This story was inspired from show called Scandal as the title says, a bit political genre. Those who have not watched it, you should check out season 1 atleast, I live for heart pounding fast drama where several stories run at once. Coming to this story, it's gotten to a point where it feels I am just using character names, their personality traits are no longer there. But then its AU, so eh. This is not even Ariya relationship as such, but I did not know what to write in title.
Character representation may offend you, and that's ok. But don't come from a place of prejudice. It's nearing 2019, please grow up from discrimination.
PS- I made Riya's name Ariyana. Just ainvayi, I like the name. As always, it's incomplete, posted everything at once.
Chotu knows Miss Ariyana Mukherjee back from the day of campaign.
Raghu sir was a force to be reckon with, always running from one corner of country to another, at the same time keeping update on what's going on inside party and how much Press knew. Also the timely meetings with Mr. Suryakant Rawte, who would become the PM later. He was the brain and muscle behind the campaign. The heart attack came at the peak of campaign - UP no less. Rawte saab was giving interview sitting inside a farmer's house, flashes of camera blinding everyone and room reveberating with non stop questions from reporters. Behind the house, Raghu sir collapsed on Chotu and the situation nearly went out of their hands.
Later he would be grumbling lying in ICU ward in Mumbai's best Nursing home, Rawte saab would be pacing back and forth as he rubbed temple and sipped whiskey simulteneously. Party members would be confused what to do and where to go. Sensing the campaign may entirely collapse, Raghu sir would make the ward his office- 24/7 on phone, shouting at his assistants to take notes, call him, do that. Chotu himself has been in that ward for so long that days and nights were starting to blur.
When he was discharged (more like authority was fed up with his attitude and forced to let him go) he didn't come alone. An early twenty-ish light skinned petite girl entered with him, steps confident, eyes taking over everything. An assistant, Raghu sir would introduce everyone. Just Ri, she would insist.
The first thing she would do is to remember each of their names. Total two hundred and thirty one names of males and females. Even of the kids who would serve them tea and snacks.
Later Chotu would almost always find himself in her circle. To think of it, wherever she went a circle would form. She draws people in a way which he didn't think was possible for a woman. Politics is a tough place, more so when it's backstage. Soon it was understood in the party that she was not someone to be taken lightly, not cause she comes as a recommendation from Raghu sir. She knows what she is doing. How she does some of the things Chotu would never know (opposition leader giving them grief one day and stepping down from candidature the next day?) but he knows this- she handles things. And she is good in that. Right or wrong, good way or bad way- they are not in a position to ask those questions.
When Mr. Rawte won and threw the stuff a party Chotu was halfway across the town and sitting inside a dark cheap bar, with Ri, the curly haired IT guy who did some works during campaign, the anglo Indian old man who was around her (Justin Coelho), the ever broody Karan who used to keep an eye on press, and Simran, who's pretty sure soon to be PA of Mr. Rawte. As they all clicked their glasses and took sip, Chotu realized somewhere along the way he made it to her inner circle. How or why, doesn't matter. They don't question things in their line. But he did know one day he needed to do something in return. That's how things work, don't they? Favors, leverage.
But days went by, months and then years, and no such demands came. Chotu was starting to think maybe this one relationship in his life doesn't demand any such things. Life was good for him- PMO is hectic and that's exactly how he likes it. His wife nags, but he has learnt how to zone her out. Some days he wonder what's she doing, then shakes his head and goes back to work. So much to do- an entire country to run! Does it make him an asshole? Sure, but the job is worth it. He don't see Ri much, none from her circle actually. Yale returned Research analyst like her don't sit by idly, they had jobs reserved way before they even finish studies. But she left that halfway, joined the campaign, then went back to finish it and now completely vanished. Chotu don't get her- the Desai Memorial High School student in him can't comprehend her behavior.
Then one fine afternoon his career was over. A blind in a news paper which nobody reads, but very conveniently stated a prominent PMO stuff is in an extra marrital affair with another man. He had no idea someone even suspected him, much lesser than how they got the whiff of the affair. From the look of office, people were trying to decode the three lines and that should make him relieved but he didn't.
He decided to take a lunch break that day and went back to that cheap dark bar halfway across the town. At first glance he didn't recognize her, she looks so thin! Bags under her eyes, and drinking in the afternoon, since when this was the routine for her?
"Patil saab." She addressed him with a small salute, rolling eyes at his somewhat disgusted expression, "I am sober, despite this." Gesturing at her attire. He concealed plenty of questions and sat down beside her, contemplated how to say this.
"I know about the blind." She would start, her voice sympathetic. Initially he would be shocked (it's not like his life story was tattoed across his forehead!) but more so at the fact that-
"You also read that news paper?!"
"I don't read. Did that enough back in Versity. That's why I have people who will give me news. Or watch news. Good thing I didn't have to see you on TV yet."
"That paper doesn't even have a ranking in top 10! Not even ten thousand people in the whole state reads it, forget the whole country."
"This is their shot to fame."
"They didn't give a name."
"That's probably cause they don't have a name." She finished whole glass in a gulp, "PMO was enough for them. Also they don't have resources to find out who's it." At his hopeful feature she shook head, "Don't look like that. Now they are starting to grab eyeballs. By next week the entire media would be onto you, every staff under intense scrutiny. Then someone from Admin would give an implicit order to flush out the potential candidates. After it it's a cat and mouse game as to who decodes the blind first. In middle of it PMO won't do any work cause they would be too busy talking about a person's se*ual orientation in 2015. And it will be a male."
"Why not female?"
"This is India, women don't have extra marrital affair here. Also, Gay lovers sounds more exciting that lesbian." She would squint eyes, "But you probably have thought about it all on your way down here. So why exactly you are here for?"
"Can you shut it down?"
She would make a face and all his hopes would bite the dust, "If it was a whisper I would have probably shut it down. Even if it was about the hit the press. Once it's out there? Nope. An official statement might stop it, but once it's out there it's there forever. PMO would only issue a statement when they have a culprit and they have readied themseleves to terminate him."
Chotu exhaled a long breath, then started to rub his face, "Maybe I need a drink too."
After a while he felt a touch on his hand, "You need to go back and do your job. When the day is over you need to decide."
"Giving resignation and waiting for termination." He spoke after her.
"There is a third option too." He would look up in surprise, "Finding someone else who can take the fall. Oh don't look so shocked. This is the ultimate way to bury something once and for all."
"I . . . " Didn't even think about it, he wanted to say. Words died in his throat but a pat on his hand said she understood him.
"Now you know. So pick a side."
Raghu sir was promoted to the Governor of Rajasthan (good tactic since their next target is that) and so his cabin was busier than usual. People lobbying and sucking upto him so that they are given meatier roles after he leaves. None of them have that capability to fill his entire shoes and even sir knows that. One may even say he is not too happy, but when Rawte saab says something, you do without question.
Three days later Chotu walked into his room, explained himself and handed over the resignation letter citing health issues. Sir called PR immediately to issue an official statement to shut down 'this ridiculous nonsense'. After he was finished he would look at Chotu straight in the eye and he was not sure if he was expecting him to be ashamed or apologetic. After a couple of intense minutes Sir sighed.
"Who is he?"
Chotu was not sure if he should answer that, but what else he had to lose? "A professor."
"How do you know each other?"
"Through common friends."
"You do know there is no . . . " Sir would let it trail off, unsure how to phrase it but he would pick it up. Chotu is good at reading silence.
"Future? Of course." He would let out a snort. Sir would mimick it, shake his hand and say all the best before he walks out.
He would meet Ri that weekend in the same place. This time he would ask questions, cause he's bored and needed something else to occupy his mind with.
"A casual fling went wrong." She would answer, "Also, Business sucks. Nobody ever mentioned that. Independent life and freedom, my foot."
"What business you trying to set up?"
"Crisis management." She would signal for another drink before answering a bit clearly, "Me, K, Just, Shree. Sim would provide clients cause she knows a lot of gossip. Also I know people and . . . yeah. We know a lot of people who will do gigantic size of mistakes. We would snoop in and erase everything."
"The army of cleaning up."
"Army." She would ponder on it and smile slowly, "I like it. Nice name." Then it would vanish, "We getting clients. But we need office. How we are supposed to work without an office and who from us looks like house hunting types?"
"I can do it." Chotu would shrug, "Being jobless and all."
"Then do." She would shrug.
Since Ri said money is not an issue cause they get paid a lot Chotu went on full five star quality. They found one very close to PMO and very 'hot shot' place (Simran's words don't belong to vocabulary), brought furnitures and two recliners, a lot of computer things and small things and big things whose name Chotu don't even know, and he doubted anyone apart from Shree knew. Maybe except Karan. He looks and feels like the dangerous one. They started to work and Simran one day burst inside with new ID cards for them with a stylish logo under which 'M and armoury' was written, all proud and happy. Clients started to pour in and Chotu realized those two recliners were exclusively for Ri and Karan, and one day he realized, two months after he left a high profile job in PMO and was making coffee with extra milk that he never left.
Not that anyone minding him. He don't go out with them and do whatever they are good at, more like an in house secretary. Arranging meetings, passing messages, keeping up the supplies of coffee and snacks pouring in and making sure these people don't stave themselves to death. And push them to go home, or sleep whatever the situation demands. Sounds like a nanny, but it suits him just fine.
Later in the night he goes to Ri's cabin with a mug of coffee (black, no sugar, boiling temperature) and daily reminder of going home. Not that she goes, not that he stops. She gives him barely there smile, put both feet up in the table and leans behind chair so much that she's almost lying in it. For no reason at all he started to give silent treatment and she suddenly blinked at him.
"You not here to quit, are you?"
"Why am I here?"
"I will pay. How much do you need?" She started to sit straight, but stops when he asks, "What should I do here?"
"Whatever you did till now. If you want to come out you can. We need someone to scare people."
It's been a while he had to hear that taunt from someone, "Gee, thanks."
"That's a compliment." She gave a sugary sweet smile, groaning at the sound of her bones cracking, "Why you here? Go home, need to keep up appearences."
He looks away at that, not that his wife missing him. He don't even remember the last time he saw her, what she's doing anyway . . .
Suddenly something clicked back in his head and he froze, the next moment head snapping at her. She looked at him with cautious eyes, but said nothing.
"That blind?" He egged her on but she didn't take the bait. He chose his words before voicing it out, cause that notion is insane, "Do you know who. . .?"
"Of course."
"Who?"
She sits up straight and keeps down the now empty mug, "Come on, you are better than that."
He's still in disbelieve, trying to wrap his head around the fact. She walks to a small drawer, the opening and closing of the wood making a distant echo in his head. The next moment two sets of envelope was thrown on the table.
"She's filing for divorce. After it's over you won't even have a roof over your head. Good lawyer, Altaf. A dick, but good. Always out for money, which is the point of divorce." She's all matter of fact, and it hit Chotu in that moment that he has become one of them. A client. In need of help, cause he does. He had no idea what was going around him, so used to bury his head in sand and trying to keep up pretense that everything is going right.
"How long have you been known?" He ran a hand over his face. From the corner of his eyes he saw her shrugging.
"That she leaked it? Since ages."
"And you didn't tell me?" He stood up, glaring at her. How dare she dictate his life? This is insane! Was this the reason she let him in, let him keep coming here? The silent staring contest went on forever and he was about to explode more when she decided to speak up.
"You seem to like not knowing things just fine." Her words cut deeper than he could presume, "What kind of a moron marries a girl despite loving another man? Then goes on to keep in touch with the said lover? Ignores her? She went to press and now filing for divorce, if it was me I would have chopped you into pieces and throw it in ocean. She's letting you off very easily." Taking a deep breath she softened her tone, "I didn't want you to know. Betrayal hurts, though sometimes it's a two way street."
"I . . . I never want to hurt her."
"You should tell her that, though I am not sure if she cares." She was all business like, "Anyways, K suspects there's a guy involved who's backing her up. Altaf don't really takes small time cases, someone must have recommended her. We trying to find out, hopefully we will know before you get the notice."
"What would we do with the information?" It's after the words were out he realized it- We not I. Despite what she thinks of the situation she's on his side. Why, he still do not know.
"Blackmail, of course." She walked back to her chair, her hands flying everywhere, "She had her time now it's ours. An NDA and some adjustments in allimony, and it should help her just fine. She may not have anything on you, but we will have a lot of dirt on her. We can even file divorce case on the charge of extra marital affair, unless you want to continue this charade?"
He winced at the rough picture, "I don't really think that's necessary."
"Oh, trust me." She gave a faint smile, "It is."
Sim having too much fun that the situation requires and except Chotu's ocassional wincing no one really gave a reaction about the situation. Maybe cause they already know everything (minus the affair part of course), or maybe their own life is crazier than this. K is stoic as usual as he continued to stalk his soon-to-be ex wife and clicked lots of pictures, Shree analyzed them with such focus as if he's doing PhD in IT all over again, Justin trying to find dirt by inquiring around (this guy wanted to be professional detective and it shows) and Ri supervising everything.
The whole situation is ridiculous and he should pity himself, but he is just looking at them in awe and fear. So this is what his colleagues actually do. This is what drives them! The urge to fix something broken, sounds like the ideal job. The Army of cleaning up, like he had said once. Sometimes he stays back with the whole night- he may not actively participate but he can observe. Sometimes Ri kicks him out, Justin sweetly coaxes him to leave, K directly threatens him to leave or else he won't work. He sometimes goes home just to feel something- anger at his wife's betrayal (talk about hypocrisy!), to feel sorry at this entire mess, to catch her lying, or worse, with that man under his own roof. For a full blown shouting match- only to realize she is not here. A message would be in his phone, that she left for her Mother's house. The cruel part of him chides- maybe she's with him- and once again he feels nothing but a defeated sigh.
One fine day at 4 am he gets an urgent phone call from Armoury and he rushes there. He can barley sit down as he rubbed eyes due to lack of sleep and these people are all high of adrenaline rush, jumping around and talking in super sonic speed. It's all in the coffee, he thinks just as Justin thrusted a cup of tea in front of him (one tea spoon sugar, semi hot, beautiful fragrance) and thinks he needs to change beverage if he wants to catch up to them.
"We found him." K shoots at him before he along with other forms a group around Shree. Tea forgotten, Chotu stands up and join them, heart thumping in chest.
Only to be met with a man's backside. Confused, he looks at everyone, when Ri decided to be generous.
"The picture is not clear, but his reflection can be seen here." She points at a corner of pic. It was taken in a deserted parking lot (this is like a real life thriller novel) and his reflection should be on the mirror of one of the car judging by their excitement. Or maybe he just came here in vain leaving his sleep. He was contemplating to start pacing up and down when Shree made a fist pump in air and excitedly pointed at something.
The picture is not clear yet at the same time, "Is it me or he looks really familiar?" K would say in his booming voice, a hint of skepticism. Sim would recognize him, he thought in head, that girl is a walking talking machine of human face recognition. . .
"Really?" His internal musing would be broken due to Ri's sneery tone, "You don't remember him Karan? Cause you were there with me when we first met him." With a snort she moved away, "The biggest man wh*re in town, and your wife had to fall under his trap? It's almost disappointing."
"Who is he?" Chotu would ask, beside him Justin would lean so down that his entire face would hide the computer screen. K would frown at her, then it would vanish, his face compltely blank.
"So it was his plan all along? I thought he lacks the brain."
"It's not only his face that he inherited, from the look of it."
"Hey!" Fed up with the suspense Chotu would yell at them, "Care to share with the class? Who is he?"
"Arjun Rawte. Son of Suryakant Rawte." Ignroing his gasp and Justin's 'Holy Mother of . . ' Ri would continue, "Congrats, your rival is PM's son."
"How cool is that she's dating him?" Sim started cooing as soon as she strolled inside. This girl may work in PMO but her fingers are in every pies, Chotu don't even bother knowing how or why. Like Ri once said they knows a lot of people. She gave him a salacious look and slipped beside Karan's chair, their legs pressed together. That guy is so engrossed in his work that he won't probably realize if earthquake suddenly starts to happen. Some people can be really thick despite having high IQ. Quite the pair, he thought to himself wearily. (Not to forget her idea of cool and his . . . well what the the heck is cool?)
After they had all necessary proofs (Some more stalking and really HQ pics, he was there in the car along with Sim, K and Ri, and that's a situation he would avoid to the end of life and beyond, solid gossip from high and mighty of NCR, legal papers copied discreetly from Altaf's office and his made exclusively by some friend of Justin's) one fine morning they decided to grace his house. He wanted to slip out, but his self loathing made him finally man up and confront no matter how ugly it would turn out. His wife was a scandalous shade of red by the time Ri and Aisha, his lawyer, collectively tore her down and Chotu got to give it to her, not once she looked at him in anger or betrayal. Probably she should. It started because of him. When they finished there was a pin drop silence in the room and he breathed so quietly as to not spook anything.
Composing herself, she cleared her throat a couple of times before starting, "I never intended to bring this to court."
"Of course not. You just wanted to take everything from him with the help of your boyfriend." Ri was always harsh with clients, more so with their antagonist. From the corner of his eye he gave her a look to which she softened a bit, "You could not find anyone but him? Do you even have any idea of the implication?"
"I love him." She spoke firmly, though a hint of panic finally crept in, "Maybe I should call my lawyer for further negotiations, and him too." She gave him a look to which he didn't react. He didn't have that right anymore. The eyeroll that came from Justin fooled none as to what would happen next. Altaf did come, but Mr. Rawte didn't, and the only person who was delusional enough to believe he would was his . . . ex-wife. Yes, ex-wife. He gave away everything except a little savings and his one bedroom old apartment, and his wife looked shocked. Though last minute material things don't earn forgiveness, he did hope after everything she would forgive him for his cowardice and silence.
After Justin left with Aisha to put these papers in court, Ri prepared herself to leave but judging by the look on her face it didn't seem like she's going to head towards armoury. He insisted on coming with her to which she sighed.
"Not like there's any love lost, but it would burn."
"I deserve it. Also I want to see him." His face, not backside. He drove them to PM residence and as soon as she got down guards practically ran towards her with temporary pass, giving no attention to him, and of course she knew them by name, even their wives and kids and their age and their location-occupation-hobbies. He was so busy mourning his lack of marriage during the drive that it completely slipped his mind as to why they are here. What exactly they can say to Mr. Rawte? If Ri came here to gave lecture to that 'Man wh*re' what purpose it would serve? Or she knows him and came to warn about a potential gossip scandal? Didn't they make Sakshi sign an NDA?
They sat for a couple of minutes and then sound of footsteps come. He had spent enough time burying behind paper works in campaign and PMO that he can predict who's arriving just by the sound of their foosteps- heavy shoes or light ones, boots or slippers, heels or flats, fast or slow, clumsy or purposeful, steady. This one was someone important, and he thinks it belongs to Mr. Arjun Rawte.
"Ariyana." A warm husky voice with a pinch of drama greeted them. With a deep breath he looked up, and he doesn't know what he was hoping for when he finally see the person but it didn't feel anything. Very detached, very objective like. Maybe cause he was never that attached to his wife and by default same reaction is extended to whomever she was sleeping with. Ri gave a mocking smirk as she stood up, brushing away dirt from her dress.
"Nobody calls me that."
"Ri." He amended, tilting head to a side, "I am surprised, what's it been, 3 years?" At her nod he smiled, "What brings you here? What you are doing here these days? Ah, where are my manners? Sit sit, should I order your coffee?" She barely opened her mouth when he raised a finger and made a show of thinking, "Black, no sugar and scorching hot, right?" She gave a nod and he called a maid. Chotu can see the appeal in him which draws women in. If he didn't know about his reputation of regular affairs he may also admire his courteous manners, the polite way of talking even to someone subordinate, his eyes which don't roam around, look right at you. Judging by the look Ri threw at him she also didn't buy the act.
When the coffee arrived (and water for him, apparenly in front of a woman this guy forgets everything else) he leaned back in his seat, staring at her with a small smile. If that was not weird enough, Ri stared right back at him while sipping the coffee. As if some weird contest was going on, and Chotu nearly wanted to leave when God finally had mercy on him and Arjun Rawte finally broke the eye contact, shaking his head with a smile.
"So, what brings you here?"
Putting down the mug, Ri straightened her spine before talking (and judging by the way Mr. Rawte become serious it seemed like he also knew this was going to be a long statement from her side), "I have a business, which I am sure you know about. M and Army, which is very very near to your Father's working place. I manage crisis, and many people in your circle has taken my help. The reason I am telling you is to remind you of my reputation and the length I go for my work. And this is the reason I am here, work. Him," Chotu nearly jumped at the finger pointed at him, "Mr. Patil, is my client and a dear friend. You had an affair with his wife, Sakshi, in case memory failed you?" Rawte let out a huff at that, "Not only that, you helped her to destroy my client's reputation and take everything he held dear in a long dragging divorce case. Before coming here we went to her, and you didn't pick up her calls. Pretty sure you are done with her? Anyways, it's settled between them. I am here so that," She slammed an envelope on the tea table, "you sign this NDA, which states you will never open your mouth about this whole affair. It protects the three of you, and this whole thing will be behind you. Of course, I don't need to say if you don't do I will leak this, which will of course hurt your future political career and shame your PM Dad."
