Kaisey Yeh Rishtey - 12

Chapter 12

Arnav Singh Raizada stopped, his voice flat.

There was silence in the little room. Khushi was stunned, horrified at the magnitude of the tragedy he had just narrated.  She couldn't utter a word, couldn't think of anything to say.

Then Arnav Singh Raizada turned and looked at Khushi. His face was blank.

"Your job," he said, slowly, expressionlessly, "will be to rehabilitate these three people. An old man, who is confined to a wheelchair, who refuses to even try to walk again. Who prays everyday for death to take him and return at least one, even one ... of the younger ones killed in that crash. A young man … little more than a boy, who is wracked with guilt, that he was the cause of his father's and niece's condition, that maybe he was going too fast, and may have had a hand in the first accident. At an age when he should be going to college, attending parties, meeting girls, enjoying himself, he stays home, not leaving his father and niece for a minute longer than he has to. And a little girl … my niece … who is living the horror of that accident every single day and every single night. Every single night she wakes up crying, … crying for her mother, her father, crying that the fire is taking her parents, her granny away."

Tears were in Khushi's eyes, as she listened to him. He looked away, as though afraid that her emotions would overcome him and stared unseeing out of the window. His tone, when he spoke, was softer, reflective, as though he was talking to himself, thinking out loud ... almost unaware of his audience of one.

"The child needs a mother, a grandmother, anybody. She needs a woman in the house. A woman she can call her own. Whom she can trust, will be there for ever, and will not go away, like the dozens of teachers and governesses and nurses have. Who will run and comfort her at her first cry, when she wakes up at night, with the flames burning in her dreams.

“My father needs a daughter-in-law, a daughter, a woman, to laugh with him, tease him, bully him into doing his exercises, taking his medicines. Somebody to bring the chance of happiness back into the house, the possibility of more children, a woman's hand at the helm of the house, to make it a home again, and not just a house. My little brother needs a mother and a sister rolled into one, to talk to, to confide in, to help him get rid of his guilt, to give him affection and loving care."

ASR turned back to Khushi. His eyes sought hers, and his tone firmed, as though he had mentally reached a decision.

"We need a woman in the house, Khushi. A strong woman, who will not go under with all the grief in the house, but who has the strength, the courage to pull all the others out of it. From what little I've seen of you, you have that kind of strength that I need right now. And – you have the the skill, the training, to handle them."

He took a deep breath.

"So," he said. "what do you think? Can you do it? Will you do it? You will face resistance in the beginning. They all idolized my mother and my choti bhabhi. They don't want to forget them. They don't want anybody in their place. And with the guilt my father and my brother feel, they don't want any happiness. They feel that this sorrow is a punishment for the deaths that happened. They would feel guilty if they felt happy. It's a very tough proposition."

Khushi looked down at her hands.

"Tell me one thing," she said, hesitantly. "Well, two, actually. Have they been to any psychologist earlier? Any counseling, any therapy sessions, anything at all … after the accident? It was badly needed, wasn’t it?"

ASR shook his head. "They didn’t agree. Neither my father nor Akash. They were adamant about it, and I couldn’t force them, even though their doctors agreed they needed it. Even now, they won’t agree – which is why I can’t take you there as you are. It’s as though they’re punishing themselves for being left behind. And my niece was too traumatised to even try making her talk to any strangers at the time. Last night, after you told me about your work, I thought about this a lot. My first plan was that you could come as a housekeeper, or a teacher. You've seen sorrow, you've seen pain, the pain that comes from the loss of a loved one, you've dealt with it and helped people to go on. You're the only person I have met who is qualified for this job, this role. But for this to work, you have to be a part of the family, a permanent part. I'm desperate now, I have to do something more. A woman, a mother, a daughter, a mistress of the house - that is what is needed. I try my best, but …"

"Mr. Raizada," Khushi said, softly. "You are the kind of man any woman would love to be with. You don't need to buy or hire a wife. Isn't there somebody in your life, who would take on these responsibilities gladly, and share your life and love with you as well? I can't believe that there is nobody in your life. You don't need a wife on hire, you need a wife who will love you and love your family because of you, and for you."

