Kaisey Yeh Rishtey - 11

Chapter 11 

"The job is to be my wife."

Khushi couldn't believe her ears. 

The room whirled around her. She gripped the back of the chair where she stood, as she swayed, so shocked by what she had heard that for a moment she was convinced she had heard wrong.
"Your what?!!!"

"My wife," Arnav Singh Raizada repeated. He smiled at her, not unkindly. "You seem shocked. Don't you think I could do something as normal as getting married?"

"No," she whispered, then realised what she had said.

"No, I mean, why?! You don't want to marry me! You hardly know me! And you don't have to marry me to …"

She stopped, flushing. Fortunately Arnav's next words were spoken in a completely matter-of-fact tone, which allowed her to regain her composure somewhat.

"I don't have to marry you, to have you? I agree. Your brother has offered you to me on a platter. Unfortunately, that's not how things work in my house. If I walk in with you as my live-in girl friend, or even set you up in a nice little love nest, it would cause a major uproar – my father is still very old-fashioned that way. And if I refuse Shyam's generous offer, it doesn't solve my problem as regarding your brother. He would still be in my hair, ready to create trouble at the first opportunity. I need to get him out from here, but under my control, till he returns what he has stolen, and more importantly, till I find out exactly what he is up to, and who are the people he is involved with. "

"You can do that without marrying me," she whispered. He looked at her, his gaze direct and searching.

"I can," he agreed. "Very frankly, this is different. One almost has nothing to do with the other, except that accepting his so-called offer makes it seem like it’s his idea, and I hope it persuades you to do what I want. What I need you to do. I don't plan to tell your family that I am marrying you, by the way. Once they are out of here, we'll do it quietly. Let them think I have accepted their offer. If they are so despicable that they can offer their daughter and sister for sale, you don't need to have anything to do with them."

"Then why…?" Khushi got out, completely baffled. "I mean, I just don't understand. Why marriage? If you want to help me out, I'm grateful, but why marriage?"

"So you don't want to marry me?" Arnav grinned crookedly. "What a blow to my ego! And here I was thinking that any woman would be ready to fall into my arms!"

She glared at him exasperatedly. "Please, Mr. Raizada, I really don't appreciate this kind of joke …"

"Not Mr. Raizada," he corrected. "Arnav. How will I convince my father that I fell madly in love with you, if you can't even say my name out loud?" 

She glared at him. Arnav laughed mockingly.

"Such a temper! Do I take it you're not amused?'

She kept quiet, but her expression didn't change. Arnav laughed again, but there was genuine amusement in it this time.

"The marriage will be in name only. Now are you happy? I have to do it this way, for the sake of my family. Look, sit down. Let me explain."

She sank down onto the chair she was holding, her head in a whirl.

 "You're joking," she muttered. His face hardened, lost its smile.

 "I wish I was. Let me tell you what exactly I mean. In a very real way, my need is as much as yours."

She waited, as Arnav seemed to collect his thoughts. Then he looked at her directly.

"You put this into my head last night. When you described what your job was.  My friends, people close to me have been saying this for some time, but I …"

He shook his head, and smiled at her, a little crookedly.

"I'm not being very clear, am I? Let me start again."

She waited. His face changed, it was suddenly very serious, sombre, as he stared at his hands. Then he started speaking, his words coming slowly, as though he found the telling difficult, painful. And as Khushi listened, her face echoed the pain she heard in his voice.

"I'm going to tell you a story, Khushi. This is a story about a small, loving, and very happy family. There was a father, a mother, and three sons. This story starts about 7-8 months ago. This family was very happy. It seemed to be especially blessed by God. There were no problems in their lives. They were well off, had a good business, and lived happily together. The eldest son was not married. He and the middle son ran the business. The youngest was studying. The middle son had got married early to his college friend, and they had a beautiful baby girl, the darling of the house, the first daughter in the family. Soon the wife of this brother was expecting again. The eldest son went to the States for work, connected with business, happy that when he came back, there would be another baby in the house. But when he got back here, it was not good news, but bad. The very worst."

Arnav got up, and moved to the window. He looked out as he continued speaking, his tone even and expressionless.

