by Tanu Jain
‘I thought you felt guilty for having married me.’
‘I felt guilty because I couldn’t control myself around you. I felt angry with you at some level because you were an addiction and I hated the hungry need you ignited in me. I couldn’t do anything about the nights but the rest of the time I tried to avoid you, to mask my emotions and gain a semblance of control. That’s why, as you rightly pointed out, I left you alone, especially in public, because I was afraid that my mask would slip and everyone would realise my weakness for you,’ he ground out unwillingly.
‘You never revealed anything. You treated me like a child to be protected and cosseted and kept away from the realities of life,’ Meethi said sadly.
‘Meethi, when Baba made me promise not to tell you about his illness, I wanted to break my promise a couple of times but I didn’t. Because I could understand and identify with Baba’s emotions. I too couldn’t bear to wipe away the joy from your face and the shine from your eyes. Your childlike enthusiasm and infectious vitality mitigated the bleakness inside me. You were like an oasis of normality and I would feel restored just being around you. So I tried to shield you and keep you away from certain facts and that was wrong. I promise I will never do it again.’
‘That last day when you found me with Harsh… you were so angry. I thought you hated me!’ Meethi said in a rush.
Veer was struck silent. After a moment he said, ‘My behaviour that day shames me! I had come home having consulted a top-notch specialist because I was worried sick about your withdrawal after the miscarriage. And I found you crying, sharing your grief with Harsh. The sight of your wet cheeks maddened me. I had tried so many times to comfort you but you would turn away stonily. Insane with jealousy, I forgot the doctor’s orders and took you violently!’
Meethi was astounded. Was this what he had thought all this while? Instinctively, she clutched his hand tight. ‘No! Never that! We both said cruel words in the heat of the moment and went wild but I was with you all the way.’
Veer’s face was still shadowed, and Meethi wanted to dispel those shadows, ‘It’s not only you who loses control. I also do it around you. I was very angry when you accused me of flirting with Harsh. I admit I leaned on him during those days but that was because he was the only friend I had. He knew what the elders said to me and would try to stand up for me. He is like the brother I never had. Nothing more! In fact, he had taken me to meet Pinar secretly because they wanted to get married.’
‘You were so young when we married that a lot of times I felt that I had snatched away your freedom, married you before you had the chance to spread your wings, live your life. I was afraid that if you grew too independent you would leave me. I was a bit short with your guruji when he tried to convince me to send you abroad. And when I learnt that you had fled to him I was bitterly furious with him,’ Veer said, revealing his insecurities.
Meethi gave a hollow laugh and said, ‘Guruji couldn’t turn me away when I appeared on his doorstep. He tried hard to convince me to talk to you, but I was so shattered that I just wanted to escape from the entire situation.’
‘So that is why he didn’t return any of my calls! I owe him a lot. At least he was there to take care of you. I dread to think what would have happened to you if he hadn’t been there when you fled.’ Veer held her tight, his face shadowed with the fear of imagining her all alone.
‘Guruji helped me gain a scholarship to Shantiniketan for an arts degree and I have been studying for the past three years. I finished my last semester about two months back and I had to complete my term-end assignment of submitting about twenty paintings. I had rented the cottage and was staying there, trying to finish my assignment,’ Meethi said haltingly, unsure of how Veer would react to the news.
Veer felt humbled by Meethi’s achievement.
‘I am extremely proud of you, Meethi! I should have done what your guruji did—given my unstinting support. But I promise you will have no cause to complain in future!’ he said. His arms tightened around her slender frame, and he dropped a tender kiss on her neck.
They lay silent and entwined, and then Veer said softly, ‘How did you manage without money? I feel guilty that, with all the resources at our disposal, you had to struggle for basic needs.’
Meethi said, ‘I had taken some money with me when I went and it was sufficient. I didn’t really need anything and when I joined Shantiniketan, Guruji insisted on paying the college fees for my first year. But from the second year onwards I was able to pay my own way.’
Veer looked at her, amazed. She would never cease to surprise him.
‘I displayed the paintings that I had done in the initial months at one of the exhibitions that Guruji organises and they were all sold out. I earned a sizeable sum and a couple of good commissions. In fact, I rented the cottage out of my own earnings!’ Meethi admitted with a small smile.
‘It’s unbelievable, Meethi! Baba would have been so proud of you! You have achieved so much, despite such odds,’ he said with touching emotion.
Meethi flushed at Veer’s praise and snuggled into him, feeling cherished.
‘But don’t ever run away like you did. I never want to relive the experience again,’ Veer added sombrely.
Meethi looked at him, the hair on the back of her neck lifting at the raw emotion in his voice, and she wanted to banish the shadows on his face. She cupped his cheek with her palm and reached up to kiss him softly. She hated seeing Veer troubled and worried. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tight.
Veer’s next words had her stiffening in alarm.
‘How did you give the slip to the highly trained security men? I fired the entire agency when I came to know that they had let you slip away undetected,’ he asked grimly.
‘But it wasn’t their fault! We… I planned and…’ Meethi’s voice trailed off. She had almost revealed the details.
‘It was completely their fault. They were supposed to be with you all the time,’ he said, coldly furious.
