Dil Beparwah | ✔

fifty six

||CHAPTER 56||
《¤》

┊V A R U N┊

Exhaustion drew me to the balcony. With a lit smoke, I stood against the railing, observing Jamna Baa's reworked lawn under the newly constructed garden lamp. In the few days that I had been away, she had taken the liberty to get the outside of the house painted too—which kind of was a smart decision on her part because the stench of paint triggered migraine and my land lady would not have paid any heed to my protests.

On my return though, she had sent up Gujrati breakfast and lunch. That was her version of an olive branch, and I was not complaining. She had even offered to make fefdas and jalebis for me just three days after I came back. I had assumed that Renuka had probably enrolled her aunt in a laughing club, because her mood had undergone a whiplash, and I for one, did not want to disarm it, especially when there were chances that she would find out that I had a woman over most nights. Evening cups of masala chai being sent upstairs was the cherry on top.

These mellowed interactions had alarmed me, until one fine morning when I woke up to discover my girlfriend chatting with Jamna Baa in her lawn over a cup of tea (and coffee, of course)—a privilege she had yet to extend to me. She harbored a strange affinity towards elderly women, and again, I was not complaining.

Presently, a Honda rolled down our street and parked behind my car. Arvika had shifted temporarily into her mother's residence in Mumbai to help her out with the storm that had washed over them. Of late, her PR had been bumped up a notch to nullify all the bitter after-effects of Oberoi's disappearance from the country. Progress was slow, but her perseverance was something I secretly admired a lot.

She entered with a wide grin and an old bottle of wine, heading directly towards the kitchen. "Seventy years old," she remarked, "I swear I'd forgotten about Nani's hidden stash."

"You stole from your dead grandmother?"

"It's not stealing if she's no more. Aur waise bhi, the occasion calls for it!"

It didn't, but I could do with a glass of red. Lifting two long stems from the crockery cabinet, I waited for her to snuck the cork out of the bottle. She poured, lilting and tilting the glasses and smelling them for confirmation. Once satisfied, we moved into the living room.

"So," she raised, "How was the first day back in business—whoops, I mean BizNest."

If she had resorted to lame wordplay, the day had worn her out. Nonetheless, she swung her legs over mine and leaned comfortably on the armrest. I took a sip first to articulate.

"Fancy. He had Darjeeling tea ka gift set waiting on my desk. Exclusive collection hai."

"What about the other journalists? What was their reaction on seeing you?"

I had noticed Girish shed a tear and Kriti ranting exasperatedly due to her relief of having me back at BizNest, but I spared Arvika those details. "They know better than to dawdle in my presence."

She snorted, "Shayad isi wajeh se Esha chhodke gayi hai. You're the bad cop wala boss. You don't know how to chill."

That shouldn't have offended me. Esha's quitting was supposed to be a sweet victory, and yet the wine left a bitter aftertaste at her mention. "Speaking of, how's your assistant doing?"

While Deewan Group's final board meeting had declared fresh roles and ownership, corporate politics had left behind a disappointing trail of positions. I'd learned of Mia's dismissal as Arvika's secretary because of the suspension a while back, but the woman had been hopeful and supportive, even though the odds were bleak. Such loyalty was difficult to sustain in these cases.