moment, haunted his mind the whole day. What was she afraid of?
Anjali came to him in the dead of nights, as she had always done - Unable to control her yearnings. The urges that had teeth; shouldn’t they have mellowed over the years? Why hadn’t they? What magic had Shyam Manohar Jha spun on her senses? She remembered this song, just before she had been married really. Chottey... she breathed in hard, stifling a sob - Chottey had come home from boarding school in Delhi. He had just graduated, and was thinking about the colleges he would apply to abroad - She had never understood his type of music but this one had struck a discordant cord inside her. Anjali had often snuck into his room when he wasn’t around to listen to it - her 20 years old self too filled with ego to admit that her baby brother could be right. She laughed, an half sob. Funny, wasn’t it, how that very song had become the story of her life now? How did it go again?
Should be happy to be loved
Happy to be
Unburdened by the thought
I could still be lonely
I think you're the one
Everyone agrees
But some can see the face of love
And turn away in disbelief
She walked towards him, even as he sat up, leaning against the headboard of their King sized- bed. The overhead lights picked out the shards of ice in his otherwise coal mane, and even as she swayed towards him - why did she feel like a devotee unable to control herself from supplicating to her god? A devdasi, she mused, maybe she could write about that in her next Musings?
Every time we get close
I just run
And the wind on my face
Last rays of the sun
Shine on my skin
My heart slow me down
Is all that I can feel
All that I can feel
She watched him extend his hand out to her, and she delicately placed her hand in his. The half smile that played softly on his face drawing her in. She bent down slowly, her eyes never leaving his, a soft brush of her lips on his, her offering to him she thought, A devdasi offering her first prasad to her only god. And then again, and again- firmer and sweeter each time.
Should be happy to be loved
Happy to be
With someone who knows
And understands me
I think you're the one
Everyone agrees
But some can touch the hand of love
And pull away in disbelief
A shiver ran up her spine as his hand travelled the expanse of her waist, the smile still there on his face, yet his eyes growing darker, stormier by the second,the half-light casting his face into such stark shadows. The Peach of her pallu slithering against the lighter cream of her skin. His hand slid down to her waist again, tracing the silver belly chain in a feather light caress, the light tinkle of the chain setting her aflame. A lighter touch then, and she felt it slide off her- falling to the ground in a tinkling of silver and gold.
Every time we get close
I just run
And the wind on my face
Last rays of the sun
Shine on my skin
My heart slow me down
Is all that I can feel
All that I can feel
Her hooded eyes falling shut, with the light caress of those impossibly soft lips on her stomach. Her head falling back, as that straight aristocratic nose skimmed up her belly, a sharp gasp escaping her slightly parted lips, as those teeth nipped away at her choli. Her hands coming up to clutch those strong shoulders as those hands cupped her fullness, as if weighing his most beloved treasures... were they? her thoughts dissolved yet again, as those full lips closed over one enticed peak- eliciting a moan from her. She felt him kneel between her thighs, that seething, damp center that craved him like one would crave the next hit of some exotic drug. Was he one? He entered her, causing her to gasp. The gasps turned to moan as their rhythms merged - melded, mewling sounds escaping from her throat. Growls from his. She tried staying quiet, she did. He took it as a personal challenge to make her scream. To shriek in abandon. She could feel his fingers snaking between her thighs, stroking. Even as she moaned pitifully, not enough of a protest but a denial, nonetheless. She screamed, the next heartbeat, and he joined in. She could feel his precious seeds pouring into her - held down by a barrier. A tear escaped Anjali’s eyes again. Everytime.
Should be happy to be loved
Happy to be
Possessed by nothing but
A heart that's chosen freely
I think you're the one
Everyone agrees
But some can feel the grace of love
And walk away in disbelief
She untangled her limbs from his, unsure where he began and she had ended. As always. He brushed a kiss on her lips, one she accepted, but didn’t reiterate with much fervor. He knew. She could see his eyes narrow, in that way it always had when he smelled a mystery. A lawyer, she smiled, almost ironically. Would you find out until I am gone? She didn’t think so. She certainly hoped not.
Should be happy to be loved
Happy to be
Possessed by nothing but
A heart that's chosen freely
I think you're the one
Everyone agrees
But some can feel the grace of love
And walk away in disbelief
She left, an ever present excuse tumbling off her lips. She didn’t have to work on them at all, any more. Once, she had. Anjali swiftly shook her thoughts, banishing her thoughts of the past. She went to the green room, her secret study, she thought with a mocking smile. A room painted in the most beautiful hues of green- the room that had once belonged to her Mother in law, or, she was told. A safe place from her husband, who avoided anything that had ever belonged to his Mother like the plague. Yet another unsolved mystery, she thought, her mind mocking her title of Rani Sahiba in his life... An Ignorant Queen, perhaps? or should it have been Sheltered? Walled in seemed more appropriate. She smiled, as she picked up the stacks of envelopes from the desk - all titled “To Menaka’s Musings”, the heart-warming messages on those letters feeling like small victories- hollow victories, but victories nonetheless. She went through each and every word in those letters to her, humming away the last bars of the song which had come to her that night. Was it a message Chottey? She thought with a laugh. Anjali murmured:
Should be happy to be loved
Happy to be...
