Chapter 44

shrattila

@shrattila

That had never happened. She had met Payal as planned at the Shukla Chaat House in Hazratganj. In fact, she had been there early, gulping their famous Paani Batashe an hour before she was to meet Payal, thanks to her showdown with a certain Arnav Singh Raizada.

She had not used her phone since. When was the last time she used it? She rubbed her temples, trying to think when the answer hit her. She was in Arnav's office and she had taken it out to check if there had been any messages from her Mother or Payal. Because a certain Raakshas Raizada did not like phones ringing during meetings, she had turned it on silent before entering his office.

What had she done with it, after that, she tried to recollect. Arnav had interrupted and in her rush to take all notes, she had left it on his desk. Then she'd had her spat with him and stormed out of his office with her bag on her shoulder, the phone forgotten.

She glanced at the watch again. If she left for Sheesh Mahal now, she could be back by 1.00 am. There won't be any traffic on the roads at this time.

She woke Payal up. Seeing Khushi dressed in jeans and kurta, Payal chided: "Is that your new nightdress Khushi?"

Absently combing through her hair and tying into a ponytail, Khushi replied: "Jiji, I forgot my phone at Sheesh Mahal and I'm going to get it."

"Khushi?" yawned Payal. "Do you know what time it is? It's nearly midnight. Can't you get it tomorrow morning?"

"No Jiji, you know me, I won't get sleep till I get my phone. But I promise, I will be real quick," she said. "And besides, I know exactly where I left it. I'll be back before you can blink."

"Khushi wait," Payal tried to reason with her sister, who was hell-bent on leaving home at this ungodly hour. "Why don't you call Arnavji and ask him to keep it safe? You can then collect it tomorrow morning.

"I tried calling but no one answered," she said. "Don't worry Jiji, I promise to take care of myself. And I'll be right back."

"But Khushi.." Payal's words were drowned in the thud of the door. Khushi had stepped outside the house. Payal rushed after her and called out: "Khushi, call me if you need anything. I'll keep my phone right beside me." Only her crazy sister could think of doing something so ... crazy.

***

Khushi reached Sheesh Mahal a little near midnight. And she approached the aged friendly watchman, Shyamlal, to ask him the directions to Arnav's room. The watchman stared at her. Sure, in his short stint working for AR, he had seen many women ask for directions to Arnav's room, but this girl didn't seem to be one of them. But he could never be sure. He didn't want to upset his Saab by asking the wrong question of his guest. So he gently prodded, "Bitiya, did you have any work with ASR Saab?"

"No Chachaji," Khushi huffed. "I just needed to get to his office. I forgot my cell phone there, this evening."

"You had a meeting this evening," Shyamlal asked cautiously. The last thing the man wanted was to let a stranger into his Saab's office. He knew how strict his owner was when it came to issues of privacy.

"Yes," she breathed out, the cool October winds, spreading a soothing sensation throughout her body. The city felt different without its hustle, almost beautiful without a fault. In front of her, Shyamlal patiently waited for her to continue. "I work with AR Designs as their trainee designer." And to prove that she truly did, she took her ID card out and showed it to him.

Shyamlal smiled. She was an employee. And he liked her personality. He beamed. "Arre, Bitiya, why do you want to wake up Saab for such small things? I have the spare keys to his office. I will let you in so you can take your phone."

Smiling at her luck, she quickly nodded. Praying the good old Shyamlal does not get into any trouble for abandoning his post for a little over 10 minutes, she followed with him leading the way.

"By the way Bitiya, you could have even taken your phone tomorrow morning. Why did you come here in the middle of the night?" he asked.

Khushi rolled her eyes. Her family had grown accustomed to her craziness, but how could she explain it to a watchman she barely knew?

"I was expecting an important phone call," she lied. And because it didn't sound convincing enough to her, she added, "Actually my Jijaji lives in America and he calls my Jiji on this number at night. I didn't want her to miss his call today."

That made more sense to him. And for no other reason than simply continue the conversation, he said: "You know Bitiya, in our times there were no phone calls. We wrote letters to our loved ones and eagerly waited to get theirs. It was a very romantic time, the wait only intensified the romance. "And just as he said that, they stood outside of Arnav's office. Inserting the key, he tried to turn the lock to find the door opened.

"Open fast, Shyamlalji," Khushi urged.

"Bitiya," said Shyamlal, his voice held a certain tension. "The door was never locked. I hope there hasn't been a robbery here."

Saying he pushed the door open to find Arnav laying on the floor of his office.

****

"Arnavji..." Khushi screamed, her initial reaction assuming something dire had happened to him. She rushed, trying to shake him. But when she touched him, her entire being was filled with dread. Arnav's body was ice cold.

"Shyamlalji, Arnavji is cold..." she whispered. A lone tear escaped her eye, at the recollection of their last conversation. Fervently she started rubbing his palms to induce some warmth into his body. She then rushed to her phone, which lay on Arnav's desk and called Payal.

