Saturday, 7 February 2015

Kaise yeh Rishtey - 7 & 8

Chapter 7

Khushi looked at the name of the building, and then at the envelope in her hand. Yes, this seemed to be the right place.

Her instructions had been clear – deliver the envelope personally to Mr. Raizada, and wait for an answer. Don’t return without meeting him and making sure he reads the letter. Otherwise, it would be goodbye to her job and house arrest for her. And she knew her brother would carry out his threat, maybe with a beating thrown in for good measure, depending on how drunk or sober he was. He had even rung up the hospital himself, to ask her supervisor for the afternoon off for her. She really had no choice.

She entered the lift and pressed the button for the thirty-first floor, holding the envelope carefully. She looked around her as the lift rose - it had glass walls, and she could see herself rising into the air. It gave her a heady feeling, and she smiled, as she watched the people scurrying around below, looking as small as ants.

She came out of the lift into a plush, carpeted corridor. The whole floor seemed to be occupied by one office, and she entered the glass automatic doors, as they whooshed open for her.

An elegant secretary looked up at her, and she offered the letter hastily, glad she had taken time to look her best. In these pristine surroundings, she felt out of place. How had her ragamuffin brother ever worked here? She wondered, and then remembered that he had been at the factory, not at this plush office. He definitely would have been out of place here, she thought, with an inward chuckle.

The secretary rang an internal number, and then looked at her. "He's busy. You don't have an appointment, do you? You can leave it with me, if you like. I’ll see to it that he gets …”

“No,” said Khushi hastily. “I need to give it personally. If that’s all right,” she added.

The secretary looked at her again, this time more closely. However, she was obviously too well 
trained to show what she thought.

“You'll have to wait, then," was all she said.

Khushi nodded. The secretary nodded to the sofa, and a pile of magazines, and Khushi made good use of both. There was a whole pile of reading material, which was a good thing. Khushi had not had time to read for a long time, and Mr. Raizada was obviously going to make her wait.

She waited for a long time. Nearly four hours. She was getting restless, and trying to decide whether to go home and risk her brother's wrath, when the inner door opened, and another elegant creature, twin to the first emerged.

"Miss Khushi? We're sorry to keep you waiting for so long. You didn't have an appointment, and ASR has been extra busy today. Please come this way. Sara," this to the secretary, "Boss said you may go, but come in early tomorrow. He has an 8 o'clock meeting with the Singapore group."

The other woman nodded, and prepared to leave, as Khushi's escort took her through the inner corridor, into a set of rooms. She knocked at the door of one, and opened it for Khushi.

Khushi entered the office, and looked around her wondering. It was a huge room, fully carpeted in a dark maroon pile, with an oversized sofa and two chairs at one end, and a large desk at the other. Pushed against the wall, near the desk and next to the window, was a beautiful rosewood cabinet, and a man was standing at it, with his back to her, apparently going through some papers.

"ASR, Miss Gupta is here."

"Right, Diana, thank you. You can go home too, but remember we have an early start tomorrow," he replied, without looking around. "Come in, Miss Gupta, and please take a seat. Sorry to keep you waiting. Just give me a minute please," he added.

Diana nodded at Khushi, and went out, closing the door behind her. Khushi went in hesitantly, and stood by the chair.

Arnav Singh Raizada took a long time to turn around, and when he did, he seemed surprised to see her. And puzzled. Not very flattering, thought Khushi, with an inward grimace, considering he had examined her very thoroughly just the previous evening. She waited for a minute or two, as he looked at her, obviously trying to place where he had seen her before.

"Khushi," she said, helpfully. "Shyam's sister. You came to our house yesterday. To threaten Shyam," she added, without emotion.

He looked at her more closely then. His gaze raked her from head to toe, and his eyes narrowed.

"So I did," he said softly. "So I did. Well, well, well. I thought he didn't think himself threatened sufficiently. Apparently, I was wrong. He's scared enough to send his … what was it? … beautiful, young, untouched sister to me. Well, well, well."

She hated the look in his eyes, and the tone of his voice when he said that.

