IPKKND FF: JALEBI by Jalebi Jane Thread 1: EPISODE 001-042 - Page 11

JALEBI by Maya (EPISODE 005)

WE ALL KNOW, SISTERS what it is to be humiliated by the sudden discovery of a fact which has existed very comfortably----and perhaps even been staring at us in private----while we have been making up our world entirely without it.*

And thus it was with our Heroine now.

Khushi Kumari Gupta had been basking for a full hour in the belief of a benevolent universe when her mind suddenly collided with the glaringly obvious: Arnav had retained her not because he possessed a compassionate core but because there existed a contract between them.

Yes! That ridiculous contract!

The contract clearly stated that if she left ASR Group before thirty days, she would have to leave him a parting gift of one lakh rupees. And if he dismissed Khushi before the thirty-day term was up, he would no longer be "Arnav Singh Raizada."

She grabbed the desk calendar and counted the small boxes with moving lips. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Today was Day Twenty-Three. That meant that even if Arnav had caught Khushi dancing on top of her desk with a megaphone bellowing, "Barun For Boss! Sobti Not Singh!" he would still not have fired her. Why? Because he would rather set himself on fire than concede defeat.

Especially to her.

So he had tricked her earlier. He had acted with consideration so he would not have to admit that the contract made him powerless to dismiss her. And the realization that she had naively believed him flooded her with such fury that she jumped to her feet with a cry.

Pari----and others nearby----turned to look at her. And aware that she was making a spectacle of herself (once again!) Khushi pretended that she urgently required something from the stationery room and immediately headed in that direction.

Only when she gained privacy, did she give full expression to her angry shame. Breathing in photocopy fumes, Khushi marched up and down the room flanked by towers of envelopes, letterhead, paperclips.

How could she have been so utterly foolish? She had actually believed that he sought to build goodwill, but it was all subterfuge. Had she learnt nothing in the past three weeks?!

She slapped her open palm against the photocopier. And such was her energy that a quivering box of rubberbands fell off the rack. She kicked the box angrily only to stub her toe on the wall.

Ouch!

Dropping to the floor, she removed her mojri and saw her angry red toe throbbing to teach her a lesson on self-control. She leaned back against the wall with a heavy sigh and tortured herself by recollecting every word from the meeting in the office. It was truly self-torture, for every memory proved to her that she was the greatest idiot ever to love a pom-pom.

Stupid-stupid-stupid girl! Stupid to forget that in the Raizada Universe there were only contracts. No clemency.

With a sigh, she returned the mojri to her foot, straightened her dupatta, and stepped out of the room.

Had someone been watching her closely, Sisters, they might have noted that she had entered the room with empty hands and exited in the same state.

Someone was watching her, of course. But he stepped back just before our scowling Heroine lifted her eyes to that glass barricade which wrapped his office.

Mr Raizada was not visible to her, but Khushi imagined him seated behind his desk, head thrown back, laughing at her credulity. And very likely drafting a scathing dismissal letter which he would present to her the very hour their contract expired on the following Tuesday.

Khushi returned to her desk, took her seat and attempted to continue with her work. Earlier she had been making notes on each of the pending work files which she would hand over to Pari at the end of day. But it was impossible to think on numbers-timelines-charts when her mind screamed: What manner of man was he? He was not a man. He was a machine. Heartless. Soulless. Characterless! Void of any human and moral qualites.

Fresh new reasons to feel humiliated came up as she remembered her effusive gratitude towards him. But the straw that broke her was the memory of her standing before him, happy and relieved, saying, "Please assure me that you have accepted my apology for what happened earlier."

This shamed her so deeply that again she was brought to her feet. And this time she left her desk with such grim decisiveness that Pari knew her destination was not the stationery room.

Khushi began to climb----for the second time that day----that long staircase to Arnav Singh Raizada's office, when she heard Pari's loud whisper, "Khushi!"

But Khushi continued without pause.

Yes, it would have been wiser had Khushi paid heed to Pari's call, Sisters. And more face-saving too, because to march into Arnav's office and confront him now about what had been obvious an hour ago would be taken as a confirmation of her slow mind. He would laugh at her, no doubt.

But there are times when a woman is past caring.

Khushi did not care how she appeared to him. All she knew was that Arnav Singh Raizada would on this day learn that all his calculating intellect was no match for a Lioness from Lucknow. He would feel the limits of his power now. And he would regret ever signing such a contract with her. She would hoist the Laad Governor by his own petard!

And with this new-found mettle she sprinted up the last few stairs and burst into his office (forgetting to knock!) and cried out, "Let me tell you something, Mr Raizada----the true measure of a man is one who----"

----Here a glorious filmi monologue would have flowed had Khushi not been confronted by a roomful of eyes turned towards her. All male. Arnav was leaning on the edge of his desk while his entire marketing team (as far as Khushi could tell) were standing in a half circle around him.

*Adapted from George Eliot's -Middlemarch-