After a few beats of silence, Rawte smirked at her, "Can I defend myself? I just gave her Altaf's number, rest whatever they did not my fault. Also, if you leak anything you do realize I have the power to destroy you."
"Hum to dubenge sanam, tum ko bhi le dubenge." She hummed in a poetic manner, then gave him a glare, "Also, Nobody cares. It's over, so sign this." He shook his head, took the pen she offered and signed without even reading it. If the speech was shocking, this was nothing compared to that. Who in their position signs anything without reading?
"Only this woman," Rawte pointed at her with pen while talking to him, "can walk in here like she owns it, boss me around and make me sign an NDA. By the way," he looked up, "should I apologize about the affair? She told me it was over between you two way before I came along."
Ri rolled her eyes beside him, "You done?"
"Can you lighten up a little? Yes, I am done." He handed over the letter and pen, which she thoroughly checked and then put inside her purse, "What, that's all? Come on, talk to me about your job."
"Na, don't want to hold your fountain of youth." She walked away without waiting for Chotu or Rawte. Before leaving he asked this-
"Did you love her?" In the grand scheme of things it should not matter. He never cared for her, she's free and so is he. Yet it did for him.
"No. It was a fling. Yes, I am aware it makes me an asshole, but truth is always better. And Bitter." With a smirk, Arjun Rawte walked away from him.
Outside, Ri lit up a cigarette (one disgusting habit and though the whole 2 KM area is no smoking zone) and turned to him, "So, when do we meet your partner?"
Over the course of weeks life went back as smoothly as it could, but tension free. Hectic hours were there, and now even he could not dictate others to go home early cause he went out with them and boy, did he see some crazy things! He heard these things from others, read in pg3 and magazines. But seeing it? Insane. One thing was clear, money didn't make these people's lives easier, but did mess them up big time. Multiple partners, kinky fantasies, parties, alcohol, drugs, and when all these mixed some stupid things bound to happen. Sometimes the things they did were all bordered on illegal, and nobody batted an eyelash cause long back they have crossed that particular laxman rekha. Thinking about that now would be hypocritical.
One thing that did change during this period was his location. His old one bedroom flat which was his first property bought by his own money was sold off, and he moved in to a place very close to armoury. Not cause he loves his job and wanted to be there asap every morning (which he does), but cause there is no nosy neighbours there (or rather, they have more colorful life than his) so nobody to notice who he brought home. Ali used to come for weekends, soon he quit job back in Hydrabad and took one here in a private versity. The day he moved in Chotu gave a long hug to an awkward and clueless K, who found the place in first place and in his robotic voice told him to take it. He and Justin had a marathon drinking session in celebration, place of course was that dark cheap bar. It's a favorite of them. One fine afternoon during a hectic case (MP caught in a s*x scandal in- wait for it- Bangkok) Ali shyly dropped by and said everyone Hi, his hand waving too much, and he felt such a rush of affection for this man that he could not voice it out. Team took him in, like they did to him- Sim started asking about his colleagues and let out one juicy gossips after other (his eyes were getting big behind glasses with each passing comment), K shook his hand and gave a speech (don't hurt each other and don't make him late for here), Shree picked up on his phone and proceeded to give a long lecture about technology, which thankfully, he took it with fondness, Justin offered his spare bedroom in case they had a 'lover's tiff', and Ri asked about his last three generations and their occupations and hobbies through sweet talk and conversation. It would be only a week later that Ali realized the interrogation tactic over breakfast, making Chotu laugh out loud.
And that would be the same morning his ex-wife would bang on his door, her chin woobling with barely suppressed tears, and then jump in his arms. That he was shocked would be an understatement, more so at the picture of his ex wife and lover under same roof. And wait, how did she get the address? What does she want? Ali would be torn between to give them room and taking over the situation cause he's useless, frozen in spot. After she was offered water and asked 'Are you okay?' over a thousand times she answered with a hiccup.
"I am all alone." And then proceeded to lean on Ali to tried to console her.
"So, just to sum it up," Justin would wave his pen around he talked, "your ex-wife who tried to destroy your life, and we helped you to get rid of her, is currently in your house and being consoled by your boyfriend?" He looked around for dramatic effect, "Am I hearing correct?"
"What is wrong with you?!" Sim bellowed through the phone. Who gives her these informations?
"Did she have anything on her? A bag, laptop, mobile phone, bug . . . " K trailed off, and then he and Shree started to talk about how technology is so advanced these days that microscopic things can be used for spying. Head spinning, he turned to look at Ri.
"I don't really think she has an agenda. Also, what she will get now? I no longer work at PMO and we are seperated. My big bad secret is not really a secret."
"But your partner has a normal life, unlike yours. I am not sure she has an agenda or not, but can you risk him?" At his change of expression she continued, "Exactly. Let us dig a bit. Till then why don't you send him here, we will prep him. And suggest a good hotel to her."
Prepping Ali. It just sounded easy in their heads, the execution was not that all good. He tried to remember everything as if he's going to give an exam for 12th and failed spectacularly in front of Sakshi who picked up on it during dinner. She gave him a look, then turned to Chotu and asked him to call his Boss. Boss arrived alone, picked up a pakoda they ordered and hummed as she bit on it, sweetly asked Ali to prepare a plate of dinner for her, and side eyed him to leave them alone. Out in the balcony Ali started biting his nail and he nearly made a hole by pacing continuously. After half an hour they came back, and was shocked to see both were laughing over some joke, dinner was over and they have moved onto to drinks.
"Hey, idiot." Ri addressed him, "Why you didn't mention she used to be a reporter? I would have offered her job a long time ago."
"Huh?"
"I will be your colleague, former husband." The ladies clicked their glasses.
"What is this, dumb and dumber?" Sim rolled eyes.
"I agree, this idea sucks." Justin nodded looking at everyone.
"She doesn't possess any threats," K started and Shree took over, "No bugs, no hearing devices on her. House is clean, no phone calls, no mails, no sms."
"Ri, I agree with them. The whole thing is very . . . " Chotu started but stopped when she looked at him, arching an eyebrow.
"Outrageous? Uncomfortable?" She walked around her table gathering up papers, "Your ex is really something. She went back to her hometown, you know? Her parents disowned her." He winced at that, she didn't deserve it. "Going by evidence it's either she's a bechari left behind by man wh*re boyfriend and parents and with no job, or she has some other motive. It's better if she stays here than stays in your place and mess up Ali's head. Sim," She turned to her, "Start looking for apartment where security is tight. Even if a bird flies past her, I want to know."
That's how Sakshi Anand, former journalist for Mumbai Today and current one for Mtimes joined M and armoury. It took them another few months to completely trust her. At least Chotu thought they all did, until the night of diwali when he gathered his stuffs and was about to leave. K and Ri was having a conversation and his light feet usually make sure people don't notice him. It worked.
"You still want it to continue?"
"Yes."
"We had nothing on her, you sure?" K lowered his voice and Chotu had to lean forward to hear them properly. A chair scrapped and Ri stood up, reaching out for her wine (red, 1984 rothschilde, imported from UK).
"My gut says something is there. I don't have anything to . . . " The liquid twirled around the glass before she emptied it and turned to him, "There has to be a reason."
"She made herself useful."
"I don't doubt her job. It's her motive to come here."
K sighed, "Then I will continue."
He tried to hold on to that suspicion, but it was hard. She was a fiercely dedicated employee, always helping them, and in their fast lives a lot of things gets lost. It also did.
Prime Minister Suryakant Rawte was always in the background in their lives- in the news channel that played 24/7 in the armoury (nobody ever switches them off, it's an unwritten rule), in the debates amongst themselves, in the air of NCR. One of them would always be late thanks to his convoy, and then Shree would launch into a rant about how much his security cost us, or the necessity of blocking traffic for him, or where he must be going then. Sim always curses the old man thanks to his erratic schedule, and he needs his invaluable PA beside him all the time. She enjoys the attention and dependability, but it messes up with her beauty sleep. The only person who actually care about her sleep is Ali, and somehow of all people these two became very close friends. Chotu would be there throughout the evolution of their relationship, and yet it would take him by surprise.
The first call from PMO came one late night in March, all of them had stopped a meltdown of a wealthy businessman whose son decided to commit a DUI while having an escort in car. The special bottle of Rothschilde was opened and all of them were tipsy, jokes and comments flying everywhere. K's phone rang and it was Sim, and either she was in trouble or someone she knew was in trouble. Turned out it was the later, and they set off, Justin grumbling the entire way how he should have changed this shirt which was starting to look dirty. Shree assured with a sympathetic look that he don't smell while Ri snapped at them to keep quiet while she talked and messaged simulteneously in two phones to various insiders to get an idea what was going on. She got nothing, and it made them worried.
The Head of security escorted them personally, their temporary pass hanging as they marched inside. Chotu has never seen this side of PMO, his job and designation didn't allow him to. Now he along with others watched in awe the beautiful interiors for a few minutes before the Head started to get impatient and started briefing them. Turned out it was a matter of national security (He don't believe it these days, the worst that can happen is a scandal), some details of important meetings which was arranged here was leaked and some secret operatives saying they were supposed to be sold to highest bidders abroad. They stopped it, now want the culprit. After the gasps of surprises were over the usual business started. The head and his staffs were ready with every question, yet Ri's face told them she was not satisfied.
The next whole day passed them working with PMO security, RAW, IB, (and who knows what else organizations are out there) co-ordinating with each other and checking each corners of the PMO, which itself was a tough task- four hundred and sixty five rooms, one hundred acres of property, over two thousand employees and many others who keep coming and going. Tempers were started to fly high, more so when they absolutely refused to share what meeting's details were leaked and where they were held, who was present, how long they went on and some other things. After a shouting match Head of security sent a list of suspected people, and by evening nothing came out of it.
Ri slammed a hand over mountain of files, "That's it. Hey! Stop working." She yelled at them and they all stopped immediately and formed a group around her, "This is fu*ked up. Nothing will come out of this. K?"
He shook his head, "Nothing from Sim. It's classified."
"My foot." She raised her voice so that the security outside could hear her, "We can't work like this. We are wasting a Saturday night after this and zero help from the people who actually needs our help." Taking a deep breath, she started to walk toward door, "Come with me."
Which they did, of course, and Chotu found it odd that if she was staging a walk out why not take her cellphones and purses? Turned out they were not walking out but walking in- toward the special room which is Prime Minister's cabin. A verbal alteration started and soon the boys were tackling the guards while she burst inside the room, followed by them. The scene would have been comical to outsiders, but the way Head of security looked at him (Ali would describe his expression 'as if he would pull a Dexter on them and throw their body parts in ocean')was nothing funny. At least Prime Minister was there, which was satisfying and mortifying at the same time. Ri launched into a rant about "moronic clients who dig their own graves by not telling everything to the people who are hired by themseleves, and Sir for now you are being one. We are ready to sign NDA and whatever it's out there but give us a list of everything necessary cause scanning the entire PMO did nothing. At least when we are wasting a weekend let it be worth working for." A pin drop silence started and just when she was about to give up he signalled his head of security with a nod, and he left with the boys.
"Your colleagues will be here I presume?"
"They are trust worthy." She lifted her chin. After a nod he would wordlessly hand over whatever they needed, Sim by her side (the girl looked ready to burst in pride and laughter at the same time) and gave them description of what transpired in a much clear detail than his head of security did. Satisfied, all of them would leave. By the early hours of Monday, they would find out the mole, chase him dramatically in his own house and finally hand him over to RAW. Sim would sneak in a champaign bottle in their workspace and all of them would share, even the head of security and RAW officers. Icing on cake would be PM entering the scene out of nowhere, joining them and launching into a story about the history of this very room.
Ali would listen and comment later that he's closer to the power circle now than he could ever be working in PMO. He would ponder on it for a moment before nodding.
They would do more work for PMO- digging dirt on opposition, background check on potential nominees in various state elections, pep talk about crucial interviews, scanning premises for important meetings, going through tons of files for something that happened two decades back. They would handle it side by side their 'real cases' as Ri would call them- cause Government on their side is good for reputation, client is important for paying bills. And those days (weeks) would be hectic. Sometimes Ali would join, Aisha too until she would be hired as Prime Minister's personal group of lawyers and actively collaborate with them on behalf of PM. Ali liked the small thrills, Aisha was a woman who lived for those. In some other life these two would be sisters- one goes to work, other one lives, breathes and eats work.
They would join Prime Minister's 51st Bday, a special VVIP invitation delivered personally by Sim and her many other subordinates. They would enter his residence as guests, socializing and preening at the attention, at the same time weary since they know what actually goes on under that flash. It was almost awkward with Sakshi (on behalf of Mtimes), Chotu himself with Ali (as his plus one) and a single (what was up with that?) Arjun Rawte in the same room, but Ali was escorted by Justin, Chotu found an old colleague, Sakshi got busy to be part of a circle, and Mr. Rawte kept going from people to people to keep up appearence. When he finally was about to get rid of the nosy colleague who kept asking why he left the job and reached to Ri and K, he heard them talking about Mr. Rawte. Or what K called him- Junior Rawte.
Ri snorted at the nick name, "No woman to keep him occupied. Sad state of affairs."
"Father's birthday, bete ki watt." Chotu spoke dryly and they all shared a hearty laugh. The person looked at him across the room as if sensing the joke, gave a curious look before going back to talking to a Minister from Health. The trio made small talk, and after a while K and Ri talked about when it would be appropriate to leave. Sim came out of nowhere and dragged away K, Ali ushered at him and he went away for partner-ly duties, leaving Ri all alone.
It was around 2 in the morning and Chotu was coming back from restroom, walking past various rooms who are god knows has what usage (Shree would know, but then he's too drunk and on the way to home). He was thinking how to gently break the news to Ali that it was time to leave since he was really enjoying himself back in party when he heard voices. Slowing down, he looked around and saw none, then thought to himself he's hearing voices. But he could not have mistaken the russling - wait, was that clothes? That was unmistakably shattering of glass. What was going on?
Then came the hiss, "Oh no." Ri?" I won't be another one on your list, jackass." Chotu barely saw her royal navy blue dress trailing in the floor as she stomped away as he hid behind a pillar, after a few seconds later Junior Rawte came out of the room. From the look of it she just threw drink on his face and he was wiping it off. When he was done, he walked away slowly, but the most astonishing thing was his smile reflecting in the portraits. Or maybe Chotu was drunk on champaign and seeing things.
He made a promise to himself he would carry this incident in his grave, but next day nearly broke it when he saw Ri. She looked like hell, and it was not because they all left party around 3 and barely got any sleep before coming here sharp at 8. They are used to the schedule. He remembered meeting her when the blind about him came out, she looked that bad. She had zero focus on everything that was going on and when she actually did focus, it was frightening. As if she is physically forcing herself to give her everything in it and nothing but that. A part of him knew it's not Arjun Rawte, she chews people like him regularly and he has not been upgraded to the level that he could affect her. Maybe it's family, where was her family anyway?
Asking K proved to be futile. He blinked at him when he asked about Ri, then stared at the woman in question through the glass seperating her cabin from rest of the office, then went back to the computer mumbling 'Its Nothing.' When Chotu pushed he gave such a scary look as if he killed his cat or something. K is almost always behaves oddly, but at times he's a very different person. Maybe a mild case of split personality, Chotu thought later.
That night when he was leaving pretty sure he noticed a man keeping an eye on them from shadows. The feeling lingered the next morning, afternoon, and late evening. A rare case of early night ocurred and rest of hurried to leave, only him and Ri left in her cabin. She cuddled in her chair with her wine and he contemplated - to ask or not to ask. Then he took a deep breath and dived in.
"Who is he?" The question had taken her by surprise, he could see it. Either she was not hoping him to notice her expression (how can it be? She is not that good of an actress) or she didn't count on him notice this mysterious person hiding in shadows. Her eyes widened, and then something astonishing happened- it filled with tears. But they were as stubborn as the owner, so they didn't flow as they would have if she was another person. She gave a tulmultous smile, shook her head and looked away, her left pinky brushing under her eye in case any drops fell down. He got up, squeezed her shoulder and left the office.
He had to be one hell of a man to affect her. And an asshole to make her cry like that.
_____&&&_____
There's a line among the upper circle of NCR- Ariyana Mukherjee has no lines. It's partially true. When it comes to cases and protecting clients she really doesn't have any boundaries. She will go hell and back to save the day and manage the crisis. But that doesn't mean she's reckless or an all rounder. Sometimes she reject cases cause they are too much, go too far. She clearly has some lines which are not visible to others. She will cross a line for clients, but will never go to grey area willingly.
(This is why it took her by surprise when she saw him once again, after all this time. Seeing is a gross understatement- he broke into her house (no shocker there), waited for her till she came home. She was tired and pissed at Man wh*re Rawte and wanted nothing but to shed this da*n dress and get into bed- only 4 hour to go till it will be 7 and she needed to get up and get ready for armoury- and then she was pressed against the door, caged between hard wood and another hard body, the familiar smell of leather and cigerette and something else (she never recognized what's that), kissed senseless. She was frozen in place and unmoved, and it didn't like it. It nipped and pressed itself harder and growled until it got a reaction, and despite everything inside her she gave him that. A reaction. She opened her mouth and he slipped in his tongue, tasting her like a man possessed. When it got too much- the scent, the weight of his, this pressure, she gave up. But even when she gives up she fights, so she did the same things this time too. She pushed him off with all her strength, sending him backwards, their chest heaving at the shock, the passion, the sudden distance, the overwhelming need to be close and further. All at once. Just like it's always been.)
For a better part of her life she felt like anomaly. She didn't fit in her quiet small locality back in Barasat, could not connect with people around them, their ambitions and dreams and ideals. She chose an unconventional subject to study, ignoring people who said this will take her to nowhere-simply cause she wanted to dig deeper and find out what sort of person she was. Her drive was almost too much, and it bore fruit- the first ever person in her locality to even set foot abroad for study, the first member of her family to do PhD. She left for Yale and never looked back. Till this date she never went back to her city. Her home. Because that was not.
(After his truth came out, after it all came down, after she noticed her own tear stricken broken face standing in front of an emtpy airport bathroom did she realize that- Home is overrated. The one thing that matters is how you live in the moment. The work you do. You can sleep in a bus stop, on a park's bench, on a couch in some office. You can buy a house with five bedrooms and five bathrooms and it will be your home. Person don't become home, you do. And in that moment, wiping tear and snot and ruined make up with tissue papers she found herself- this new person who don't question unnecessary thing. Who accepts herself- this twisted mind that nobody understands. And probably nobody will. And that's okay, nobody needs to. She fixed her make up, got a scorching mug of coffee and sat beside a dishelved man who will be her companion for the next few months. According to the passport, he got a new name- Karan.)
Raghu sir used to be one of those legends in every locality- whom everybody knew, whom everybody talked about as if he's god, but nobody can reach him. She was in such a hurry to leave that it never ocurred to her that a Yale drop out has lesser merit than a Yale pass out. Or none at all. Luck must have existed- this analyst firm was hiring and she went there hoping to secure a job. Suffice to say she didn't get in, and while she was exiting she collided with Raghu sir. Or the convoy, as he used to joke. The first thing he would notice is her address, address her in bengali and then take her for a lunch. Her first impression was this man either had to be a genius or a complete lunatic who takes in strangers and take them to lunch. She must have made sense about her subject when she was ranting, cause almost a month later she got a call from his PA back then. Running an election campaign? From which angle does she look like a politician? Even K was skeptical, too many people, too much noise! But she knew this is exactly what they needed. To calm their minds, to engage themselves. The details are hazy, made in the heat of moment and selfish, one sided, but somewhere along the way she got a reputation- someone fixes thing no matter what. There were times she knew this was wrong, that lines were being crossed- but oh please, nobody plays fair in any area. Much less in this, the dirty canal. The only consolation she had was this- Suryakant Rawte had some good ideas. Probably he can do something good for country. Purely as a clientale perspective, she doesn't have a bone for patriotism.
There were people who hated her, whom envied her, who wanted to see her downfall, who walked by her. And there was Arjun Rawte, the brat who was getting too much without any effort on his side. She could never figure out on what side he stands on- cause she needed to know in what catagory to put into people, whom she should let in and whom she should push to the darkest pit of hell. Some ways he didn't effect her- he was the son of candidate- but she was no foolish to the implication that he was to be the legacy. If things went good there's a chance this very same thing happening in future. And she knew she would be a factor, she has become part of the circle. No matter how far she is there would always be a thread pulling her into it. It can either be the unreadable look in Junior Rawte's eyes hidden behind his infuritaing smirk or this thirst of power she has gotten so young.
Then campaign was over and she took herself out of the equation. Went back, finished her study, came back. The fanaticism for Business came out of nowhere, it bit her hard. Maybe had been the air of NCR, the start ups and success stories. Why to be a slave to others? Why not make something from the scratch? A legacy of her own. Her own rules and ideals in a place.