Meethi felt a chill slide up her spine. If he discovered… But she didn’t reveal her agitation.
‘Let’s not discuss it any more,’ she said tremulously.
‘It angers me that I didn’t sense the trauma you were facing. I can now understand why you ran away the way you did but at that time I was furious when I learnt of your cruel betrayal! I felt devastated and foolishly gullible when I realised that you had staged your death,’ Veer said in a troubled voice.
‘I stabbed you in the back! You did so much for me, for Baba, and I behaved treacherously and gave you so much pain. Forgive me,’ she said, tears clogging her throat.
His arms tightened around her and he brought his mouth down on hers, trying to banish the memory of their shared agony. She gave herself up to his loving.
The next few days were spent making love, going for long rides and picnics. Meethi had let all her worries slide to the back of her mind. She would ponder over what lay ahead later. For now she would live in the moment, enjoy their shared time and bask in her love for Veer. They laughed, argued and teased. It was a blissful time.
She fell deeper and deeper in love with her husband and came to a greater understanding of their relationship and herself. One afternoon, she sat beside the lake, Veer dozing next to her. A gentle breeze blew, disturbing the crystal clarity of the lake, and Meethi was struck with the realisation that she too had contributed to her being shackled in the role of Maharani of Samogpur. She hadn’t tried hard enough to break the shackles imposed upon her.
She had been too young, scared and unsure to rebel against her duties and responsibilities as a daughter-in-law. Many times, Veer had tried to make her skip the morning puja for which she had to get up before dawn, pulling her close and drowning her in their wild passion, but she had resisted. Her fault had been her eager attempts to prove herself the perfect wife and this had been compounded by her propensity to take every insult and criticism to heart and feel about it deeply. She had tortured herself
endlessly, swinging between the emotions of despair and joy. She could have avoided a lot of the emotional upheaval she had gone through, she concluded with a sense of acceptance.
They were sitting on the balcony after dinner, Meethi curled up with a pencil and paper sketching the night scene in front of her. Veer was working on his laptop when he received a call. He answered in monosyllables then said with a sombre look on his face, ‘It was Chacha Saheb. Harsh’s engagement is in two days. There is no auspicious date after this for six months so they want to have his betrothal ceremony as soon as possible. We will have to leave tomorrow.’
Meethi sat up straight, tense as a violin string. Things would change once they returned.
Veer took her clammy hands in his and said soothingly, ‘Don’t be afraid. I promise things are not going to be what they were. It’ll be a new beginning. You will be free to lead the life you want to.’
He knew they had come some way towards resolving the issues which had troubled their marriage but he was shrewd enough to sense that Meethi was holding back a part of herself.
Her smiles didn’t hide the wisp of sadness in her eyes. Her laughter was tinged by a sliver of sorrow. Her gay chatter concealed a touch of unhappiness. But he hadn’t pushed. He contented himself with working towards making her feel secure, showing her with his actions how much he cherished her and trying to make her fears vanish.
But Meethi wasn’t reassured. The fears and insecurities she had pushed to the back of her mind returned to mock her. She would have to confront the painful truth she had been ignoring but which now loomed large.
Chapter Ten
THE NEXT MORNING they flew to the mahal. Lost in despair, Meethi barely noticed when the helicopter landed at the strip behind the mahal. Veer took her hand, nodding to the housekeeper and the major-domo who were awaiting their arrival but, instead of going inside the mahal, led her towards the little outhouse situated on the right.
Meethi looked at Veer questioningly and suddenly noticed a suppressed sense of excitement in him.
Inside, she stilled in shock. The living room was filled with the paintings that she had left behind at the cottage. She looked at him, dazed, unable to comprehend how her paintings had come here. Veer took her into another room, and Meethi froze in further shock. The room had been turned into a painting studio. A couple of easel boards stood in the centre. Paintbrushes of various sizes, medium to mix the paints, palettes and all varieties of colours—poster, oil, fabric—were neatly stacked on the open shelves built on one side of the wall. On the other wall was a book rack which boasted an enviable collection of books about painting.
Meethi looked with dawning wonderment. ‘All this is for me?’
Veer nodded, a hint of uncertainty clouding his eyes, and Meethi felt emotion overwhelm her. He couldn’t have given her a more precious gift. She gave him a spontaneous hug, and Veer wrapped his arms around her, hugged her back and said, ‘Thank you!’
Meethi looked at him, her eyes bright with emotion. ‘I should be thanking you.’
Veer looked at her and said, ‘Just promise to use this studio. Paint to your heart’s content. Don’t forget, you have your assignments to finish.’
Meethi nodded, smiling tremulously.
‘I have some work to do. Do you want to go to the mahal to rest? Or do you want to explore here?’ he asked.
‘I’ll stay here,’ she said, feeling excited.
‘I’ll meet you for dinner at eight o’ clock.’ Veer dropped a swift kiss on her lips and went.
Simran bustled in with an excited smile and said, ‘Maharani Saheba, I’m so happy that you are back. I missed you.’
Meethi gave her a tender smile and hugged her.