"His brother's wife went into labour. Her husband and mother got her into the car to take her to the hospital for the delivery. The younger son followed in the next car with his father, and his niece. They didn't know how it happened. There was a huge oil tanker lying in the middle of the road, with the oil spilled all over the road. It had been raining, the road was slippery, with water and oil. Maybe the husband was going too fast, because his wife was in pain. Maybe she screamed and distracted him. Maybe … we will never know. Their car crashed into the tanker head on, and went up in flames like a bomb. All three were killed instantly. And the unborn child. Even before he came into this world."

Khushi gasped in sheer horror. Arnav went on.

"The younger son, who was following them in the next car, was also going fast. Fortunately, he braked in time to avoid the tanker. But he skidded on the oil and nobody knows what exactly happened. Did the second car push the first onto the tanker and cause it to blow up? Or did the first car crash itself, and the second car skid off the road in trying to avoid the first? Nobody who survived, remembers. The son driving the second car suffered a head injury, a couple of fractures – but he was alive. His father's legs were crushed, badly injured. The little girl …"

He paused and Khushi saw him swallow. "The little girl was thrown clear, and miraculously landed on something soft. So she saw her parents and grandmother burning to death in front of her. The eldest son - me - I was called when they were leaving for the hospital, with the news that my sister-in-law was in labour, and by the time I got back there would be a new baby in the house. I came back home, laden with gifts for a new baby, and found … nothing left… nothing. Three people gone, and three people left - three living dead. Teen zinda laashein. Now I know what that phrase means."

Kaisey Yeh Rishtey - 10

Chapter 10 

The next morning, Shyam and his father seemed restless. They hovered around the phone and the door. Khushi smiled grimly to herself, knowing what they were waiting for.

It soon came. The shrill ringing of the phone startled them all, and Shyam rushed to answer the phone. Khushi casually wandered over near enough to listen to him, and with an angry gesture, he motioned her out of the room, and kicked the door shut. She grimaced as she left, but she had no choice. If all went well, she would find out soon enough, or else Mr. Raizada would let her know himself.

She didn't stop to wonder why she was so sure Mr. Raizada would get in touch with her again. 

The conversation between Shyam and Mr. Raizada was very short. She heard the murmur of voices, her brother's harsh tones, with her father's occasional interjections. Then there was the click of the receiver back on to the cradle, and then silence.

Khushi waited with bated breath for an explosion. That there would be an explosion, she had no doubt. Shyam and her baba did not take kindly to their plans being thwarted.

They came out of the living room and looked at her. To her surprise, Shyam was smiling …. almost. But it was not a nice smile. It was a smile of triumph. She felt a slight chill go through her. Arnav Singh Raizada couldn't have betrayed her. Could he?! Could he have actually accepted the offer in the letter? She had felt she could trust him. Has she been so mistaken?

"No!" she whispered to herself, as her father came up to her. He took her by the shoulders.

"You have to help your brother, Khushi," he said, hoarsely. "Do you hear? You have to help him out of this mess. It is your duty. Mr. Raizada will be here soon. Listen to what he has to say. Understand what he says. And you agree. Do you understand? You agree to whatever he says - whatever. It's our only way out."

Khushi looked at him blankly, her mind going almost numb with terror.

"Agree?" she asked him in little more than a whisper, her voice trembling. "Agree ... to what?"

"Let's go, Dad," said Shyam, brusquely. "He wants to talk to her alone. Let's go."

They went. Khushi followed them to the door, her heart beating fast. She saw them walk away, then she came back inside and dashed to the phone. Quickly, her hands shaking, she punched the number pad frantically.

"Hello? Is Aman there, please? Oh, Anjali! Hi, how are you? Listen, I'm not going to the hospital today, so I won't see you. Could you tell Aman, please? He …er …he wanted me to check on something about the baby, but I won't be going in today. I'll try to check and call him tomorrow."

She hastily reassured an anxious Anjali about her precious baby’s well being, replaced the receiver and waited by the phone. Every now and then, she looked anxiously at the clock, praying that Arnav Singh Raizada would not arrive before Aman called back.

He called within five minutes. His voice was worried, tense.