(She saw him on the last day of her exam. She sat in her dorm for 2 days straight, not speaking, not eating a thing. On the third day she shook herself off and vowed- never again. Stop looking in the shadows, stop living in fear. Stop letting him effect you so much. She got her certificate and left UK, never to return again. The promises remained intact, barring one- it still effected her. Every single time he returned.
And he would return after all these years)
The people around her seemed to grow, a circle of her own. For so long it was only her and K, and it didn't feel like two person. She has been alone for so long, and he was so good at silence that it very well could be her fiction of imagination, her splitting image in mirror and her shadow. She thought herself as many things, but never someone who looks out for equally damaged creatures to rescue them. Shree- from his introvert nature which kept him from reaching heights, Justin- street smart, always smiling, happy normal man who lived for thrill, Sim- who shines brightly, kinda like the Ariyana before she saw too much, Patil- this cage he created for himself and society made him live in- they all came one after other. Justin once told her she 'saved' them, that she gave them the courage. There are days she thinks she did, too arrogant due to a win. Some days she thinks too deep, angry at the injustice of the world, the ugliness of it, and thinks- oh yeah, they are going places- Hell! But one thing never changes, they win. More like she does, by any means possible. And it helps that these people trusts her blindly, and instead of that scaring her it empowers her somehow, making her unstoppable, invincible.
All but Chotu. But he will slowly come around. Even if he doesn't, it's okay. Sometimes she needs someone who can say bitter truths, ask bitter questions. Of course she will lock them out, but she can always bring back them for a quiet night in. Introspection- like Justin says.
("Get out!" Her voice was shaky and small, and he would recoil as if she physically hurt him. And hurting him hurt her too, even though she will stubbornly block that out. He would murmur her name- Ri, he came up with first and somehow the whole world knows her by that- and try to come close but she would raise a hand, pressing herself further to the door. A silent plea- don't hurt me more. I am at the edge, leave me without hurting anymore or else I can't recover. When he would come closer once again with that stubborn look in his eyes (they had that common. They had many things in common) she would whimper, moving away. He won't let her, firmly pressing his lips against her. She would frown when he moves away- not at that the loss of contact, but something he would put inside her fist.
Call me. He would whisper and leave. The room will be dark and silent once again as if nothing happened.)
That Bar on the other side of the city has been a surprising discovery during her one of depression mood- thanks to him, of course. As she sipped cheap drinks during one afternoon she would entertain the idea being one of the victim of tragic, but epic love story. Him being the Love of her life. She would agree with herself when she would see people throwing themselves on each other and feeling nothing of that- the need to drown herself in another willing body, no strings attached, one night of passion. Justin does that all the time, having suffered a heartbreak and since then coping in his own senseless manner, and she don't get it. Her way of coping is different- work, of course. Earlier it was studies, or reading anything and everything she could find. Why duel on what's already been passed?
Then she rolls eyes at her musing and finishes her drink. Shakespeare would die and come back at the twist and turn of her' tragic epic love', she snorts and orders another one.
Chotu keeps a keen eye for several weeks and by then she had forgotten the reason behind his worry, K would hover between asking and intruding too much and one day would, only to her dryly saying 'All is fine'. None from the group would notice. Between their crazy days of semi-illegal day job, expanding business (Now they get calls from other part of India as well) and lack of personal life she would remember nothing but the clients names and phone numbers. The flowers would start to appear sometime during this phase, and one day out of nowhere she would get a call from Man wh*re Rawte.
"Stop sending flowers. My office can't take it."
"Ah, you did notice." He would drawl, and it grates on her nerves- the smugness. "I thought you were too busy."
"Also it smells like sh*t when they starts to dry."
"I can send house cleaning."
She rolls eyes, "I am going to hang up."
"You are so dismissive, you know?" He would sigh, "Alright, come to residence. Baba wants to have a meet."
"Why he didn't send someone official?"
"I volunteered." With that vogue answer Arjun Rawte would hang up. She would spent several seconds thinking about his answer then give up, shrugging. Rich entitled people has whams and she had no business trying to decode them. Her job is to fix the mess they makes.
She was not free until two days later and even then she didn't inform rest of the group, unsure if Junior Rawte was serious or just wasting her time. He was not around, but Prime Minister was. He seemed to learn his lesson from last time they were in same room, cause he spent no time in bullsh*tting and came straight to topic.
"Opposition digging into my educational background." At her expression he sighed, "This is absolutely waste of both of ours time so do what it is you do."
She flipped a few pages of the thick file as she asked, "Should not an official address would stop this?"
"No, cause I don't have it." At her looking up he clarified, "The certificate, proof that I ever went to BHU."
She closed the file and leaned back, keeping eyes straight, "So, did you?"
He didn't reply, his lips curling upwards. She could not decipher that, and then Junior Rawte entered the scene, giving her a Hello and wink behind his back as he greeted his father.
"So, can you shut down this nonsense?"
She eyes both of them before answering with a smirk, "We will see."
Sim would run after her for days- did he actually go or he's faking it? Chotu will be hesitant to believe otherwise, Justin would diminish his optimistic views, Shree would mourn the lack of technology back in the day while K would do what he does in the shadows. As they teared apart the Prime Minster of this country over evening snacks and soft drinks she would think to herself- what a bunch of cynics they are- and smile. Even Aisha would join, and when Chotu, helpless that nobody is in his corner, asked her she would shrug before saying "Doesn't matter if he went or not. He won't be getting impeached over this."
For all their work, there don't seemed to be any lasting effects in the people's lives who comes to them. Fixing is a temporary thing- like a band aid. But nothing changes, nothing heals. Sometimes it blows up in press, relationship ends, someone gets hurt. That is all- their power, reputation, prestige, it all remains intact. There is not a single change in their lives, no lasting impression. It used to bother her when she started this, now she's just weary. Whatever, not her business.
In the end they had to go the mostly-illegal way, making a fake certificate out of thin air, inviting press and tear apart the opposition over this 'nonsense'. Any claim otherwise was met with with viciousness until nothing remained. The media got a new play thing, Sakshi covered it, all the while poking them for the truth. Nobody budged, she noticed with satisfaction, as she smoked not 20 feet away from the conference (just behind the stage)- she would never be part of the group and she would keep it that way till her gut tells otherwise- when the cigerette stick was plucked out of her fingers. Surprised, she whirled around just to see Junior Rawte crushing it under his shoes. She arched an eyebrow, he mimicked it. She sighed and turned around and yet he seemed to be standing exactly where he was, too close.
"Thanks." She turned her neck, "For fixing it. As always. This administration becoming awful lot of dependent on you guys."
"Your father's reign is secure."
"Of course it is." There was a hint of bitterness which made her frown. He looked down before asking, "Answer me this, Ariyana. Truthfully, please. Is he lying out there?"
She didn't immediately answer, "How does it matter?"
"I suppose it should not." He tried to laugh but it came out awkward, "I know, you think of me as entitled brat, but I was not born into it, you know? It came with time and till now, I can't fit. I was with him the entire time, and suddnely this job- there are times I don't recognize him. So I am trying to, you know? So answer me, can you?"
"This is part of it." She didn't answer him, "You should get used to it."
He stared at her for a long time, angry-frustrated-something unnamed, looked away for a moment, before replying to her with his eyes closed, "I always admired this- your truthfulness. Maybe one day I will be able to appreciate this moment."
He would leave for a 'vacation' for Australia with his 'rich friends' the very same night. She would be in the after press conference party and later for the private celebration with her team and Prime Minister's close group, would be delighted to meet with Raghu sir after ages, and PM will drop a hint to both of them about his legacy- his son.
She had predicted this years ago. Now, she's not sure.
When she brushed past Sakshi that night she whispered in her ear, "Another information to Arjun Rawte, and you will never be able to set foot inside armoury. Nod if you understood."
She stared at her wide eyed for several seconds before nodding.
(While working in the campaign, one late night she stumbled upon in the cabin of Raghu sir. He would usher her in, show her files filled with dirt on oppostion- and close allies, and both would discuss. After hours of back and forth she would ask him why and he would stare at her hard and say this 'Cause we need to.' She learnt from the best- made her own files on people around her- clients, housemaids, drivers, security guards, her group, the politicians she interacted, Suryakant Rawte, Arjun Rawte, Raghu sir, and many many other people. The files usually don't come out- they makes her feel too twisted, as if she's looking at target rather than people.)
Rawtes were a surprise for the politics arena. Suryakant used to be a small time government employee working for a BLRO office as clerk, his part time hobby was lecturing about government policies to his party members. He was nothing fancy, until someone influential picked him up. MLA, MP, Minister, he climbed fast- he knew where to contact and how to keep them rolling. He was good at hiding tracks, maintaining the clean image with his serene smile, bowed head and powerful, emotional speeches of unity. The best part of him was how sharp he was- in the heat of moment many people commits idiocy, burns bridges, talks too much and hurts others. This man was too calm, too calculated (as if he's a sociopath, as if nothing bothers him)- the only person who was cordial even with the oppostion. Never jumping for mug shots, never speaking anything crude. The perfect poster boy for party, and not unsurprisingly the power house for party. The annoucement of candidature was no shocker, even more so the landslide victory. Barring a few explosions, his tenure going very smoothly. Another term is surely up there.
It's probably not surprising that Raghu sir picked him. Sometimes she wonders why this man himself didn't work hard for himself- is it that he saw someone better than him and dedicated his whole life to empower him? Or he is one of those people who thrives staying in background and enjoying power through others? But Suryakant Rawte is nobody's bi*ch. Does he realize that and now laments the loss?
Arjun Rawte was 7 when his father became MLA, on the day of victory her Mother suffered a stroke and died. For the longest time no posh, polished, families who had enjoyed power through generations was warm to Rawtes. They stood out as the anomaly- one can only imagine how the kid grew up in that environment, never fitting anywhere. It's only when Suryakant Rawte became Minister that they were being invited into upper circle, everyone ready to fall on their feets. By that time Junior Rawte had learnt to survive- he had his circles of good for nothing brats, had an reputation of man w*ore, also had a side business of restaurent as to nobody can question the Minsiter about his young, only son. He also inherited his father's sharp brain- always knew how to keep his affairs quiet. During the campaign he was always there, supporting his father, patting everyone's back, always encouraging. But taking forward the legacy? Hard to tell. Suryakant Rawte was someone who never dreamt about power but when he tasted it he latched it up, his son maybe one of those kids who wants nothing of their parents.
Only time will tell.
(The next couple of weeks were hell. He was back- accusing, angry, frustrated, and still not letting her go. No matter how much she pushed, lashed out, hurt him, he was always there. Why the hell should she call? Why would he even wait? Why he don't understand they had been over for years? That it makes no sense? Why he keeps touching her as if he owns her? Why she lets him- kiss her, nearly tearing apart her clothes, touch her over clothes, under them, sliding two fingers down there, then another, and after a while she wants that. Harder, faster, and he complies, adding another one, and when the high is over she feels sick- this is sick, they are disgusting, this whole situation is insane. She runs away and hides inside her car, and a kid knocks on the window to give her back her purse and coat- and oh my god they were right out her door!- and she takes them, giving a small smile, stares ahead and saw the shadow moving away.)
She got a visit from PMO, an official job to dig up the candidates for Army's top job. The IB officer was pointing at a candidate and saying what he had heard about him when she saw Him, dressed in suits, walking away, and her fists were so tight, breathing so ragged. Everything felt as if it would crumble, so she excused herself and left, nearly running for the door. Later she found out he was now part of Prime Minister's security details, and it frustrated her- how he seemed to always find her, how close he is now- and she threw the lamp across the room, shaking with rage and heartbreak.
She had no idea how K knew, but if she knew he would obviously know. His reaction didn't surprise her, the paniced eyes and harsh, loud voice, demanding her answers, What was going on!- What surprised her was how out of control he got- yelling at her in front of the whole group, then proceeding to choke her to death. Justin and Chotu got him away as Sim looked horrified, none able to recognize this new man. She didn't go behind him, didn't let anyone else as well. As days passed she forced all of them to forget it, but she could feel it- the cracks. The suspicious eyes, the questions, the revolt. Their frustration, anger, the sense of betrayal- it's not that they had no inkling of the possibility of a mystry back in past- but now it's here and they can't get any answers. It was harming them- Sim and K, her and K, her own sanity, the clueless Justin Chotu and Shree, suspicious Sakshi and Aisha. End of the week from hell K unexpectedly dropped by her apartment and gave her a long hug, apologizing through half spoken words and sad eyes. She brushed them all, and their situation returned to normal- which somehow fixed the rest of theirs state. A temporary fix it, like a band aid. The optimisitic part wanted to feel this is it, but she knew better. The questions will increase more.
(It haunts her everytime she's alone, when it's silent all around, when it's dark- K's scared voice 'Is he back?' It takes her back to the time she actively stops herself from thinking- the way she found him, bloodied, tortured, broken in His apartment, the place she felt like home, where she spent so much time- in a secret room! Her fear which she suppressed to send him to hospital, to nurse him back to health, to know what's going on, to run away- fear she never had any time to process, or feel. It comes back- that man has so much power over her, he breaks her and yet she can't cut him off. But she can survive that- his power over her. She would gladly sell her soul and feel nothing if that's what it takes K to be happy. He has been through too much, somehow fixed himself back, and d*mn her or anyone who threatens to take it away from him. So she answered with all her power, 'He would never reach you.' and she meant it. She will be between the two, and if it ever comes to extreme- then she would gladly slit his throat and throw his body to ocean.)
(He seemed to be everywhere, which was an exaggeration cause these days she was too much around PMO and the residence, and he was there. Always watching, always in the shadows. Sometimes she wonders what he thinks about this, then gives up- she could never understand him, never know him. Under that smooth face and dark eyes remained the face of devil, it's better to stay away. The paranoia was back, and it felt as if he was everywhere- as if he was following her. Maybe he is, but she had no proof, just a gut feeling which never proves right when it's about him. It was driving her wild- she stopped going back to her apartment, but even her office didn't feel safe. Like it protected from him somehow.
She applied for Gun license that week between jumping from armoury, IB headquarters and residence.)
There was something different in the air of politics- in residence, in PMO. The whispers about the legacy, about changing equations. About people who looked similar but felt very different. Arjun Rawte picked up on clues fast, these days spending as much time around his father as he can- Justin snickered that his 'personal time' maybe taking a hit. Raghu sir's phone calls increased from once in every three weeks to several times during a week, so many idead he had to 'mould' this new opportunity as he pleases. Deep down she knew Junior Rawte won't be so easy to mould, to catagorize him into a neat little box, but she said nothing to discourage sir. They would greet each other with small nods in the hallway, sometime she would find him in a group, learning about important things and giving his own opinion. Just like his father, he knew from where to learn.
(That vulnerable 7 year old inside him will die soon, and a part of her mourned that. Someone should.)
One early morning Arjun Rawte dropped by the armoury with a friend in tow, personally asking their help for a case. For all the sleeping around, these people are not careful with the other party and protection, and there was a pregnancy scare for the friend. She gave a look of irritation to him as others escorted the client to the other cabin and he exhaled, hands in air with an open display of surrender.
"I always advocate protection. Look at the bright side," He would smile and she would feel her irritation slipping away, "at least it's not me. Less damage control and more money."
She would shake her head and walk inside.
For the entire case he would be there, God knows how taking out time between his restaurant duties, personal bratty lifestyle and PMO learning classes. It's like Chotu in initial days- his shock at the things they do, awe at the informations they hold and how they use them, admiration at the power, the dominance they project, satisfaction at closing a case. The case lasted two days, and she had to give it to the gold digger- she was tough nut to crack. Aisha raised her eyes slightly at the fat cheque, shook her head and left armoury, others joined the friend as he proclaimed to party hard that day, not getting Justin's jibe that he should be careful this time around. The armoury was suddenly empty and she moved away, gathering the left over papers lying around to kill time. Arjun Rawte was still there and she had no idea why, and yet she made no move to throw him out, weirdly comfortable in his presence.
"Let's have dinner." She would give him an amusing smile at that, leaning against the table as he would stand tall, confident, hands inside his pants pocket. She has seen him in almost every attire- casual hoodies when he was on rendezvous with his flings, traditional indian during campaign, t shirts in residence, suits whenever he steps out as a businessman, as a son supporting his father- but the feminine side of her appreciates his this look. Suit gone, tie loose, sleeved rolled up upto elbows, hair slightly disheleved. It makes her feel she's seeing him differently, somehow.
She would laugh before answering, "Never thought this day would come."
"Oh, be assured. I remember that night. The stain is still on the shirt."
She looked down laughing, "Do I need to pay for the laundry?"
"I should not have come on to you like that." He admitted, giving a mock frightened look, " should have known your capability."
"Yet you are here."
He shook head, all trace of pretense gone and a real smile, "Have dinner with me, Ariyana." When she answered nothing he sighed, "I know you are not like others, and I am not going to treat you like that. I learnt my lesson. Take it as my thank you."
"What if I decline?"
He nods at that, "I will try another time."
He stood there, with an earnest look on his face, possibly the most open he has ever been with her, and she found it puzzling. He was coming across such an unsettling mystery, something she needed to solve. He's drawing her in- to be honest he did from the first time she saw him. She should give in, get a bit closer to know him better, decode him, but the cautious part of her which burnt one too many times held back.
"I will call you."
He knew it was not a Yes, but not a No either. And he looked satisfied at that, or maybe he's too good at hiding his real emotions (if he had any, his father is a sociopath afterall). "And I will wait."
And she had forgotten all about him for weeks. He accompanied his father for a couple of foreign tours, meanwhile she juggled between her hectic life. One night she caught Him lurking outside her office and gave a verbal lashing. Not that it changed anything, not that it stopped him. She didn't see him from the next day, but that means nothing- he's probably just getting better so that she doesn't catch him. It should bother him- what is his angle? Why is he around, what does he want? But the part of her which rebeled and broke free mentally showed him the finger and walked around as if she owned the da*n world, let him see what she has become. But there was something in the air which was changing- she could feel it, even see it in bits and pieces. Sim had demanded to know about her and K's past and how it intertwins, having found the latter's british passport and putting two and two together. She gave her nothing, and when K came for advice she told him to live free. He took the cue and told her the greyer places- that he used to work for a dark organization which messed up his brain and that she brought him home- and there were many other questions. Sim sometimes asked, directly or going round round, and one night she told tiredly- that no, she knows nothing about what he used to do. She didn't mention she had an idea, all of them did after the things they did in this job. A part of her knew Sim was capable of taking it all in, and that coming clean (even if major chapters of the story is still in the dark) is the right thing to do- but what she could not predict was how she would react, how she would cope. And all of them did- K taught Sim the things which made him what he was. The illegal side of things which he does behind the scenes, stalking people, stealing, lying, backstabbing, even hurting people. And Sim thrived in the knowledge, a different glow in her- kind of like when a thirsty person finally gets water after a long time. It was wrong, every part of it- and of course it blew up. They both made a scene at a office, and she being the PMO employee had to bear the burnt. It shattered her, made her look in the mirror, horrifed at what she has become. The incident made K took a few steps back, rolling back inside her cover. She encouraged the distance between them- when she should have played cupid. They were like explosives together, and Sim is nowhere close to the darkness K harbours inside.
The only good thing that came out of this was Sim stayed away from armoury for a few weeks and concentrated fully in PMO. This is one debt she owes to Suryakant Rawte, all of them did.
That evening she pondered over the last couple of weeks with a glass of wine, for some time Chotu giving her company. When he left, she stared into nothing for a couple of minutes, then gave a call to Arjun Rawte. The next day they met for dinner in a fancy place- which turned out to be his own restaurant. No shocker there, of course Prime Minister's son would want a secure place without lingering eyes and ears.
"Finally you called." He would say as soon as they settled down, "I thought I have to send flowers once again."
"Don't send flowers." She would shot back and he would laugh, and somehow the dinner won't be as uncomfortable as she had thought it would be. At the end when he escorted her to her car like a gentleman she finally realized her main motive behind this dinner- to decode him- and she hit her head in the head rest for a couple of time at the slip. This was not supposed to happen!
With that dinner a dam had broken open, unknown to herself, because now she was totally inside the axis of Arjun Rawte. Her days never went on without his random messages- sometimes about legit questions about government and their ways or working, sometimes silly statements, sometimes a simple 'Good Night' or 'Had lunch?' She didn't understand what was going on, how it happened, but she enjoyed it, his acompany, the attention he gave to her. The cynic inside her chided at the carefree way she's handling him, but come on- after Him there is no way anyone can sneak up like that. She might be now a part of his life, but Arjun Rawte would never be part of hers.
