Friday, 17 March 2017

Kaisey Yeh Rishtey - 41

Chapter 41

The old man stopped. He looked at Khushi.


“So now you know," he said, sadly. "You are not my daughter, but I have been a better father to you than that rascal your mother married. He ran off, and never came back. If it hadn't been for your brother … Shyam's …" he corrected himself "…greed, none of this would have happened. You had simple habits, so had I. I was happy with the stipend I got from your grandfather - it made life comfortable. I didn't want more, didn't ask for more. Only Shyam did. And that was what …"
He sighed heavily, and stopped.
Mahendra Shah leaned forward. "I would like to know one more thing," he said, quietly. "Mayur Singh only sent the money. Who sent the clothes, and the foodstuffs? All the extras? Someone who knew exactly where Khushi was all these years."
"I did," said a small voice, and Khushi saw it came from the old lady, who had accompanied Vijay Dhawan. Mahendra Shah looked at her for the first time, and his jaw dropped.
"Prayukta?!!"
The old lady nodded. 
"Yes, bhai sahib," she said. She was dressed simply, but carried herself with a great deal of dignity. "I am Prayukta. I always kept track of where my granddaughter was. It wasn't difficult. My husband wanted nothing to do with her, but when Garima died, I forced him to provide for her as best we could. We had enough money, and anyway, whatever we had was for her. I sent clothes and sweets for her, but without his knowledge. I made sure she had everything she needed. But I was afraid that if I tried to contact her, he would get annoyed and stop even that, and I wanted to make sure Khushi was comfortable. I had to stay away, make no contact. So I didn't know how happy or unhappy she was. My lawyer reported when she went to school, and then college, that she looked well, happy, and that was enough for me. My husband let news leak out that we were both dead, so that Shashi would not try to trace us. He never, ever forgave Garima. And because of his harshness, I was deprived of my only child for so many years. Till this man …” she looked at Vijay Dhawan, “traced us, and I forced Mayur to let me come here."
The old lady got up with difficulty, and came towards Khushi.
"You are so much like my Garima," she said, softly, her eyes wet, her wrinkled face sorrowful. "If it had not been for my husband’s wretched Rajput pride, we could have had the joy of having you in our lives these last years."
She cupped Khushi's face with her hands, and Khushi looked at her wonderingly.
"You … you are my …?"
"I'm your grandmother, my dear child," said the old woman softly, and reached out to Khushi, and hugged her. Khushi submitted and then drew back.
"You really are my grandmother?" she asked, softly, unbelievingly.
Arnav smiled at her. "Yes, she is, and your grandfather is alive, as well, so you have a family, Khushi. A family of your own …”
Khushi looked at him. Her eyes were blank.
The police inspector cleared his throat.
“Excuse me, sir,” he said hesitantly. “We need to take this man in. Do you want to press charges? You’ll have to come to the police station with us, sir.”
Arnav looked at Khushi, taking her her blank face, her empty eyes. “Khushi doesn’t need to come, does she?” he asked the inspector harshly, and the inspector shook his head.
“Not unless she’s the one pressing charges,” he replied. “But you can do all that for her. You’re her husband, so …”
Arnav nodded.
“I’ll come with you,” he said briefly. “Akash, take Khushi home. She’s had a shock. Look after her, okay?”
He came close to Khushi and spoke in a low voice.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said urgently. “Khushi, wait for me. I'll be home soon. Okay?”
She nodded dumbly, still in a state of shock, and he cupped her face in his hands as he looked at her. He kissed her gently on the forehead.
“Wait for me,” he said again. Akash came forward and gently took Khushi’s hand.
“Shall we go, bhabhi?” he asked, and Khushi nodded again. She didn't look at her grandmother. Akash led her out, exchanging a look with Arnav as he left.
Arnav turned to the others.
“Ma’am,” he said courteously to the old lady. “If you would come with us … it would be a big help.”
She nodded, her face sorrowful as she looked after the departing Khushi.