ASR smiled crookedly at her. "Thank you for the compliment. No, Khushi, there is no girl in my life. Not one who would take on these responsibilities."

There was an edge in his voice when he said the last part. She heard the pain, the rawness in his voice. There was someone, she was almost sure. Maybe that someone didn't want all the responsibilities, maybe that was what had brought that edge to his voice. But there was an expression, a finality, in his face, his voice, which warned her not to probe further.

“Do you need to marry me?” she asked, then flushed as she realized what that sounded like.

Hurriedly she went on. “I mean … we could just pretend … to be married …” she stopped. He was shaking his head very definitely.

“We will be married,” he said firmly, “and my brother will attend the wedding. There has to be no room for doubt at all. That’s the only way they will accept it.”

Khushi was puzzled at his choice of words. It sounded as though there was some reason for his family to doubt the reality of Arnav’s sudden marriage. Apart from the sheer unsuitability of his wife, she thought with an inward wry smile.

She looked at his face. Gone was that cruel dictator she had seen the night before at her home, threatening Shyam - gone, even, was the suave, sophisticated tycoon from the office last night. In his place was just a man wanting her help … needing her … and able to give her not only an escape from her brother, but also … Aman.

Aman, she thought, dully, his name twisting inside her like a knife. If I’m married, I will have to stop seeing Aman. It has to happen some day … the sooner it happens, the better it is, for both of us. I always knew it would end one day. It’s for the best … I won’t have to give him any more explanation. He will have to agree. But oh … not to see him again …

 For an instant, her face showed her desolation and Arnav Singh Raizada watched her closely, his eyes narrowing.

“Well?” he asked softly, his tone a question, and Khushi started. She had almost forgotten he was there, so lost was she in her thoughts. 

She looked at him again. She would be in his power after all, she thought … but somehow, the thought wasn’t as frightening as it had seemed yesterday. He wasn’t as frightening. Slowly, she nodded, making her decision … not that she had much choice, she thought wryly. Between a rock and a hard place …

"I'll do it," she said, softly, hesitantly, looking down. She looked up and straight back at him, her eyes clear, the doubts dispelled by a fatalistic certainty. "I'll do it," she repeated, more surely. "But," she added, before he could say anything else, "it will be in name only. It's a job, and that's what it will stay. When you feel that they are able to cope, you will release me."

He nodded. She saw a look of relief cross his face, before he swiftly masked it. But no effusive thanks came from his lips. That wasn't his style, she thought wryly. A man who masked his emotions and his sentiments, kept his words limited to what was necessary, and no more.  

"I agree," he said briefly. "A job it is. When you feel they are ready, when I feel they are ready, we will tell them the truth, and you can leave. I will, of course," he added evenly, "recompense you well for your time  and your professional help, and also help you to find another job, or return to your current one, whatever you like. Financially, you will be secure for the rest of your life. That much I promise you. It's the least I can do, Khushi," he added firmly as she opened her mouth to protest. 

She nodded silently. This would make her independent of Baba and Shyam, and she was level headed enough not to kick that opportunity aside. And human enough to feel glad at the prospect.

Arnav Singh Raizada came closer to her, and Khushi looked at him in surprise.

"And, now," he said softly. "I come back to my first question. It's a question that you have now given me the right to ask. To whom were you talking on the phone?"

She was silent. He looked hard at her.

"Answer me, Khushi. Is there a man in your life? Answer me honestly. You've been honest till now. If you're going to play the role of my wife, you have to tell me. There is a man, isn't there?"

She nodded almost imperceptibly.

"What’s the problem?'

She looked at him, surprised. "How do you know there is a problem?"

