part0025

Avish sat in silence in his room, and if it was not for his mercilessly intertwined fingers and the nerve ticking at his temple, it would be hard to tell what was going through his mind. He had heard his father’s rather preposterous preposition a few minutes back with humongous patience and peace. He had not yelled, in fact he had not even refuted the idea. He had calmly, with as much calm as he could muster in the given situation, asked for some time to think about his condition and then had marched back to his room without delay lest the threads of his facade snap. The facade, behind which he was boiling in anger. How could his dad even think that after what all had happened in his life, after what all he and his wife did to him, he would agree for marriage? What made him think, even for a second, that he would oblige him? What? He gave him an inch and now he is trying to take over his entire life. That too after ruining more than three-fourth of that same life.

He had wanted to throw things in his room to make his point. He had wanted to yell. He wanted to knock some sense into his dad for coming up with such ridiculous blackmail. But he did nothing of that sort. Because he did not want his father’s blood pressure to rise. And mostly because he had been fairly forewarned by buaji before he stepped into his father’s room. He knew what he was going to hear and that did make it a tad bit easier to deal with. But that was it. He heard it without reacting but if his dad thinks that he will act on the suggestion as well, then he can bloody dream on. Enough of puerile behavior. He will go through the operation and there will be no marriage.

Since his dad’s attack, he had realized that the only sane person in this whole household is buaji. He had not taken her seriously earlier with her dramatic NandKishore chants, but now he knew better. Had it been left to bade papa- Laddoo duo, they would have burned the house down long ago. Neither has an iota of sense or understanding of the gravity of the situation. Taking everything so lightly, plotting hair-brained schemes and coming up with the lamest of ideas at weirdest of times was their specialty. And today the limit has been crossed. Had it not been for his dad’s health, Avish knew that he would have raged a third world war and left this freaking house for never to step into it ever again. Like hell he will marry. He knew he needed a good reply, a convincing one, for the time being to escape this marriage clause. And once the operation takes place and his dad recovers, he will sit down with him and make a few things clear to him if he wants him to stay here. Very clear.

“Not now,” he spat.

“J...Ji?” she stammered at the tone.

“I don’t want dinner. And if you will excuse me, that would be great,” he snapped. The last thing he wanted was food right now.

“Ji?” she looked at his rudeness incredulously.

“Are you hard of hearing, Khushi? Do one thing, go to the hospital with your bade papa next time and get yourself checked too,” he said edgily.

“God why are you talking like this? Anyway, come. Let’s go. It’s dinner-time,” she chose to overlook the rude behavior.

“I said I don’t want to eat. Which part of it is difficult to understand?” he asked in a piercing tone.

“Every part,” she said defiantly. “You got to eat. It is not right to skip meals.”

“Leave me alone. GO.”

“Fine. But buaji is waiting for you and we will not eat until you come. Also dinner is getting cold,” she said tightly and left.

Avish buried his face in his hands. He knew his frustration was misdirected, but he could not care less right now. His dad is making his operation a game, buaji is expecting the patience of a saint from him while playing Switzerland, he is trying to grapple with the audacity of his father for trying to trap him in such a manner and this girl, her pressing issue in life is dinner getting cold. Seriously!

“Why is everyone snapping at me today? First Rishabh and now Avishji. Buaji and bade papa look high strung as well. What is going on here? And what did I do?” Khushi kept mumbling in irritation all the way back to dining table and flopped on the chair. If he thinks they will eat without him, then he does not know buaji. And though she is hungry... and the food looks tempting... and it’s dinner time... her either . Huh.

“Titaliya, where is bitwa? I asked you to call him fifteen minutes back. Don’t be lazy and go right now. Call him,” said buaji while keeping one more bowl of curry on the dining table, and without waiting for an answer turned back to go into the kitchen.

Khushi looked at buaji’s retreating back with eyes wide like saucers. He doesn’t want to leave his room and she gets labelled as lazy? What kind of justice is this?

“He said he does not want to eat,” she informed buaji’s back.

“Tell him dinner will get cold and he ca not skip meals,” buaji replied before disappearing into the kitchen.

“Yeah right,” Khushi rolled her eyes, but got up nonetheless, and headed back to the unreasonable man’s room.

“Now what Khushi?" came his irritated voice as soon as she stepped into his room. He knew it would be her.

“Like you don’t know,” she grumbled under her breath sitting opposite to him on the recliner.