***********                                                                                  ******************                                                                                            *************
By the time Arnav got back home, it was late. Akash had taken his responsibility very seriously and hadn’t left Khushi alone for a minute. Arnav returned to find Akash and Radhika playing a noisy game of Ludo in his room. Khushi was sitting on the sofa, her knees huddled to her chest, watching them.  
Akash looked up as Arnav entered.
“You’re back!” he exclaimed thankfully. “All done, bhai?”
Arnav nodded.
“It’s all over,” he said gently, looking at the silent figure on the sofa. “Shyam is behind bars – for the moment. He didn't do anything criminal, he bent the law, but didn't actually break it. But he knows his game is up, and there’s nothing more he can do. Let him – let them both - get a good scare. Tomorrow I’ll make a bargain with him. If they want their stipend to continue, he and his father will return to Nasik by the morning train – and stay there. Khushi can decide how much she wants to let them in her life after this.”
He came closer to Khushi.
“Your grandmother wants to see you,” he said gently. “I promised her I’ll bring you over tomorrow. Will you come with me?”
She nodded, still not looking at him. He sighed and looked at Akash. Interpreting the look correctly, Akash got up and hoisted Radhika into his arms.
“Come on, baby,” he told her. “Tonight you have a special treat! I’m going to tell you your story and put you to bed.”
“I want badi mummy,” Radhika objected, and tried to wriggle down from his lap. Arnav came to her.
“Badi mummy’s not well tonight,” he said gently. “Just for tonight, will you make do with chachu?”
Radhika looked at Khushi, evidently making up her mind. Then she nodded.
“Okay,” she agreed. “Bade papa, you put badi mummy to bed then. Good night, mummy. Get well soon – I only like your stories.”
She planted a big kiss on Khushi’s cheek and Khushi looked at her with haunted eyes. Fortunately, Radhika didn’t notice. She let Akash pick her up again and carry her out of the room, talking all the way.
“Chachu, you have to tell me the story properly, the way badi mummy does. With all the voices …” her voice tailed off as Akash shut the door behind him.
Arnav sat down close to Khushi and put his arm around her shoulders.
“It really is all over, sweetheart,” he said again gently. “Khushi? Won’t you say something? You never have to go back to them again. The house is yours, everything is yours, including the money. And you have a family – a real family, who really loves you, who wants to know you. Even your grandfather, Khushi - I met him at the police station. He regrets all these years he stayed away from you, he regrets that he sent your mother away all those years ago.  His pride was hurting him, but it's broken now. They both want to meet you. You never have to feel alone again.”
She looked at him then, her eyes still haunted. He hated that look.
“Khushi,” he said urgently. “Khushi, say something, please. I know all this has come as a shock to you. I wanted to tell you, but I was waiting till I found out the whole truth myself. Are you so upset? Tell me, sweetheart. Talk to me.”
She shook her head slowly and he held her closer, fiercely, her head against his chest.
“Say something,” he urged desperately. “Khushi, I can’t stand your silence. Tell me what you’re feeling. You told me once I shouldn’t keep my feelings bottled up. Then why are you doing the same thing? Cry, shout, scream … do something, Khushi. Tell me what you’re feeling. I need to know – did I do the right thing by finding them or not.”
He felt her shudder against him and lifted her face to his. Her cheeks were wet.   
“What I’m feeling?” she whispered. “I don’t even know myself what I’m feeling, Arnav. I feel like one of those people who lose their memory and their whole past is a complete blank. I feel like that – as though all my past life is a blank. It’s been one big lie, a gigantic untruth. I don’t even know who I am any more. Earlier I thought I belonged to them, and I used to wonder why they never cared for me. Now I know why … I don’t belong to them at all. I never did. That’s why they never loved me. And neither did my own grandparents – or my father. Did anyone ever love me at all? Or was I one big mistake? Why did I even come into this world, Arnav?”
He ached for her. He held her close, as though he wanted to absorb all her hurt, her pain into himself.
“Oh sweetheart,” he whispered, his fingers wiping her tears gently. “Don’t feel that way. Your grandparents will love you … when they come to know you. Your mother loved you – I’m sure of that. And … we all …”
She shook her head and stood up stiffly, moving out of his arms. Slowly she moved to the glass door of the terrace. She looked small and alone, desolate in her hurt. He watched her, and his heart broke for her.
“You have a family,” he whispered. “A family of your own. They will love you, Khushi.”
"A family," she repeated. There was a break in her voice. "A family of my own. A family is ties of blood ... but blood ties weren't enough for my grandparents, not even for my own father. And maybe not for my mother either. Strangers took her in, strangers took me in and cared for me ... true they were paid, but they took care of me ... your family took me in and accepted me, you brought me here for them true, but they accepted me ... but my own family ..."
Her voice broke. She turned to him.
"Am I so difficult to love?" she whispered. 
Arnav's throat ached with the tears he was holding back. Khushi had had a shock and it had shaken her to her deepest foundations. 
"Khushi ..." he whispered. "Khushi, don't say that. This is your family too ... and we all love you ... you know that." 
She didn’t seem to hear him.
“Why did you do all this, Arnav?” she asked, looking out through the glass into the terrace outside. “Was it just because you felt sorry for me? You pitied me? Did you want to make sure that I had someone when I left here? Or …”
She never finished. He came up behind her and pulled her around to face him, his fingers hard on her skin.
"No," he said firmly, looking into her eyes. "Look at me, Khushi. It was none of those reasons. Feel sorry for you?! Khushi, you are one of the bravest, most loving, most generous people I know ... I admire you, I respect you ... and I don't feel sorry for you in the least. I did this because I didn't want you to feel alone ever again in your life. I did this because I want you to know how special you are." 
He cupped her face with his hands. His voice dropped.
"I did this," he  continued softly, "because I cannot stand to see a single tear in your eyes. I can't stand to see you unhappy."
His fingers traced softly over her cheeks, wiping the dampness. 
"I did this," he continued even more softly, as Khushi stared at him, the blankness in her eyes fading, replaced by something else, warmth curling through her body, replacing the chill that had enveloped it since the afternoon. . "I did this ... because you always felt smaller, inferior in this relationship ... and I don't want you to feel that way ever. I did this because you always think I want you to leave ... and I want to show you that even though you have a place to go ... you also have a place to stay ... for ever."   
His fingers traced her lips. Khushi couldn't tear her eyes from his. Of her own volition, her hands came up to his shoulders, her fingers caressing his shirt. 
“Do you really not know why I did this for you?” he asked softly, his eyes blazing down at her. “You think it was because I felt sorry for you? Pity? Oh, Khushi, you fool! You stupid, stupid darling fool.”
He pulled her hard into his arms and brought his lips down to hers, at first gently, and then, as the dam of his long suppressed emotions burst, fiercely. For a moment, she stood unbelieving, unresponding, and then with a small moan, she threw her arms around him, and kissed him back as fiercely as he was kissing her. And that broke the control he had kept over himself for so many weeks and months. Fiercely, kissing her still, he lifted her into his arms, carried her to the bed, and switched off the light. And she … she kissed him back, hungrily, almost desperately, as though his kisses, his touch were her life’s breath, her reason for living. Her last coherent thought was that she had always known … when Arnav pushed the boundaries, she would not be able to … would not want to … stop him.
And then she stopped thinking completely, lost only in feeling … in loving …