Their second dinner happened in her apartment- he called and nagged about a second meeting and she was tired and hungry and was not thinking much when she told him to come up. Their lives are so intertwined that she didn't bother asking how he knew her address, and the way he looked around her apartment as if it's the most happening place on the Earth amused her further. They ate, TV kept running but none paid any heed to it. The conversation jumped from point A to point Z in a flash- he started talking about food, she would ask about his chef, then he would launch a story of how he met the chef and the country he comes from. They talked about people but never about them, he never asked for any dirty secret and neither she did about his circle. It went on for hours, food over and drinks emptied, and as he started a funny story about his school days she smiled back and thought to herself- this was good. He was good. Maybe he doesn't have any duplicity and that's why she can't catagorize him accordingly. In their lives there are no place for genuine, good people.
They both felt it was time for him to leave and they both skirted around it- she didn't outright tell him to leave, instead letting him clean up, then making small talks as she washed dishes. There was a lull in the conversation and he exhaled slowly, and she knew something was coming up.
"Let's do this more often." He looked like he didn't want blurt out like that, and the shy smile he gave afterwards proved her right, "I mean, this was good."
"You assumed it was good for me."
"So it was not?"
"Na." She threw him a look over her shoulder, "I barely tolerated you."
He huffed out a laugh shaking his head, "I have a proposition, if you are interested?" He waited until she finished cleaning and dried her hands, both leaning against kitchen counter.
"I need some advice, about the way things are being run in Ministry." At her quizzical expression he clarified, "I know, I am learning from the best. But I think an outsider's opinion would make difference. Would help me understand clearly."
"I am no Political advisor."
"I know." He nodded, "But you handle things. You know what goes on, you don't sugercoat things. I think it will help me, so can you help me?"
"Be your adviser?" She smirked, which he mimicked.
"Oh, you will have total authority over me. You can Boss me around."
"That I do anytime I want." She shrugged, looking down, "I am really not sure what you are looking for," She raised a hand to stop him when he opened his mouth to interrupt, "but whatever it is, you can ask me. I will try my best to help, however I can."
"Thank you." He sounded relieved, "I was not sure, given your work."
She was not sure too, what she is getting herself into? But she didn't say that, too busy smiling back at him.
Their point of contact would only increase further from that night.
(So would His presence in the shadows. She would catch him once, right outside her apartment building. She would not hiss at him, would not give him hard look. He would wait for her outburst but it would never come, just her stiff posture. He would break this time, his voice hard and low as he would want to know why Arjun Rawte son of Prime Minister was in her apartment so late in the night. The implications would be clear, and it would make her blood boiled and want to throw it in his face simultaneously. She would only say this- he don't own her. So f*ck off.
She would storm away, he would stay rooted to the spot for a long time before moving ahead.)
So would increase Raghu sir's phone call. There would be something off about his demeanor, and her hunch would prove right when he would invite him for lunch out of the blue. She had no idea he was even in the town, and it turned out nobody had- it was an unofficial visit of the governor. He would be restless and she would wait for the explosion- and when it did come a part of her dreaded it. Her heart went cold at the venom of his tone, his need to fix it. As if he owns it, and she could understand that in a twisted way he owed every one of them- this whole administration! Yet it doesn't excuse this outrageous thinking he had in his mind- fixing Arjun Rawte! This was no game. Also he has not even started to be a factor in this game.
"He's slowly getting there. Don't you see Ariyana?" He never called her with the name everyone does, and it makes her feel bigger and smaller at the same time, "We need to bring him in, and he keeps slipping away from my finger. You have to understand- I have plans! Bigger and better plans! So many ideas, and this - naive kid! He's ruining my vision! I need to owe him somehow. Make it happen." He ordered her, and she recoiled inwardly at the look in his eyes.
But it was not as easy as it sounds. One thing about public people- their dirty laundries are already in the public. Those who are good are already too good at hiding things. Her heart was not in it so she didn't look much, but even in her head she had to give it to Junior Rawte- for all his title of Man wh*re and hanging around with rich brats he never had an iota of dirt in him. Either Suryakant Rawte himself buried the dark secrets or he was that smart to not do anything outrageous at all. This little side project means she was away from armoury and the man in question for some time and both coped differently. Her group became better at handling cases, calling her only when they had an update or they had hit a wall. Her and Rawte's conversation was limited to phone calls only- long late night phone calls, which was funny cause they hardly lived 10 KM away from each other. Sometimes she would talk to him while lying on bed and she could picture him- relaxed, with his tussled hair and slightly grown beard, with a lazy smile and soft eyes. She never questioned her thoughts about him for some reason- maybe too afraid. Maybe too cleared.
Raghu sir became busy with a potential political bloodshed in Rajasthan and put their side project in the background. She sighed in relief, hoping he would move onto something bigger and better (though that was unlikely) but it was short lived. Sakshi came forward with the leak first, about a DUI involving Rawte which allegedly put a 15 year old boy into coma 4 years ago when Suryakant Rawte was planning to run for Prime Minister. She promised to block it for as long as they could, group scattered around to dig up this mess while she took off for the residence. Both father-son was there, the latter looking devastated while the father giving her an order to 'do whatever it's you do'. The exact same things he said when armoury stopped his University certificate scandal.
"How did it come out?" Arjun asked him once they were alone, cause the Prime Minister can't be stopped for small things like this. His shoulders were hunched and he looked tired, as if it's going on for ages. She wanted to reach out but stopped herself- she was not someone who gives hug to comfort others or touch them. She is all facts, fixing, damage control. The words, the rhetoric. Emotions make her feel scared, it drives her away.
"It's not out yet. Sakshi got a whiff." At his surprise she decided to lighten up the mood, "What is it with you and women? Even when you dump them they are so helpful towards you."
His lips curled upwards for a half smile, "Guess part of my charm." At her nod he sighed, rubbing hands over his face, "What can I do to help?"
This time she would reach out- kneel in front of him, look him in the eyes and speak softly, "Gather yourself. Go over everything that happened, and then come to us and tell it. Cause you need to tell us the truth so that we can help. Okay?"
He nodded, "Will you shut it down?" At her silence he looked away, "Of course, it's a stupid question."
A footstep would make her turn and she would see Him, watching her with an unreadable expression. She barely had time to process that when she felt Arjun's hand down her back, "I will see you at armoury, yeah?" She gave a nod, gathered her purse and exited the room on autopilot.
(And for the first time in years she didn't cry after seeing him.)
Turned out, it was not his fault. He was not driving, his one of friend who is now living the life of hermit back in South Africa was driving under influence and his father was the one who buried it. It was an emotional response from Junior Rawte which moved all of them into tears and later when they all thought over how to approach this she said to herself inwardly- maybe she was wrong. Sometimes things irrecovably changes people no matter how rich and powerful they are.
After they had bribed the police officer who wanted some extra money for the leak, and donated some more money to the coma patient anonymously, Arjun Rawte surprised her with a long tight hug. He needed it after the couple of days they had, she said to herself, but it didn't excuse the fact that she also responded back- put her arms around him, comforted him, whisper soothing words. They even laughed as they hugged and it didn't feel too overwhelming, and she didn't get it. She went home that night, sipped a glass of wine and muled over this situation- it made no sense! This was insane- He is Prime Minister's son, he slept with her employee's wife and was a major factor behind the divorce, now he's her...what? Friend? Part of group? Something uncatagorized like he always have been?
She laughed out loud for full five minutes after that particular train of thought.
(But she was not laughing the next night- barely reaching home and taking out her keys when a hand reached out to turn her around and immediately a hand was pressed over her mouth. Her senses filled with the familiar scent as his rhythamic breathing echoed in her ear- she surreptuously wondered how they must look now to a third person. Then he started whispering to her ear- I don't know what's going on, and maybe I don't want to. But you need to be careful. Him too. She would look at him quizzically as he moved away but he would say nothing more.)
NCR would welcome monsoon and thunderstorms with curses and irritations, even though it would do them all a service by taking away heat and dust. But traffic would be unbearable- so she would ditch car and take to walking at times. A storm is brewing over the city, and whispers from Sim informed her even PMO was getting troubled by a warning of inside storm. Apparently nepotism is becoming a hot topic of debate these days over coffee breaks and lunch. The phone call came two days later from a cranky and less hospitable Suryakant Rawte, who was clearly annoyed at the trouble which seemed to appear out of nowhere.
When the phone call came she knew this was the moment she needed to pick a side, and she did. Was it power, or someone else? She didn't answer, but no bone in her body had an ounce of sympathy left for the man who introduced her to this world. So she didn't hesitate in laying out roadmaps- making Arjun an MLA candidate from a seat which this party never won in last two decades. Her team spread out to find out the center point which started this, even though she could have straight up mention Raghu sir's name and stop it at once. But probably she was becoming too aligned with Suryakant Rawte's vision of legacy and Raghu sir's meticuous planning, and maybe this is the right time to set herself on the course- behind him, building him up. It was always supposed to be the two of them, right? Suryakant Rawte looked impressed, Arjun less so. She went behind him in the drizzling rain, tilting head to a side which he did to her many times.
"This day was supposed to come one day, I know." He turned to her, "But I never thought it would be like this. To shut off rumours."
"Your whole life is series of rumours." She would point out to which he would looked annoyed. She would soften her tone and get a bit close to him, unknowing to herself, "I know this is no ideal situation, but look at the bright side. This is a huge risk, and it would shut off everyone's mouth."
"How are you so sure that I will win?" He would frown. Another time she would have joked about election rigging (and maybe there will be a time in future when she may have to do this) but she knew what he wanted to head- so she did.
"Cause you are a good person. Good people always win." Though they don't stay good. They don't survive on their goodness.
The phone call from Raghu sir would come the next day, "You pick you side Ariyana." His voice would be low and soothing, lulling into a false sense of security to someone who didn't know Raghu Ram in person. But she knew and it made her blood run cold, "I thought you were different."
She didn't give into the provocation, "This is not an ideal situation for me too, Sir."
"No, it is not." He would take a deep breath, "May the best man win. Or woman." The line would die on the other side.
(And it became abundantly clear to her in that moment- the stalking, the word of caution- Him. It was all Raghu sir. That accident case, him. This sudden revolt, him. It was all him, God knows since when he was planning this.
It made her sick.)
It also made her reach out to HIm for the first time in years. Never in her wildest dream she had ever thought that this day would come- and that too for whom? She refused to let her mind linger on the reason. She is not chosing her present over past, she's chosing some greater good bullsh*t she don't even believe herself but knows it's true. Raghu sir is not someone to be messed with, it's something her sixth sense had picked up on the early days and remained till this date. Technically she never saw him doing something dastardly, but that man holds a certain kind of authority over people. She had met people who cowers just by hearing his name- that kind of power even Suryakant Rawte don't held himself. Partially the reason he is Prime Minister today. He replied after five days, she was on the edge the whole time and nearly sprinted for the PMO herself to catch him. When they met at the busy restaurant in the broad daylight she could not believe herself and this situation- she is seeking him! It better be something good, and her senses told there was something going on.
He arrived and after the initial moment passed where she was the ice statue from antarctica and he stared a hole in her face, she took a deep breath and dived right in. What's Raghu sir thinking, what he is going to do, what he is making him to, who else is with him. And the answers were same- I don't know, I don't know, I don't know! On her last question he arched an eyebrow sardonically and it hit her- idiotic question. The question is who isn't.
It hit her in that moment that history was repating itself once again. The last time she faced a situation where she had no idea what to do or what's going on, she took K's hand and ran away, leaving away a country filled with her future, university, and a possibly different life than this. That option is not here, and she's sure even if she was she could leave just like that- too many people are involved now. Who knows what Sir will do.
It was his voice which broke her panicked throughts. She missed some sentences which were probably filler before catching up on the meaty lines- his hand ran over his face and it brought attention to his new style, moustache. She would have found it hillarious some other time, but the stubble reminded her of Arjun- what's with men and stubble? She left that train of thoughts while he said he has no idea about what's going on, but Raghu sir is not a good man (Old news) and that he will try to find out. For her.
("Why?" Like a masochist she would ask when he finished his monologue and got up to leave. He would give a wry smile, stare at her with such intensity which would make her feel nobody is around her in that moment.
"Don't you know?" He would murmur, then lean down and drop a kiss on her forehead. He would leave behind his fragnance and she would shut her eyes tightly, to avoid it or to absorp it completely, she could not tell. )
And he would fulfill his promise every time, making it easier for her to be two steps ahead from Raghu sir. The small things would lit up her ego, her team would wonder how she knows what new hardle the MLA candidate would be having in near future while Arjun would stand tall and proud. She liked that look on him, probably more than his actual plans for his constituency. He learns from the best in PMO, then he gets back to her for extra tips and gets the outsider's view from team as free. It would seem like he's also part of the group- the newest addition to armoury. Saturday night drinks in Ali and Chotu's house would be filled with laughter and serious talks (it was a risk, K had warned her, but till now Junior Rawte didn't give any reason to be threatening, Justin had argued. Chotu simply said he trusts her while Ali was freaking out how to welcome the son of the Prime Minister), after they exit the late night session of drinks and snacks would be in her house. He was so comfortable in her house that sometimes she couldn't tell where was what and he could, and it would still baffle her as to how that happened.
The blind would come at this point. It would piss her off and made her curious as well- she didn't need this! They are trying to rebuild Junior Rawte's image from a manw*ore to that of a good decent single man who girls could take home and fathers sit down to have a talk about politics and sports. They had schedules- orphanage, university speeches (business, cause he runs one, and literature cause he studied that, and she's still surprised about that. Probably he recited Shakespeare as he wooed girls), business meetings which will be captured by only a few chosen cameramans, holiday with friends who are settled and have a clean public persona, photo ops with Prime Minister in his study, during party meetings. Speculations were ripe if Arjun Rawte will follow his father's legacy, if daddy will gift him a secretariat. Then came this nonsense- and she knew this was nonsense! This man had simply no time juggling so many things these days, how on earth he would meet a girl? She could brush it aside as a typical blind, (Raghu sir has some standards) but it's his nonchalant reaction to it which made her curious. He should be upset at this hit, or laugh it off with others as he joke about which girl is this acording to the blind, but he just shrugged it off and went his way. So the evening when the blind was published on a popular paper's page 3, she sat down in her cabin with wine and read it thoroughly. After the initial disgust has passed she tried to find out what was so off about it, but even after reading it ten times she found nothing! She was mentally cataloguing which girl the moron reporters picked up when they decided to write this filthy piece of trash- this woman who is a regular in high society of NCR with a certain formidable reputation seemed like a no nonsense career oriented lady. Which meant someone from restaurant business or old money in his circle. It was hot, wine was messing up her head and her AC wasn't working- they were her excuses in the next morning for calling Arjun Rawte at 10 pm on a wednesday night. Of course he would pick up- she's probably in his speed dial along with the other armoury team mates- and would be surprised at her slightly slurred voice.
"You are drunk." His laughter would make her frown. She could hear the buzz behind him and some other time she would have hanged up- she herself don't like interruption in middle of work, but she could hear him moving away and she was too curious.
"Who is it?" Over his surprised I am sorry? she would steamroll, "The blind. It's true. Don't bother telling otherwise, I am trying to solve it so I need your help."
"You solving a blind about me at this time?" His voice would be muffled momentarily, "Did you go home? Should I send someone?"
"I sleep here. Sometime. Not the point." She would sit up groaning at the muscles and slightly light headed at the buzz, "Woman who is a regular in high society of NCR with a certain formidable reputation- sounds like someone from business background, is not it?"
"Maybe." He would hum, making her curse. With a sigh she would restart.
"Or maybe someone with old money. Your circle is filled with rich brats, she maybe someone bi*chy. Or maybe she's a dominatrix." Over his laugh she would protest, "Don't laugh, this is serious. Is she? Is there kinky photographs? They can be used as blackmail you know. You message me the address I will send K he will remove everything. He's good."
"I know." He would answer, "But no, she's not a dominatrix."
"Good." She would slump back in her seat in relief, "No pics. I hate them, who knows how many copies are out there." Another thought crossed her head, "Is it someone from your restaurant? Tell me no."
"No."
"Then who?" She was irritated now, "You keep saying no and No, I need to know you know."
"So that you can protect me."
"Exactly." She would agree with satisfaction, "So spill . . . "
"How you are supposed to protect me from yourself?" His quiet question would literally knock the breath out of her. The silence from the both sides won't be awkward, it will be the exact opposite. Charged.
"It's . . . "
"You." He would reply simply, "It's you. Woman frequent in NCR high society with a certain formidable reputation. It's you." She would stay silent and he would go on after exhaling a deep breath, "We meet sometime, someone may have picked it up. It will blow off after a while, don't worry."
She would hum and he would say something which was hazy in her brain before she would cut the call. She would finish the wine calmly, staring at nothing, then put both arms on table, lean down and put her head on them, suddenly in deep thought. His words would play over and over again and all she could think before falling asleep would be How.
(The sudden footstep will startle her out of sleep, her sudden movement would make the empty bottle fell down, shattered glasses everywhere. A hand will clear the haze and it would be Him, and somehow she expected it. Don't ask her how, she just did. He would ask if she was okay, and then from somewhere find broom and clean the glass. He would mention the blind casually, and interprete her blank expression rightly- He would stroke her chin several times before saying falling for her was easy, and it was right on the tip of her tongue- was it real? Of course it was, his eyes says it all, and yet she sometimes feel she's liability for him somehow, whom he didn't finish off for whatever reason and that's the reason she's on his radar. But she didn't, instead listened to him talking about how Raghu sir knows about them now. Her and Mr. Rawte, and she tried to wrap her head around it and failed. It echoed in her head, Her and Mr. Rawte- it's not limited to her giving away advices, it's something deeper now. This blind was not his idea, but it benefitted him nonetheless. if He wanted to ask what was actually going on, she had to give it to him that he kept himself in check to not ask. There was something different about him, she thought as he speculated someone near her had to be the one outing this blind, painting a target on her back. For the first time in years she was not in her senses, and she could not care less. She let it sink in as he left in the thin air- just as quietly as he entered.)
The congratulations message from Raghu sir came the next day, and it made her lip curled upward in disgust. The group was gossipping about the blind when on tv some reporters ambushed Junior Rawte. Then he did the most astonishing thing- he confirmed the blind! It sent everyone into a frenzy, and she noticed later that she was holding her breath- as he refused to give away the girls name. The national media picked it up quickly, decoding each expression of his face and declaring this mystery woman was his love of life (did they forget his earlier title?), that she is setting him up on a straight path, that she's the reason his recent cleaning up (yes, she's most important since Bill Gates). Possibly the entire telecom signal for NCR was jammed after the telecast, and yet it didn't stop the group to call him personally. Except her- and she looked on part amusement and part weary that suddenly old friends and relatives who were AWOL, neighbours who never bothered and even their dogs were interested in them just to know about this mystery girl. She got a call filled with curses from Him, and she just spoke two words before cutting the call.
"Sameer Rathore."
In the evening she drove for the PMO, heading straight for the private area where Arjun Rawte generally sits with his convoy. Not to sound dramatic, but his eyes found her before she could found him, possibly when she had just entered his eyesight. They walked away silently and stopped when they were inside- she was taken aback when she looked around. The Prime Minister's office. The place which can be his in near future. It was errily silent and empty, and he explained his Father having a meeting with Finance Minister.
The silent seemed to stretch for years and his gaze was weighing down as time passed. She looked down at her shoes before speaking up, "About what you said in the morning . . . "
"I probably messed up." He started, and she looked at him immediately, his eyes drawing her in, "Talking to you last night, it opened a dam of sorts. The reporters were there and all I could think about maybe they will hound you guys later- it's what they do right? And I wanted to stop it, somehow. But I guess I made it more complicated, that's why you are here, are not you?" He looked around before sighing and meeting her eyes once again, "I apologize. I am so sorry. Whatever you need to do, you can do . . . "
So this is what listening to her feels like, she thought to herself. Aisha once told her her way of talking is contagious, they all picks up on her way of speaking and after a while it's hard to differentiate who's who. "They blow it out of proportion. But it's okay."
"It is?" He sounded relieved and surprised. She gave a small nod, taking couple of steps toward him.
"We will have important annoucements in next few weeks. They will get better contents for trp."
He let out a relieved laugh, "Thank God. I was worried." There it was, the charged silence. What is it about this man which draws her in? Even when he was an asshole he had this effect on her.
"You have questions, don't you?" He tilted his head with a small smile, "Ask. I will be honest."
"How do you know I am not a dominatrix?" She heard herself after the question was out and wanted to die in that moment. What?!
"Are you?" He raised an eyebrow but thankfully didn't laugh. She let out a frustrated growl, did something with hands which signalled him to forget about it. His face looked like he was internally laughing, but thankfully he didn't ask.
"Why did you say that?" She explained at his curious frown, "The statement."
"I just told you."
"We could have handled ourselves." She tried to sound annoyed, and boy was she annoyed. This was not the reason she was here. She had questions- what did he mean last night, what does he feel, was he joking? From the look in his eyes she could tell he had the same expectations. The answers were right on the tip of his tongue, and yet she stood there and said nothing. Well actually she did, some nonsense about damage control and things she didn't even hear herself saying. She had an almost one sided conversation and the opportunity was right there, the chance of something, and yet she walked away. She didn't dare to meet his eyes.