"If there wasn't a problem, you would have been off with him by now, wouldn't you?" he said, mockingly. "Considering that you don't exactly have the happiest of home situations."

Khushi's mouth twisted. The man was perceptive, and intelligent enough to put two and two together. There was no point lying to him. And she didn't want to. There would be enough secrets and subterfuge in her new house, without adding to them. Besides, this was what she had wanted ... a reason to stay away from Aman. Regardless of her heartbreak, she knew it was the best thing for both of them, and for Anjali.

She looked up at the waiting ASR. 

"He's married," she said, flatly. His expression didn't change.

"Ever heard of the word divorce? Or is it a one-sided thing?"

"Divorce is out of the question," Khushi replied, evenly. "His wife had an accident a few months ago, in which she lost one of her legs, and almost lost her baby. She can't have any more babies. If he leaves her, she'll lose everything. Including her will to live. She'll die."

She said it flatly, matter-of-factly. It was the truth and she knew it, had always known it. A happy ending for her and Aman had never been even a possibility. 

"Your patients, were they?" he asked, and she looked surprised at his sharp intuition. Then she nodded. "The wife was," she said softly. He nodded in understanding.

"So of course, you can't steal her husband," he said, mockingly. "… not even as payment for your services."

She looked at him hotly. "That was never in my mind! I am not a home breaker!"

He nodded decisively.

"Right, then that's cleared everything up. Oh, and your father and brother will be packed off to Nasik. I have a factory there, where they can't get up to much mischief. As I said, they don't need to know I'm marrying you. Better that they think the worst. Else they'll probably start trying to blackmail me or some such thing."

She looked at him in surprise. "You still want to marry me, after knowing about …"

His face became hard. "Why not? It's a job for you, not a real marriage. If I could do it any other way, that would convince my father, I would, but I can't. So it's just a job for you - although you and I are the only ones who know that. As soon as I feel that my brother, father and niece are back to normal, I'll release you. A nice civilized divorce, with some money – enough for you to live comfortably, reinstatement in your old job, or a new one, whatever you want. Your boyfriend might even summon up the courage to look after you by then. Though if he hasn't by now, I wouldn't place much dependence on that. Or on his so-called love," he added, cynically.   

She sat down on the sofa, ignoring his comment.

"I don't have much choice, do I?"

"No, you don't," he agreed. "Your brother and father are waiting eagerly in a shop some few minutes away, waiting for me. But one thing, Khushi," his voice became hard again, and she looked at him in surprise.

"No fancy boyfriends during the duration of our marriage," he said. "You are playing the role of my wife. You will do nothing that could compromise the name of my family, or my dignity. Agreed?"

Khushi looked at him angrily. "I wouldn't do that! I've made an agreement with you, and I'll stick to it."

"So what will you tell him?" he asked, cynically. "That you've suddenly fallen out of love with him and madly in love with me?"

She hated the derision in his voice.

"Do you think that's so impossible?" she asked quietly. "You seem to have a very poor opinion of yourself."

He looked startled, and then smiled, this time with genuine amusement.

"So you can scratch?" he murmured. "Good. You'll need all your claws and teeth. There will be a lot of people with plenty to say about my sudden marriage. But, Khushi, what will you tell him? Not the truth, is that clear?"

She looked at him directly.

"I'll handle him," she said, clearly. "You don't need to worry. He will not know the truth. He will think I have a normal marriage, and he will not compromise his dignity, or yours."

ASR looked at her steadily and she met his gaze, her own clear. For a while, they looked at each other, perfect understanding in their eyes.

"Right, then," he said, briskly, after a small pause. "I'll tell your father and Shyam, who are eagerly waiting, that I am accepting their daughter in lieu of the money, and they will be banished till the money and the data is returned, and I say they can return. Once they are packed off to Nasik, we get married, and your work starts."

Khushi nodded, fatalistically.

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.

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?

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.