IPKKND FF: JALEBI by Jalebi Jane Thread 1: EPISODE 001-042 - Page 30

JALEBI by Jalebi Jane (EPISODE 014)

HOWEVER DEEPLY AMAN BEHL esteemed and admired Arnav Singh Raizada, they were very different men. Aman was that rare sort of young man who was ambitious without being covetous.

And Arnav, as we are well aware, was both proprietorial and possessive. Aman also differed from Arnav in another respect: he had incredible patience. Yes, Arnav could be patient---but only when he associated patience with perfect timing. If Arnav was asked to be patient about something that may never come to him, he wouldn't be able to endure it. But Aman would.

And had.

Aman had long exercised the patience of a saint. He had endured the sort of daily sublime torture which would have drove lesser men insane. His particular crucible came in the delicious shape known to you and I as Miss Parisa Khan.

None of you have bothered to ask me what was happening at ASR Group Headquarters while our lead Hero and Heroine were away suffering private tragedies. And I'm tempted to not tell you, but the information is so worth hearing that the pleasure of telling it cannot be sacrificed.

Soon after Khushi had bolted and Arnav had disappeared from Headquarters, Pari knocked on Aman's office door and entered. She was almost lost behind the large box she was carrying, and Aman immediately went to her, removing the box from her hands.

She smiled her thanks and began to speak, "this box contains the---" here Aman presented her with a chair, which she slipped into, and she continued, "---contains the swatches and such from the interior designers. For Mr Raizada's new house. Should I hand that over to Khushi? Or leave it with you"that is, I'm not really sure, Sir, to what extent Khushi and I are to switch positions."

Aman clarified, "you will report to Mr Raizada and Miss Gupta will report to me. A complete switch. But leave this box with me as Raizada House is nearly complete."

Pari gave a nod, and jumped to her feet. "Would you mind very much if I left a bit early today?"

"I am no longer your supervisor," Aman smiled at her, "and since Mr Raizada has left for the day, I suggest you take advantage of this rare opportunity and do the same."

"Well," she laughed her reply, "since my new boss happens to also be your boss, I suggest you do the same. Go on, skive! You work too much."

Had our Pari been the sort of woman who was aware of her own beauty, she would have known the effect her laugh, her presence, her entire self had always had on Aman. But, alas, she was entirely innocent of her power.

Which of course made her all the more alluring.

He said, "had I something to tempt me away from work, I would certainly spend less time at this desk. Where are you escaping to?"

Again, a more savvy woman would have seen this as an opening. But Pari missed it entirely.

She dug into the pockets of her skirt, and removing from them a set of keys attached to a gigantic pom-pom and a beaten-up mobile phone, she said, "look! Khushi left in such a mad rush, she forgot these. I thought I would drop them off at her house."

"She lives in Janakpuri, correct?"

Pari gave a nod. "Near the market."

"But you live in the opposite direction. And with traffic at this time of day, you'll spend hours on the road""

"---I don't mind. She's my friend. And she might have need of her phone this evening."

Aman extended his hand and said, "let me take care of delivering those. Your grandfather won't approve of you crisscrossing the city by rickshaw this close to maghrib."

"Are you sure, Sir? I wouldn't wish to inconvenience you. Nor would Khushi," she began to say.

But Aman brushed her words aside and said, "it's not a problem."

The two items were deposited into Aman's care. And Pari turned to walk towards the door. But before she had taken many steps, she pivoted to face him. And had she eyes at the back of her head she would have known that Aman's eyes always trailed her form whenever she walked away from him.

He was a good man but he was fully a man---intense and virile---and he stored all these aspects of Pari in his active imagination. Do let me be clear: It was nothing at all salacious. Had she had access to his thoughts, she would have certainly blushed but she would also have been aroused. Not disgusted in any sense.

She was saying, "may I tell you that it has been such a privilege working for you, Sir? I've learnt so much. And though you hid it from me, I'm aware that you always took the blame for my many blunders. Like the---oh! do you remember the time I emailed the manufacturing costs to our retailers, instead of the wholesale cost!" She rolled her eyes at her monumental failure, managing to look both mortified and terribly pretty at the same time.

Aman chuckled at the memory of that particular catastrophe. He crossed his arms and sat at the edge of the desk, and said, "I don't know what I'll do for entertainment without you."

She teased back, "I'd be happy to login into your computer every now and again and delete some of your spreadsheets." Yes, that too had happened!

"No, that wouldn't be as thrilling as it was the first time. Because now you've trained me to keep backups of my backups. I think you'll have to search for fresh ways to bring excitement into my day."

Oh dear! Was Parisa Khan ever going to pick up on these blatant signals? Apparently not. Because she gave a laugh and began to move away, when she heard him say, "Parisa---?"

It was the shift in his tone that told her something. Or perhaps it was that Aman had for the very first time called her by her given name. And he even repeated it. Softly this time, as though he said it for his own pleasure. "Parisa."