But she had no time to think about missed opportunities for the next couple of weeks. By some heavenly miracle (whom she was kidding? It had to be His special tactic) they were able to find the source of the blind. She half groaned and half cursed herself- Sakshi Anand was a lose canon from the moment she got the divorce and while she expected her to do something to validate her suspicion, this was absolutely uncalled for. Dragging her name, how dare she! She met Him in front of her house and both of them had a chat with the terrified woman who kept stuttering and looking at His various tools in hand.
(And it was a situation f*cked up beyond the usual normalcy around her. Sakshi was the person who was giving tids bits about armoury to Raghu sir, this blind was her idea to extract revenge from both her and Arjun and while Sir didn't like this small things, he didn't stop her either. Sameer Rathore walked inside her calmly, a formidable but somewhat sane picture. For the next three hours she saw first hand what kind of 'skills' he has- using tools on her body as if he's fixing a car, and the insane voice inside her said maybe he is fixing- a person! There was not a single drop of blood but he rewired her brain, his voice commanding yet soothing at the same time. When he set her free she was actually thanking him, sobbing with relief as she leaned against him- and she wanted to throw up. This was the Man she . . . she stopped herself from going there. That version never existed, it was all a charade.
The part of her who earned a reputation for fixing problems, who orders K and others to push boundaries to save clients, who lies manipulates and cheats people, could not help but admire his 'skills'. It looked bad, it should feel bad, yet it felt good too in some dark twisted side in her brain. Sakshi begged, screamed, then whimpered, and the demonds inside her soared. How dare she tries to ruin everything? Now take it, take it! Now suffer, you had this coming you disgusting piece of shi*! Who are you in front of us? And before leaving she ordered her to leave, leave this city, their lives and everything and never returns. She felt like a Queen, someone who has her own game going. She will change future, she will shape other's fate. She felt empowered, and the feeling was fu*king fantastic.
That's why she f*cked him. It was not s*x, or even making love with an old lover. As she clawed at him, wanting to feel him, taste him, it felt less and less than her going for an actual person. She was addicted to power and she wanted that close. So she kept it. She laughed with him in bed, moaned loudly as his tongue and teeth grazed at her sensitive nerves, pulling him closer to her and mashing their lips together with ferocity- this was wrong, this was dark, this was disgusting. K will be angry and hurt and she won't recognize herself anymore, but that doesn't matter. She winning now. She has the power.)
She was always an assertive, authorative woman, but letting him made her an edgier, twisted verison of her former shelf. For a lack of term, she became a b*tch. She won but the sense of family and relationship amoung the group was gone. It was more like a Boss ordering her subordinates, it baffled them and made them question if they did anything wrong. Sim asked outright, Chotu tried to have a talk, Justin shrugged but the frown remained, Shree looked hurt. K knocked at her door one night and stumbled back in shock when He opened the door. He never looked at her again. The texts with Arjun became lesser every passing day. But these didn't matter- the game was not making Arjun Rawte's way smoother, it is to remove the biggest hurdle in his way. And Raghu sir was exactly that cause he was not the person behind the wheels anymore. Any threat which could hurt his credibility was destroyed, He and her went on 'trips' to find out people who had dirt on Sir, for leverage. The need for his skills arised more on each trips and she actually looked forward to it, slightly turned on as his tall, dark figure and the fear on the oppositions's face. Whoever that wasn't on her side, who didn't give her what she wants was opposition. An enemy. And she needed to get rid of those.
Sameer asked her once if it bothers her, his 'skills'. She stared back, pretending as if she's thinking, then shrugged and started talking about another trip they needed to take sometime back. (Probably cause she didn't want to think- hands that uses tools to torture others also makes her come hard each night. Her brain maybe shuts down unable to decipher how it can be the same man.)
But power, just like good luck, comes down crashing hard and fast. One night he left a cryptic message in her phone, saying he's danger, and 57 hours later he stumbled inside her apartment, bloodied and bruised. He was unconscious for a long time and she could not leave- the reason she had to watch Arjun Rawte's declaration to run for MLA from a UP constituency where his party never won in last two decades on tv as she paced in her living room. He woke up from bad dreams, thrashing everywhere, his eyes wild and hands holding hers tightly as if she's trying to hurt him. The wrists were dark red by the time he confessed his organization wants to kill him. And after knowing her for 8 years (does she though? Know him?), sleeping beside him for the past two months she finally came to know what he actually does. A secret part of Army to protect the Government, sounds like RAW. He would shook his violenty at that- much darker, much more twisted, much more scary. It doesn't make sense, he was doing good. And they won't give him reasons as to what they have against him. It would enrage her- why the world wants to take it away from her? It's all going so bloody good! So she would march inside armoury and order K to hack into this secret organization. His eyes would widen and she would know- he was part of that too. Why Sameer was torturing him then? There would be no time to ask those questions- she would yell and threaten and whisper angry words at him, and he would finally break. His eyes won't look at her in the same way but she would pretend she don't see that. That she don't care. And he would find something, and she would send all of them to find out more against this agency, to bring it on it's knees, for retribution.
Justin would ask, "What are we fighting for?" And she would look him in the eyes and say 'Me'. And she would mean that- she wants to save herself, not Sameer. She would push all of them toward hell, not for once caring what could the consequences be. So of course it would be devastating- it's karma after all. Prime Minister would personally bring her in, rebuke sharply and tell her to shut it down. As he would lecture her she wanted to laugh- why on earth it didn't cross her mind that the man holding top job for the country won't know about this secret organization? She would make a deal- Sameer in exchange of keeping their mouths shut. He would look at her as if he's seeing her for the first time and agree. But of course he would have the upper hand- a promise to do something whenever he wants, whatever he wants.
She would return and tell the rest of them to stop, and it would soon become a shouting match- them vs her. None of them would be on her side. Her throat would close up and she would give ultimatum, telling them to leave if they don't like it. She would go home and hug him, whispering 'it's over' repeatedly until she herself starts to believe it. In the morning he would be gone and she would cry, and when the rest of group would slowly starts pouring in she would cry a bit more.
The depression would start then- it won't escape her mind that the last time it happened she was running from him, and this time he left her. Both times he was one of the reason. She gets drunk on wine and sits in the dark and wonders if he left cause she didn't answer if his torturing people disturbs her, and that he was looking for a piece of sanity in her and found nothing but his own self. Good se* doesn't really mean to last forever, right? She thought back how she liked him torturing others and the self loathing increase, she wonders where is Sakshi and moans to herself- good god what would Chotu would think if he ever knows this? And Ali, the sweet intelligent shy man? She remembered the deal she made with Suryakant Rawte, another devil no lesser than Raghu sir himself, and shudders thinking what would he make her do. Technically everything is in her control- group following her lead, campaign going good, good and positive publicity, projection shows there is a good chance this year the MLA seat may go to Rawte clan. And yet nothing is in her control. She lives in a constant state of waiting and dread- what if someone asks, what if someone doesn't. What if K walks in, what if he walks out. When would Sameer call, what if he does, what if he doesn't. Sometimes Raghu sir calls and she don't pick up as heart hammers inside chest. Any call from PMO goes unanswered, texting with Arjun Rawte stops cause he should not be tainted- he would be in future, politics is a dirty canal but she's a different kind of taint. She gets turned on by watching others suffering, that's the kind of person she has become.
She would blink one day and would find chaos all around her- is that saline? Why does her body feels feverish? Something pricking at her skin- is that needle? She hates needle. She would wake up sometime later and would as if someone froze her body. Chotu would be there, his eyes kind and gentle and a bit afraid, an odd kind of deja vu. As if she's meeting him all those years back- they didn't time travel right? He would ask her if she's alright and proceeded to tell how she overdosed on wine and sleeping pills, and she would nearly groan. She didn't want to kill herself! That would be too easy, there are other kinds of suffering. Few hours later Arjun would enter with wild eyes and start shouting. Even though she's bone deep weary and numb she would want to smile at him cause it was so good to see him. Not the person who gave speeches in front of tv or talked to party members, the Arjun who told her in phone it was Her. She wanted to giggle but somehow it turned to a choked sob and her vision would turn blurry. He would stop screaming and envolve her in a big warm hug, filling her nostrils with his expensive french cologne and something distinct which is his, and she would say it to herself, She missed him. She missed him so much.
He would sit beside her for hours, stroking her hand as she floated in and out of consciousness. She would say it's not necessary, he would give her a look and start bringing in notes and make her private room into his cabin. Sim would come running and hug her tight, crying and apologizing for not being there, Aisha would bring flowers, Ali would wrang his hands nervously and say if she ever needed someone to talk to maybe he could . . . K would stand vigil and stutter through a speech of being strong and not succumbing in front of heart break, and she would feel so guilty, so unworthy. He thinks it's cause of Sameer, it was not. Maybe this moment was always coming, on some subconscious level she wanted an out. She wanted to apologize but she didn't have to, her one attempt of semi suicide had undid every damaged she did to others. She was going through a phase and they didn't see it.
On the day she was discharged K helped her with jacket and whispered if she would want to track Sameer. She would want to cry- only she could recognize what effort it must have been for him to even offer this, and so many times she threw that in his face. Did she want him to? She looked around with this question in mind- the pampering of others and undoing of every sh*t she put them through, a somewhat position of ceasefire (even Raghu sir messaged her 'Get well soon'), her own discovery that she needed time to sort this out and get back on feet than wallowing in self pity- and shook her head in No. She looked outside just as K nodded and left, Arjun was talking to phone and turned to look at her, and she felt confident. Yes, this was right.
Her ODing won't solve everything, of course, it would be too easy. For some initial weeks she won't the boss of the armoury or the woman possessing formidable reputation- more like another colleague who listened to others and nodded rather than pulling out crazy ideas out of thin air and order to execute them. Others would tip toe around her- how to move past, how to move on, where to press and what to avoid as if not to 'trigger' her. Arjun Rawte would once again be a regular in her apartment but even she knows this is no forgiveness from his side. All of them are treating her with kid gloves afraid of another breakdown and she didn't know if the suicide which was not really a suicide was a blessing or curse. It was hard to be positive but she wanted to know, wanted a sign. This should be the end of her suffering right? Or maybe she deserves more torture? On work front she would finally get back her footing but spending time with Arjun Rawte would solve nothing. They talk about things which don't really makes sense and sometimes there are lull in conversation where his eyes ask too much. She wants to voice it out- ask me. Don't ask me. She does neither, he gives a small smile before starting on another topic. Politics is one subject which never gets old and boring.
She would keep count every morning as she wakes up- 29 days of sobriety, of no sleeping pills and dreamless yet stressful sleep. She don't wake up but she thrashes in bed, the sheets are testament of them. 30 days of trying to get a grip on this spinning world, trying to become the old Ariyana everybody knew, trying to pretend her phase of enjoying sadism didn't happen. 30 days of looking in the mirror and not try to see too deep, of not thinking about drowning, never to get up. Arjun will be in her apartment that night, sipping on her red wine while pouring her juice (is he mocking her? Is he the mocking type?) and it felt like a celebration. He remembered, she guessed. The silence would be too much this night, and she would know why when he starts asking. Why.
Her mouth would go dry but she would force some levity, "I think I made myself clear back then. I was not trying to . . . " He would start shaking head halfway through your answer and you will traill off.
"I had a talk, with everyone. It started way before- your moodswings, changed behaviors, your treating them as employees rather than family." She would look down, guilty as charged. He would scoot closer, the glass making a clink sound as he set it down on table, "I want to know why you could not sleep. Why you were drinking. Why you were taking pills. Why you shut yourself off from everyone. Why did you . . . " His voice cracked before he paused and started again, slower and softer, "Chotu thinks it's someone close to you. Is it? Tell me, Ariyana. Or do you want someone else? Whoever it is just talk! Don't shut yourself like that again."
She would stay silent, feeling him getting up, exhaling a harsh breath, pacing up and down for a couple of times as his fingers run through hair. From the corner of eyes she would see his fist clenching and unclenching, turning on heels, hand reaching for jacket. Internally she will shout, Don't leave. Don't leave me in the dark. I am scared. But she would be scared too- it feels wrong. Him and Sameer, connected through her. This is a situation which should be avoided at any cost.
And yet when he turns the lock ready to leave she whisper, "I don't want to talk." He would stop, looking at her quizzically and her voice will go stronger, "I don't want to talk to anyone. Nobody will understand. Nobody gets it."
"Get what?"
"That it hurts." Finger poking right over her heart, "Every second, every beat." More poking, totally random without any rhythm, "And it's my burden to bear. My problem to solve. Why bother others."
"Cause we worry." He would give a small sad smile, the door locked once again as she sighed in relief, "We care."
"I know, and I am so . . . " Her voice would break at the end and tears don't stop flowing. You don't make an effort to stop them, for all the talk of not showing your scars to others she is just another, lying pathetic mess. His arms would be around her and she take a shaky breath, brushing tears away hastily, "Grateful. I was horrible to them and they are still here. I did some damage to them and that's all. No more hurt would be caused by me."
(Which is a lie. You were born to hurt others.)
He would sit in the same couch in the same position that you two occupied many times, and though you declared 'No more burden', a few traitors slipped through the cracks. His fingers would rub at your feet as you speak absent mindedly, truth and half truth only, no place for lies. You met in UK during your study in Yale, he was a regular in coffee shop across your dorm. He was chivalrous, sweet man who worked a regular boring job in a library. He used to wear glasses, he would not talk much but would be encouraging to her rants. The only person who never frowned when she said despite studying in a prestigious University she had no plans for future. She fell hard and fast, so no surprise she crashed that fast as well. Lies lies lies, everything was a lie. His glasses, his nature, his life, his job, him- all was a lie. He broke her trust and yet the mistake feels like hers. It's her fault to trust him anyway. And yet after everything she keeps getting pulled in his whirlwind, every single time it breaks her and yet she can't cut the cord between them. It gets dark and she confessed as if she's in front of a God, not looking for forgiveness cause she can never get that- just lifting off some burden cause the darkness was suffocating- she did terrible things with him, for him. And it felt good, the dark person she became as she kept the connection. So many bad things and those things feel bad now, they felt bloody good back then. She stops talking abruptly and lookes at him, fearing if he understands, how much he understands, or he doesn't- and he looks back, unblinking unflinching. There is nothing she can decipher from his expression but it felt oddly comforting, his presence and the confession. Her head hits back the headrest once again and she starts whispering. This night will never come, and she had plenty to say.
She had a peaceful sleep that night. Also the first time Arjun Rawte spent the night in her place. He would make her coffee and give a long tight hug before leaving, drop a kiss on head and whisper in her ear, "He is an idiot. He don't know what he lost."
(He did. Lost her.)
Personal healing would take a backseat when one opposition party candidate would spew venom every night in front of live television studio. Initially it would be just noise, then ratings would spike sharply and suddenly it would hit them. Raghu sir won't stop gloating even though he would start to assert himself with half baked ideas and chortle at her when they are alone. She guessed he rather likes these journeys from Rajasthan and Delhi. They would offer this vocal oppostition money and he would refuse, instead exploding on them during live tv, embarrassing all of them. Nothing could be found on him, and he won't stop even when they went behind his back and made a deal with his party's head. To none of her surprise this man's connection was someone inside Rawte party, and she sighed in defeat. This was it- The game is out of her hand now. She can't afford doing any adventure now that Arjun's credibility hangs in balance and they have no way of stopping this blabbermouth. She tells her group to keep digging while has a meeting with Suryakant Rawte and explains to him everything. He's thunderous, and it's omnious. He chews his word as he says she should have told him way back and she agrees with that- she was too arrogant to think she could fix it herself. Too ignorant to forget it's not about her against Raghu sir, it's against Raghu sir and his ego. But it won't be his way of talking, or the fast his eyes became red and body stilled. It's when he said this-
"We need to fix this, Ariyana."
She would ask what does he mean but he said nothing.
A whole week would pass after that cryptic statement and her nerves would be on the rocks. Her mind went to worse and worst cases of scenerio (including one involving super secret army group torturing Raghu sir and dumping his body in ocean) and most of the time she needed to shake herself off. This is real world, not the alternate verse she was living with Sameer. He is the Prime Minister, he needs to answer an entire assmebly and people of this country! He won't do whatever nasty crap your twisted brain came up with. She could not stay still until she sees the worst of it, and her unusual jumping around would be noticed by everyone- she would keep blaming on coffee in front of everyone except Arjun. He gives her a look which literally screams 'Bullsh*t detected' whenever she tries to lie, so she doesn't. A good thing is he don't ask too, to not include himself in her mess or just respecting privacy, she don't know. The nerves will stop one fine day when she was (semi) calmly sipping her wine and everyone was gathering stuffs to leave. The tv would be on as usual and Shree would ask when is the lunch.
"For what?" She would answer distractedly.
"Da*n, Ri is so out of tune these days that Raghu sir kicked her out of his circle." More than the chorus of laughter his name would make her frown. Ignoring the hammering of her heart she got up, glass of wine clutched tightly. As if on cue the live feed on screen showed Raghu sir getting out of his car, giving a displeased look at media (he tolerated them, a necessary evil he would whisper to her) and would get inside the Prime Minister residence. A part of her sighed in relief- finally it's coming to an end. The reporter talked about the political situation in Rajasthan which brought man in town and everyone bid goodbye, which she addressed back distractedly, sitting down and taking ocassional sip of her wine. Probably half an hour had passed, her phone's notification went off. There was no new message or calls but it showed ticking of some messages she sent to-
Her body went cold.
The messages she sent to Him after she returned from hospital and was feeling very low, begging him to answer. Those message getting delivered now- obviously he's either activated the number or is finally in the reach of signal. An odd sense of foreboding started to crawl down her back, and she didn't even ignore it. She put the half empty glass down, reached for her jacket and bag and headed for the Residence, hurryingly telling K to lock up who was cleaning up his files. She kept the speed light first, and as soon as the residence came in sight she picked up pace. Walking through the media people and security she had a small conversation with the receptionist, took her temporary badge and got inside.
She had to thank Raghu sir for this day- a day when the prime Minister is having a early dinner with governor in his residence and none in the staff stopped her, simply assuming she's there to join them. When the door opened she wasn't sure who was more surprised- herself at the sudden dread, Raghu sir who tilted his head, Suryakant Rawte who gave a small nod or Arjun, who smiled openly with surprise and ushered her in. After formal Hellos and How is it goings they all took a glass of champagne, the four glasses clinking.
"To the future." PM cheered, Raghu sir nodded. Arjun gave a look at her and they both nodded too.
It was Arjun's glass which shattered first. Between gasps and confused brows and his murmur of 'What . .' the second pop was rather audible. Raghu sir stumbled for a second, then leaned down heavily on her as his glass fell down. Startled she tried to hold on but the weight was too much, resulting in both of them falling on the floor. She barely heard the yelling of other two man in the room as the security burst through the door. Heart in throat she tried to push him off, but he was a big man and her hands were shaking. After many unsuccessful attempts she cried out in frustration and that is when she noticed her hand covered with blood which seemed to come out from Sir's back.
She stopped moving after that.
She heard the roar of her own name, security running toward them and the general commotion but didn't register any of it. For some unknown reason all she could think about the security protocol in case of assasination attempt on Prime Minister's life instead of a possible dead body on her. A couple of hands pushed him off her and then a familiar hand dragged her through the crowd, (For a residence this place has awful lot of people) fought with people (Security be da*ned she needs clean up!), thrushed a clean robe to her, pushed her to washroom. She cleaned herself up and changed without looking at mirror, like a robot, and headed for hospital in the similar way. The Governor was not dead yet.
Several hours and multiple awful coffee later her mind somewhat cleared. Arjun divided his time between her (are you okay? Do you need something?) and going over the the circle formed with PM, NSA chief, his personal bodyguard, PMO head and many others. Once he exhausted himself, he slumped beside her, both hands trying to rub away the exhaustion off his face and failing miserably. She stared at him and he caught her eyes, looking back firmly.
"He will pull through."
She said nothing. Eventually the evening took a toll on him and he closed his eyes, finally falling into sleep. So this is what he looks like when he sleeps, she thought to herself- and liked what she saw. Her thumb rose to trail a path over his brow, down the side of his eyes and finally near his ear. He leaned into the touch and sighed deeply.
The night passed and yet there was no news from the doctor. Probably for the first time in her life Ariyana was just a passive spectator of the mess this assasination attempt has created- other people handled the press, the identity of shooter, the possible targets and fallout, she just sat in one corner and quietly observed everyone. Her team came to know about it through the news and forgave herself quickly for the slip- someone was already hurt and the anger was pointless. They asked if they can do anything to help. She said nothing.
17 hours later the surgery was finally over and Sir was kept under surveillance. Having no close relative or next of keen it fell on the guards or staff of PMO/ Governor office to keep the unconscious man company. Exactly 30 minutes later Arjun nearly threw her out of hospital cause she needed some sleep and fresh clothes. She argued, he said please, and she didn't see the point of arguing. He asked several times if he should come, she replied the shooter was not interested in a fixer like her. From the look on his face he didn't believe it.