Friday, 3 March 2017

Kaisey Yeh Rishtey - 40

Chapter 40

Arnav looked down at his prone body with satisfaction, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Then he turned to Khushi, and stiffened slightly. She was watching him in something that looked almost like fear.

Arnav wiped the trickle of blood off his chin, and walked towards her slowly, completely ignoring everyone in the room. The police were rushing to restrain a very groggy Shyam and his father.
Arnav faced Khushi.
“It’s over,” he said softly, but firmly. “It’s over, Khushi. You don’t have to go back to them … ever. That’s the last time they tried anything of that sort with you. You’re coming back home now. Your home – our home.”
She looked at him, her eyes enormous, wet, and then gave a small, half-gasp, half sob, and went into his arms. They came around her tightly as he held her close. When they pulled apart, she was sobbing, her arms around him as though he was her lifeline.
                                                                             ***************************************
"And now," said Akash, walking forward, "I think we want to know the whole story. I certainly do, and I'm sure Khushi does, as well, don't you, bhabhi?"
They were in the sitting room of the little house. The police had handcuffed Shyam and his father, and Vijay Dhawan also sat down with his two companions. Khushi and Arnav were still standing to one side, Arnav's arms firmly around his wife.
Khushi and Arnav pulled apart. Khushi looked at Arnav, her eyes questioning. Arnav sighed.
"Even I don't know the whole story," he said. "The best person to tell us is probably this man," nodding towards Khushi's 'father'.
"I do know that Khushi's parents both died when she was around two years old. And her grandfather made provision for her, around the same time, but in a very clever way, making sure that the money he provided for her, was used only for her. That was probably the reason for Shyam's jealousy, which ultimately grew so much that it became pure hatred, and he did what he did."
"It wasn't only that," broke in Khushi's 'father'. "Shyam got involved in bad company, started drinking, gambling, drugs. The money was never enough for all that. The allowance was enough for us to have a comfortable life. After all, our household expenses were paid for. But Shyam got greedy. And he got jealous … he always was jealous …"
"Start at the beginning," Arnav commanded. "How is it that Khushi didn't know you were not her father? How did she begin to think of you as her real father in the first place?"
The old man sighed, and seemed to collect his thoughts.
                                  