"I'm just a messenger," she said, hastily. "He's sent a letter to you. And a message. He asked if you would be satisfied with this as a … deposit, for the time being. Until he can get the money and data back. Please don't start any criminal proceedings yet."

She handed over the thin envelope, hastily. Her fingers touched his, as he took it, and she pulled back her hand, as though the touch had burnt her.

He looked at the letter and then back at her curiously. "Now what does he want to tell me, that he did not tell me yesterday?" he wondered softly.  "If he's begging for more time, he's wasting his time, and mine. And he doesn't have any collateral, at least…," the piercing gaze raked her again, "none that I'm interested in."

He made it sound like an insult.

Khushi shivered, understanding why her brother was so scared of him. She was no guilty party, and she felt terrified.

He ripped open the letter, and read it. She saw a mixture of emotions chase across his face. There was a long silence, and then he looked at her. His caramel brown eyes held an oddly speculative expression as they raked her face, and Khushi shivered again.

"Dear me," he said, softly, silkily. "The innocent little sister is not so innocent after all, is she?"

His words surprised her, jerked her out of her nervousness into blank query. She stared at him, completely lost.

"I beg your pardon?"

He tapped the letter with one lean finger, and looked at her quizzically.

"I presume that this proposal has your approval?"

It was the last comment she expected, and she gaped at him, even more mystified.

He looked at her, impatient at her silence. "Well?"

"Nothing my father or brother do, needs my approval, or my permission," she managed to say, with a faint attempt at maintaining a semblance of poise. "I take their permission, not the other way around."

"This does," he replied, coolly, strolling towards her. "You see, I don't go in for rape."

Her jaw dropped.

He looked at her closely, and came close enough to take her by the shoulders. She twisted out of his grasp, her mind working furiously. What on earth did he mean? What was in that letter?!

"Please," she said, desperately. "Please. I have no idea what you're talking about. I was told to deliver this letter, and wait for an answer, that's all."

"Oh, this is the answer, that I'm giving you," he replied, silkily, and lifting his hand, he ran it lightly, delicately down her cheek. It was a soft touch, but there was nothing remotely gentle or loving about it. It was a calculated insult, the action of a man stamping his seal on a new possession.

Khushi jerked away, her heart beating too fast for comfort. Her eyes were wide, shocked.

He followed her, and grasped her by the upper arms. She stood still, not knowing what to expect. His hand went up to her face again, cupping her jaw. His face was expressionless, but his eyes were watching, observing her narrowly, and she flinched, as much from his touch as from the look in those hard eyes. Suddenly she was very aware that it was late, and they were alone in his office. A chill of fear, stark and icy cold, crept through her.

******
"Mr. Raizada," she said, and she hated the trembling note in her own voice. 

"Please, sir, don't do this. I'll just take the answer to the letter, and go. If you don't give me an answer, they'll beat me. Please, sir …” she tailed off into a whisper, her tone now pleading.

Her tone, more than her words, seemed to reach him. He let her go, and looked at her narrowly, sensing her reluctance, her shame at her situation.

"You really have no idea what's in the letter, do you?" he asked, slowly, watching her face.

She shook her head. "They never tell me anything," she said, flatly, emotionlessly.

He looked at her curiously.

"Khushi? That's your name, isn't it? Tell me something. Are they your real father and brother, or are you a stepchild or adopted or something?"

It was such an unexpected question that she gaped at him dumbly.

He looked at her intently again, and then wordlessly passed her the letter. She took it like an automaton, and started reading it.

Halfway through reading, she looked up in horror at him, and backed away further.

"No!" she whispered, her eyes glazed with shock and horror. How could they do this to her?! How could they?!

ASR smiled at her, but it was not a kind smile.

"So? I asked you a question.  Are they your real brother and father? Do fathers and brothers do this kind of thing in your class of people? I know of people who do this, but we call them something else."

She turned away from that cold face, her hands crumpling the letter in them. For a long moment, she couldn't even answer him, her voice seemed choked in her throat. At last, she spoke, and her voice was thick with unshed tears.

"I've often wondered that myself," Khushi said, huskily. "Now there doesn't seem to be much doubt, does there?"