She had the worst headache brewing, but Khushi knew that if she went home now, there would be grievous bodily harm done to Arnav; something that seemed an attractive prospect now but she was sure that she would regret later. Sighing, she went back to work - a corporation like AR never ran itself and neither could it be helmed by one single person. Khushi knew it, and she understood how hard Arnav worked at it, although, she wasn’t feeling particularly charitable towards the man right now. Her cellphone rang, causing her to roll her eyes, she knew who was calling after all. Even as she answered, Khushi knew that she would never say no to that bastard and he knew it.
“Khushi I need you to come here. Five Minutes.”
Oh the nerve of him! No sorry, no Please- just a fucking order! Oh she would show him, what it meant to order her around. Arnav Singh Raizada had it coming to him. “Where do you want me Arnav?” she said in a sickly sweet voice, a voice that would have raised Arnav’s defenses had he not been so busy with other things then. “Oh. Great.” he paused, scared are you sweetie? She thought. Good. “How about Spice Route at the Imperial Hotel? It’s in Connaught Place opposite the Cottage Emporium. Can’t miss it,” he said, and before she could answer, he had hung up on her. Order me around, will you Raizada? She muttered, bitterly. Just you wait, you have yours coming for you.
She stormed out of her cabin, the Plans for the Warsi-Thakur deal clutched in one hand, as she furiously scrolled through her emails on her phone. Down in the Parking lot, her temper exploded again. Shit! The car had gone for Washing! She scowled at her phone then, and turned back- well she would have to travel by bus again then... and it was then that she caught sight of a cowering Aman, desperately trying to get into his car and drive away before she saw him. Ah! Aman- Arnav bloody Singh bloody Raizada’s bloody subordinate!
“Aman!” She called, and watched in satisfaction as the tall man cringed and then turned to look at her- an unsure smile hovering on his lips. “Yes Khushiji?” he half-whispered. “You’re taking me to the Imperial Hotel at Connaught Place. Hurry,” she slipped into the passenger seat, “We’re late”. He looked as if he’d been given a death sentence, poor man. Well he should have thought before coming to work for his ASR, she thought irrationally, and snapped her fingers when he didn’t immediately sit in the driver’s seat.
Aman gulped, looking at the spitfire sitting in his Passenger seat of his car, why him God? Why him? Wasn’t ASR enough? Why had Khushiji too gone over to the darkside? He jumped when she snapped her fingers impatiently, and he quickly got in. The faster you drop her, the faster you get out of danger, he chanted to himself, as he maneuvered the car out the gates and onto the road to... Connaught place- via hell, apparently.
Arnav glanced down at his watch for the fifth time, in as many minutes, as he waited for her to join them. He really did need Khushi to be present for this particular meeting, all plans of getting back in her good books aside. Warsi and Thakur were shareholders in the AR group, and the new Nainital Resort was their brainchild. It was imperative that AR got a major holding in this resort- for AR’s future, as this was one very good opportunity for them to test new waters. He knew that though Warsi-Thakur were being really snobby about this deal- they needed AR’s backing too, if this Resort had to be set up right. Khushi was the one person who knew how to handle this project perfectly, and she knew he wanted it badly. Too bad his mess up had come up at this point, he thought- as his eyes searched for her through the restaurant again, and then went back to looking at the entrance to try and spot her coming in. Of course, with his new plan- he would get back in her good books and he would get this deal too. Two birds in one stone, he thought with a small smirk.
He looked up when three folders were slammed on the table near his hand, and saw a fuming Khushi Kumari Gupta glaring down at him. He got up and pulled the chair beside him for her- making her roll her eyes at him, as she sat down. Warsi and Thakur, being themselves immediately got to talking, much to Arnav’s chagrin. “Ms. Gupta! How nice to see you again?” Warsi rasped in that smoker’s voice of his. “Certainly, certainly,” concurred Thakur, “It’s so good to see women like you about Ms. Gupta! In our days, ladies stayed at home - at their husbands’ beck and call while women like you, you carve yourself a new frontier,” and Warsi chimed in, “Yes, and the sacrifice of your femininity I guess, seems to you to be a price well paid, huh?” Arnav could see her steaming, but she held on resolutely - “Lets get to business, shall we? I have a file on the quotes for the Nainital’s Resort Construction. We all know how much you two need it to work right now,” she let the ghost of a smile slip through. Powerful men don’t want to be reminded of their financial weaknesses. Especially when they already lost a bundle at the stock market. More so when that is pointed out by a mere woman, albeit indirectly. Arnav stifled a laugh as he saw the old men’s eyes heat up. 10 points Ms. Gupta, he smiled.
