“Are you saying you deliberately jumped into the lake Anya?” Dev’s grey eyes turned tempestuous as he looked into her eyes. “Are you crazy or what? You didn’t know that you could swim. What if something had happened to you?” He shut his eyes, thoroughly shaken as the picture of Anya’s lifeless body floating on the surface of the lake sprang before his mind’s eye. Opening his eyes, Dev shook her hard, forgetting to be gentle for the first time. “How dare you? Couldn’t you have waited for me?” His eyes blazed with temper. He hadn’t noticed that the car had come to a stop outside their home.
Shaan had followed them on his bike, holding on to the car’s fender. Bending down to open the car door when it stopped at the farmhouse, he heard Dev and said quietly, his voice serious. “I don’t think Anya chose to swim in the lake.” He was still shaken by the incident, more than Anya it seemed.
“What?” Dev’s head jerked to Shaan and then back to Anya, even as he pulled her out of the car, his hold rough. “Just a minute Daadima, let me open the door for you.”
“You get Anya to her room Dev. Dharmesh is here to help me. Go on,” said Meena.
Dev nodded before looking down at Anya as she stood beside him, his eyes still smouldering with anger. “What’s Shaan saying? Is that right?” asked Dev.
“Yeah, he’s right. Renu pushed me into the lake.” When she heard Dev curse, Anya pouted at him saying, “But Dev, one good thing came out of that. I know now that I am a strong swimmer.” She had never seen him lose his cool before now.
Dev gave her an intense stare. “Not funny, Anya. Shaan, can you organise some hot, sweet tea with a shot of brandy? Make that three cups. I think you and I can do with one too,” he smiled at his manager, patting him on his shoulder.
Dev lifted Anya in his arms, ignoring her protests. “I’m okay Dev. I can walk. I’m way stronger than before,” she smiled, patting his manly cheek, his temper exciting her more than anything.
While he noticed the shimmering excitement in her eyes, Dev refused to give in to temptation. He shuddered when he thought again of what could have happened if Anya hadn’t known how to swim and he wanted to throttle Renu with his bare hands.
Seema was just stepping out of Anya’s bedroom, her bath almost ready. “Come Anya, let me help you get out of your wet clothes,” offered Seema.
Anya raised an eyebrow at Dev, challenge in her brown eyes, before saying with a smile, “I can manage Seema aunty. I don’t feel all that weak.”
“It would be great if you can get some tea ready, Seema aunty,” requested Dev, “I’m not really sure Shaan knows how to make tea.”
Once she left, Dev shut Anya’s bedroom door, pulling her into his arms, even as he removed her clothes in a hurry. He got her naked in record time, before carrying her into the bathroom. “Do you want to join me?” asked Anya, her voice hoarse with want as she sank luxuriously into the hot tub.
He shook his head, regret in his eyes. “Later tonight. I have a Jacuzzi in my bathroom,” he promised. “I’d better go. Will you be able to manage? Or shall I send Seema aunty up again?”
“You mean you aren’t going to wash my back?” she pouted at him cutely.
Dev went on his knees beside the tub, giving her a hard kiss. “I need to do something urgently. I’ll be back soon.” He turned around and left, not saying anything further.
Dev didn’t stop to have his brandy laced tea, getting into the station wagon to drive to his neighbour’s home. He was glad that Renu was nowhere around or he just might have throttled her. Seeing her father in the big hall of their house, Dev greeted, “Hello uncle.”
“Dev beta, welcome, welcome. This is a pleasant surprise. Sit down. Aunty is getting tea. You must also have a cup.”
Dev refused the tea and spoke to Renu’s father for the next fifteen minutes, without interruption.
After hearing him out, Mr. Gurnani said, “Oh, but Renu has set her heart on marrying you.” He was terribly disappointed, shaking his head. His daughter was headstrong and he had so hoped a tough man like Dev would be perfect for keeping her in line.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you uncle, but that thought had never crossed my mind. You heard my offer. Tell me when you are ready.” Dev left, wishing the older man a good evening.
He stepped out of the house to see Renu getting out of her jeep. “Devvvv...how wonderful to see you,” she gushed, walking close to him.