She wasn't looking at him, so she didn't see his face change. The harsh expression left it, to be replaced by a much gentler look. He said nothing, just waited.

 For a long time, she didn't say anything either. Then, suddenly, as though she couldn't bear it any more, she sank down on the plush carpet, her hands still holding the crumpled letter. She whispered, "What do I do? Oh, god, what do I do? How can he do this?! How can they do this? Do they hate me so much?!"

One solitary tear escaped from her eye, and trickled down her cheek. She held the rest back by sheer force of will. She would not cry in front of him, she would not!

At last, when she felt able to, she looked at him. Her hands crushed the damning letter between them, her knuckles white. She looked at him wordlessly, her face pale and tense with the effort of holding back her emotions. All she wanted to  do was curl herslef up in aball, and cry her heart out. Or run away where no one could reach her ... least of all, Shyam bhaiya and Baba. But she had to deal with this man first ... and the mess she was in. 

ASR cocked an eyebrow at her. His initial scorn and disgust seemed to have faded slightly in the face of her evident distress and shock. Yet there was no trace of softness on that handsome face.

"Well?"

 She couldn't say anything. Hands twisting, mangling the paper they held, she looked at him, silently, beseechingly, but no words came.

He looked at her closely. His expression became ugly.

"How many times have you done this before? How many times has he got out of trouble by using you? Tell me the truth!" he rapped out, and Khushi gasped.

"Never!!! Shyam's never been in trouble like this before! Oh, he's a bully and he's weak, but he's never done something wrong before! And even if he had, I would never…!"

"Shyam has done a lot of things you obviously don't know about," ASR interrupted her, ruthlessly. "It’s just that he got caught this time. I've been on the lookout, but he's been very careful till now. He was obviously getting over-confident. Probably because he felt his sister, his sweet, innocent, young sister…" his gaze raked her as he spoke, "…would get him out of trouble, by seducing his boss."

He pulled her to her feet, and deliberately, slowly, pulled her close, and then, suddenly, jerked her into his arms. His hand came up and traced the outline of her mouth. It was not a loving gesture. It was a slow, deliberate staking of possession.

Khushi gasped at the deliberate insult, and her hand flew out at his cheek. He caught it easily, and held her gaze, shaking his head, mockingly.

"Oh, no, you don't, my dear! You can stay and make good on the promise your brother made! Let me see if you're worth it or not."

His hand held her arm in an iron grip, and she twisted her hand in a futile attempt, to get free, hating the coldly mocking gaze.

"Let me go! I don't care what promises he's made to you! I don't care! They can go to hell! I hate them! And I hate you! Let me go!"

He held her easily, tightly, watching her closely, as she twisted her hand in his grasp, fighting with all her strength, enraged that it took him almost no effort to hold her down. She twisted her hand again, and he held it tighter and pushed it behind her back, bringing her up against him. She gasped, this time with pain, as a piercing agony shot through her arm. Her hand went limp, with the pain, and she sagged. His expression changed.

"What is it? What happened?"

"I think I've twisted something," she moaned out, and he released her. The pain eased slightly as he let her go, but only slightly. She sank down on the floor again, holding her injured hand, tears springing to her eyes. Tears that she valiantly tried to hide, as he knelt down beside her.

"Show me," he said, imperatively, and she shrank from him.

"No! Stay away from me!"

"Don't be silly!" he said, brusquely, and took her hand. Fear of pain kept her still. "I'm not likely to rape you if you're injured, am I?"

He felt along her arm expertly, and Khushi winced. "Ouch!"

He looked at her briefly as he felt her arm. "The pain is here," she muttered, pointing with her other hand to her elbow. "I think I might have pulled a ligament, or something."

“I’ll give you something … a painkiller,” he said. his face was calmer, less harsh suddenly. His voice too, was gentler. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

She shook her head. “I have something at home,” she said almost inaudibly. “I’ll put some anti-inflamm … some gel. It’ll be okay.”

ASR looked at her. "You seem to know what you’re talking about," he commented. It was a question more than a statement. The hardness had left his face slightly and Khushi looked at him directly, somehow not so fearful now.