"It all really began …" he spoke slowly, "I suppose, you could say, everything began the day Khushi was born. We - her parents and I - met at the same hospital. My wife was having a baby the same time, and Shashi, Khushi's father, and I were waiting outside. We were called by the nurse, and we realised we had the same name. He was Shashi Gupta, and I am Shashi Kumar Gupta. We laughed about the coincidence, got talking, and became friendly. Anyway, both our wives had daughters, we congratulated each other, and two days later, we both went home. That was that. Never thought we would meet again.
“Then a month later," the old man continued, "we met again at the same hospital. Shashi was not in a good frame of mind. He had just taken his wife and daughter to her parents' home, and been sent packing. It was then that I realised, that he had married her for her money, and was furious that no money was forthcoming. All his dreams had vanished into smoke. He had started drinking, he was quite drunk when I met him - which was why he spoke to me so freely. He had beaten Khushi's mother, then had sobered enough to bring her to hospital.
I had come for a different reason. My baby daughter was sick. She subsequently … died."
The old man stopped and looked at Khushi. Then he gathered himself enough to go on.
"In that visit to hospital, my wife became friendly with Khushi's mother, Garima. She also felt very sorry for her. Shashi had emptied their home, sold their possessions, thinking he would be welcomed at his inlaws ... so  they were virtually on the streets, and Garima was trying to come to terms with the fact that the man she had left her parents for, had lied to her and had married her only for her money. When there was no money, he had promptly started ill-treating her, in the hope, I think, that she would go back to her parents, and he would be free of his responsibility. But Garima couldn't go. She said her father would never take her back, and she was right."
The old man looked again at Khushi.
"My wife," he said softly, "… had just lost her baby girl. And she had seen Khushi at birth just a month ago. She offered a home to Shashi and Garima, because she wanted Khushi. In Khushi, she saw her own little baby. And so did I. It felt that Khushi had been sent to us to make up for the loss of our own baby. So I didn't object to their coming home. Later, I did. I had no wish to be drawn into their quarrels. But they came and stayed with us for some time, then we found them a room next to ours in the chawl, and they moved in there. Garima and my wife, Ritu, were very friendly, and Shyam who was just 3 years old, treated Khushi like his own baby sister. She had come home just a few days after we lost my baby, and after a while he barely remembered his own sister." 
The old man paused, his eyes shadowed. He seemed lost in thought. Then he looked up at his audience, looked directly at Khushi, and continued.
"A few weeks later, Ritu, my wife died. She had never quite got over the infection that killed her baby. Garima was devastated, she had become very close to Ritu. She took over caring for Shyam, she looked after Shyam as though he too was her child, and it was a big help for me. Shashi and I got along all right. But Shashi and Garima used to fight all the time. She was a girl from a big house, and Shashi had been her father's accountant ... like a munshi. He was a very good looking guy, he looked like he was from a high class type of family, and those were the kind of lies he had told Garima, he’d deceived her into believing he was well off, educated and all, and had been working as their accountant only to be close to her. I think she had lived a very sheltered, protected life. She’d swallowed all those stories, she felt delighted that he loved her so much – and to find out that he’d been lying, that he had barely passed school, had lied he was a qualified accountant, and he was just out for what he could get - that just broke her. Shashi used to fight back - he used to taunt her to go back to her parents, they used to just fight all the time."
The old man stopped and swallowed.
"One night, Garima and Shashi had a big fight. I went to their room and got Khushi, afraid they might hurt the baby. Khushi was about two years old at the time. Shashi slapped Garima and walked out of the room, saying he was never going to return. Garima followed him, screaming. It was raining. Maybe she didn't see where she was going. She …" he paused grimly, not looking at Khushi, "… came under a truck."
Khushi gave a little gasp of horror. Shashi Kumar Gupta continued, in a low flat voice. "She was very badly hurt. I took her to hospital. She made me promise that I would take care of Khushi, that I would not give her to her parents. I think she had no faith that they would take care of her after they had thrown her – Garima – out, and her big fear was that they would send Khushi to an orphanage. I owed Garima a lot – despite her own troubles, she had looked after Shyam like her own son after my wife died, and I was fond of Khushi, so I agreed. Garima died, and I was left with two babies to look after. Khushi was two, and Shyam was five. Shashi never came back after that night – I think he didn’t even see the accident.”
Mahendra Shah leaned forward. Shashi Gupta continued.
"I had a job as a chaprasi in a small office. Not too much money, wife gone, and two babies to look after. Khushi used to keep crying for her mother. It was too difficult for me to keep my promise, I thought, so I wrote a note to Garima's parents, that Garima had died in an accident and left a baby. I signed it Shashi Gupta - that was the name I usually used - I hardly used the Kumar - and sent it, along with a copy of Garima's death certificate to her father's address."
"A few days after that, I was visited by a pair of lawyers. I was holding Khushi. She had started calling me baba. She didn't remember her father very much, and I had always been around for her. The lawyers asked if I was Shashi Gupta. I said yes. It was only later I realised they were looking for Khushi's father, not me. Anyway, they saw Khushi in my arms, calling me baba, they assumed I was her father. They checked Garima's death certificate, and then made me their offer from her father. I would receive a monthly stipend to take care of Megha, on the condition the money was spent on her, and only on her. I realised their mistake, so I told them that I wasn't related to Khushi, and they could take her with them. I didn't want their money, and I definitely didn't want another mouth to feed. They were confused but they didn't take her ... those were not their instructions. A couple of days later, they came back. Khushi's grandfather made me another offer. He was not going to keep the baby. Either I agreed to look after her, and he paid money for her upkeep, or I sent her to an orphanage. He offered a higher sum of money, and I got tempted. So I accepted. The next time the lawyers came, about a year later, they said she had to start school. The fees would be paid directly to the school, and I would receive my stipend as long as she was registered at school and then college. Garima had been a bright student, a scholarship holder, so the grandfather wanted his granddaughter to be educated.

