Originally posted by: aryapdane
Author's note: All disclaimers apply. I own nothing except a few original characters. Please let me know if you like it.
Chapter Two- Commonplace miracles (Part One)
Well, it often happens that people with good eyesight fail to see what is right in front of them -- Ruskin Bond.
The obvious strategy that a matchmaker would adopt is to throw the two people he wants to match in eachother's company as much as possible. So, Rishabh took his time as he dressed himself for breakfast, whistling an old favourite as his mind came up with increasingly satisfying scenarios of thwarting his brother's manoeuvers.
Now he realises his mistake was to expect the obvious from Shiv.
Both his brother and ex-wife were absent from the dinning room when he strode in languidly and remained absent for the duration of the breakfast. When he remarked upon their host's absence, he got a nonchalant shrug from Laksh instead of an answer. The rest of the company was no more the wiser.
After checking Shiv's private study and the library and coming up blank, Rishabh finds himself quietly fuming in his room. Asking the staff about their whereabouts is out of question. They are too loyal to their employer to not convey him this information. And Rishabh would sooner cut out his kidney with a hexsaw than give his brother the satisfaction.
But he's tempted. So very much. And it's this thought that prevents him from doing something embarrassing like search all the rooms of the mansion for one glimpse of her. His belief that her absence from his life would cure him of his stupid infatuation seems laughable now. One meeting was all it took for him to relapse like a recovering addict after one sniff of cocaine.
Mehra bears the burnt of his foul mood. Rishabh's tolerance of ineptitude is negligible as it is and today, he has been verbally eviscerating his assistant for the smallest of errors. He knows it's unfair but he's beyond caring. As the afternoon approaches, Mehra lets his phone ring for longer durations before answering with a hello so heavy with dread that the emotion radiates from Rishabh's cellular device.
When lunch is announced, he doesn't tarry. And if he walks in a slightly faster pace, it's because he's really hungry.
The sight of Prerna in a lilac salwar suit with a beatific smile on her face as she listens to an anecdote Laksh is sharing, is totally worth the knowing look that Shiv shoots at him as he enters the room.
*
Earlier in the morning, Prerna had stood next to Shiv in the foyer as he bestowed the departing houseguests with goodbye handshakes and kisses. And although he was all smiles and laughter, his jaw was ticking. In the two months of her employment she had learnt to recognise that as a signal that he was publicly pleased while being privately pissed.
"Good riddance," he muttered as the door closed after the last couple. "Seemed to go on and on and on."
"Why do you invite them if you don't like them?"
Shiv turned to give her a look. "Miss Sharma, can we really afford to associate with only the people we genuinely like?"
The half dozen people sitting in comfortable furnitures around him now seem to be among those he genuinely likes. Between last night and this afternoon, she has become a part of this set. Although she thinks of herself as an interloper, entertained because of her former association with Mr. Bajaj.
Mr. Bajaj.
From her vantage point of the armchair by the window, she can only see the top of his head. Which is fortunate because she really doesn't want to see his face. With her anger so fresh, she's afraid she'll embark on a rant that won't stop until his ears fall off, at the smallest provocation.
"Prerna..." Her name catches her attention.
"Yes?"
"You're distracted," Anurag's voice fills her ear. Prerna is relieved that he doesn't say the words as an accusation. There has been too much bitterness between them lately.
Which is the chief reason why she decides against telling him about Mr. Bajaj's presence in the mansion. She really doesn't want to hear another lecture meant to dissuade her from continuing her job. Or worse yet, to cause him to come to Mussoorie. She doesn't think him incapable of behaving like a total ass, not after his antics during the initial months of her marriage to Mr. Bajaj. So she squashes the little guilt that she's feeling. Instead she says, "It's just that... I was thinking about work."
She can instantly feel the air cooling between them and regrets mentioning her work at all. Curling the end of her dupatta around her fingers, she waits for a reply.
The silence stretches for a few moments. Then he says "Oh."
Both are bad signs.
She scrambles for a topic that wouldn't turn their conversation into a quarrel but comes up with nothing. When had talking to Anurag become difficult? Since when did she have to choose the words that's most unlikely to cause offence?
"How are you finding Mussoorie?" he finally asks.
