by Reet Singh
'Don't be silly. I would have reasoned with him and ...'
'Hah!' Aalok snorted. 'Animals like that don't listen to reason, Madam. Who was he, anyway? Why does he hate your guts?'
Mohini bristled at his tone, but took a deep breath instead of lashing out at him. She'd had enough, in the last half hour or so, of highly charged displays of testosterone. Somebody had to calm things down and she seemed to be the only one who could.
'He is the husband of one of the women who work here. Raji is very good with her embroidery and every time she makes a killing in the market with her stuff, he gets all offended and comes and yells at me for corrupting her.'
She sighed, and rubbed at the headache that hovered about her temples. 'Shall we sit down somewhere?'
'Of course.' Aalok followed her to the veranda and occupied a cane chair directly opposite the one she took. His gaze had softened a fraction. 'He sounds dangerous.'
'No!' Mohini scoffed, although she had believed it herself a short while ago. 'This isn't his first time. He's all bluster, and only when he's had a couple of Patiala pegs. His uncle is the Sarpanch and keeps tabs on him, so nothing has ever ...'
'Surely you aren't going to wait for something to happen?' Aalok growled, clenching his fists.
'Nothing will happen,' Mohini reasoned, 'but if it'll make you happy, I'll have a chat with the Sarpanch tomorrow.'
'How about right now?'
'No, tomorrow is good. Stop worrying about it.'
'Fine.' Aalok got to his feet and stretched. 'Where's Ritvik? I need to talk to him.'
'Oh!' Mohini stuttered. 'He left along with Tina about an hour ago. They waited for as long as they could - they were hoping to get a ride with you, but you were gone ages so they took the bus ... '
'Bloody hell! What was the bloody rush?'
Mohini winced. 'Calm down. If it’s about the trouble in Delhi, I have some news. Ritvik told me you’re needed back there. The cops have some more questions.'
'Did Ritvik say it’s safe for me now?' Aalok's jaw was visibly clenched. 'The woman could still be out looking for me, seeing as how I'm the only eye witness. She would have killed me on the spot if she hadn't already emptied all of the bullets into her husband. The cops fully expect her to track me down. What's changed?'
'I only know what Ritvik told me. The cops want you back. He seemed to think it was urgent.’
Mohini watched Aalok pace up and down as he cogitated over the details she'd shared. He stopped in front of her and his brooding gaze rested on her face before he threw up his arms. 'I can't go back now!'
'Of course you can!' she frowned. 'You must. The cops will come and get you if you fail to turn up. They might arrest you. Don't you believe me?'
Aalok resumed his pacing. 'It’s not that. I can't just take off while that mad drunk is loose about the place. If Ritvik had been here, it would have been a different matter.'
'Oh please! I'll be fine. You should seriously just go.' Then, aware that she probably sounded ungracious, she gave a shaky laugh and rose to her feet. 'I don't mean right now, this very minute; but go early tomorrow.'
Aalok brushed away her words with a wave of his hand. 'I'll stay until the Sarpanch does something about his rascal nephew.'
'Aalok, Shamsher will have forgotten about our little clash once the alcohol leaves his system. In any case, Ria is coming back tomorrow. With my mother. I won't be alone.'
Aalok stopped in his tracks, his expression incredulous. 'Ria?' he croaked.
'Yes. Ria. My daughter.'
'But you never said ... ' He paused, rubbing his jaw and looking slightly dazed.
'What? What did I never say? I told you about Ria.'
'Not in any detail, you didn't, but thank god!' And he surprised her by throwing his arms around her.
It was a loose embrace and she left her own arms hanging, struggling not to wrap them around his body. She didn't know why he had hugged her, but it was such a contrast to the cold vibes she'd been getting all evening that she longed to bury herself into his warmth.
She thought he shuddered, and curiosity forced her to push away a little so she could look into his face.
His expression was shuttered and unreadable.
'I don't get it.' She shook her head, unable to comprehend his strange reaction to hearing Ria's name.
Aalok, planted a quick kiss to the top of her head, then he led her back to the chair she'd occupied earlier.
'You mentioned her, but I had no idea if ... I mean, you never said if she ...'
'If she made it? Of course she did! I'm sure I told you ...'
She stopped, and her eyes widened in dismay. 'Did I not mention it?'
When Aalok shook his head, Mohini grimaced. 'Oh, I'm so sorry! Did you imagine she was ... that she ...?' She couldn't say the dreaded word.
'Well, you never did finish telling me the rest of it. I didn't know what to imagine.'
'You're right. I told you, I think, that I was pregnant when ... ?' She paused and looked at him.
He nodded.
'When the cops were done questioning me - and I'll admit my father had to pull some strings - I fled to this place.'
Mohini couldn't help the tremor that made the words come out all wobbly. Aalok came and sat by her side, his concern palpable.
She had never revisited those days - not in her waking moments at least. Only in sleep had the nightmares forced her to remember and Mohini wondered now if the night terrors would return. She closed her eyes against the dread.