"Khushi? What's the matter? Why aren't you coming? What is the problem?"

"Aman," she whispered, and the tears that she had managed to keep back till then, finally spilled over. "Oh, God, Aman, I'm so alone. Aman, help me please. I need to get out of here. I have to get out. Please, help me. Take me away from here."

Aman sounded frantic on the phone.
"Khushi, what's the matter? Why are you crying? Khushi, you're not making sense! Stop crying, please, and talk to me!"

"I have to get out," she whispered. "They … I … Aman, get me out of here! Please! I … they want me to become his mistress, his whore ... and he …."

"Whose …?" spluttered Aman, but he never completed his sentence. Or if he did, she never heard it. A long finger pressed down hard on the hook of the phone, disconnecting the call.

Stunned, Khushi whirled around. And lost her balance and fell into Arnav Singh Raizada's arms.

His hands came up, and steadied her. Caramel eyes looked mockingly into hers.

"You don't have to fall into my arms so quickly," he chided, releasing her slowly. She regained her balance and stood back hastily. 

"You … I'm sorry. I …"

He looked steadily at her. "Who were you talking to?"

She suddenly remembered that she had been talking to Aman, and he would be crazy with worry after what she had said. She looked at Arnav Singh Raizada , suddenly angry.

"You had no business to disconnect my call," she accused. "I was talking …"

"To whom? That's exactly what I'm asking," he retorted, and she glared at him.

 "That's my business," she flared.

"I'm making it mine," he replied evenly. "And in case you have a problem with that, let me remind you, that you have a far bigger problem with your father and brother, which you need my help for."

Khushi gulped. She had almost forgotten.

"He's a friend," she muttered, defeated, not looking at him.

Arnav looked at her downcast face.

“Just a friend?”

His tone was questioning, mocking.

Khushi kept quiet, still looking down. He seemed to be about to say something, but didn’t. For a few seconds there was silence, as he looked at her downcast face searchingly.

The silence helped her gather her scattered wits. She pulled the remnants of her courage around her like an invisible cloak. Attack was the best form of defense. She looked at him again, this time accusingly.

"What did you say to Shyam about me? What have you decided? Please tell me. He seemed happy with what you said. But you said last night, that you wouldn't … you wouldn't …"

Arnav's look changed to a mocking amusement as she stumbled over her words. "That I wouldn't what? Make you my mistress? That's what you were telling your ‘friend’, isn't it?"

Khushi fell silent, her misery showing in her eyes. She looked at him pleadingly. "Please. Don't make fun of this."

Arnav Singh Raizada looked at her for a long moment, and it seemed to her that he was not seeing her. He was lost in his own thoughts. Then he shook his head slightly and his expression changed. He sighed.

"No. I'm sorry. There is nothing remotely funny in this situation. I've spent half the night thinking about this, and I think this is the only way out. Some good may even come out of this, if I'm lucky."

She looked at him, baffled.

"I have a job for you," he told her, moving away, and sitting down at the table. He looked at her steadily. "It may last a year, six months, two years. I don't know. You'd probably know better, and in a way, it depends on you, how well you do your job. The better you do it, the shorter it is. Which sounds strange, but when I explain, you’ll understand, and I think it will be what you will want."

Khushi stared at him, completely and utterly at sea.

"I've told your brother that I agree to their offer … to keep you with me as … collateral," he went on, his tone even. "And that you will live with me, in a place of my choosing, till such time as Shyam gets my money and data back. That's all they need to know. They do not need to know about this job."

Khushi stared at him, disbelievingly. Slowly, she shook her head.

"You promised," she whispered. "You promised …. And I believed you. How can you go back on your word?"

He went on, as though she hadn't spoken.

"The job is to be my wife."

Kaise Yeh Rishtey - 9

Chapter 9 

There was silence in the office, silence thick and dark.

Arnav Singh Raizada said nothing, his eyes on the slim figure at the window. Her back was to him, but he could see the tension in her taut frame.

He waited. After a long pause, she turned to face him. Her tension was apparent in her stiffness, the unnatural stillness of her body, but her face was calm, almost blank. He looked at her, marvelling at her self-control, masking his admiration behind a bland exterior.