When he did not hear anything for a few seconds, Avish removed his palms from his face and looked at the girl, who was resolutely sitting in front of him and in addition to that, glaring at him.

“I said I don’t want to eat,” he repeated.

“I know,” she smiled sarcastically. “But I want to”.

“So go. Help yourself. You are not expecting me to feed you now, are you?” he matched her sarcasm.

“No thank you. But I do expect you to come with me and tell buaji yourself that you don’t want to eat. She seems to have a problem believing it when I say that,” she said with a sugary sweet smile. Too sweet.

“So you won’t get dinner if I don’t come,” he cocked his eyebrow.

“You wish,” she gave a tight smile.

“I’ll call the kitchen and tell buaji that I am not coming. You go and have your dinner,” Avish offered.

“Come on Avishji, give up now. I have told you before also, whatever you do, don’t take out your anger on food,” she whined while standing up. And without another thought, grabbed his hand and started dragging him out of his room.

Before Avish could assimilate the fact that Khushi was actually physically holding him, something which she has always refrained from doing earlier save one goodnight hug long back. Before he could note that she had no qualms about it either. Before he could tell himself that he felt nice at this gesture of hers, he found himself in the dining room. Aren’t Indian girls and this touchy thingy with guys a taboo, especially in the house, he asked himself. Does Khushi know about his, not so friendly intentions? But she looks completely normal. Blabbering like the world owes it to her to listen to what all she wants to share. Is he reading too much between the lines? Must be. Indian society has moved forward a lot in the last few years that he was not here and then this is Khushi. She hugs that good for nothing Raichand lad at every given opportunity, doesn’t she? The last thought dampened all his freshly soaring spirits in a fraction of a second and he stiffly took his place on the dining table. He is Avish. Not Rishabh. And he does not want anything from her that she gives to her friends. Not even her hug . His mood soured some more,if that was possible today.

Kalyani was well aware of Avish state of mind. She might not know the extent of anger and frustration he was feeling, but she understood the tight spot bhaiya has put the boy into. He was picking on his food, and wasn’t reacting even a little to Titaliya’s rambling, which he generally entertained, even if for formality sake. So to divert his mind she herself started narrating a funny incident from the day, according to her that is, that how Rishabh tried to convince bhaiya for surgery. She could not have chosen any worse topic than this. However, she had no idea because Avish bitwa seemed to be taking an interest in what she was saying, looking at her with his undivided attention and listening to her intently.

It took Khushi a only few minutes to jump into the conversation to claim the credit for this brilliantly innovative idea and the efforts her friend has put into it in order to make it a success. To Avish’s credit, he did not upturn the dining table in the fit that was itching to burst out from every pore of his body. Today was definitely not his day and he had had enough of this house and its people. But seemed like that was not the end of his misery. Buaji went ahead, and lovingly patted her Titaiya’s head and blessed her for the efforts she and her friend had put in convincing her bade papa, hoping it would work. Avish hated how it sounded like. As if, Khushi has some relation with that Raichand boy that entitles her to be congratulated for that moron’s useless achievements or lame noble deeds. Swallowing whatever that it was in front of him in the plate with much difficulty; Avish stood up and beat a hasty retreat to the sanctuary of his room.

After a gap of three years, one month and approximately two weeks, Avish finally lost his temper today and trashed a poor thing in his anger. Last time it was the mirror in his New York apartment’s bedroom, along with the bottle of a fine scotch. It was his mother’s birthday that day. He had drunk beyond his capacity and could not contain the anger he was feeling at the bitter memories that were hounding him. Today it was the unfortunate pearl drop shaped light-grey colored side lamp in his room that saw its end. Khushi had loved it when she bought it while decorating his room prior to his arrival to India. He of course did not know that, for if he had known, he would have surely banged the similar one sitting on the other night table on the other side of the bed as well. Rishabh. Rishabh. Rishabh. How he hated that name . And how he hated her for saying it.

Enough was enough. There is a limit to niceness and his in-particular came with an expiry date and time. Today. Right now.