"Jiji, can you please call a doctor and ask him to come to Sheesh Mahal urgently. Arnavji is unconscious.."

"But how Khushi?"

"Jiji, I will answer all your questions later. Please ask a doctor to come here immediately."

Her next call was to Aman. He didn't answer.

She didn't have time to ponder. "Shyamlalji, please give me your shawl and please bring me any other warm clothing you might have like a sweater or a blanket," she ordered.

"But what happened to Saab?"

"I don't know."

She then picked up her phone and googled person's body cold first aid and followed step by step instructions. She first moved Arnav on top of the rug in his cabin. Then she covered him with Shyamlal's shawl and two additional blankets Shyamlal had been able to find. She then grabbed his hands from under the blanket and continued rubbing them fervently, trying to inject warmth, all the while praying to Devi Maiyya to make him okay.

Just then her phone rang. It was Aman.

"Sorry Khushi, I missed your call. But so late at night, is there a problem?"

"Yes. Arnavji has fainted in his office."

"What?"

"His body is ice cold and I am doing my best to keep him warm until the doctor arrives. Can you please get here quick?"

"Sure, will be there in five minutes."

****

The doctor and Aman arrived at the same time. Within a few minutes of the doctor checking Arnav and Aman checking the surroundings, both came to the same conclusion. Arnav's sugar levels within the body had dropped to dangerously low levels, a condition known as hypoglycemia.

Arnav had not taken his evening medication, which still lay on his desk.

"What he needs is a glucose injection to instantly raise his blood sugar levels otherwise this can be fatal," the doctor told Khushi and Aman.

"I will inject him with a liberal dose of Glucagon, which will release a large amount of stored sugars. Hopefully that will help him."

"The next 48 hours for him are extremely crucial. My advice is that someone stay with him the entire time to ensure he takes his food and medicine at regular intervals. And please, make sure he doesnt drink so much alcohol," he said pointing to the bottle that was nearly empty, "in one go. Clearly excessive drinking was the cause for the drop in his blood sugar levels."

Once the doctor had injected Arnav with Glucagon, Aman helped carry Arnav to his room and lay him comfortably on his bed.

****

Arnav's room in Sheesh Mahal boasted of royal splendour. The humongous room had a stately four poster bed made of ebony with three sets of windows and a set of doors that opened onto a balcony. Underneath one set of windows was a huge teak study table with a swiveling armchair, and underneath the other were two individual armchairs with a coffee table in-between. Under the third set of windows was a revolving recliner.

After making sure Arnav was comfortable and covered, that is body was feeling a normal human temperature and that his breathing had returned to normal, Aman picked up his phone to call Anjali to inform her about Arnav's health.

"Don't," advised Khushi. "It's very late at night. She might be sleeping. No point worrying her when she is so far away. You can inform her tomorrow morning."

Aman thought hard, and then hung up. Khushi was right. But the lines of worry didn't leave his face. Khushi got up, and walked out till she came to the kitchen area of the guest aparments. She then returned in fifteen minutes with two cups of piping hot chai.

Aman was grateful for the spiced liquid. He gulped a few sips and titled his head back on the armchair he was sitting on, closing his eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere tonight, Aman. If you're tired, you can go and rest. I will take care of Arnavji."

"It's not that Khushi."

"Then what is it?"

"I have known ASR longer than AR. ASR and myself studied together at Harvard. He was always brilliant and with that came a certain eccentricity. He was rude and condescending and often rubbed people the wrong way. But he knew his work and he knew how to make deals and sell. Harvard was just three years after his parents passed away. He was still carrying the burden of their death. But even in all his anger and guilt, I have never seen him not take care of himself. For all the years I've known ASR, this has to be a first."

Khushi listened patienty while Aman continued. "I know something is bothering him. And I also know its not Milan. Sometimes I wish ASR would confide in someone, let someone know what's bothering him. Perhaps that might help ease our worries. But he never shares his worries and concerns, keeps everything bottled up until it results in something drastic like this."

Khushi listened quietly, taking small sips of her own tea. "Aman, what guilt does ASR have?

"I don't know..." he mulled, clearly torn between wanting to tell her what he knew and the knowledge that it was not his place to say anything.

"What is it," Khushi prodded gently. "You can trust me. I just might be able to help."

Aman drew a deep breath. Surely, if anyone could help, it was Khushi. After all, hadn't he seen her stand up to him and tell him things he didn't want to hear, time and time again. Maybe, she could exorcise him of his past, and ASR could have a peaceful future. Taking another deep breath, he continued: "I don't know if I have the right to tell you all this, maybe ASR will never forgive me for what I am about to do, but if you can rid him of his ghosts, as a friend, I will be forever grateful."

Taking another deep pause, he said it all in one breath: "ASR believes he killed his parents."

Chapter 41: https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/topic/4807996?pn=59