When Khushi finally found her voice, she spoke clearly with the barest hint of a tremor, her eyes meeting his directly.

"I don't think I will go home, Mr. Raizada. If they call you, you can tell them that I refused to cooperate with you. Tell them anything you like. It doesn’t matter. I am not going back home."

He had not expected this. His eyebrows rose, but other than that, she saw no reaction on his face. She wasn't expecting to see it.

"Then what will you do?" he asked, his tone even. "Where will you go?"

She looked away. Aman's face came into her mind, her thoughts. Could she go to Aman, and ask him to put her up for some time, till she found a place to stay?

She couldn't tell Arnav Singh Raizada what she was thinking. Her mind worked furiously. Of one thing, she was absolutely sure. She couldn’t stay long at home after this. There was no way she would be part of what her brother wanted, and if she refused to agree to their plans, she would be beaten up, or locked up, or worse, forced into doing what they wanted. She was fed up of the whole situation, and after what her father and brother had done, the letter they had sent, the arrogance with which they had assumed that she had no choice but to fall in with their plans - she wanted nothing more to do with them. There was no love lost between her and them, and after this, she felt she hated them.

But what could she do? Where could she go? She twisted her hands in front of her, the only outward sign of her turmoil. She had never felt more alone in her life. 

She couldn't turn to Aman, she thought slowly. He was at home, with his paralyzed and handicapped wife, a small baby daughter, and a dragon aunt, who had come in to 'help'. Anjali was very fond of her, but if she, Khushi stayed there even for a few days, Anjali might guess what had happened between Khushi and Aman. And Khushi couldn't bear that. No, the few crumbs she got from him were enough. She couldn't and would not, break up their home. She was no home-breaker, she liked and admired Anjali almost as much as she respected Aman, and she could not, would not do that to her. Not with Anjali in the state she was in. It would destroy her will to live. It would be murder.

Arnav Singh Raizada was watching her, watching the play of emotions across her face.

"Can you get a place to stay at your hospital?" he asked, and she was surprised that he was concerned.

"No," she said, almost inaudibly. "I'm not a doctor or a nurse, and the staff quarters can't be used by the paramedical staff."

"What work do you do?" he asked, conversationally, and somewhere in her mind, she realized wonderingly, gratefully, that he was trying to make this into a normal situation, with normal conversation.

"I'm a clinical psychologist," she told him, dully. "I work in the social service department in Rehabilitation at the local hospital. Counseling, psychotherapy, with people who've lost their will to live. Accident victims, orphans, people who've lost their kids to illness, that kind of thing. I work with them, talk to them, encourage them to speak about their problems, and face them – to get on with life, as it were. I've been told …," she spoke with quiet pride, "… I'm good at my job. But it seems to me," she smiled, bitterly, "I could do with some of my own counseling now."

He nodded slowly, and she could see he was thinking deeply. She squared her shoulders and turned to him, her natural aloofness back on her face.

"Look," she said, "you don't have to worry about it. You tell them that you don't work that way. Leave me alone. I'll manage."

"So you don’t want to go back home?" he asked slowly, still seeming deep in thought, and she shook her head.

"No. Oh, don't worry about it. Sooner or later, this would have happened. I've been near breaking point for some time, and this is it. I can't take it any more. I’ll sit on the streets if I have to, but …"

He looked at her again, as though her words had brought him out of his reverie.

"Don't," he said, quickly. "Don't do that, or else I'll feel responsible for this, for your walking out."

"You're not responsible," she said, dully. "If it hadn't been you, it would have been somebody else. He will get into trouble again, that's as sure as night follows day."

"Yes, but if I hadn't looked at you that way, he might…."

"What way?!" she interrupted, hotly, and he looked at her directly.

"The way a man looks at a woman he fancies," he said, brutally. "Your father saw the way I looked at you when you walked in. I couldn't believe someone like you could be a part of them, their family."

He looked at her, and then looked away. "You looked like …." His face changed, his voice went soft. He seemed to be lost again in his thoughts. Then he looked at her and his face hardened again. 

"Never mind that. The point I'm making is that your father saw that, and he thought it could work in favour of his son."