"Yes?" Pari found that her voice came out breathless.

He rose to his full height, but did not approach her. He kept the distance between them and said, "as I am no longer your supervisor, I would like to ask you something. Something which would have been inappropriate before."

She gulped. That was the only reply Aman received. But he read it as encouragement.

He said, "I have two tickets for that Barun Bobti film you wanted to see. I'd like you to have them," adding with a grin, "provided you take me with you."

"Sobti," she corrected.

"Sorry?" he frowned.

She smiled, "it's Barun Sobti. With an S. Sobti."

"I would endure three hours of any variant of Barun, if I would be in your company."

Think of a woman radiating glowing pleasure, and that is the picture you must imagine in this moment, Sisters. But then almost before Aman could bask in that glow, Pari's face fell. She averted her eyes and said, "I'm sorry but I can't take you. I mean. I can't go. Dadasaheb doesn't like me to go out after dark. Unless it's straight to someone's house and then directly back."

"Fine. We'll skip the film and go straight to my place." Of course he was playing with her. And she knew it from the glint in his eyes. "Parisa, I've known you long enough to know what your situation at home is. The tickets I purchased are for the Saturday matinee."

She almost yelped with glee. "That's perfect! Then I will take you to see the film, Sir!"

"Aman."

"Aman Sir."

"Just Aman."

"Thank you, Just Aman," she said with a saucy smile, and flitted out of the room, leaving behind a man who had nothing left to wish for and everything to dream of.

JALEBI by Jalebi Jane (EPISODE 015)

PLEASE DO NOT ATTACK ME WITH YOUR WATCH. A watch is always too fast or too slow. I cannot be dictated to by a watch.* Only accept that everything I describe in the next few episodes happened in the correct order with sufficient time for travel and adequate time for activity.

"Buaji!" Payal cried, throwing herself between the massive woman and the slender girl.

A fine and noble act, to be sure, but far too late an interference. And always that same well-meaning but ineffectual aid.

The very first time her aunt had lifted a hand to her sister, Payal should have delivered a strong warning. And on the second occasion, she ought to have acted upon that warning, and ushered that woman out of their Lucknow haveli and straight onto the Delhi Express. Yes, you heard me, Sisters---Buaji had lashed out in this savage manner twice previously. In Lucknow.

Now in Delhi.

(And though I am not inferring anything, I draw your attention to the fact that all three incidents were somehow connected to That Man, Arnav Singh Raizada. Do not think too much of it now, but keep that idea somewhere at the back of our minds.)

The first incident had occurred on the evening Payal had been left at the mandap by her fianc, Abhishek.

Buaji had held Khushi responsible for that catastrophe because she had arrived late with the house deed. But all of them knew---most especially Buaji---that even if Khushi had not been detained by Arnav, the paper in her possession would not have satiated the groom's greed. Abhishek had left when he learnt that the dowry would be less than half his expectation. He had come with his paltry shagun and pathetic relatives in anticipation of a tolerable house and a thriving business.

But when Buaji informed him that there was only the house for his taking; that the business had been sold to pay the outstanding mortgage on the house, he had tossed his pink turban aside and gone away.

I want it noted that Khushi had vehemently objected to Buaji's plan. Khushi had known that to sell their business---their sole source of income!---was inviting calamity. But her views had gone unheard. She had begged Payal to help Buaji understand the dangers, but as it so often happened with Payal, Buaji had converted her to her own thinking. Payal had repeated Buaji's flawed argument to Khushi. What good was a business in Lucknow when the haveli and all of them would be gone? Once Payal was wed, Buaji intended to return to Delhi and take Khushi with her. Buaji had also added that once Payal was settled into her matrimonial home, she should invite Khushi to visit and see if something could be done with Abhishek's younger brother. This last bit, Payal had kept to herself.

Oh, but why do I tell you all this now? Why do I resurrect this sad history? To inform you that none of Buaji's ill-judged gambles had paid off. Abhishek left. And left behind a bride who wailed like a widow. While the sister-of-the-bride wondered how they would manage without a business. Yes, they still had a house, but no means to feed its inhabitants or pay back the loans incurred for the wedding. Khushi had voiced their predicament and the culpable Buaji had responded with a slap.

Fair enough, perhaps Payal had not been in a fit state to reprimand Buaji then.

But absolutely no excuse can be made for Payal's failure when it had happened the second time, Sisters. That was when the footage of Khushi in Arnav's arms had been broadcast. And it became clear that they would have to leave Lucknow. All Payal had done then was step between them as she did this time.

And Khushi too must be criticized. She cried silent tears of shame, but she did not demand justice.

You may well ask---what could Khushi do? She could leave the house. Especially now that she had a job. But that would mean that she would have to leave her dearest Jiji. And Khushi would endure t---he humiliation of a slap many times before she would abandon Payal. Yes, she could take Payal with her, but Payal would argue that they could not both abandon their frail-elderly-sole relative.