“Don’t you dare lay a finger on me, unless you want a tight slap,” snarled Dev.
“Oh! So Anya’s alive,” said Renu, a sneer on her face that had suddenly turned ugly.
“No thanks to you,” said Dev, getting into his station wagon and roaring away.
Renu’s parents discussed through the evening and decided to take Dev’s offer of buying their land along with the house. They were too old to run the farm and their only child was so not interested. They refused to listen to their daughter’s protests, for once putting their foot down.
“I don’t want to leave the farm,” argued Renu, stamping her foot in a rage.
“Listen Renu,” said her father, “This is the only way. Dev promised not to go to the police on the condition that we shift from here. It’s a good thing that he’s ready to buy our farm at the prevailing market price.”
“Who’s he to lay conditions?” snarled Renu.
“That’s all because of you,” said her mother, gritting her teeth, “You and your temper. It’s my fault that you have become the spoilt brat that you are.”
For the first time in twenty-eight years, Renu’s tantrums got her nowhere. Her parents were keen to hold on to the little bit of respect that they still had in the society. They thanked their stars for Dev’s levelheadedness in sorting the issue amicably without bringing the law on their heads.
22
Anya flew to Chandigarh with Farhan two days later, refusing to give in to the feeling of nervousness. “They know we are visiting them today, right?” she asked for the third time.
“Yes, sweetie,” he said, holding her cold hand tightly in his. It was four in the evening when they knocked on the door of Anya’s home. She, of course, didn’t recognise the medium-sized bungalow. Amal opened the door the moment they rang the bell. “Anya, meri bacchi,” she cried out, holding her hands out to her.
Anya placed her hands in the older woman’s hesitantly, her eyes searching Amal’s face.
“Come in, Farhan, you too. What? You both have only one small bag? Don’t tell me you are going to stay for only a short time.” Amal chattered as she pulled Anya inside their home. “Pappa’s gone to get your favourite gulab jamoon. I’d have made some at home, but I haven’t been keeping well lately.”
“What’s wrong, aunty?” asked Farhan solicitously.
Anya didn’t open her mouth, taking in her surroundings. The living room was big and airy, with four doors opening from it.
“Come and sit down, beta. What are you looking at? As if you have not seen the house before,” said Amal, biting sarcasm in her voice.
Anya turned to stare at the woman who called herself her mother, a small frown puckering her forehead. “Well, I don’t remember this house. That’s why I was looking. I hope you don’t mind.”
“What?!” screeched Amal. “Are you saying that you still can’t remember anything? Farhan, I told you that that doctor was useless. Now see what’s happened. Anya still can’t remember anything.” She turned to her daughter and asked, “But you know that I’m your mother, nah?”
Anya’s voice came in a whisper as she shook her head. “No, I don’t.” She probably would have felt a connection if the older woman had given her a hug. But nothing! There was no affection at all there.
“What is this, Farhan?” growled Amal angrily.
He shrugged. “That’s how it is, aunty. When do you think uncle will get back home?” He had already booked his return flight for later in the night.
Gaurav entered the house even as he asked. “Anya, Farhan, welcome home. I’m...”
<
br /> Amal shrieked, without letting her husband talk further. “Kyunji, Anya still can’t remember her past,” she howled.
“Is that so?” asked Gaurav, looking at his daughter who was still standing in the middle of the room. He went up to her and gave her an awkward hug, as if he had never done it before. He gave a sigh saying, “Why don’t we all sit down? Amal, can we have some tea?” After learning about Anya’s illness, Gaurav had made a study on the subject of amnesia at the local library and better understood the situation. While he had tried explaining it to his wife a couple of times, he had given up once he realised that she wasn’t interested.
“Tea? Are you crazy?” screamed Amal at her husband. “My own daughter refuses to recognise me and you want to have tea?”
“Yes, that’s right,” said her husband firmly. “For the last time, it’s not as if Anya doesn’t want to recognise us. She can’t.”
Farhan looked at the older man with respect. Finally! Finally Gaurav Chhabria was talking sense.