She gulped. She had forgotten why she was here, his change in tone had lulled her into a sense of being in a comfort zone. His words suddenly recalled her to the reality of the situation she was in.

He came up to her, and put his hands on her shoulders. This time she didn't flinch away. His touch was gentle, impersonal.

"Look, Khushi," he said, softly. "It's partly at least my fault you're in this mess. Let me try to sort things out. Don't do anything drastic. Go back home, and tell them I've said I'll give them an answer in the morning. Say that … say that I said I’ll think about their offer … but I don’t want damaged goods. Just say that much. You don't know what was in the letter. OK? Just go back home, and trust me. Maybe I can work things out for both of us. Just give me till tomorrow to think it out."

Khushi looked at him in surprise.

"Why…?"

"Why would I want to help you?" he grinned crookedly, and she felt with a sudden shock, a realization hit her. He was an attractive man. A very attractive man, she amended silently. That aura of confidence and power that he had, would bowl over any girl, she thought.

"Put it down to love for humanity," he said cynically, and when she looked at him doubtfully, he smiled again, this time with more warmth.

"I don't like bullies, especially dishonest ones," he said, grimly. "And when they bully women, I dislike them even more. I saw how they treated you yesterday. I didn't like it. I don't like what your brother did to me, either. I don't consider him punished adequately. I'd like to see him suffer for both what he did to me, and what he wanted to do to you. Go home, Khushi. I will be in touch with you before long. Believe me."

His words, and more than them, his tone, did what his earlier harshness had not done. A tear finally trickled down her cheek, and to her surprise, he lifted a finger and wiped it away gently. She closed her eyes. For the first time in her life, she felt protected, and it made her feel warm inside.

She opened her eyes, to see Arnav looking at her quizzically. She was also suddenly very aware that his hands were still on her shoulders.

She backed away, slowly, and his hands dropped. He raised an eyebrow, and she nodded, slowly.

"I believe you," she said, almost inaudibly. "Thank you, Mr. Raizada. Thank you more than I can say."

He nodded, and she left.

It was late, but she knew that this once, she would not be in trouble at home. In fact, she thought grimly, the later she was, the happier they would be. So she stopped to make a quick call. To her relief, Aman answered the phone himself.

"I need to see you," she told him, briefly. "I'm in trouble. When can you meet me?"

They always met at the hospital, where Anjali spent an hour or two with her baby, and then with her physiotherapist. Quickly, Khushi fixed a time, and then returned home.

It was the most difficult thing in the world to pretend to be normal, unknowing of what her father and brother had planned. She solved the problem by attacking them.

"What was in the letter?" she asked her father, accusingly. "Mr. Raizada said…"

"Yes? What did he say?" asked Shyam, eagerly.

"He said he'll think about your offer, but he doesn't want damaged goods," she replied. "He seemed quite …"

"Quite… what?" Shyam asked, pouncing as she hesitated. "Was he pleased? He's quite a ladies' man, you know, Khushi. And he can be very generous."

Khushi hesitated. She didn't know what more Arnav Singh Raizada would have wanted her to say. "I don’t know if he was pleased or not," she said, finally. "He read the letter, and then he just told me to sit and wait for a while, till he finished what he was doing. So I sat. Then he seemed to change his mind, and said he'd give you the answer tomorrow directly. Then he kind of remembered about the goods being damaged. But what goods? I thought it was papers, data that you had taken?"

"How did he look at you?" asked Shyam, eagerly. But his father interrupted.

"Leave her alone," he said, heavily. "I don't like this, Shyam. You should not have put it in writing."

Shyam looked at him scornfully. "Do you think I'd be such a fool? He read between the lines. I didn't say anything that I can be accused of trying to…."

"Be quiet!" lashed out his father. "Khushi, go to bed. And stay home tomorrow. There's no need for you to go to work."

Khushi looked at him in dismay. She had arranged to meet Aman the next day. But there was no way she could say anything, with both of them in this mood. She went to bed, hungry, and for the first time after meeting Aman, it was not him she thought about as she fell asleep. Instead she dreamed about a tall, fair man, with light eyes, and a grim face, which dissolved into the most caring smile she had seen in her life.