"I work in a hospital," she said, with some of her usual calm nature. "I deal with accident and injury victims everyday."

He released her and stood up.

"Then what the hell…" he said, reasonably, "are you doing, making offers to seduce your brother's boss, to keep him out of jail? You’re not really the type, are you? And neither am I the kind of person to get carried away that easily, if a pretty girl falls at my feet. Or into my bed," he added.

Khushi's tears were gone now, and subdued fury showed in her face and voice, as it sunk in as to what exactly her brother had offered as 'compensation'.

"I didn't know what was in the letter," she said, equally evenly. "otherwise, I would have walked through hell, rather than carry it here. I'm not like them. Sometimes I wonder….," her voice broke a little, and she stood, too, and turned away, "… if I really am part of the same family. They certainly don't treat me like one of their own."

His gaze was quiet, reflective, as he looked at her. 
"Your mother ...?" he asked, briefly, his tone questioning.

Khushi looked back at him, and somehow she wasn’t so afraid any more. His face was cool, but his eyes held … sympathy?

"My mother died when I was very small," she said reluctantly. "I don't even remember her. My father ran away with her. She was from a rich family. They cut her off, when she ran away, and my father was very upset about that. He had thought that they would forgive her, and him, and he would be rich. But they never did accept either of them. Not even when she tried to take me to them. She died when I was about two years old. Maybe my father’s never forgiven me for that."

ASR nodded, his face blank. Khushi had no clue as to what he was thinking.

"So what will you do now?" he asked her. "Will you go back home and tell them, that you refused to make good on the 'services' Shyam promised to deliver? Or do you want to accept?" he added, almost as an afterthought, and Khushi shuddered.

"No!" she said, hotly. "I…I …." She looked at him, and then looked away from what she saw in his eyes. Was it pity? She didn't know, but at the moment she was past caring. She walked slowly to the window, and gazed blankly out at the bright night lights outside. He mind was in turmoil. What could she do? Where could she go? If she went home and told Shyam that she refused to do what he wanted her to do …. She shuddered at the thought of his reaction, but she knew one thing – she could never do what he wanted her to do. She could not accept to be in this man's hold, at his mercy, as his … she blanched at the thought …till whatever time Shyam decided to return his money and information. She could not. 

But if she did not, then … what? What was she to do?


Sunday, 1 February 2015

Kaise Yeh Rishtey - 6

Chapter 6

Aman dropped her back home after a long time. Khushi was later than she had been ever before. She opened the door, and let herself in, inwardly quaking as she noticed the time. She was in deep trouble, she told herself silently. Her father would be waiting for dinner, and would be furious. Her brother, of course, would not be home yet.

She was wrong on both counts. Her father was home, but he was not angry. He did not even seem to notice her when she came in. His attention was on his son, who, to Khushi's complete shock, was already home. They looked up when she entered, and she braced herself for the fireworks. 

They never came.

Her father looked at her disinterestedly, and murmured, "Khushi, you're home late today? Can we have some food?"

Her brother was standing at the other end of the table, and didn't even look at her. He was, in fact, looking distinctly shame-faced and sullen. His color was a dark red, and it was obvious he was in the worst of moods. Which made it even more surprising that he didn't snap at Khushi.

"I'm not hungry," he spoke sulkily, his eyes down, and his father glared at him.

"Probably the better for you that you aren't. You don't deserve any food or drink. You don't deserve anything in this house, except to be kicked out."

"Dad," Shyam expostulated, and the old man glared at him.

"So proud I've been of you always! I've ignored this poor girl for you, you worthless piece of rubbish! And look where you've brought us today! Whatever I've done, it has always been on the right side of the law. I've taken care not to smirch my name. But you…! I warned you … so many times, I warned you … this is dangerous, what you’re doing! But you think you’re so smart, don’t you! Any day … any minute now, the police will be here to take you away, and that will be the end of everything!"

"Police?!" Khushi exclaimed, appalled. She was shocked at the mention of the word, and even more shocked at the lack of reaction from both her father or her brother. And at her voice, finally her brother seemed to notice her.

"You don't have to act so surprised! It's none of your business!"