Amal turned towards the kitchen in a huff, unable to refuse her husband’s bidding. She brought out the tea that she had already made and sat down on the sofa next to her husband.
“Okay, uncle, aunty. It’s like this.” Farhan didn’t want to beat around the bush. “Anya and I are divorced. We...” He stopped talking when he heard a keening noise. It was Anya’s mother, howling her heart out.
Amal beat herself on her chest, cursing him. “How dare you ditch her when she needs you?” she shouted at him.
Anya raised a hand to stop both the crying and the abuse. “Aunty, I...”
“Aunty?! I’m your mother,” protested Amal shrilly.
Anya cleared her throat that felt choked, taking a sip of tea before speaking again. “Okay, mom. I...”
“Call me mamma. That’s what you’ve always called me,” cried out Amal.
Anya shut her eyes for a few seconds, trying to gather her wits about her. All the screeching and screaming had shot her nerves. For a minute, she wondered if she should leave along with Farhan. But no, Anya straightened her shoulders. She was no coward. Drinking her tea in gulps, she placed the cup down and spoke again. “Mamma, pappa, Farhan and I got divorced even before my accident. I had told him not to inform you guys. He’s not responsible for my accident, nor has he ditched me. And come on, I’m an adult. I don’t need someone to care for me 24/7. I can manage to survive.” She looked at her father appealingly. He had given her a hug, after all. Maybe she shared a better relationship with him.
Gaurav stared at his daughter and then at the man who he had believed was his son-in-law. What’s with this modern generation? How could they treat marriage so lightly? He shook his head, opening and shutting his mouth, too stunned to say anything. “Farhan?” he appealed to the young man. “Why?”
“I’m gay, uncle. I never wanted to get married. I...”
“Then why the hell did you marry my daughter?” snarled Gaurav. When he heard his wife shriek once again, he turned to see that she had laid her head on the back of the sofa, her face white with shock.
“Anya didn’t want to get married either. But you and aunty gave her no choice. So...”
“Anya?” asked Gaurav. “What do you have to say about this?”
She shrugged, her face expressionless. “Nothing. I can’t recall a damn thing.”
“And so you two decided to get married, making fools of us,” said Gaurav, too angry by now.
“Well, uncle. It wasn’t as if we wanted to make fools of you both. It’s just that we wanted to be left alone to lead our lives peacefully. We stayed together, married in name only, for two years. And then we got divorced, on the same day that Anya had the accident. No,” Farhan raised a hand to stop Gaurav from interrupting him, “I wasn’t with her. We had gone our separate ways by then. And we weren’t planning to tell you unless it was absolutely necessary. You need to understand something uncle. It’s only in India that parents have such a stranglehold on their children’s lives. Come on, we are adults, almost twenty-five. Why can’t we lead independent lives?” Farhan’s voice was bitter now, as he couldn’t help thinking of his own parents who had disowned him.
Gaurav opened and shut his mouth several times now. He really didn’t know what to say. The situation was too bizarre for words. After a few minutes of silence—yeah, even Amal had been rendered speechless for the first time in her life—he asked, “So what happens now?”
Farhan was glad to hear those words, giving a sigh of relief. “Anya will be here for a few days. She’s your daughter, so I’m sure you don’t mind. And...”
“What about our relatives, neighbours and friends? What do we tell them?” Amal was sitting straighter now, battle in her stance, as she glared at Farhan.
“Why aunty? Nothing. You don’t owe an explanation to anyone. Anya’s your child and she has come visiting. How is it anyone else’s business?” asked Farhan logically.
“What if they ask why she’s divorced?” Amal began to cry again.
“Mamma,” said Anya, trying her best to keep her voice soothing, “Why tell anyone I’m divorced at all?”
Gaurav nodded his head vigorously. “Anya’s right,” he told his wife. “Why tell anyone about it? And what happens after you leave here? Where will you live? What will you do?” He didn’t want to be bothered. But his conscience troubled him.
“Just as Farhan said, I’m an adult pappa. I have a well-paying job, with accommodation. I’ll be fine.” She didn’t want to get into too many details as that probably would have given birth to more questions.