The meeting progressed well, after that point, well, better anyway but men like Warsi and Thakur, they never forgave slight by a woman - who they judge as inferior. More fool them, Arnav thought with a smile, haven’t they ever seen discovery? It’s the female of the species that really rule the roost and Arnav was man enough to see it. “So, ASR,” said Warsi looking at him directly, an attempt to cut Khushi off, Arnav smiled toothily. “This thing between you and Ms. Gupta. How long has it been going on?” before Arnav could answer though, “ What does that have anything to do with this deal, Mr. Warsi?” Khushi asked- her voice controlled but incredibly cold.
Arnav almost cringed when Warsi turned to look at Khushi, a cool expression on his face, while his eyes danced maliciously. Oh, this was going to be hard to handle! Warsi smiled at her, mockingly, and Arnav could feel Khushi bristling in indignation.
“Ms. Gupta, Hasn’t your Arnav trained you not to interrupt when two elders are discussing something important? Really now, little girls like you should listen to your elders and mentors! Now, hush.” He smiled at her, as if scolding a recalcitrant child of three years for doing something naughty. Arnav saw Khushi’s nose flare as she closed her eyes, from the corner of his eyes. Boy, was Warsi in for it! He thought, barely suppressing a sympathetic look from coming on to his otherwise neutral face.
“Mr. Warsi, Can we turn back to the real point of this meeting? You can discuss that something important with Mr. Raizada, afterwards, right?”
He had to give it to the girl. He would have exploded long back, if he had been in her place. He turned to look at her, a new respect for his incredibly controlled and professional girl clear in his eyes. He turned back to the men, however, when Thakur decided to shove their feet further down their throats... or perhaps their heads up their asses. Thakur had to open his mouth then, “Little darling, why don’t you run along and see what’s taking the dessert cart so long? Let men do their work,” Arnav almost choked. A new take on go make me a sandwich? Really? Except, Khushi’s eyes finally flared. There was no other description for it. He was lucky that lava didn’t flow out of them, spontaneously. She banged her hands palms down on the tables as she stood up and stalked over to old man Thakur and wound her hand around his neat tie, almost choking him in the process, “Listen up you fucked up old GOAT! Call me little girl one more time. ONE MORE TIME, and I’ll make sure you have to deal with real littleness your whole fucking life - Not that there’s much left of it anyway. DO WE UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER, sweetie? Now.. you can take that rooster-like ego and hurry along to your possibly teenage mistress, because that’s the only place it’ll work for you. You question my credibility one more time Thakur, I will not hesitate to stuff your head up that tight ass of yours - although, I’m pretty sure there’s a steel rod shoved up there already,” she growled. “And you!” she turned towards Warsi, who started, eyes wide, “YOU have something to say? Well? Say it now. Go ahead. SAY it! Give me one excuse. One. So that I can rip out your tongue and wrap it around your throat in a neat little bow. Just give me an excuse, I am BEGGING you.” she growled again. When Thakur started blustering, she pulled at his tie again, tighter this time. “Now, now, Thakur sir, I wouldn’t open that man-hole you have for a mouth if I were you now! and Don’t even dare talk about the deal being off- I have had fucking enough of you! I don't need you to back me for a resort in Nainital- I'm going to buy you fucking out of your shares and then let's see who stays at home and carves themselves a new fucking frontier! Bloody male chauvinistic pig assholes!” with that final flourish, she exited, stage left. Arnav was so proud, he had to stop himself from applauding her along with a standing ovation. He had to be the most contrary man on the face of the planet because he was about to lose a huge deal but, he was just so proud! His girl. He smiled and turned to look at the men who expected him to do something, “Khushi is wrong you know,” he said, conversationally. “She doesn’t need to buy out your shares,” watching the men relax a tad, about to launch into myriads of complaints against her. “I will buy them for her. Leave them for her to run or, burn it all into a big bonfire to warm us,” ASR looked at the men in question. “You should have figured out way before, had you taken your heads out of your asses, gentlemen. I don’t like anybody fucking around with Khushi. Think about it, my quotes will be at your table tomorrow. I believe AR will be generous in buying you out,” and with that, he too walked away. Where was she?
He had to talk to her before she cooled down and went into spitfire mode again. Or he would never get another chance to get back to normal with her. He turned around in a circle and spotted her just as she entered the women’s restrooms. Should he wait for her, outside? No. No, that would give her time to think everything over- and he would be in the pits again. Oh well, there was only one other option left then. And so, shrugging his shoulders, Arnav Singh Raizada sauntered right into the Women’s washrooms at The Imperial Hotel.