A shower did clear her head- her body started to shake remembering the warm blood coating her hands and pretty sure sleep for the next few days would be next to impossible. The anti depressant pills back from semi suicide days were once again on table which she washed down with more coffee. She should eat, but the constant update on news and her own horror story didn't give her much confidence about keeping down food. She switched off the TV when she saw herself getting escorted for hospital by PMO staff and Arjun. It made her irritated and she could not remember press was around or not.
The silence got her thinking that maybe her gut was right once again. Could it be? Could it be that India's Prime Minister tried to get Raghu sir killed? His own ally and right hand man, the person who made him what he is today? She is sounding like him, she thought wearily, but despite being them on opposite ends she does acknowledge his role in their lives, how it had shaped their future. He did say something about fixing it, is this his way? No, this is insane. Too public, or maybe that's what he wanted. Trying to put it as casualty, saving his own image and emerging as a better man whom nothing can shake.
Or maybe she has gone insane finally. She knows Suryakant Rawte- the man who shared drinks with them one late night and talked about history of PMO building, the man who did some good work in his tenure, the man with humble background. Arjun's Father. How many time she has met the man, talked to him, looked into his eyes? Can he do it? Did he?
She hid her face behind her hands and tried to stop thinking.
In the evening it was her who threw Arjun out of hospital. He fussed a lot but she was adamant, and maybe a part of him understood she needed to be in the same room as Sir to finally get rid of this numbness. Entering his room, seeing him so lifeless and attached with hundred of wires made a lump appear in her throat. From the opposite side of door Arjun gave her a look, nodded and left. She stared at the place for a long time before turning toward Sir. He didn't look alive, she thought to herself as she sat beside him. The Raghu sir she knew, he probably talked in his sleep about government policies, potentially good candidates and work. Or maybe he didn't sleep at all. Maybe this was good, he was having the longest sleep and when he will wake up he will be a brand new person.
A formidable person.
The enemity between them should make her wish for his death, is not it? Or that would be too cruel? Sometimes she has these dark thoughts and she don't really feel any remorse over them. Does he have these kind of thoughts too? Does he think once you let darkness in it never leaves? How does he embrace it so nicely?
Has he ever watched someone getting tortured?
It was only after whispering it did she realize she was talking aloud to him the whole time.
"I am sorry.'' Arjun would say to her later in the night, they having food and she was eating, and thinking it may not be hygenic for any of them, "He is like a father figure to you, and witnessing it . . . I can't even imagine."
You should not, she wanted to say, but ducked her head and concentrated on food. She appreciated the sentiment and was surprised by it too. Father figure? She had considered him many things- mentor, boss, respectable elder, family, friend, guide, enemy, a thorn needed to take care of. Father? The memory she has her own father, then how Suryakant Rawte parent his son doesn't really look like something Sir would do if he had any kid. He's wrong. There's nothing like them between them.
The crowd outside the hospital would lessen, press would move on to the fall out and identity of shooter (they got him pretty quickly, even K was suspicious), there would be no longer people inside Sir's room. She would go to work and drop by at hospital, co-incidentally matching time with Arjun who would drop by too. Both would sit in silence for some time, then either he would leave first or she will, the other following suit.
On the 7th day she would randomly comment on some news debate and a scratchy voice would reply, "That is bull." Her head would snap at him, words stuck in throat, while he would try to move and fail, then say some more, "Hate the show." She would yell for nurse and a pack will enter, poking and prodding him. Them removing the pipes from his throat would look awful, nearly making her gag. When they will finally leave he would curse some more and she wanted to laugh.
Then he would turn to her with a serious look, "Tell me they got the ba*tard."
She would hesitate before nodding. He would lift his chin, say, "Good." and look at the TV once again.
It will the bright and cheery once again. Her own team beaming at her, a more positve aura inside the PMO, a relaxed Arjun Rawte and finally the MLA campaign moving to places they needed it to. He won't stop gushing about how strong Sir is during their late night meetings and she would smile and nod, and he would look so rejuvenated that she wanted to soak in it. Press would be everywhere- near her home, office, around campaign office and especially near hospital. Raghu sir relished in the atrention and loathed at the same time. Her visits to him become regular and it seemed as if all the old enemity had vanished. But she knew better- this is ceasefire in the case of a shot at Governor. One he recovers there will be no stopping him.
She would cross Suryakant Rawte one evening just as he was leaving. Underlying words and body language became too much and he requested privacy. As soon as his guards scattered she wasted no time.
"Did you arrange it?"
If he was faking it, she had to give it to him- what a performance! He looked around in frustration, whispered at her angrily and then launched a rant which would put her lectures in shame. He blamed her for this mess, cause he wanted to fire Sir and that's why officially invited him but instead of that they had an assasination attempt, now he's a national hero who took a bullet for Prime Minister so he's now forced to give him a promotion. If only she had come to him sooner! How dare she accuse him of something so filthy? (she wanted to say she didn't accuse him but she didn't want to stop the flow) If he hired someone it would not be so sloppy! There was his son too, it could have hit him. Or her, and why she was there anyway? Oh, it doesn't matter, it's her fault. Thanks anyway.
He left fuming and she didn't say a word, she didn't believe him and yet she could not argue with his logic too.
Later in the night she called Sameer's number, and to her surprise it rang and then someone picked up. Nobody said anything for a long time and then he spoke her name.
"You did it, didn't you?"
He would sigh and say nothing. She would close her eyes, head hitting the couch, "Why?" He would stay silent this time too and she would let out a cry of frustration, "Who made you do it?"
"Do you really want to know?"
"I am calling you, aren't I?"
"Do you," He would stress, "want to know?" Few beats would pass and her mouth will open, yet no sound will come out. There will be another sigh.
"I thought so." He would murmur. There will be silence for a long time and she was about to hang up, thinking he had too, when he whispered.
"It scared the sh*t out of me. Seeing you in the room."
"Why?" Gulping down the lump in throat she would ask. There will be a fored exhale.
"Don't ask questions you don't want answers to." Then the line will go dead.
The Prime Minister's Offie would welcome Raghu sir with tons of flowers and cabinate secreteriate post. Sim would inform her that the voting was all to none, her lips shining thanks to excess amount of lip gloss as she smiled at cameras. She had thought she didn't belong to the power center anymore- with her ex being the real shooter, her enemity which is surely to be revived now as Sir is back on his feet, and of course, a personal verbal lashing from Prime Minister himself, so she was rather surprised when it somehow fell on her to escort Raghu sir from hospital. The Man was really a force, someone else in his place would be dying for a proper bed and food, but he being himself needed to see his office first. He wrinkled his nose at the amount of flowers and turned to her.
"Throw them out." Brisk and irritated, wasting no time. If there was any doubt about his recovery, it was completely gone now. The sigh that escaped from her was purely of relief.
There was surprises once again when two weeks later there was a party in the honor of Sir and she and whole group was arrived as VVIP guests. It was a cheerful event, honoring the survivor Former governor and recently promoted Secretary. Both men stood side by side, a perfect picture of brotherhood and unity. Everyone clapped and so did she, trying to keep away the nagging voices. After that this party felt like a deja vu at odd intervals and she knew why- the last time she was here she wanted to escape, this time she wanted to stay. Also it didn't hurt that Arjun Rawte, ex man*hore and the man who tried to hit on her on a drunken stupor and she threw drink on his suit as a retaliation now one of the closest person in her life. He asked for a dance and she agreed, both swaying to music, she wondered once again how this happened. This.
The party was on full swing and then there was Raghu sir beside her, mouth smiling at people as he bared teeth but eyes looked murderous, "He lied to me." His lips barley moved as he spoke, the words coming out as hiss of a snake, "The shooter is still in the wind. It was just for publicity."
Her blood ran cold at that and he turned to her, "I am hiring you. Find out who was it."
She tried to deny, "My men is not NSA, sir."
"Your Karan worked for some super secret Army group, didn't he?" She clenched her jaw at that, it didn't even cross her mind that he would know this. This Man surely knows how to make use of everyone and eveything, "Find out. Bring me the name."
There went the night. Her foul mood was picked up by Arjun immediately who frowned but said nothing when they were in public, but in front of her valet and guards he gently pulled her by her wrist and asked about it. Probably guards are like walls for him now, doesn't matter to him. She brushed it off, squeezed his hand before getting inside. As his figure became smaller and smaller until it vanished, she felt as if she's leaving something behind. Like she didn't want to leave at all.
To her horror (but not really surprise) Karan was estatic. He threw himself at the opportunity to bring him in for justice and her silence must have meant for him to go ahead full throttle. He is one person who understands her silence and words alike, and yet sometimes she feels as if he don't know her at all. Or maybe choosing not to hear her words or silence properly. She don't understand what he does or how, so putting roadblocks in his way were out of question. All she could do was dread for his result, throw herself at work and call Him madly. Where is he? Is he under the radar? How good is he? Can K find him?
It didn't really matter, in the end. Their office was trashed one night and most of their equipments were either too damaged to recover or totally broked into pieces. They ran circles around police station for a few days, shared outrage and concern over the lack of security. On the 5th day she paid off the group who trashed the place through an offshore account. 3 weeks after the party from hell Raghu sir called her to inform they got the man. She dialed His number madly, and when it rang and rang yet nobody picked it up her worst fear was confirmed. They got him. She broke into a run for NSA office and saw the Prime Minister standing side by side with Sir, both looking at her with different sets of expression- but one thing was common. They were in this together, they both wanted Him gone.
Then couple of guards escorted Sameer right in front of them, hands in cuffs and she wanted to throw up. His eyes stayed locked with hers until he was out of sight.
She saved the break down for home. The innocent things in her house- books, lamp, table, bedsheet, other regular mundane things bore her wrath as she threw them around, paced like a caged animal, pulled on her hair and threw some other things. NONONO! He can't be gone. They can't take him. She has to do something. She ran for her files- something on PM, Raghu sir, something big which can make sure they don't harm him. Something on NSA- the papers were all around her as she sat right in the middle of them, a perfect metaphor of the eye of the storm, and there were plenty of things. But nothing could set him free, she was sure of it. He was trapped and so was she. This is not a situation she can make go away, or fix. And she also knew this situation needs extreme measure, something unthinkable. If she thinks about fixing it.
She needed to meet him, to look him in the eyes, see if he's alright, but she also knew this meeting him was impossible. Over the course of next few days she tried pulling several strings but nobody could help her- the prisoner was too high profile, none was allowed to meet except people who have level A clearence. It was when she threw her phone across her cabin did only she realize how out of control she has been, totally forgetting this was work and others were watching. She raised her head to look at them and saw them staring them, frowning in concerned but somewhat resigned too cause she never tells them anything.
So she decided to rectify the situation. Her hand shook as it reached for a glass of water, emptying it at once, then she took a deep breath and opened the box of pandora.
"I need help." It felt oddly like one of their clients. She saw the others blinking in surprise, then settled down around her as she dived into her story. She needs help to break free a person. He's locked in a supermax prison somewhere in the country she has no idea about and chances are he won't have any hearing to defend himself. She could see the doubts creeping on their face and Justin was the one the ask first.
"What has he done?" Not who is he. This was the make or break moment, she could feel it in her bones. Without wasting any time she took a deep breath, itching to get over it.
"He tried to assasinate the Prime Minister." Now that she said it out loud it sounded wrong, ridiculous. Trying to defend a shooter, what was wrong with her? She has taken side of the wrong in the past before but those were professional work, she fixed the issues buried the scandals and got paid. This was illegal, this was wrong. The noise in her head cleared and she could hear others now- the murmur of disbelief, shocked and accusing eyes, expletives, even sharp rebukes. Straightening her spine she raised her voice and others shut down, more because of a habit than anything else. She said yes, this was wrong, but she would do it anyway. He's important to him, her eyes casted down as she confessed that like a dark secret and from the corner of her eye K stiffened at that. The night stretched after that- everyone tried to convince her that risk was too high, it can destroy her, everything she has worked for. Why take the risk? It's above their pay grade. She reminded them with a huff of irritation that she pays them, ran fingers through hair and spoke finally- that she will do it, no matter what. She told them because . . . maybe hoped to get help? To come clean? To bridge gap of past she herself created? She doesn't know, but she wanted to tell them what was going on with her. She don't expect any help, she won't pressure them, they don't have to help her but they should not even think about stopping her, cause she just won't. There was not an option.
To her utter surprise Chotu was the one to cave in first, "What do you want me to do?" At their surprised look he answered in a gruff tone, "You have helped us in a lot of ways, I think this is the time to pay back."
"It can be dangerous, like I said . . . "
"It's upto me, is not it?" He asked firmly, "What do you need?" He repeated.
Rest of them followed in no time.
It was crazier than they had ever done in their entire history of Armoury. They pulled out every contact-legal, illegal, friends and enemies, every single one. They found out where they were keeping Him, what was going on with him, what will happen to him next. Shree threw himself into make a complete new identity to set up in another country, a completely new life. K contacted some of his buddies back from his organization in exchange of big cash amounts, and a part of her appreciated how they didn't ask questions about right and wrong. One night K sat beside her on the edge of the table and spoke this was wrong. She was too much into this now. He was not good for her.
And she said the strangest words ever, "Don't you think I know that?" At his furrowed brow she sighed, "You may not understand, even I don't, but this feels like letting him go. Maybe I want him permanently gone, so far away that he can never return. Maybe I want to pay his debt."
"Debt?"
"If he had not taken you, if I had not found you, I would not have come here. Do this." She looked around the shining sophisticated office, thinking if this goes wrong she will lose this, "He had literally shaped my future with his hands. Feels like a debt."
"And what about you?" He whispered quietly. She would give a sad smile.
"This was never meant to be." And it should not, her mind whispered. She is the worst version of herself with him.
The one thing that stone walled them was the Attorney General. They needed a handwritten note with the official seal of his office declaring a different route to transfer the prisoner so that it becomes easier for them to break him out. Ariyana took this job- and it killed something in her soul when she realized the one person who could help her was Arjun. The AG don't really socialize outside his job but he and his wife adores him, and there were routine dinner parties in their official residence. A bit sweet talking and wishful thinking to see the AG residence for it's historical value (he knows she loves old buildings) made sure she had a spot for dinner this weekend. The initial hour went smooth- the man in his late fourties don't speak much but listens to everything. When it was established that both her and him shares same interest about architecture Arjun suggested they go for a tour, which provided a perfect opportunity for her. She let it slip that she knows a big secret about him- his illegitimate kid growing up in Australia- and waited for his reaction. Some other time she would have admired her handywork, but she had simply no time to waste. Some rough exchanges and furious glares later he had signed the paper without even reading a single line. He excused himself from the party on the pretense of stomachache and she thanked herself mentally for the help of Arjun. He really was a saviour.
She kissed him that night- nothing fancy, just a small peck on cheek. He was surprised and happy, eyes sparkling at her open display of affection while the knot in her stomach tighten. Only after getting into the bed that night she could face it- the possibility of losing him. It could happen too.
2 days later they broke Sameer out. K walked away without a single glance when they stopped in middle of nowhere outside Delhi border while she stood there, shivering as her eyes roamed everywhere over him. There were minor cuts and bruises, he limped on the right side, his moustache was now growing to be like those of a saint and he badly needed a shower. She didn't dare to feel anything by looking too much into his eyes, which just stared at her with an unreadable expression.
"Take this." She thrashed his new papers to him, ratting away his new life in some other country she didn't bother checking, how he will leave country and how he will reach there. After the rant she whispered, "Leave. Leave and never come back." Her voice choking. He blinked at that.
"I just want to know . . . "
"Why." He finished for her, to which she nodded with a jerk, "You ready to know the answer?"
She thought for a moment and nearly turned away from the truth, but changed mind at the last minute, "Yes."
"For you." His answer knocked breath out of her lungs, "He was backing you into a corner."
"So you tried to kill him!" Her voice cut through the silence of the night, reveberating but it did nothing to lessen the shock and anger at the confession, "What was wrong with you? He was my mentor, my boss! There was Prime Minister inside the room, Arjun!" It only his name was out and she noticed the way his face changed did she regret her outburst. Jaw clenching, she looked down, forced out air and spoke quietly, "Leave."
He turned away and did just that.
It was the silence she had grown to loathe- more so after the assasination attempt and the breakout they did. All of them were on edge, standing on tiptoes to listen anything from the PMO, and there was nothing. Not even a whisper. There was no way to know what's going on- and maybe she could use Arjun once again (the word left a bitter taste in her mouth, use, but that's exactly she did that night) but maybe there was a part of humanity left inside her that she decided to leave him alone. Days turned to weeks, then months, and yet there was no whisper. There were ocassional works from PMO, nothing too fancy, she came across Raghu sir once or twice, PM less so, and she got no vibe from them. She sighed in relief exactly two month later- maybe she had put it all past her. Maybe it was truly over.
The arrest warrant for Chotu came next day. To say that this was shocking would be understatement of the century, the guy only looked like a giant, inside remained a gentle soul who can't hurt a fly. That he was accused of murdering his ex wife, that too after an amiable divorce is nothing but ridiculous (more so of the fact that the last time she saw Sakshi she was very much alive). Justin being the attorney among them started interrogation even before police had a chance- when was the last time he saw her? How was she? Any contact? Why he didn't contact her? At the last question he lowered his head, guilt creeping in, and it was so contagious that she could feel it in her bones. Ignoring someone so brutally and even after knowing what a big mistake it was doing nothing to rectify, why it sounds so familiar? She squeezed his shoulder, gave a look at Ju0stin who softened his question afterwards. They stayed in the police station for 39 hours straight, and when he was released to go home they started working on the job-who filed charges, what evidence the police had, why now? And where is Sakshi? K took up the job, and when the room cleared Ariyana ran fingers through hair mutiple times in frustration. She should have known where is Sakshi. Should she ask Shree about Him? Immediately her brain said no- no need to drag him back in her mess. This was her job to fix this.
Like a house of cards her pillars went down one after other. Sim was fired from her job on the charge of negligence and blacklisted from the entire country as a consequences. K's old buddy came to know the person they helped the break out of prison was one of their own and now after him to get a hold of Sameer. As a precaution Shree went undercover so that none can get to him, whereas Justin's old mistake finally came back to haunt all of them which resulted in his bar license cancelled. The one person who could help them in this situation was Aisha, but she was explicitly told to not being in touch with Armoury cause of her job in PMO. Ariyana understood this, but it didn't stop the anger. And then there was this media circus- ex PMO worker on the charge of murder and his friend fired from her job as PA of PM. Is this a co-incidence? Is this Rawte saab's administration's way of seperating themseleves from this mess? Where is Sakshi Anand, reporter from Mtimes? How was she murdered? After a while it become like a haze- all she doing was answering questions for reporters and denying her clients involvement in the murder, then calming down the ever increasing hysteria of Ali, rushing back and forth from Police station to armoury and back there. Then one evening the reporters started chasing Arjun Rawte, MLA candidate for next year and son of PM. After all he also had an affair with the now deceased Sakshi, does he deny the allegation? Was she in touch with him? Does he know if her ex husband used to torture her?
Sim smirked bitterly watching the news, her eyes glassy due to over consumption of wine (her rothschilde was never opened for a more depressing event than this), "Distancing themseleves from the mess, take that." The vehemence was welcomed, but they also knew this did nothing to help them. Late in that night Arjun Rawte joined them in the armoury, the group was reunited and they vowed- enough is enough. It's time to shut this down for once and all.
There was something different about the way he held himself around her, around all of them, and this was not the scandal. Her gut told it was something else, and yet it was not a time to sit down and have a heart to heart talk. Or even a full blown shouting match. (Also a part of her dreaded, what if her gut turns out right? She was not ready for that.) He gave a press statement the very next day, accepting the affair and denying every other rumour of their rekindling romance, whether she was the one he mentioned some months ago, if he had any idea her abusive marriage. She appreciated the way he aggressively replied that the marriage ended way before he entered the picture and Mr. Patil is not someone who disrespects his own wife, despite the relationship being over. At the end of press conference the murder speculation story changed to a reformed bad boy's fairytale saga, and she sighed in relief. At least for one of them it turned out better. The PMO refused to give any statement since the PM was on a foreign tour and he was not in a position to give a statement from overseas. Arjun brought Altaf with him the next day, and he being the shark tore apart the police's case in one single day, saying they were building the murder case just cause a person have disappeared. With lecture and free advice to look for a very much alive Ms Anand which none of the officers appreciated, Altaf walked out of the police station like a boss. When the time for payment came they were surprised to know Arjun had already paid him, and all of them were touched at the gesture.