For the first time since the start of the phonecall, Prerna's lips stretch into a smile. Notwithstanding the presence of her arrogant ex-husband, she's finding the town incredibly beautiful. It's topsy-turvy roads, the tufts of clouds clinging to the hills, the autumn kissed leaves of the trees and the brilliant blue sky stretching above them is too picturesque to put in words by someone as unskilled as her. "Just as Ruskin Bond described. Mussoorie in Autumn is soul-transforming."
"You and your books."
Prerna can visualise his lips curled in amusement and her own smile turns into a grin. "You know, Shiv said we can go meet him on Monday. Ruskin Bond lives here with his family. I wish I had carried my copy of The Blue Umbrella. I could've gotten an autograph."
"I could have it sent to you."
"No, no. Don't trouble yourself." She continues after a pause. "How are things in Kolkata?"
"Oh, you don't want to know."
The reply comes in a neutral tone. Too neutral, infact. Prerna can't decide if he intends them to be a refusal to speak further about it or as a reminder of her earlier disinterest. She knows which option is the most likely though.
"Anurag, I needed to come here. And what would I have done in Kolkata anyway? Hold your hand and murmur consolations. Pat Nivi Di's back?"
"Your presence here would've shown you actually cared. We're going to be married soon. My family is going to be your family. You should have stood by us."
"I care, okay? I care about our family. But I've other responsibilities too. I couldn't have said no. It's just been two months since I joined," she says in a furious whisper, mindful of not drawing anyone's attention.
"Prerna, why don't you think about working in Basu Publications?"
She rises to her feet and walks to the window. Outside, red and orange dahlias, celosias, pansys and other autumnal flowers are dancing happily, in contrast to her mood.
"We've discussed this. I want a job on my own merit not some--"
"Really, Prerna? Do the math. You've not even graduated. You think it was merit that got you hired--"
She doesn't wait for him to complete the sentence before she hangs up.
The problem with people who know one as well as Anurag knows her is that they also know where it hurts the most. Anurag's insinuation is completely off the mark, of course. The idea that Shiv habours a romantic interest for her, especially after the revelation of last night is absolutely absurd. Last night's revelation has however given birth to a new possibility. All her insecurities that she had so desperately tried to lay rest to all night, rear their ugly heads up. She can scream and sob right now. Pour out her frustrations and confusion.
"Prerna?"
He must have a radar to alert him about her vulnerability. Or like any successful predator, he can smell her distress like a lingering perfume in the air. But she's not in the mood to play the part of his prey. She bites out her own question. "What?"
*
Whichever demon that had possessed him to approach her has deserted him now and Rishabh finds himself considering his next words.
Part of him-- the former husband in him wants to ask what's bothering her and then proceed to obliterate those problems for her. The rest of him-- the sensible, selfish part of him wants to leave her to her own company with a meaningless greeting. He does neither. His silence causes her to turn to face him. Caught under the force of her caramel eyes, he forgets whatever sentence he had been framing in his head.
"Come to confess about other hidden relatives? A grandparent or two, perhaps?"
The chuckle escapes his lips without any warning. "Just the brother."
Her glare doesn't soften. Infact, it intensifies. So Rishabh chooses to make his next statement a comment about the weather. It is after all the topic the Brits have insisted is safe for conversation, even between enemies. Prerna's gaze returns to the window, taking in the garden and the sun drenched expansive lawn that stretches out for almost a mile.
"It's beautiful."
Her eyes are twin pools of trembling wonder and vulnerability, drawing him in, changing the tempo of his heart and the rythmn of his breathing. The hush of the thoughts raging in his mind is equal parts intoxicating and sobering. In moments like these, he doesn't quite know what to do. To turn away or never let her out of his sight.
"It's nothing." Nothing compared to the woman standing in front of him.
"You're an incurable cynic, aren't you?"
He smiles. "I only meant that the best view of the estate is from the east wing."
"Alright then. Lead the way." Her head is angled in a way that he knows screams determination.
He keeps his voice as impassive as possible as he says, "The east wing is where the family's bedrooms are."
*
Did she just ask him to take her to his bedroom?
Prerna feels a sudden flush rising up her neck. The air in the room feels colder so she wraps her arms around herself. When had the others left? Why are they the only two people in the room?
"Okay," he says decisively and walks away from her. When she doesn't follow, he turns back to look at her with an eyebrow raised in challenge. "Come on."
I'll never touch you with a wrong intention.
The words spoken to her so long ago, in a different continent and under different circumstances comes back to her now and Prerna wonders what the reason for her hesitation is. She trusts him. Completely. Always had. Casting her thoughts aside, she follows him.