Khushi splashed cold water on her face for the third time, trying to calm herself down. It felt good, finally ripping new ones into those two assholes she’d had to deal with for the past four months. But a small guilt niggled at the back of her conscience. She had just lost Arnav the deal he had so wanted. One she knew he had been working on for nearly 90 hours each week for the past month. She was angry with the Idiot, sure, but that didn’t mean she had a right to set the company back just because she hadn’t been able to control her temper, did it? She was startled out of her thoughts when she heard two high pitched screams one after the other, just behind her. She looked up and her mouth fell open in shock.
Two women were staring in utter bewilderment at an Arnav Singh Raizada, standing in the middle of the washroom, as cool as you please, his hands buried in his pockets, looking as if he owned the damned place. She turned around, her anger forgotten momentarily.
“Arnav? What...?”
Khushi stopped as the two women turned to look at her now, their expressions nothing short of scandalized. He turned towards them, and she laughed, horrified, when he actually said, “Go on! Shoo! What are you still standing around here for?” causing the women to gasp indignantly and scurry off. She rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand, pulling him out of the place. “What the hell were you doing in a women’s bathroom, Arnav?” she hissed at him, and he shrugged again.
“I just came to congratulate you on that magnificent performance over there.” he said, a small smirk playing at his lips. Khushi looked down, ashamed.
“Look, Arnav... I’m sorry. It’s because of me you lost that deal. I...” she was still looking at her feet, when he cut her off. and the incredulous tone of his voice made her look up at him.
“Sorry? Why are you apologizing Khushi? I agree with you completely. Plus, the resulting floor show was magnificent, my compliments to the management!” he smiled, one of those rare flashes that seemed to blind her. “I’m incredibly proud of you Khushi. That thing out there? It made me so proud that I can choke happily. Plus, old man Thakur’s face when you suggested enlarging a certain part of his anatomy to push something up there,” he smiled again, almost, “I haven’t had this much fun in ages,” Then he smiled again, that lopsided half-smile of his which reminded her of childhood, jalebis and simpler times; threw an arm around her, tucking her affectionately into his side, as he ran his fingers through her hair, tentatively. “You were wonderful!” She smiled up at him at that, her heart soaring at the pride his voice betrayed. His voice became solemn, “Did you think I’d ever pick them over you? Did you think I’d ever pick anybody else over you Khushi?” she nodded, no, he wouldn’t. Then, laughed outright, when he mimicked Warsi’s face after she had stormed out on them, laughing along with her. He steered her to his car, and she got in, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes, and he buckled her in, an old habit. A dear one.
“Khushi?” she looked up, at the sudden change in his voice. What had happened? she suddenly wondered.
He was looking grave, her eyebrows arched high in confusion.
“I’m... I shouldn’t have done that...” he said, and her eyes widened. He had figured out the reason for her bad mood, then. “... I shouldn’t have let you deal with this all alone... I’m...” well of course, Arnav Singh Raizada wouldn’t say it out loud would he? He sucked at apologizing after all! Then, he surprised her, and for the first time since she had come to know him; finished an apology. “It wasn’t meant to hurt you Khushi. I just figured we were close enough, adult enough to deal with this. I’m sorry. It really won’t happen again little girl,” he tacked the last part teasingly.
She caught his hand in hers, and waited till he looked at her. Smiling faintly, she nodded her head- and saw relief wash his features. “It won’t happen again.” he told her again, earnestly, and she believed him. Arnav had always kept his promises to her- and she knew he would keep this one too. She smiled again, and he turned back to the steering wheel.
“Khushi, where will you take me for dinner tonight? A celebration is in order after all!” He had that half smile again, and she snorted “or, a consolation prize,” he amended with a straight face. They argued the whole way- Chinese, Thai or Korean? Restaurants, of course. Whose turn was it to pay? Khushi wanted Malay food, and she was resolute - it was his turn to pay. Arnav wanted Korean, and of course it was her turn to pay, he said. Hadn’t she just lost him the clothes of his back? He said teasingly, the least she could do was buy him dinner. She knew who’d win, of course. Khushi just didn’t have the heart to argue with him today. Not now. Not today. So, before long Arnav had driven her to Green Park in Delhi, for Korean cuisine at Gung. Fortunately, she thought with a private smile, she was really in the mood for Korean. Everything was fine. They survived another day. Everything was fine, he thought with a little smile as they chatted over Grilled Beef Galbi, argued over the latest trade policies. The new Julia Roberts movie she wanted to watch (he wouldn’t go for it) and the Meryl Streep movie he wanted to take in.
Everything was fine. For Now.
Posts
0 comments