This man, Aalok - he compelled her to think about things she had buried deep inside her. She had never spoken about them before - not even to her beloved grandfather.
Mohini cleared her throat against the anxiety that was lodged there. 'Bapuji, my mother's father, was alive then, and he was my salvation. Only,' she choked the words out, ‘... he had a heart attack a few weeks after I got here.'
She felt the man beside her stir. A muttered expletive reached her ears, but he didn't touch her, which was a relief - tenderness was the last thing she needed.
Would the stone that weighed down on her soul lift if she spoke? She had no idea, but it was worth a try. This man made her want to try - and tenderness from him at this point would break her resolve. He seemed to understand, and so she continued.
'Losing Bapuji was almost the last straw,' she sighed.
Turning to him, she asked, 'Do you remember where we met? Up on the terrace?'
He nodded. 'It was approximately the same spot where I ... where I dragged myself a few days later. The family was downstairs, winding up after the religious ceremonies that were supposed to ensure Bapuji's journey to heaven. I missed him so much as I sat up there brooding – I kept thinking how easy it would be to end it all.' She hiccuped, and Aalok flinched.
She reached over and patted his knee. 'I didn't end it, obviously,' she jibed. 'But at least you know now why I reacted the way I did that evening - I presumed you were about to jump off and so I flew to your rescue ... but I broke your phone instead.' She shook her head and laughed, and it sounded hollow and mirthless even to her own ears.
When she would have removed her hand from his knee, Aalok covered it with a warm palm.
Dragging in a deep breath, Mohini continued. 'You’ll never guess why I didn't jump - It was Ria – she kicked me. I swear I was a second away from jumping, and she moved so sharply, it was almost painful. I fell back at once.’
She closed her eyes. ‘I couldn’t believe my selfishness. I cried myself to pieces and then I managed to get myself off the terrace - using the stairs, of course - and she was born the next morning.'
It was a relief to share the burden with this man - a burden she'd carried alone for nearly three years.
Aalok, beyond a muttered ‘thank god,’ was silent for quite a while but his arm crept around her and she let it stay there. She didn’t know what he was thinking but his breathing was a little ragged. They stayed like that for some time, each immersed in their ow
n thoughts.
Her mind, as it usually did, strayed to him. He might be an atrocious flirt, but he wasn’t a bad person. He took care of others. She’d noticed that about him. Tiger trusted him, and that was saying something.
She was consumed with curiosity. Who was he? How had he gotten to where he was? What kind of life did he have in the city? She pictured a harem of women, and it made her uncomfortable. She shifted and he looked at her, raising one of his expressive eyebrows at her.
‘I was wondering about the women in your life,’ she said, quite truthfully. ‘Not girlfriends, necessarily, although I’m sure you have hundreds. How about a sister? One? Two? None?’
He frowned down at her, and then his eyebrow quirked even higher. He probably thought she was raving, which she likely was – it had been a torrid day. But then he chuckled, and the sound rumbled in his chest. 'Three, actually. Sisters, not girlfriends. Why would you ask?'
'Three?' she blurted. 'No wonder you're so savvy.'
'Oh, my sisters made sure of that. They're younger than me, but there's nothing that they haven't prepared me for. I could write a book,' he said, with evident pride. 'And then there's Anahita, my niece. My sister's daughter. Apple of my eye. Being around her has been more educative than all of the rest of it put together.'
Mohini smiled. 'They certainly taught you well.'
A wickedness made her add, 'Except when it comes to girls like Tina. That one had you gnashing your teeth.'
Aalok growled. 'That woman is the pits. Very manipulative.'
Mohini stiffened. She disengaged herself from his casual clasp. 'Oh, please! She's nothing like that. Those were extenuating circumstances.'
'Baloney. I'm surprised you don't see through her. She's insecure and clingy.'
'No she isn't. Not usually, at least. What would you have done if you'd caught your spouse in bed with another person?'
'That's never going to happen.'
'Don't be so confident,' Mohini scorned. 'It happens all the time.'
'I'm confident,' the annoying man grinned, 'because I'm not up for marriage. In fact, the wedding mandap is not even a remote possibility in my case, so the likelihood of a spouse two-timing me is non-existent.' His eyes glowed in the dark and his expression challenged her to throw another argument at him.
'Whatever,' she said, the wind taken out of her sails. 'Leave it.'
He looked so cocky, lounging in the cane chair as if he owned it, that she decided it would be prudent to change the subject. She wasn't going to give him the pleasure of demolishing another one of her hypotheses.
'Talking about two-timers,' she said, 'where's my cat? I haven't seen Tiger since the morning.'
As a distraction, the new topic she'd chosen misfired completely when Aalok purred, 'I'm not surprised. You evicted it rather unceremoniously from our company this morning.'
'I did not unceremoniously anything,' she countered, flushing to the roots of her hair. 'I was very polite. And it was only because you were pestering me ...'