"It will be her business when people spit on her!" retorted her father, and Khushi blinked in surprise. She couldn't remember her father ever supporting her against her brother.

He continued. "When they call her the sister of a thief, and a cheat, then it will very much be her business. When she loses her own job, because of you, then it will be her business. You've lost your job, you'll be in jail, who will support us?"

Khushi grimaced in enlightenment. Her father's support apparently did not spring out of any long lost love for his daughter, nor was he, after all, very concerned about her. He was only worried about himself and his own support. Whatever Khushi's brother had done, apparently was bad enough for him to lose his job. 

Not that Khushi was really surprised at the disclosure. She knew that Shyam had been keeping bad company, she had seen some of his 'friends', and they were bad news. She had taken care to stay out of their way, and fortunately for her, her working hours had made it easy for her to do so. But the few glimpses she had caught, the snatches of conversation she overheard before Shyam very firmly shut the door on her, were enough to tell her that his 'friends' were walking a thin line on the wrong side of the law, and privately Khushi had known it was only a matter of time, before something serious happened.

"What happened, dad?" she asked cautiously, not to sure what his reaction would be to her questioning. "Why has Shyam bhaiyya lost his job?"

Her brother turned on her. "You don't need to know, you fool. Keep out of this… it's none of your bloody business ..."

“I think she does need to know,” interrupted his father, his face pale with anger and tension. “Khushi, this stupid fool – with those fancy friends of his - has been swindling his company left, right and center for the last so many months. I warned him … I warned him so many times! If he gets caught, he’ll be in jail … But did he listen? Of course not – he knows better than anyone else, doesn’t he? And now – look at him – he’s been caught, and any minute now, the police will come and haul him off. Or that dictator Raizada will take him … and that will be far worse. That man has connections everywhere! He’ll make sure Shyam pays for everything he’s done – not only him, us too! We’ll be on the road. All thanks to this … this …” he tailed off, so angry he could barely speak.

“He may not do anything,” said Shyam in a surly tone and it was evident he didn’t believe his own words. “I’ll return the money … I just need some time. I have to call it in from those people … And they have all the data, the plans … I can get everything back … just need a little time … baba, tell him that. You have to tell him! Those guys are dangerous … I have to figure out how to get it back from them … but I’ll do it …”

“Oh, they’re dangerous now, are they?” sneered his father. “When I told you that, you said, no, they’re my friends, they won’t let me down! And now … you’re scared to talk to them! I told you … they’ll get you into trouble … and they’ll get off scot-free and let you take all the blame! But who listens to me here?!”

“No, they’ll … I’ll get it back from them!” said Shyam, with a note of desperation in his voice, and it was evident he didn’t believe his own words. “I know … I was a fool … but they tricked me … it was all their planning … I had nothing to do with it ...”

"Go tell Mr. Raizada that," retorted his father. "Somehow, I doubt he'll believe that."

"Believe what?" asked a voice silkily, from the doorway, and all three of them froze with shock. Shyam looked as though the life had been knocked out of him. The sullen look left his face, to be replaced by sheer terror.
 
"Raizada Sir! You!" he gasped out, sweat forming on his forehead. He went so pale that Khushi, watching dispassionately from the corner  of the room, thought he would pass out from sheer fear.

She had never seen her bully of her brother so scared.

Two people strolled into the room. One was a balding, fair man, in a lawyer's coat. The other …. Khushi caught her breath in fear as she looked at him.

He was tall, fair, with straight dark hair brushed back from his forehead. He wore a dark suit, obviously expensive, a silk tie, and a gold watch. All the trappings of a rich, successful man. He wasn't good looking in the conventional sense, but his sheer personality was overwhelming. He seemed to dominate the room, without trying at all. But it was the expression on his face that filled her with dread. It was cold, cynical, almost cruel, as he looked at Shyam. He didn't even glance at the other two.