And there it was. The dilemma that existed in too many homes in our nation. Perhaps not to this degree of cruelty but through other forms of oppression. A young woman could not stay nor could she leave. It's no wonder that so many accepted the first eligible offer of marriage which came along.

But Khushi was not one such. She would not marry Shyam.

With lashes fringed with tears, she turned her eyes to Buaji and stated her intention. "I will not marry him."

"You will!" came the hissing order. "Or Nandekishore-Knows I will have nothing further to do with you. You can go and live with your secret lover. Let's see what he says when you turn up at his door, suitcase in hand. You will then find out what a genuine rishta from a good boy means compared to the empty promises of your-your---"

Before Buaji could baptize Khushi's "secret lover" with a new title, Payal said, "Buaji, please leave me alone with Khushi. Let me understand the reasons behind her refusal." And when Buaji opened her mouth to refuse this private conference, Payal wisely added, "Shyam will get the wrong idea if he returns to the house and finds us all cloistered in the room arguing. What if he retracts his offer---?"

Ah! This was the thing that moved that immoveable object. Buaji gave one parting glare at Khushi and went to the door, saying, "he's just gone next door to have his tea. He'll be back shortly and when he returns I expect you to come out and greet him with a warm smile. Or Nandekishore-Knows..."

The rest of that sentence was unintelligible as the door closed behind her. But we can assume that Buaji did not cease muttering her threats even though she no longer had an audience.

Payal sighed. She turned to address her sister, only to panic in seeing Khushi climbing out of the window.

"Khushi! Don't go! I beg you. Don't go! Buaji should not have slapped you but don't run away---"

"I'm not running away," Khushi replied from her straddled position on the window ledge. "I'm going to Humptyji's. And don't close the window. I'll return through it."

"But didn't you hear? Buaji just said that Shyam is at Humptyji's having his tea!"

Khushi was by now on the other side, standing on the portico---she extended her arm through the window and said, "hand me my satchel, Jiji. I'm going to speak to him. To make him retract, as you just said. Buaji is capable of many things, but she cannot force me to marry a man who no longer wants to marry me."

Payal saw the sense in this. She did as Khushi asked, but before releasing the satchel into Khushi's hands, she pleaded, "before you talk to him, think again. Shyam is a good man. He'll make a fine husband. And you have the assurance that he wants you for yourself. That it's not about dowry. He loves you. Khushi, I've seen how he looks at you. And if you kissed him, it tells me that you love him too---"

"---No! I was mistaken," Khushi said swiftly. And at Payal's frown, Khushi grabbed the satchel and said, "I can't explain it all. But nor can I marry Shyamji. Don't ask me to reconsider, please." And then she turned and ran off in the direction of Humptyji's Chai Palace.

WHEN AMAN TOOK INTO HIS POSSESSION Khushi's items from Pari, he had not had the slightest intention of delivering them to Janakpuri.

No, he did not. I'm sorry to disappoint you, Sisters, but there it is. He didn't want Pari to make the journey, but he was fully aware that removing the task from her, he would be helping Arnav too.

As soon as she exited his office, he sent Arnav the following text message: KKG forgot phone+keys @HQ. Will you deliver?

Arnav's reply did not come for almost another hour. And when it came, it was this:

Arnav: Am I her servant?

Aman: No, but you are her suitor.

Arnav: NO.

Aman stared at the two letter word. In caps. The reply confounded him. Only a short time ago, Arnav had resolved to falsely woo and marry Khushi. A decision which Aman helped downgrade to a secret courtship which would satisfy Arnav's desire for retribution without ruining the young woman's life. So why this sudden and remarkable reversal? Made more remarkable because it came from a man who never veered from his decisions.

Something had happened within the past hour. But what?

Aman was musing when the phone in his hand chimed. Arnav was calling.

Aman connected the line but before he spoke, Arnav was already speaking. The words came out in rapid succession. And in the background was the hum of a car in motion.

"Send Omprakash to return the items. And tell Omprakash to avoid the highway. There'll be traffic. He should take Temple Road and come up on Market Lane. It's the house with the red roof. There's a chai stall immediately next to it. And not delay a minute. She's locked out. Without a phone. Probably has no money either. It'll soon be dark. No! Wait! f**k all that, Aman. You go! I want you to go. Don't send Omprakash. Go! Now!"

And thus ended the call. Aman had not spoken a word, but had witnessed this bizarre stream-of-consciousness monologue. It would have been amusing at any other time, but here it was not. For it was entirely uncharacteristic of Arnav. Moreover, Aman sensed that behind the words, his employer was somehow unsettled.

But that could be addressed later. Here and now, Aman had been given a task. He reached for his jacket, confirmed that his own keys were in the pocket, grabbed Khushi's items, and sprinted to the elevator which led to the parkade.

* From Jane Austen's -Mansfield Park-.