But trouble was not over for Chotu- Altaf got a whiff about the blind from one year before about a PMO worker's extra marital affair and put two and two together. As he flew into a rage and shouted expletives at all of them for commiting a murder it was Sim who shut him up by speaking the truth. Ali came rushing, and the way Altaf's eyes shone told her he had a plan. So here was his grand idea- spin this case as a trap for Chotu, to punish him for his s*xual orientation. It was an emotional night for all of them- a big step for Chotu, not only to air his dirty laundry, but to spin this and show himself as the victim (which he was). As she adjusted his tie one fine morning as reporters buzzed outside, Altaf and Sim ran around and K stood as a silent vigil, Ariyana remembered the first time she had met him. Mr. Chandrakant Patil, how far you have come. Probably he was thinking the same, judging by how his eyes soften, squeezed her hand once and then went out. The speech he gave, emotional and yet a powerful tale of a man who took a long time to come term with his s*xuality, who had to let go of a job cause our society was not matured enough to understand and accept people like him, who had finally found happiness and accepted that while he will never get freedom like the rest of them, the 'normal' people, he was happy like this- his happiness, freedom, and life getting snatched away from him just cause of some people who sitting on top jobs and decided to punish him for the way he is, for the way he lived and accepted himself. At the end of press conference they all stood side by side- Ariyana, Arjun, Karan, Simran, Chotu, Altaf. Their hands entertwined, a perfect picture of brotherhood. By the end of that week the support for them were pouring in from inside the country and all over the world, Police all but shut down the case against him. On the 5th week of this mess Sakshi Anand set foot inside the NCR, and her first stop was Armoury. After the initial shock was over they called the press and police, and she had to give it to her- the stiff way she held herself, the angry accusation at her parents who didn't accept a divorced daughter, the society who looked down upon her cause she suddenly didn't have a man to validate her life, at the people who suddenly coming out and spreading nonsense about her marriage, showing themseleves as her best friends whom she never even talked. Sakshi denied any claim about her abusive marriage, spoke the truth about her affair with Mr. Rawte and said she left the city to start a fresh life somewhere else. It took her a lot of courage to come forward and end this and she would be thankful if they give her the privacy now.
Ariyana's apartment building was totally silent that night. The two women sat in the living room, none uttering a word. The night passed and a new dawn was there- the Prime Minister was back and finally the official statement (which was a mockery frankly speaking) was out. She felt a smug smirk coming up as she heard him- the Prime Minister's office is no way involved in the fake charges against Mr. Patil. He was a valuable employee for the Office and there will be a commission to find out if someone is really discriminating the employees and pressurizing any of them to quit job. The slacking of Simran was a mistake on their part and they welcome back her whole heartedly to her old job, with formal apology and full salary and perks. The PMO do not comment about the personal life of Mr. Arjun Rawte, and the party stand by him and support him fully on his statement. With the reappearence of Sakshi Anand the PMO along with Government of Delhi is releasing a joint statement soon and officially clearing the fake charges against Mr. Patil. And finally, the Prime Minister serves for everyone in this country, irrespective of gender, caste, religion or s*xual orientation, and he stands by Mr. Patil's statement for the fight against discrimination.
There was no way this man was not becoming a politician, she thought to heself with a sneer and eyeroll as she switched off the tv. An uncomfortable silence followed, which increased tenfold when both ladies stared at each other. After what seemed like an eternity Sakshi slowly got up, took her things and walked away, shutting the door quietly behind her. Like many moments in her life this time also she had many questions, many things to say, but like all the other time those died on the tip of her tongue, so she bit them down and turned her back on it.
The next couple of days were all show- invitations from PMO and residence, private dinners and lunch in posh places with selective reporters and camera men, perfect smiles and poses. It was as if nothing happened in the last two hellish months, like they didn't publically tear each other apart and changed things irrecovably. Her first lunch was with Raghu sir and she appreciated the honesty, that's something she picked up from him.
"You had it coming, Ariyana." He ate and spoke simulteneously and somehow the scene was not as disgusting as it should have been, but then she could stomach almost anything these days. A lack of hygiene (or rather, sophistication) won't make her pukish, "You try to poke into national security,"
"Oh please." She could not stop the eye roll and he made a clink with his fork, irritated at her interruption.
"Then break out the man who tried to have him assasinated? You are lucky he didn't throw you, all of you," His spoon waved at her face as he accused, "in prison. Or something worst. You committed an act of treason, do you understand?" At her silence he sighed, "So let's smile and say cheese. You win, he lost. The faster we can put this behind us the better it would be for all of us."
The private dinner with whole group and Prime Minister, in the presence of Raghu sir and Arjun was a nerve wracking experience, mainly cause of the knowledge that everyone knew what was going on under forced smile and tension thick enough to cut with knife but Arjun. Or worst, he knew. A part of her itched to know to what extent he knows, what does he think, which side is he on? Now that no potential media fall out is hanging over their head and nobody going to prison he didn't have to stand by them and talk nice about them, and from the way he avoided eyes and clenched jaw throughout the dinner pretty much spoke what side is he on and what version he believes.
(Not that there was any other version.)
The Prime Minister decided to have mercy and tried to have a conversation, "So, Simran, when we can have you back?" The girl in question, now having undergone worst character assasination from her old job, a job which meant world to her and mattered a lot, to which she dedicated her life and soul and took pride in the system, was not the old Sim anymore. The bubbling excitement and mischievousness was replaced with a poised grace even Ariyana had to admire. She took a sip of champagne, leaned back in her seat and replied.
"I am not coming back."
The group gave each other looks varying from amusement to shock, no questions followed and Raghu sir cleared throat awkwardly.
The charade of a dinner was over and they could not wait to get out of here fast enough. The rest of them resigned themseleves to one last show off formal handshake and taking leave while she followed Arjun's way, who has left the room so fast as if his room was on fire. She found him in the garden, standing rigid, and she remembered that day when they decided to run for MLA elections and she went after him. It was raining that day, albeit lightly. Her heart picked up enough to make her dizzy, and she wanted run (that's what makes her the way she is), and yet she didn't, just stood behind him and thought about saying something.
"Why you did that?" He whispered, the voie tight and her stomach dropped. This is it, she knew this was coming and yet nothing could prepare her for this feeling. Anguish, the absense of something slipping away, which can never be taken aback. No word was accurate enough.
"How much do you know?" She whispered just as quietly. He turned to her, eyes blazing in the semi darkness.
"Does it matter?"
It didn't, she said to herself. She gave no answer- no confirmation, no denial, no explanation, and somehow it made things worse. His face twisted with a mixture of fury and something else, his both hands covering his face as his breathing became harsh.
"I wanted to become better." He started, his face still hidden behind the hands, "All my life I thought I was nothing without my Father's name, and then I saw you, who came from nothing and build herself in that amazing, inspiring way. I wanted to be something big, someone worthy." The hands dropped and he turned his face away, "Whoever said it was true- never meet your idols."
Her mouth opened to say something but her mind was utterly blank. She had nothing to say to him. Words failed her tonight. Then he looked at her and she took a step back- in fear, in shock, in disgust. Disgust is acurate, it reflected in his face too. Disgust which she deserved from everyone- Chotu, Ali, K, Justin, Sakshi. And yet none showed, except him. And it stung bad. Her breath escaped in a whoosh.
"I don't think there is any good excuse to do this- to let a man break out from prison! And even if there is, I am not interested to listen. He tried to kill my Father!" His voie rose sharply, making her jump, "Does it matter nothing to you? Him? Me?" Without waiting for her response he went on, "I have been scratching my head for weeks now. Why you would do that, who's that man? And then I realized, it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter to me at all. You crossed a line Ariyana, for whatever reason I don't give a sh*t about, and you did wrong. My father's administration went too far to malign your people and I stood by you, cause that was the right thing to do."
"They also helped me." She spoke up.
"I know. I also know they work for you." He gave a small shrug, "Like I said, it doesn't matter to me. I am done, I am done running after you, to put you up on a pedestal, to worship you like you are the most perfect, amazing person in the whole d*mn world. This was a lesson for future no doubt- none is yours in politics. Or whatever it was your agenda. Thanks for that."
The wine was back that night. Storm and anguish like this demands Rothschilde.
When she thinks about change it feels like a term overrated and overused. Change is the most natural thing in the world, her Father used to say to her. Like a wheel which keeps moving no matter what, even when death knocks at the door. It keeps going on and on, and even when Earth will cease to exist and it will be a whole new universe there will be this one, single, absolute truth. Change. One constant everybody wants but nobody can plan for. Not that she fancies herself to be something different, but if she thinks about change boy it feels tiring. It's like she is always jumping from one thing to another- Barasat, Yale, NCR, single, a nobody, then a disastrous love life, more disastrous and dangerous job, a group of people, enemies within the friends. People who looked upto her, worship her, loathes her, despise her. Probably wants her gone. So much has changed over the course of years that sometimes she feels as if she is already too old. Like it's time for retiring or something.
Then her phone rings with a new job and those bullsh*t ideas vanish from her head.
There is a significant shift in their work, in their heads after the show down with PMO and Chotu's coming out. Sure, they get looks and whispers and these days K always stands vigil in front of Ali-Chotu's shared apartment, just in case some overzealous maniacs decides to attack them. And yet something is different, it's like one press conference opened a pandora's box of sorts. The scandal halted their job as the campaign adviser for Junior Rawte, and now there was no question of going back there. This shift was the reason that they picked up more and more different sort of job. More responsible, more emotional. Feeling was not an option anymore, it was a necessity. There were times people would come to them with nothing in their hands, and they would fix their problems, money will be forgotten. The support would be pouring from everywhere, and one day she would understand what's different. It's respect in other's eyes, a sparkle in their own eyes as they do something meaningful. They no longer belong to a high society club, somehow along the way for a section of community they have become a messiah of sorts, and like the power hungry (and search party for identity) people they are, they latched onto it with both hands. Chotu obviously was the leader, stepping on in a brilliant way not just as a part of armoury, but giving speeches, personal and professional advice, charity, rehabilitation, but Shree surprised them all by supporting a rehab for youth with both money and connections.
"We made allies before." Justin would say one day, devouring a sandwich and hands flying everywhere, "Now we are making friends." And she would agree to it. Of course her new rise to power won't be hidden for long- media will be there, of course, painting her as some kind of white angel helping discriminated people, Raghu sir would contact, slyly trying to know what's up even though his men would follow her in shadows. If she didn't bother about PMO before, after the scandal and Arjun's words she was completely indifferent to that place. Maybe it was detachment, or a dare. Do whatever the hell you want, I do not care. They tried to destroy her and somehow she survived, all of them did, and she is watching as her group building themseleves up and becoming bigger and better. She could hardly hope anything better, maybe it was arrogance too.
There would be good news- K and Sim would finally man up and buy an apartment, also deciding to finally show the world they are together, coupled with hand holding and standing close. The man would look uncomfortable and the girl would be smug, and Ariyana herself would shake her head in mirth as others would squeal in delight. Shree would be invited for a full scholarship advance hacking course from a prestigious university from Vancouver and she herself would fill his forms, as the young boy shift from one foot to other in happiness and nervous energy. Ali would be promoted as Assistant Lecturer of his department and Justin would be finally cleared of all his charges and get back his bar license. Happiness would be all around, they would clink their glasses together and say cheers, look at each other will smiles and shining eyes. Her eyes would shift and smile would fed- missing someone in the group, but then she would hold the glass tight and force a smile and it will be alright.
It will be nine months after the blow up- a long long time for outsiders but people like them it would go on a whoosh. The day they would see off Shree, she and Chotu will take a trip to Shimla to meet up with a Man who has personally invited them to handle a missing person's case cause police can no longer help. When they reached sky was ready to burst, thanks to their lucky stars rain and thunderstorm began after they checked into the hotel. No signal on phone and two boring people who don't watch tv except news meant good old fashion silence, sitting beside fireplace and listen to nature expressing it's rage outside.
She would be so gone in her head thinking about that trail opposite the coffee shop in Yale, where she used to go everyday for her favorite coffee and one day met Him- the orange leaves falling everywhere getting stuck into hair and clothes- that she would narrowly miss what Chotu is saying, "Ali cheated on me." It would take her a few seconds to register, but then her brain would catch up and her body would still. His eyes would be stuck watching the fire, and yet it was obvious his mind was anywhere but here- Ali's last trip for Hydrabad, it happened. With the female HOD who transferred to a foreign university now. She approached him, he felt stuck. Yet he did it, cause he was so alone. Always alone, lonely in an empty apartment. She wanted to point out that it sounds like Ali's words not his, but didn't cause it was obvious he himself didn't believe it.
"It's over." He would say, exhaling a deep breath, "He will go back. Before I reach the city. He will be gone."
She would hold his hand and he would respond by squeezing it tighter.
They would go to the client's house next morning in middle of light snowfall and by the time they returned it would be heavy. Chotu would run inside, having enough of this 'wet nonsense', but she would remain behind, removing her gloves and feeling the freezing cold balls on her palm. Yale used to had harsh, biting snowfalls, not like this. Soothing, happy. She would look up and feel them on her face, a big grin stretching as the moments passed. After a while it would vanish and she would look down, at the snow which is melting in her palm.
She would bring out her phone, thumb ghosting over his number. 9 months, 273 days, 18 hours since she last saw him, talked to him, felt him. Probably it was the time, the distance, or the sudden burst of happiness, even though her fingers shook she pressed the call button. It went to voice mail but she refused to let it dampen her mood.
"You liked snow, I remember you saying to me once. Do you remember?" Her voice would be choking and raw but she would go on, trying to sound cherry, "We were talking about places we visited and you said you want to see snow. And then I asked how come you visited so many places and yet never came across it, and you just shrugged. I am standing," She would laugh, "deep in snow, and let me tell you it doesn't feel awesome at all like you used to think. It's cold. Really freezing cold. I am shivering right now." She bit her lip, suddenly at a loss of words. The seconds kept clicking, time running out, and yet the words didn't come out.
Before the line went off she whispered, "Wish you were here."
There was a prick in her neck and then everything went dark.
Things don't surprise her anymore. It happened somewhere in between rescuing an almost dead man from her boyfriend's apartment's secret room and finding out he is a part of super secret army group of India. A nobody girl who was only a student in a foreign country and dating an amazing Man become a woman overnight caught in middle of crazy, unbelievable things. And yet, it took her by surprise- the pricking sensation on her neck, blurred vision and heavy head which felt like a bad hangover (K's voice boomed in her head- someone drugged you. Focus!), hands and legs tied together to a chair, and a buzzing sound. The shock came later, not the electric wires which touched each other causing to buzz and cackle with small fires (she has seen that and many other torture tehniques), but seeing who was making this happen.
Aisha.
It made no sense. Aisha Kapoor, a criminal lawyer and part of private army of lawyers who report to the Prime Minister, a loyal servant for the governemt and PMO. An ethical, abiding by rule person, who helped them whenever they asked her to, whatver they needed her to. Why would she take her? And yet, it was her. Just the face, but everything was different. What caught her eyes was the absence of color. Aisha wore mostly pastel shades, but now she was all black mixing effortlessly with the darkness. As if she is mourning somthing. The usually straight face and barely there smile was not there, her eyes were dark and stormy, mouth pressed into a thin line. Their eyes met and Ariyana held her breath, not daring to meet her eyes and yet unable to look away. The expression was not one of disgust or anger, it was something else. Something told her if she deciphered that maybe . . .
A scream tore from her throat as the live wires made contact with her skin.
"Where is he?" She hissed near her face, allowing her to catch her breath as the electricity stopped. She panted like a dog, the suddeness of the situation not even giving her time to show outrage over this behavior.
"Who?"
"Him." Her voice dropped another octave, eyes boring holes into hers, "Sameer Rathore. Where is he?"
Her eyes widen at the name but the decision was already made. Aisha also sensed it, from the way her face went completely blank.
She thrushed the wire on her skin yet again.
And she felt like she was screaming all the time, her ears ringing from her own voice, dress soaked in tears and sweat as it clung to her skin. When Aisha felt merciful she would give a few minutes to catch her breath, then she would try to think how far she's from the hotel, is she even in Shimla, what place it possibly can be that no person can hear her constant screams? This looks like an old home, her skin feels cold and it's errily silent. Are they inside a forest? What time it is? How long has passed? Where is her phone, still in the snow or Aisha took care of that? At times she would be angry- she betrayed her! Who was she really? Was she part of the same group which Sameer belonged to or this is Prime Minister and Raghu sir's idea of torturing her? Back in her head a tiny voice protested- she was supposed to be one of them, then the press conference, allegations and mental torture her group had to go through came rushing in her head and she was not sure what they can do or can't. How long she was keeping a watch? Was everything planned, her coming across her, letting her be a part of armoury, then joining PMO and putting up a face of friendliness? What else she know? What's her agenda here?
The other time she would feel numb. Despair, Arjun being the literature student would say this word to perfectly describe the situation. In her line of work she has done many things, blackmailing and gaining leverage was one of them. She had tried barganing with Aisha many times- who hired her, what's she getting? Ariyana will give her ten times more money, or any important leverage on any person she wants. Does she want to leave country, need a whole new identity? She can arrange that, she can arrange whatever the heck she wants! But it's like nothing went into her head, just one single question, repeating over and over again- Where is he? Where she has sent him? And she would shut up, not saying another word. Except the scream. She would lose counts of hours, days and weeks. How long will this go on? How long she will let her go on?
Is this the end? Is she going to die in this dingy dark place?
Sometimes she dreams- of regret, empty promises, missed opportunities and a life she would never live. What if she was born a bit normal, went to a regular college of her locality, studied a simple subject. History, she liked that, something about wars and strategies gave her immense joy. Or maybe it would be political science. She was good in studies, maybe she would become a professor. She surely does love giving lectures, enjoys more when others listen to her words with rapt attention and the shift in their eyes as her speech makes an impact. The power of words, its amazing. A regular 9 to 5 job, coming home to Mother's cooking and discussing politics with Father. It's been what, 7 years? Since she last went home, saw them? She would meet a good guy, normal sane guy, or maybe her parents would see to that. A simple arranged marriage, living a normal simple life with a good person. Surrounded by good simple people who's only fault would be harmless gossipping.
She laughed in the darkness thinking about that alternative life. The strength is slowly fading away, or it is life?
Or maybe she would have gone to Yale, but never met Sameer Rathore. Finished her study and went back, did a simple job in a MNC, had large amount of salary and annual foreign tours with 10L package. Or maybe she did met Sameer Rathore, but he would be real, no secret identity business. Maybe they both would settle down in Delhi, and she would collide with Raghu sir anyway. She would join the campaign, see a nobody becoming PM and how a brat becomes the next big thing of India. Things would be nasty, unbelievable outside but in her home it would be normal. Good. Okay. Or maybe this was all written in fate. Kismet, destiny, Sim really believes in these things. Maybe she would have met a man who lived a dual life and introduced himself as Sameer Rathore. She would rescue a man who she later rechristened as Karan, she would escape Yale and join Rawte campaign. Get into the inner circle, have late night chats with Arjun Rawte on her couch. Maybe when he would admit it's you she won't waste a minute to go to him and do something. Give that a try. Not letting the moment pass, do something! Protect Karan a bit harder, pushing away Sameer when he came back, stopping him from shooting those da*ned bullets, saving Raghu sir from getting shot. Trying a bit hard to balance things between sir and Arjun. So many what ifs, so many regrets.
But one thing was funny, she quirked eyebrows in amusement. Not a single 'wish I could go back'. She is not being realisitic about the impossibility of going back in time, rather resigned about the whole thing. Can't change. It's over, done and dusted with. It happened, she did it.
Aisha didn't look particularly patient with her but her cracks were showing now. She should take advantage of it, but all she wanted was close her eyes and let go. She didn't dream of rescue attempts or her home, just peace. She stopped screaming, stopped shivering, stopped shedding tears. After a while she stopped moving at all. She didn't like it, so after a particular nasty session of electricity and waterboarding she let out a roar and kicked her chair. Her head hit the concrete pretty bad, vision was already bad but now it was turning dark with an alarming speed. She took deep breath to bear the pain, but her heart seemed like it was on the verge of giving up. Too slow, taking too much time to beat. So this is what dying feels like- which, apart from the pain, didn't look bad at all. She actually looked forward to the part where she closed the eyes and . . .
Then the door burst open. A tall shadowy figure moved inside slowly, his focus going back and forth to both of them. She barely registered the gasp that escaped Aisha, then frowned as she nearly ran to the person, holding onto him tight as she kissed him senseless. Another partner to force answers out of her? She closed her eyes with that question, but opened immediately as her strained senses tried to hold onto his voice.
Then Aisha shifted and the shadowy figure moved towards her. The face became clear and all Ariyana could do was watch in astonishment, a small lone tear escaping her eyes.
The room went dark just as Sameer scrouched down to her.
She didn't like the light, she didn't like how her body betrayed her and letting her eyes open. But before she could protest against her senses there was a figure leaning over her.
"Ariyana? Hey, Ri, look at me." The sharp command made her jerk a bit, and Aisha gave a stern look, "Don't say my name, okay? You hear me, don't tell the truth?"
