RANGMANCH

PART - I

In the midst of a serene spring morning, when the air was filled with tranquility, a flurry of activity unfolded within the grand villa of Mr. and Mrs. Sharma.

The harsh voice of Mrs. Sharma reverberated through the mansion, piercing the stillness of the house. Unfazed by her husband's slumber, she scoured the premises in search of today's newspapers, her frustration mounting with each passing second.

After a few minutes of relentless searching, their servant, Ramu, emerged into the corridor, carrying a stack of newspapers from various publications. Mrs. Sharma impatiently settled herself into an armchair as Ramu approached.

Her face had flushed a deeper shade of red at the sight of Ramu. She scolded him for his negligence and demanded a cup of tea to soothe her mounting anger. Perhaps a comforting brew would alleviate her agitation.

Snatching the pile of newspapers from Ramu's hands, she began flipping through the pages hastily. There was no doubt that she was searching for something specific. Sensing the brewing storm, Ramu tiptoed his way to the kitchen, hoping to avoid further confrontation.

Moments later, Mr. Sharma entered the corridor, stifling a great yawn that only served to irritate Mrs. Sharma further. She huffed at her seemingly hopeless husband's behavior and resumed leafing through the papers. Unfortunately, each page only intensified her frustration and confusion.

Mr. Sharma settled himself beside her on the couch, his expression a mix of half-amusement and half-curiosity. With a feigned cough, he playfully sought his wife's attention and casually asked, "Did you find it?"

Mrs. Sharma let out a frustrated sigh and replied with disappointment, "I think they deemed the matter too insignificant to publish."

"It's a possibility," he responded, his words laced with sympathy and a hint of jest.

As she was about to launch into a tirade against her husband's insensitivity and lack of understanding, Ramu's entrance interrupted her, offering a respite from her longing. He approached with a tray holding two steaming cups of tea and placed it on the table. After fulfilling his duty, he disappeared into his mistress's room to iron her cotton sari for the day's important meeting.

Savoring the first sip of tea, Mrs. Sharma continued her quest through the pages of the newspaper. "The first two pages are filled with headlines, the third and fourth are crammed with advertisements, and the fifth and sixth detail the Prime Minister's current visit to America," she sighed in frustration and defeat.

"You should never lose hope," Mr. Sharma commented in a lighthearted manner that only served to stoke her anger further. She rolled her eyes at her dismissive husband, who seemed oblivious to her ambitions and emotions. Besides, she was far too busy that day to waste her time arguing with him.

Without dignifying his remark with a response that would further sour her mood, she turned the page.

And there, in that moment, her elation reached its zenith as she found what she had been searching for all along.

In the blink of an eye, her happiness soared to new heights upon discovering the news that had made her day.

The headline read, "A REMARKABLE ACT OF CHARITY BY MRS. NEELAM SHARMA."

With a proud smile on her face, she read the news to her husband. "Neelam Sharma, esteemed senior functionary of the ASD party and Member of Parliament from Lajpat Nagar, inaugurated a multi-purpose clubhouse at Bhimrao Ambedkar Colony on May 13th."

Adjusting her spectacles on her nose, she continued, "She addressed the public on social equality and vowed to be the eternal support for the underprivileged. However, the opposition leader accused her, stating that the charity work was nothing but a devious ploy to win public favor and secure votes for the upcoming 2019 LOK SABHA elections."

Mrs. Sharma angrily folded the paper and handed it to her husband. A frown creased her face, and her eyes welled up with tears. She looked at her husband with a sense of helplessness, a torrent of questions swirling within her. "How could they think such things about me? Am I truly this wicked and self-serving? Does my speech come across as political rather than genuine?"

Caught off guard, Mr. Sharma pondered on the appropriate response. He had never fully grasped the depth of sensitivity hidden beneath her strong persona. He attempted to console her with a few comforting words.

However, before her bewildered husband could say much, a mischievous laughter bubbled up from Mrs. Sharma's lips.

She continued, a devilish grin spreading across her face, "Well, perhaps they were right after all. It was, wasn't it? I did it solely to ensure my re-election this time."

Mr. Sharma, at a loss for words, merely huffed and reclined in his armchair, feigning disinterest as he immersed himself in reading the day's news. A long-dead journalist within him screamed at the moral ambiguity, but Mrs. Sharma, unconcerned with her husband's opinions, forged ahead. "You know, Mr. Srisant Kapoor, the ASD party chief, has promised me a place in the cabinet ministry this time," she declared, her voice brimming with delight. He smiled and wished her luck in the upcoming election challenges, while he remained engrossed in the world of the newspaper.

Meanwhile, she glanced at the clock and realized the time slipping away. Hastily fixing the pleats of her sari, she stood up, ready to leave for her meeting with Mr. Mishra, the health minister. She couldn't afford to arrive late and risk a negative impression.

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After completing her preparations, Mrs. Sharma returned to the living room. But just as she was about to step outside through the entrance gate, the telephone in the living room rang, shattering the calm.

She instructed Ramu to handle the call while she eagerly awaited to hear the voice on the other end. Ramu approached her, his face serious, and relayed the message, "The caller was from the hospital you inaugurated last year. They informed us that a woman admitted to the hospital is on the verge of death due to the lack of proper medical equipment."

The lines on Mrs. Sharma's face deepened as she comprehended the gravity of the situation. She swiftly commanded Ramu to call back and arrange for the woman to be transferred to another government hospital. "If she passes away and her family attempts to protest, silence them with financial compensation. And make sure this matter does not reach the media, or else my promised cabinet seat will be in jeopardy," she instructed. Ramu nodded in understanding, and with a sigh of relief, Mrs. Sharma hurriedly departed to attend her meeting.

As she walked out, the weight of her responsibilities and the complexities of her actions weighed heavily on her shoulders. Behind the facade of power and ambition, Mrs. Sharma grappled with the difficult choices she had to make in her pursuit of success.

THE END