Gaurav sighed heavily, shaking his head. It was a rare occasion when he didn’t feel in control. But right now, it looked like there was nothing he could do to change his daughter’s life. She was here for but a few days. He decided to make her stay as pleasant as possible.
“So, uncle, aunty,” said Farhan, getting up. “I’ll take your leave.”
Amal looked at him, tears rolling down her eyes. “I feel so sad, beta.”
Farhan hugged her. “Don’t worry aunty. Things will turn out for the best.” He shook Gaurav’s hand before turning to Anya. He opened his arms wide to pull her close. “You take care, Anya. I can’t face Dev if something happens to you,” he whispered for her ears alone.
Anya gave him a weak grin, a sigh whooshing from her unexpectedly. “I should be alright,” she said, walking with him to the door.
Gaurav and Anya chatted about politics and sports, refusing to touch on anything personal, while Amal got dinner ready. They could hear her loud sniffs from where they sat the living room, but refused to acknowledge them.
Dinner was a quiet affair, Amal giving her daughter irritated looks while the latter pecked at her food, her appetite non-existent. Immediately after it was over, Anya got up. “Can you please tell me where my room is? I’m too tired and would like to go to sleep,” she said.
“What? You don’t even know where your room is?” Amal asked her.
Gaurav laid a pacifying hand on his wife’s arm. “Of course she doesn’t. Let me show her.” He guided Anya up the stairs to the first floor, opening the first door on the right. “This is your room, beta. It’s exactly how it was when you left.”
“Thank you pappa.” Anya hugged him, feeling bad for him suddenly. “I’m very tired pappa. We’ll talk in the morning, okay?”
Gaurav nodded, leaving her at her door.
Anya stood at the entrance of her room, staring, looking for a clue, anything that would tell her that she had lived in this room before. After fifteen minutes, she gave up, changing into her nightclothes and crashing on the bed. She sent Dev a message, promising to call him the next day. She knew that he must be worried. But then, so was she. Dev would understand, she knew.
She went to sleep with a smile on her lips, forgetting her parents as she thought of Dev.
23
Dev was feeling lost, sitting at the breakfast table next to his grandma, staring into space. He turned when he felt a touch on
his shoulder.
“What happened Dev? Are you missing Anya too much? She’ll be back in a week. I wouldn’t worry if I were you,” said Meena reassuringly.
Dev sighed. “I suppose Daadima. I’m sorry that I’m such poor company.”
“Don’t be silly. You know that I don’t mind that. Tell me, did you talk to Renu?” she asked.
“Oh, I forgot to mention. I spoke to her dad. He’s selling the farm to us and moving to Pune. The registration papers are being drawn as we talk.”
“However did you manage that?” asked Meena, admiration in her voice. She was proud of her grandson.
Dev grinned at her. “I told him that I won’t go to the police if they agreed to move. It was his idea to sell the farm to me. By the way, Renu’s dad had been under the impression that I wanted to marry her.” He grimaced. “Don’t know how the hell he had arrived at that conclusion.”
Meena smiled wisely. “Renu has wanted to marry you since years.”
“What?! You knew about it Daadima? I wish you’d told me. I’d have nipped the thought in the bud.”
Meena nodded sagely. “I suppose. For such a shrewd businessman and a successful farmer, you don’t really know how a devious female’s mind works, do you?” She gave him an affectionate smile.
“That must be because I live with a grand old woman who’s all heart,” he said, giving his grandmother a hug.
Three days had gone by and Anya had got into a routine at her parents’ home. She spoke to Dev everyday and that was probably the one thing that kept her grounded. Amal continued to sniffle whenever she set her eyes on her daughter. But Anya decided to ignore that, helping her mother in her daily chores as much as she could.
“Anya has changed,” whispered Amal to her husband. “She never used to help me at home, before.”
“But Anya was studying in those days. She had too many things to do, like projects and all. She never had the time to help you. It’s different now, isn’t it?” said Gaurav logically.
Flaming Sun Collection 3: Perfect Twins Find Anya (Box Set with 3 novellas) Page 22