"Believe what?" he repeated, and advanced further into the room. "I'm quite interested in what you have to say to me, Mr. Shyam. Before I get you locked up - with your friends, of course. Are they still your friends, by the way? I heard that they don’t want to know you any more? Maybe they don’t want your company in the local jail. I believe the police can be rather violent there. Provided they want to lock you up at all, of course. They might decide to finish off their … conversation … without the bother of hosting you. Or maybe, my own people will be able to get everything out of you. After their ... persuasion, you might even prefer to go to the police."

"Sir, please!" gasped her brother. “I’ll get everything back, Sir …. I’ll get all the money back, the information, everything … I can get it … I just need some time … I promise, Sir … I got carried away by their lies … it’s not my fault, they took advantage of me, they fooled me, Sir … I didn’t know what I was doing … I’ll get it all back, Sir …”

Her tough bully of a brother had collapsed completely, thought Khushi, and dimly wondered why she felt nothing. She watched him blabbering in front of the two men, and saw the grim intent on the face of Shyam's boss. No, he was not going to forgive in a hurry. He didn't a believe a word of Shyam's fumbling excuses and lies.

Her father joined in his son's pleas, and Shyam's boss didn't even look at him.

Khushi felt suddenly sickened by the sight of the two men, who had bullied her all the life, grovelling in front of Shyam's boss. Strangely, she wasn’t surprised at Shyam’s misdeeds, and only dimly at her father’s apparent connivance. Shyam had always been her father's pet, Baba had spoilt him always, and Shyam had been brought up with the firm belief that he could do whatever he liked, and he would get away with it. All the discipline, the rules, the do's and don'ts in the house were reserved for Khushi. Baba would excuse Shyam even for murder. But Baba was not a criminal, he was too soft to be that, and he was scared of the law, he always had been. Now that Shyam was caught, her father was trying to distance himself, she thought cynically, and wondered vaguely why she didn’t feel more upset at their distress. Shyam had brought it upon himself, she knew that, and Baba's lack of discipline hadn't helped. They both deserved what was coming, Khushi thought.

She took a step backward, and turned to her room. She had had enough, and she was tired. It had been an emotionally draining day, and she didn't have the strength or the patience to listen to this drama. Her brother and Baba were enough to sort things out, and she had no doubt they would do so.

"Khushi! Wait!"

Khushi was startled at her father's voice. She stopped. Her father turned to Mr. Raizada pleadingly.

"This is my daughter, sir. My daughter, Khushi. Her life will be ruined if you send Shyam to prison. Her reputation… sir, please ... before you take any action, please spare a thought for an old man with an unmarried daughter. Look at her, sir, so beautiful, so young, so untouched. She will be ruined if word gets out about this. Who will marry her then, or take care of her? At least take pity on her, if not on Shyam. Take pity, Sir. Shyam will return everything. He will never do this again."

Mr. Raizada looked at Khushi directly for the first time that evening. It was a slow, deliberate, insulting look, from her head to her toes, a look which stripped her mentally. She felt naked under his gaze, and wrapped her stole around her more closely. Her father's words, and more than that, his tone, disturbed her, and she moved again toward the safety of her room.

This time her father did not stop her, and she sat in her room, dreaming of Aman, and the last few precious moments in his arms. She heard voices outside, her father's and brother's still pleading, and the firm deep voice of Mr. Raizada, which came less often than theirs, and always with a threat in it.

Her brother could not produce the stolen data or the money, and that was the biggest problem. Mr. Raizada didn’t believe he hadn’t already sold the data off to the highest bidder. He wanted names, facts, and Shyam was obviously too terrified of his partners in crime to give those details. He must have got into something way over his head, thought Khushi cynically. Shyam had never been known for his intellect.

Finally, the voices stopped, and she dared to go out. Her father was sitting in the chair, his head in his hands. Of her brother, there was no sign.

"Where … where is Shyam bhaiya?" Khushi asked hesitantly. 

Her father groaned, too shaken to even snap at her as was his wont. "They've taken him. To question him, they said. What are they going to do to him? What will they do to my boy, Khushi?!"

They waited. And waited. But it was past midnight when Shyam returned. Khushi's father rose thankfully to greet him, his face haggard. Shyam didn't look at Khushi.

"I need to talk to you, dad," he said brusquely. "Alone."

Khushi went to bed.