Simran recoiled. ‘Maharani Saheba… You… I…’
‘Don’t call me Maharani Saheba! Call me didi,’ Meethi said happily.
‘But Maharani Saheba…’ Her voice trailed off.
‘I feel a hundred years old when you call me that! I’m commanding you to call me didi!’ Meethi said in mock anger.
Simran bobbed her head uncertainly.
Meanwhile, Veer had gone to his den, where his major-domo, Raj, was waiting. He had sent him to collect Meethi’s stuff from the cottage she had been staying in and had ordered him to convert the outhouse into a studio, no expense spared.
‘Maharaj Saheb, we brought everything that we found. There were around ten paintings which have been put in the studio, some clothes, which are in this bag, and a little pouch.’
He handed Veer the pouch. Veer nodded in dismissal and opened the pouch and shook out its contents. It contained Meethi’s mangalsutra, her gold wedding band and a gold pendant on a chain which Baba had given to Meethi on their first anniversary. She hadn’t taken much when she’d fled. But he had known that she hadn’t a materialistic bone in her body. About to put it back, a thought struck Veer. Where was Meethi’s engagement ring?
They had married in a hurry and there had been just two days to make the arrangements but he had ordered two rings for Meethi and their family jeweller from Mumbai had made a ten-carat diamond ring and a gold wedding band. Meethi never removed the rings. He hadn’t given it a thought but it struck him that when he had found her she hadn’t been wearing them. The band was here, so where was the ring? Had she left it behind? But if she had left it behind, where was it?
The royal jewellery was kept in the locker in his den, and he unlocked it now and glanced through the jewellery kept in it. The ring wasn’t there. His sixth sense began working overtime, and he sensed a mystery. He suddenly remembered the antique silver chest in which Meethi’s day-to-day jewellery was kept. He had given it to Simran to keep in Meethi’s wardrobe when he had learnt that his wife was alive.
He decided to check it. He went to their suite and found the chest. He opened it and went through the contents but there was no engagement ring. If the ring had been lost, Meethi would have mentioned it. When she had learnt the price of the ring she had been frantic with worry about losing it. Something was amiss. She was still keeping secrets. But he would bide his time and wouldn’t badger her by forcing answers from her.
His mind made up, he went out and asked for the car to be brought around. He had been neglecting his business matters the past few days and there were urgent issues requiring his attention. He would to go to his office.
He had mourned Meethi for a year. It had been one of the darkest periods of his life. To the outside world he was his usual cold, formidable self, but inside he had changed. A light seemed to have been snuffed out inside him and he could not summon the tiniest bit of interest in anything. Even the drive to be successful and powerful, which had been his constant companion since his childhood, had vanished.
But once he had seen the painting of the puppy and known that she was alive, iron had entered his soul. He would bring her back and this time around she would be granted no leeway and no escape. He had set about rearranging his life with ruthless precision.
For a long time now, ever since his marriage if the truth be told, he had been chafing at the restrictions of his life. He had grown weary of the incessant demands and relentless pressure on him. So he had begun easing up, reducing his load and delegating his responsibilities.
In order to lessen the commuting time, he had shifted his office and staff from the city to Rajmahal, their ancestral home, converting some of its rooms into an office block. He had personally handpicked the domestic staff, employing only a limited number. And ever since he had received positive news from the detective he had regained his zest for life. And he was on track towards turning their married life around too.
Meethi spent the morning in her studio, arranging her collection of paintings and going through the paint supplies. Whoever had bought them had done a good job. Her fingers itched to begin painting and she set up a canvas on an easel and painted some strokes. It was late afternoon when she straightened her stiff back and went back to the mahal.
She found Simran arrangin
g her clothes.
‘I’ve unpacked all your new clothes and hung them in the wardrobe, Maharani Saheba… I mean didi,’ she said.
Meethi looked at her wardrobe, which was overflowing with clothes. It was time to ring out the old; Veer had told her to give away all those clothes she didn’t want. She took out all the gaudy and ornate churidaar kameezes, saris and lehengas and handed them to Simran, asking her to fold them in a pile. The pile became huge.
‘Do you want to wear anything from these, Simran?’ Meethi asked.
Simran stammered in confusion, ‘But… didi, all these are your clothes! How can I wear them?’
‘I will not be wearing them and I would like it very much if you take whatever you want,’ Meethi said.
‘But they are so beautiful!’ Simran was shocked.
‘That is why you can take whatever you like,’ Meethi said with a smile.
‘But…’
‘Don’t argue, Simran!’ Meethi said.
Simran was ecstatic. ‘Thank you, didi!’
She was like a child in a candy shop and selected some outfits. But there were still many left.
Meethi rang for the housekeeper. Except for the major-domo, Meethi hadn’t met any of the staff formally yet but Simran had given her all the inside information about them. Meethi was relieved to learn that Veer had employed only a handful of staff and they ran the place with clockwork efficiency.
She learnt that the housekeeper, a widow, had three daughters, two of them of marriageable age. The housekeeper, a soft-spoken woman, came and greeted Meethi deferentially. Meethi asked her to take the outfits for her daughters. The housekeeper was overwhelmed with gratitude and left with the clothes, smiles and profuse thanks.