She lied still, not agreeing or rejecting her order. Her fingers ran a few times through her hair, and that soothing motion lulled her into sleep once again.
(For a second she think she saw Arjun outside the glass door, so probably this was also her dream.)'
The next time she woke up she tried to show a bit interest as to where she was. Hospital, right, ok. Probably back to NCR, judging by AC temperature inside the room. Her room and the corridor outside was semi-dark so it means none was keeping an eye. She tried to sit up and looked at her body- weak, dehydrated and ghostly pale. Apart from the bandage in head no external injuries. When all tasks were ticked off her brain went on autopilot mode, she went to washroom, looked at herself, freshen up, then came out, saw her own coat lying on the single stool inside the room. She wore it, tested moving around a few times, then opened the door of her private room and walked out of the hospital in the dead of the night.
She collapsed on K just as he opened the room, "Can you pay the cab?" She panted multiple times through the sentence. He passed her on to a already screeching and terrified Sim and proceeded to pay the cab driver who was generous enough to come with her to the 14th floor, shut the door and half dragged, half carried her to the nearby couch. He stayed silent throughout his girlfriend's hysterical questions about escaping the hospital and danger to health, then bad security of that place, then kneeled in front of Ariyana and looked in her eyes.
"What do you want?"
She wasted no time to reply, "Help me. To leave."
As usual K just gave her a look and then went to book her tickets, while Sim asked the questions- leave for where? Why now? She needs rest can't she wait? What happened to her, where she went from that hotel in Shimla? She lowered her face until it was lying on her lap, just answering quietly not to ask any question. When Sim realized how dead serious she was about this decision she gave up immediately, crushing her bones in a tight hug, kissed her head and then left for her apartment to pack her things.
"Nothing too fancy." She called out just as she was about to leave, "Just my t shirts and pajamas." K was always the easy one- which was ironical but it was true. He never asked, never pressed anything, and she was so grateful for all the things he did that she opened her mouth, trying to say, but he shook his head and she realized that maybe he is the only person in the world right now who understands, really understands what's going on with her.
"You never asked me." He said, then the gentle look from his eyes vanished, "Give me a name."
Why she didn't say it? Aisha Kapoor. AISHA AISHA AISHA. Stay away from her, she is not what she seems. It was fu*king Aisha, she was an idiot why she didn't see it coming? Why she is always so useless when it comes to anticipate sh*tstorm hitting them? So easy to say, but she stayed silence. Cause some twisted version of her brain did understand where was she coming from. That doesn't mean she can ever look into the eyes of that woman.
(That kiss would haunt her dreams.)
She released a shaky breath, straightened her spine and went over the legalities- K knows about the assets and join accounts for armoury, plus all the passwords. She would transfer all in his name as soon as she reaches Barasat. She would leave all credit cards, documents and contacts, even the files on people, just for him. Chotu should take over armoury, he looks like a good choice. Shree's all necessities would be deducted from her account. Whatever it's required from her to let this transfer to happen smoothly she would do it. The lease for office would be transferred in the name Chotu and K jointly, her apartment would be sold after she leaves along with the furnitures. Every digital copies in her things would be erased entirely as to it don't go out in any way, just to be safe. For clients there would be a mass mail from her ID, she recited the entire mail as K typed it, Sim entered with her luggage just as they were halfway of that. She had breakfast there, gave them hugs and left for airport to catch the earliest flight for Kolkata sharp at 7 AM.
Not even once she looked at the India Gate or the residence.
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Scandal, gossip, juicy details- they exist on every social hierarchy and every corner of planet. India has a reputation to be specific about gossips- Politics is juicy and a touch of danger, it's talked in hushed whispers in corridors, over drinks in a closely knitted group where opposition and leaders mix together, or they are simply squashed even before it picks up heat. The people in movie business- theirs are common knowledge, so it's a glee to find out that everyone belonging to one big dysfunctional, sinner family under all that glam and money.
The alleys of scandal in NCR was drying up fast before Raghu Ram found out this middle aged clerk of BLRO office from deepest corner from Maharastra and made him Prime Minister. People in shadows sat back and watched as the duo ruled the nation, looking a bit harder for cracks under that partnership- who's the dominant one, who's the frustrated one, is the new PM just a toy in the former's hand? But they had missed the years the two man put into their near perfect story, and when they realized there is nothing to be found except dry policy mumbo jumo and usual party politics they latched onto the boy. So loyal, so obedient- is there any fire underneath those kohl black eyes? To their utter dismay he kept it quiet and except for ocassional boring stories there was nothing.
The gossip came from unexpected sources- the allies Rawte-Ram clan made as they started their political journey as the rulers of the Nation. Who are these 'Armoury' people? What's Ariyana Mukherjee, Karan (no surname, strange), Justin Coelho and Shreekant Sen's story? Where did Raghu found her? Why Mr. Patil quit his lavish if somewhat boring job in PMO? Where Miss Simran Kaur actually works, PMO or the 'Armoury'? Their climbing the ladder inside PMO was as fascinating as Senior Rawte's own success story, and a section of gossipers, who also liked to plan in advance about outrageous match makings even predicted a future match between Rawte Junion and Miss Mukherjee. She would make a powerful first lady when Arjun become the next big thing, and whispers told that was the matter of when, not If. Being the lead of Armoury attention shifted to her, naturally- quitting Yale midway, what is she dumb? Brilliant, almost perfect scores through out her life, starting business from scratch, going back to Yale to finish her semester, for a person who grew up in a middle class family it didn't seem like Miss Mukherjee ever let it to be a limitation. She literally made her own destiny, and stories of how Senior Rawte was fond of the strong, confident, young lady only gave more wind to the flame. There was a point in time her people was involved in every aspect of governing, it won't be outrageous to say she was ruling along side the older male duo.
And then out of nowhere it came crashing. Cynics snickered as a near perfect story of a woman's meteoric rise in the corridors of power came down hard and fast, cause real life doesn't happen like that. The ugly spat between PMO and Armoury gripped the focus for nation for weeks- terrifying, awe inspiring, sickening. But politics is hardly all rosy eyes and sitting down to find a middle ground, before that comes the mud slinging. Nobody hold out any cards, and when Mr. Patil was targetted and Arjun Rawte himself joined the armoury speculation of a fall out between son-father also started going around. It's unclear how much crack the blow up caused in the Rawte-Ram clan, but Armoury was no longer part of the PMO. The three way power share stopped after that, and nobody was more surprised when PMO tried to show all was fine, one big happy family, but either side didn't waste a second to pretend all was forgotten. The season inside NCR changed- new people taking places of old ones inside PMO, Arjun Rawte nearly driving himself to a early old age as he went back and forth to his campaign office and PMO (romantics took it as a symbol of heartbreak, naturally others disagreed. The election was literally breathing down his neck), opposition has gotten new meat to discredit Rawte administration and reelection looked hard, as opposed to landslide victory they had expected. There was a betting pool going on that what would send Raghu Ram to another heart attack, learning these new people's name or Senior Rawte's losing election. Government was finding it's footing, and somehow Miss Mukherjee emerged as a winner. The champion for minorities and LGBTQ communities, and her team thrived in that. Creative satisfaction or just a different way to grab public support? It was a growing section after all, also media starting to root for these newbies as opposed to before, when they were another person for them to dissect and point fingers that, See! Not perfect!
Safe to say last three years were pretty good for scandals and gossip lovers, but once again monotony set in. Apart from the stories of Raghu Ram's temper reaching new heights each passing day, and grim looking Suryakant Rawte trying to have a sit down so that parliament can start working again, and the almost confirm news that Arjun Rawte will lose the upcoming MLA election, nothing was going on. Like the winter which latched onto the weather and made it all gloomy, a thick cover of ice has frozen the fire of spicy dark secrets. There were murmurs about Ariyana Mukherjee, who had miraculously vanished from the scene of NCR after handing over her office to Mr. Patil, but speculation about her leaving can hardly give them enough warmth.
Then one Thursday morning a series of phone calls between Junior Rawte and Miss Mukherjee dated one year back leaked, and the fire was burning once again.
It's a beautiful day.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
This is like a fish out of water situation for her, Liza thought as she wiped sweat down her forehead what seemed like for the hundreth time in the day, looking around displeased as she walked down the road of Barasat. She is not meant for small town or village, god the horror of not having proper signal of phone and no electricity makes her sick. And yet when the tip came straight from 'some insider in top cirlce' (one day she is going to crack that particular code) she could not resist. Ariyana Mukherjee has been a role model for her for years, a primary reason she fought tooth and nail in her journalist circle and made this queen bi*ch name for herself. People thinks women can't be proper serious journalists, their place is in gossip circles. F*ck them and their misogynitic pieces of sh*tty povs. She does good journalism, and Miss Mukherjee showed the whole nation that vagina means nothing, it's the brains. Anyway, this is a make or break project for her. Her boss (ironically a woman) is not too pleased with her 'explosive' statements and looking for a good reason not to let her go after next salary cheque. And going by her track record to burn potential bridges of contact all around, pretty sure she won't be getting a new job for a long time.
That she desperately needed this Interview would be an understatement. Apart from the tip that Ariayana Mukherjee, the former queen bee of NCR is living the life of recluse in this sh*t town with sh*tty roads and she has this golden, probably once in a lifetime chance to meet her outside the craziness that is politics , nothing makes her excited about this trip. For one is the interview topic itself- Arjun Rawte used to be relevant once upon a time, then he decided to run for MLA election from a sh*t place where no candidate from his party won in last two decades. Commendable decision? Liza thinks not. There is a fine line between idiocy and courageous and nobody told Man w*ore Rawte that. (or maybe it's ex manw*ore since he stopped sleeping around. LOL, who thought that man would become a celibate?!) He going lose the da*n election cause he is miserable in front of camera and he has no personality at all, stiff as a wooden, and no amount of flowery praises from people who know him splashed across national news papers can fix that for him. Haha, fixed. Is not that Ariyana Mukherjee used to do? But even she can't fix this sh*t.
Talk about sh*t, what's up with people looking at her like that? It's jeans people, grow up! Ladies wear jeans and pants, god what is this 1970? She can't wait to get out of this sh*t place. Also the lack of AC is killing her.
Tring not to punch the shop owner as she stopped and took a shelter under a small shop and ordered a cocal cola, she looked around and wiped her face once again. Ugh this is terrible, she is sweaty and cranky and fity shades of feeling sick. Why no taxi is available here? These rickshaws makes her scared, so no no to that and walking it is. She took the cola and started sipping, looking everywhere but that moron shop keeper.
That's when her eyes caught her and she started running. When the da*n shop owner yelled for money she threw a 100 rupee note on his face and yelled 'Keep the change' on his face. She fixed the headscarf and sunglass, made herself presentable as she cleared her throat (she was also following her, which was creepy). The woman stopped and turned to her, and Liza nearly gasped out loud. Like Holy sh*t man, what happened to her? Is this really Ariyana Mukherjee hidden behind salwar suits????? Or her eyes are deceiving after this sh*t day, or it's a doppleganger? Oh no, that head tilt and narrowed eyes. Infamous amidst journalists, they had a joke that Ariyana Mukherjee goes in mind 'Who the heck are you moron' and 'what the heck are you speaking about' when she gives that expression. Oh yeah, it's her.
Grinning loudly, she extended a hand, "I am Liza D'Cruz, from Delhi Herald Guragon branch. I was hoping to have a meeting with you, Miss Mukherjee?"
Miss Mukherjee's face can only be described as blank, but not that blank at all. That tightness near eyes spoke how she was really not expecting this meeting. Yeah, not that Liza was expecting this place or time either.
Sh*t place this is . . .
"I think you mistook me." The laughter surprised her and Miss Mukherjee both- like such a nonsense excuse that was. As she was busy to mask the laughter as cough (and failed miserably) the lady looked awa in annoyance, then started walking.
Whoa whoa, not that fast lady. Liza started running behind her as well, and the stiff posture of the former told her she was not too happy with this. Well she is not in a business of plasing people now, is she?
"The chances of finding someone replying me to fluent English here? And that faint Brit accent, are you really going to give that excuse Miss?"
That made her stop and turn with barely contained exasperation, "I don't have any accent."
"You have Ma'am." She shrugged. Sighing loudly, Miss Mukherjee looked around before replying, and even to Liza, who was in foul mood from morning and hated this heat could see the tiredness in that.
"Look Miss Cruz-"
"D'cruz, actually." She flashed another smile. She closed her eyes shut at the response.
"Miss. D. Cruz." She gritted teeth and chewed each syllable before carrying on, "I am not really sure why you are here. And whatever it is, I am not interested."
"But you have not listened to me yet."
"Cause I am not interested." The old Ariyana Mukherjee with her legendary stern face reared it's ugly head for a split second before vanishing under this forced civility and soft tone (even thinking this in head sounded wrong- she is anything but soft spoken)- "I left that job so I have no contacts or any juicy details."
Uh oh, that was a sore nerve to touch, "Ma'am, you are under the impression that I am here for gossip. Which is pretty insulting IMO cause I flew 5 hours and then hailed a cab for another 3 hours in this heat before reaching here. You making assumptions rather than letting me say why I am here. If that's not too difficult for you, may I?"
She looked away in annoyance and crossed arms, but said nothing, and Liza got her opening, "I am here for a interview. My group is on a story about Mr. Arjun Rawte and we were hoping for a few minutes of your time to talk about him."
That got her attention. Liza can actually pin point when her eyes came alive, "What kind of of story?" Huh, the old loyalty is is still here. She won't ever understand that concept- like that dude and his dad literally destroyed her. Why shield him till this day?
"PR kinda- talk around with people who knows him, ask them about their opinion." She shifted her weight, "Look, Ma'am, no offence but this is not exactly a place to talk about this. If I can have half an hour of your time . . "
"Where are you staying?" Came the immediate response.
Liza grinned.
Though she held her foot and was kinda rude (and b*tch) to her, still it was her idol who was coming to her room. So Liza did what she never did in her entire life voluntafvry- cleaned her room. Suitcase in proper place, clothes neatly folded and kept in wardrobe (or whatever the heck that wooden shelf thing is), Her shoes were in pairs and kept far away from eyes and papers placed one over other. When the knock came she wiped her hands on pants, exhaled a loud breath and opened the door wide.
As Ariyana Mukherjee settled down on a wooden chair in her hotel room (even thinking about this is surreal) Liza took a few minutes to herself to observe her. Rumours are wild about why she left all of a sudden, when things were finally falling into normal (or a new kind of normal) and her farm found it's footing in the aftermath, and this maybe her chanceto uncover as to why. They joked that she may have become a Nun away from the madness of NCR but looking at her now-stiff, unresponsive, tensed, and this bloody dress- it was evident that she has changed. Oh, the old fire is there, but something happened and she left, and this new soul in her old body entered. Maybe after she returns she would do some research in this new subject material.
When she realized Miss Mukherjee was staring at her back she covered her thoughts with a wide grin and reached for her laptop.
The interview was dull and nothing unusual- like even for someone who loathes gossip section there was no meat from her replies. Everybody knew Miss Mukherjee and Mr Rawte's story- They met durng Rawte PM campaign, became friends over the course of years. He sided not with her, but the correct side during the controversy. He is a bright intelligent and brave man who will always side with truth and what's Right, no matter what, and this is exactly why votes are coducted so that we can make the good person winner. He should be the legacy for party not because of his surname, but because he deserves it. Fromher words and manner of passionate speaking it was evident she respected this man, but Liza could not stop the chuckle when she mentioned about election and legacy.
"What?" Miss Mukherjee became defensive, the openess which had seeped in during her almost one sided response about Rawte vanished in a second. Liza reached out for the cigerette packet, motioned her if she will take one which she declined (Miss Mukherjee used to be chain smoker once upon a time, maybe the work pressure became so much that she didn't even have time for smoking in later years). Lighting up the stick, she watched the smoke mixing in the air and turned to her.
"I know you were away, but you could not be living under a rock." At her blank expression she let out a huff of disbelieve,
"Really?"
"What?"
"Rawte going to lose the election. Everybody knows it." She said in a matter of fact tone, as the lady sitting opposite her
looked surprised, "Didn't you see his interviews? Ugh, horrible. It's no wonder."
"I have not, actually."
Liza coughed at the reply, "What? Really?" This was unbelievable. This woman made a career out of politics and now she don't
even watch the news? "What happened to you?"
She didn't mean to ask this out loud, it was too rude even by her standard, but still the way Miss Mukherjee jerked back in chair and blood rushed to her face made her feel horrible. Liza rushed to apologize, "I didn't mean . . I am extremly sorry."
"It's fine." She hurriedly replied, "I was trying to stay away- but looks like I missed a lot." She muttered under her breath,
"I thought the chances looked good?"
"They were." Liza nodded, "But honestly? He sucks in front of camera. Awkward, stiff, closed off and detached. It's like a bloody robot speaking. When he talks about his party's vision or even his dad there is no passion. Like those IVR tele calls which tells you, please press 1 for yes." She mimicked the tone, "He's equivalent to that machine voice. So annoying. I would not vote for him, how can we expect some villagers who never voted anyone under age the age of 70 to root for him?" Liza looked around for the ashtray and when she couldn't find any, was ready to let the ash fall on ground when Miss Mukherjee produced the ashtray magically for her. Surprised, she blinked and nodded in thanks before carrying on, "No offence meant to villagers, btw. He don't look interested. Like why even stand if you not going to put any effort? Being PM's son won't cut it for Ghewra."
"It was not like that." She shook head, "He had plans, good plans."
"Oh, I saw the manifests." Liza nodded head, "Good plans, but who going to make the people understand them? Mr. Raghu? Seriously that dude is going to have an heart attack."
Liza continued to talk about Raghu sir and the inevitable losing of election, and Ariyana drifted off in her head.
Liza has legit no reason to stay in Barasat after she got her piece, but she did anyway. That too 3 days! Hotel had no AC and it was hell inside, she had to go down everytime she needed something to eat cause there was room service, but she decided to treat this as a vacation and watched Netflix over the next two days. Her boss threatened to send 'You are fired' mail on the 3rd day's afternoon and Liza reluctantly started to pack, only consolation prize was at least half the shows she had on her list was complete and she would finally have AC. The idea of that was so good that she even started to hum, only to stop when halfway through her packing she got a call. Pressing the answer button she looked out- wow, it's already dark in here. Sun sets early in here.
"Miss D'cruz?" The voice was very familiar, "Listen to me very carefully. I know you are still in Barasat right now, I need you to get to Ariyana Mukherjee and stay in your hotel. Did you understand? Get Ariyana and stay in your hotel, we are coming to get you."
The call died after that, Liza spent exactly 10 seconds before flipping through her internet. Eyes wide and hand flew to her mouth as she read the latest gossip- god da*n, when did this happen? Exactly 3 minutes later she was running through the door, the address for Miss Mukherjee written on a piece of paper.
That the house was a circus would be understatement of the century. The news broke out, like 3 hours ago and Liza has no idea how the heck these people reached here so fast and now made tents in front of her house and on the streets as if some fair is going on. The front door was out of question, so she went around the garden to the back door and knocked thrice. The door flew open and an elderly male looked at her, cautious and yet relieved. He said to someone in bengali and then Miss Mukherjee was there, panicked eyes and lips pressed thin.
"You?" She was confused. Liza wanted to say there was no time for explanation, but she didn't have to- Old Ariyana Mukherjee was still under the weird dress and cold exterior. She said something back to the man and shouted over her shoulder to someone else (Liza guessing probably her Mother)- took Liza's hand and both started to head out walking fast. Liza barely caught a second glimpse of the man who's definately her father( thick square glasses, lean frame, probably a school teacher if the amount of ink in his fingers are anything to go by) and the woman who's possibly her mother (chubby short dark skinned with head mixedwith grey and black hair, tears stained face). They reached the Hotel hiding their faces under scarf and dupatta and waitedfor an eternity for any sign which could tell them what next. Liza started to pack her things, feeling awkward seeing her hugepile of suitcase as opposed to this woman who literally came out of her house wearing one single dress and just a purse. When she was done, she sat on the bed opposite her and blew a breath, catching her attention immediately.
"Your parents." She didn't know how to say this, "They look so . . . "
"Normal?" She sounded bitter, "Yeah, they does." Liza wanted a follow up- sometime the inside journo is insensitive and hard toshut up- does she resent them for their normalcy or craves that desperately, when the door was knocked. The ladies lookedat each other with hyper alert, Liza getting up and opening the door as she tried to shield the view as much as she could.
The 5 men, looked like into securities going by their body build and behavior wasted no time- two were after her as they asked if anyone followed them or saw them, one already going out with her stuffs and other two going over to Miss Mukherjee and talkingto her in hushed words. When all was said and done they seven of them left through the back door. The car picked up speed and Liza lookedaround- Ariyana Mukherjee was looking out with a blank look in her face and the guards busy in their phones (or looking at them) and Liza wondered to herself when did this happen?
Who is responsible for leaking this scandal that there was an affair between Arjun Rawte and Ariyana Mukherjee?
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