The Randhawa Mansion is an L-shaped paragon of Victorian architecture that sits on the top of a small hill, surrounded by 800 acres of rolling green fields and battalions of tall oaks, elms and pines on two sides. There are lakes and streams too. The mansion itself is made of grey stones. Ivy covers its front, softening its harsh angles. The east wing forms the base of the L. As they climb the stairs leading to the first floor, Mr. Bajaj launches into a commentary about the artwork hanging on the walls, peppering it with witty observations to keep her entertained during their walk.
At long last, he stops infront of an ebony door and gestures with his hand. "This is me."
"This part of the house seems different," Prerna says. The wood work that forms the entire interior of the rest of the mansion is absent. Instead, the decor is a curious blend of traditional and modern elements.
The corner of his mouth lifts up. "Yes. Shiv torched this part of the house and had it renovated."
He throws the door open but Prerna circles his arm with her hand to prevent him from going inside. He looks at her with dark, fathomless eyes.
"When you say torch, do you actually mean he set the house on fire?"
"In a manner. He was having a bad day. More on that another time, though."
"No." If she is working under a mad man with a penchant for burning things in a fit of anger, she'll want to hear all about it right now, thank you very much. It isn't too late. She can always go to work for Basu Publications. "Tell me."
"I don't know everything. He never talks of it, of course." He begins, his tone conspiratorial. Prerna automatically draws closer to him. "It was a decade or so ago. Shiv used to complain about noises and sounds of a girl crying. No one else heard those noises. You know him, Prerna. Has no patience for illogical things, that man. But he claimed the sounds were real and were driving him crazy. So one night the staff woke up to the east wing of the house on fire. They found him standing outside, in the lawn watching the roaring flames with satisfaction. 'Her body is gone. She can finally rest.' He kept on muttering those exact words. His grandfather sent him to London for therapy after that."
Prerna feels her mouth drop open in a perfect o. There are a million questions that she wants to ask. But she can barely hear her own thoughts over the thudding of her heart. Her eyes lock with his. The amusement lurking in their depths makes her snap her mouth close. Mr. Bajaj lets out a chuckle at the expression on her face.
"You were having me on." Her eyes narrow in accusation.
His lips curve into the smug smile that he seems to have patented. "And you believed me."
Prerna fights the sudden smile that threatens to stretch her own lips. "Of course. Most of your family are raving lunatics. I can personally attest to the fact that your Masi wanted to set me on fire on multiple occasions. And you're not the most sane person out there."
He uses her own grip on his arm to pull her through the doorway. "That speech seems to have been for soothing your own ruffled feathers than anything else. There's no shame in admitting the truth however. You're gullible. You'd believe there are goblins and ghouls out there, along with ghosts if someone weaved an interesting enough tale. But hush now."
His bedroom here is a complete contrast to his bedroom in Bajaj Mansion. The blue and cream colour scheme that projected effortless decadence is substituted by darker colours. A dark brown carpet covers the entire length of the floor. The furniture is made of ebony and is simplistic in design. The only thing that dominates the room is the king size bed in the centre, made of the same ebony wood. The sheets are a pristine white with two pillows at its head and a comforter of black wool folded neatly. The minimalist decor however compliments the grand view the room affords.
One of the walls is entirely made of glass and overlooks the glittering, blue water of a decent sized lake.
Prerna moves closer, until her palms are pressed against the glass.
"The view is best in the wee hours, when the sun has barely begun his ascent and the fog clings to the surface of the water."
His voice is velvety and closer to her. So close that if she turns around, she'll be in his arms. She takes a shaky breath to ease the hammering of her heart but only succeeds in taking a lungful of oak moss and cedar, with a subtle hint of pine and something that's only him. It goes straight to the head, the fragrance. He smells like the woods in the distance. Like Autumn.
The thoughts his words provoke are a different sort of torture. She imagines waking up in this room at the hour when the sky has only just lightened, listening to the birds chirping and getting ready for a busy day, watching the misty lake while being huddled in the dark comforter and breathing in his scent. The image sets all the nerves in her body on fire.
"Prerna, the weather is too good to not go out for a walk. Will you join me?"
Saying no to him is impossible when he is looking at her with such warmth. His smile displays the deep dimples under his cheekbones. His smile is enchanting. Infectious.
She nods.
TBC.
Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi 2
Cricket