The memory was too hot for words and she broke off mid-sentence. Breathless and feeling quite silly, she tried to snap her gaze away from him - his eyes were hooded and the expression languorous, almost as though he too was remembering exactly where they'd been at the time, and precisely what they'd been doing when he'd complained about the cat.
Fighting the warmth that invaded her body, Mohini drew in a long breath and prayed that the dusk would hide the pinkness in her cheeks. She waited a full minute for her color to return to normal before getting up to switch on the lights in the veranda.
'Forget the cat,' she said, not caring that she was using her pet as an euphemism for sex.
'The cat's fine,' Aalok drawled, looking dangerous to her peace of mind. 'Tiger's having a tryst with a boyfriend. I heard them caterwauling a while back. Is it neutered?'
'Lady cats are spayed, not neutered,' Mohini mocked, glad to find a reason to discredit him. 'And it was done when she was a kitten, so I've never had to worry on that count. I just hope they don't fight. She's not very ... generous.'
He snickered. 'Lady cat? Is that what they're called these days?'
She chose to ignore him. 'Would you look at the time? It's going on for seven. If you'll excuse me, I'll go fix dinner.'
Aalok vaulted to his feet, causing her to jump. Patting her on the head, he made an offer that helped abate a fraction of the annoyance he had just caused. 'I'll take care of it,' he said. 'You stay right here.'
'Here' was the chair nearest to her. She dropped into it at his urging, then made a feeble protest. 'You don't know where anything is.'
'I do,' he said.
'Please yourself. But I'm not going to just sit here. I need a bath. So I'll see you in ten?'
'Make that fifteen,' he suggested, before loping off towards the kitchen.
Mohini got to her feet and stretched her aching body.
Why did she feel so achy-breaky? She wasn't coming down with anything, was she? Then she remembered. She had attempted more aerobatics in the hours since Aalok had arrived than she'd done in the last few years. No wonder her body was protesting.
Shaking her head at the wanton images that her mind conjured, she hurried off in search of a cold shower and clean night clothes.
Fourteen
Aalok watched in mild surprise as Mohini took mere minutes to demolish the sandwiches he'd made. She looked utterly absorbed as she painstakingly fished the crumbs off her plate. When she leaned back in her chair, finally, and used the back of her hand to wipe her mouth, he found it difficult to imagine she was old enough to have a daughter. The hot pink pajamas she wore didn't help matters.
'You make great sandwiches,' she gushed.
When he waved away her praise, she frowned at him. 'No! I'm serious. You don't have to be modest. These were perfect - soft and moist, but also crispy-ish and firm, if you know what I mean.'
Aalok couldn't help but grin at the odd, unflattering description. 'I'll take your word for it.' He tipped his head in acknowledgment and proceeded to finish his own dinner.
A short while later, nursing the customary glass of hot milk, he noticed something that made him sit up a bit. He set the tumbler down carefully, and examined the strangeness he felt.
It was in himself, an unusual awareness, quite difficult to describe. Not calmness, that was too bland a word; happiness would be putting it too strongly. What was it, then? Surely not contentment? A ripple of alarm activated goosebumps on his skin. What the hell was this?
What business did he have being contented? He was sitting in a shabby kitchen for crying out loud, at a makeshift, rickety dining table, with a woman in ghastly, frilly, hot-pink pajamas. What was there to be contented about?
Contentment had not got him where he was - an active response to adversity had. He had defied an abusive parent, and ever since then, he'd stood up to every challenge he'd faced. If he had settled for contentment ... Aalok's mouth tightened.
Mohini's voice came to him through the miasma that surrounded him. Something about more milk – he shook his head.
Mohini began clearing the table and he got up to help. Though his hands were busy for the next few minutes, his brain continued to torment him. He'd never hankered after it, but even if he had, contentment was not wired into his psyche. Whether he liked it or not, he was a carbon copy of his father in that department. His sisters were lucky - they'd been blessed with genetic material from his gentle, long-suffering, forgiving mother.
Not that the girls were wimps; far from it. They had more gumption in their little fingers than most people had in their entire bodies. They were tough, but they were also happy people. They found happiness around them and if they didn't, they created it. They were passionate, make no mistake, but they were not given to violent anger like his dad had been. Or like he was.
Aalok closed his eyes in a vain attempt to stop frustration from gaining the upper hand. Nothing had changed. He'd worked hard over the years to erase the anger - th
e damning legacy from his father that had got him into so much trouble in and out of school. But he'd lost control again - at least twice in the short time he'd been here.
He placed the napkins in their designated tray and his troubled gaze drifted to his hostess as she buzzed about the kitchen putting things away. That first time on the terrace when Mohini had launched herself at him, he'd been furious enough to consider pounding the shadowy figure into the concrete. Fortunately, he'd stopped short of actual violence. But this evening, when that drunkard, Shamsher Singh, had threatened Mohini, he hadn't been able to contain himself.
Aalok clenched his fists uncaring of the fork that bit into his palm. It was a taint he carried and it terrified him. Some day he'd hurt somebody he loved. That eventuality was programmed into his DNA thanks to the monster who had sired him.