I asked to be shifted to a good house, in a better area, so that she could go to a good school. I thought it would be good to get out of the chawl where everyone knew that I wasn’t Khushi’s father, so questions wouldn’t be asked about how and why I could afford her school and all. I was shifted to this house, but it was in Khushi's name. The money was paid in Khushi's name. The lawyers never came again, but I knew they kept an eye on her. Then, we started getting parcels every month or two, with food, chocolates, and clothes, lots of clothes for Khushi. Shyam went in rags, simple cheap clothes, but Khushi was always dressed well. He went to the local government school, but her admissions were taken care of, in the best private school of the area. School trips, functions, special classes, all extras – she had it all. If money was required, all I had to do was register her name and it was paid directly to the school – we never got it. Slowly, as they grew older, Shyam's jealousy started building up. He started to question me, why I couldn't spend money on his extras, his clothes, his cricket bat ... and I had to tell him why.  Knowing she wasn't his sister, made his jealousy worse. He used to trouble her, even hit her, but I kept an eye on him. Partly for my wife, because Ritu had loved her. Partly for myself. I had brought her up, and taken care of her from birth, I did care for her, but also I was scared that if she was ill-treated, she might be taken away from me, and the payments would stop. And by now I was used to the extra money – it made life very comfortable for us. But by the time she was in college, Shyam was into bad company, and his demands for money never stopped. I was just a peon. I couldn't meet his demands. He stopped studying - he was never interested anyway, and started one job after another – never stuck to any place because of his drinking. Khushi kept studying, she wanted to, and I encouraged her - our money would stop when she stopped studying or got married. Then Shyam got into that stupid mess in Arnav Singh Raizada's company, and Mr. Raizada came into Khushi's life, and packed us off."