He paced in his closed sound proof room like a wounded tiger. From one corner to the other. Willing for his heart to burst any minute or a vein to pop any second and end his suffocation altogether. What is he doing here? Why is he playing a puppet in the hands of his father, who conveniently remembered that he had a son alive somewhere only when his despicable ex-wife was out of the picture, and that too not before that son had become a drug addict? And taking care of this house which has given him nothing but horrid memories? Or, waiting foolishly for a foolish girl to realize that she has turned him into a fool as well? Not even once did she ask that what is troubling him today. And why would she? Who is he to her? And to rub salt on his wounds, even a blind man can see how bloody close that guy is to her. She needs to be distanced from him . Period.

But before that he has to get out of this marriage mess himself. At times like these he rued being born to Sumer Singh Raizada and Sujata Mathur, not that he was particularly proud of that fact at other times. But when they asserted their parental rights without doing anything to earn them, he could not help but wish that he was never born in this chaos. However, that damage was done thirty years back. What is he supposed to do now, he sighed in desperation. His eyes had turned red and he could feel a headache coming. Sitting down he took a few calming deep breaths. Think, he told himself. Think. His father is using his illness for striking deals. Good . That makes him free to do the same. He will handle him. Somehow . But all said and done, he was glad that he has asked him to marry, and not his Laddoo. The girl would have not been able to say no to save her life.

DAMN! The thought struck his whole being like a thundering howling lightning. Damn. Damn. Damn.

It wouldn’t be surprising if dad tries to ‘settle her in life’ next, as he has termed it, if he fails with him. On some other pretext. Or the same operation one. With her friend in all probability. And why not? Wasn’t he the first choice for his Ladoo? Over his dead body will that happen. Whatever it takes, he will not allow it. He has not started feeling things for that girl to see her happily married to someone else. He wanted her friend out of the picture. Anyhow. She is his . And will stay with him. Like a housemate, a friend, a girlfriend if she wishes or even like a bloody possession if it comes to that. But with him and no one else. Whatever issues were nagging his mind at that moment, all took a back seat. More pressing issues claimed his attention. His mind started working at a furious pace. He had long accepted that the only bright spot in his days were where Khushi appeared in them. Her absence from the house for as much as a day makes him hyper, then how will he be able to let her go out of his whole life. Come what may, by hook or crook, she will stay here only, his mind declared. In front of his eyes. Always. And she has to agree. He will make her agree .

A little while later, thinking pragmatically with a calm mind over his conversation with his father revealed to him that he has to actually do nothing in order to keep her with him. The opportunity has presented itself to him, that too on a silver platter . Only con in all this would be getting married. But Avish Singh Raizada was aware that tough decisions made at the right time are the key to success . He detests the institution of marriage and has no faith whatsoever in it but it was not as if he has sworn off of marriage. Yes, he would have preferred their status-quo till eternity, but with new developments he would have to make a few compromises. If marriage is what is required to avoid present as well as future hassles, then so be it. Isn’t there a saying like when life throws lemons at you make lemonade. Lemonade it is then, he decided. Even though he is not at all fond of it. But it is better than sour limes, isn’t it?

The smug smile that graced his face and the gleam in his eyes, was not of a lover who has found the way to keep his beloved near him. It was that of a particularly obstinate child who had accidentally figured out how to extract his favorite toy from his parents.

“I have made my decision,” his son said without any preamble.

Sumer folded the newspaper and kept it aside and gestured his son to sit down with a confused smile. He was confused since last night when Avish did not create a scene and instead listened to him without a fuss. And now this. This was quick, he thought.

“I am glad beta. Don’t think of it as blackmail. I just want to see you happy,” he said.

“Hmm,” Avish grunted as he rolled his eyes.

“So what have you decided? I promise I will undergo the knife without another word if you agree,” Sumer asked curiously, all the while praying for a positive answer. His prayers were about to be answered.

“I’ll marry” he heard his son say.

Though that was what he had hoped to hear, he could not believe he had actually heard it. Before he could gather his thoughts that had run away wild in glee or open his mouth, Avish spoke again.

“But, I have a condition.”

“What?” skepticism clouded old man’s face.

“Don’t worry. Nothing atrocious. Just that I have a girl in mind,” Avish replied.

Sumer nodded. He had no issues with that. In fact that was what he himself had wanted. But this was Avish he was talking to. Even if he considers his impending surgery a huge bait, Avish did not fall for baits easily. He was too intelligent and too stubborn for that. And who is this girl? Sumer had expected resistance from him. A lot of resistance. From what he knew of his son, he had given in too easily into his demand. A little too easily. And the thought made him uneasy. Life had taught him that easy things demanded a higher price in long run.