His Captive Indian Princess

by Tanu Jain

  Gauri knew he was deliberately insulting her and wanted to snarl in retaliation but contented herself with a stiff, ‘Sorry to disappoint you, but I slaved for my degree and passed with flying colours.’

  ‘If you are a bona fide lawyer how can you willingly choose to defend such unscrupulous and wicked people?’ Vikram asked.

  ‘They are not wicked!’ Gauri refused to hear anything wrong against Mrs Singh, who had been her saviour and mentor when her life had seemed to be all over.

  ‘How can you be so sure of her innocence?’ Vikram pressed.

  Gauri clammed up, refusing to elaborate further. She couldn’t explain without going into the details of her past and she had vowed never to dredge that up again. It was dead.

  ‘Well? Is that all you are going to say?’ Vikram growled, waiting for her to elaborate further.

  But Gauri didn’t answer. She realised the difficulty of explaining herself. She would have to reveal her past to him and the mere thought of doing so made her tremble.

  ‘What inducements have they offered you for defending them? How much have you sold yourself for?’

  Vikram’s cruel accusations were like a sharp blow to her solar plexus. She felt winded and weak. He couldn’t have made his low opinion of her any clearer.

  But she answered stoically, ‘You may think what you want to! I will not say anything further about this.’

  Vikram sensed that there was something Gauri wasn’t telling him. ‘You are hiding something. If you are so sure of their innocence why can’t you explain properly?’ he said fiercely.

  Gauri refused to say anything and kept her eyes lowered and hands clenched.

  ‘So, you’re not going to answer? All right then, let’s try some different questions. Why did you flee six years ago? That, too, in the dead of the night and without informing anybody! You didn’t stop to think that we would be worried? You didn’t even care?’

  Gauri turned paper-white as Vikram hurled a volley of accusations. Her legs began trembling and she felt she would collapse. Vikram saw her tremble but the anger inside him had burst its dam and he couldn’t stop. ‘Answer me, damn you!’ he hurled.

  ‘I … I left a letter for Madhav Dada, explaining that I had to go away and not to worry.’ Gauri forced out the words through trembling lips.

  ‘Don’t lie! I was with Madhav when we discovered your absence and there was no letter.’ Vikram was ready for every possible falsehood that she would offer.

  Gauri raised her eyes in confusion. ‘But I left a letter in his room. He must have found it. Probably he didn’t mention it to you.’

  ‘Do you expect me to believe your untruths? If you had left a letter he wouldn’t have hired a detective to trace you,’ Vikram raked out.

  ‘He did that? But why? I mentioned that I would call him once I was settled to assure him that I was fine,’ Gauri said tremulously, bewilderment writ on her face.

  She must think I am a fool. Her doe eyes and seemingly sincere expression would have swayed a more susceptible man, Vikram fulminated. But he knew better. She was a consummate actress and, even as a young girl, she had been adept at putting on performances and deceiving others.

  ‘Then why didn’t you call, as you claim?’ he countered with patent disbelief.

  Gauri remained silent for a moment as another painful memory flitted across her mind. She had called once after about a month and Madhav’s grandmother, who was also her grandmother and whom she called Aaji Ma had received her call.

  Aaji Ma had abused her, calling her names and then had banged down the phone on her after hissing venomously, ‘No one here wants to even hear your name, let alone speak to you! You are dead to us. Don’t ever call here again!’

  Gauri said in a low pain-filled voice, ‘I did call but Aaji Ma answered and said that Madhav Dada had returned to England and Baba didn’t want to speak to me ever again. She said that I was dead to everyone and forbade me from calling again.’

  ‘What a convenient explanation,’ Vikram sneered. ‘If you had called as you claim, why didn’t Aaji Ma ever mention it? She knew detectives had been employed to trace you and she wouldn’t have kept quiet. I don’t believe you. You should have chosen a better story,’ he delivered cuttingly.

  ‘I don’t believe you.’ The harsh, dismissive words reverberated in Gauri’s head like bullets. Pain sliced through her. The majority of her childhood had been spent hearing these words. Aching thickness clogged her throat as she recalled how she had been branded a liar and a cheat as a child. And the slur had always remained.

  Being the illegitimate daughter of her father, who had brought her to live with his family when her mother died, she had always been regarded as being conniving and dishonest and had been punished all her childhood for the circumstances of her birth. She had grown up suffocated under a crushing burden of guilt, believing that being born was her unforgivable crime. But she had learnt to school the hurt and the pain and had rarely revealed the depth of her misery.

  ‘Whether you believe me or not doesn’t matter. Madhav Dada will believe me once I tell him,’ she asserted.

  Naked emotion streaked across Vikram’s face before it was hastily masked. ‘And how do you propose to do that?’

  Gauri looked at him uncomprehendingly and Vikram said, ‘Madhav is no more. He is dead.’

  Gauri let out a faint cry. ‘No!’

  She looked at Vikram in numb disbelief, sure that he was playing a cruel joke on her, but the bleakness in Vikram’s face convinced her more than his words. Madhav Dada was no more. Her dear brother was dead. There was a roaring in her ears. She swayed and felt the floor rushing to meet her as she slid down in a dead faint.

  Vikram saw her collapsing and tried to catch her before she fell but couldn’t reach her in time. As Gauri slid down she knocked her head on the edge of a wooden side table and Vikram winced as the thunk echoed around the room. He should have relayed the news more gently but anger had overridden his usually unflappable control.

  He picked her up and, after laying her on the sofa in the corner of the room, pressed the alarm on his watch. His driver came rushing in and he dispatched him to fetch a doctor. In the meantime, he filled a glass with water and splashed some drops on Gauri’s face.

  Despite his deep rage, he couldn’t fail to notice how her beauty shone and beckoned. Held close, the perfection of her delicate features was magnified.

  He had last seen her as a young girl on the threshold of womanhood and now she had matured into a breathtakingly beautiful woman. Her long lashes fanned out in perfect crescents against her flawless skin. Desire coiled dangerously in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to touch her. Against his will, his hand reached out to gently smooth away a strand of hair that had escaped her tight braid, and he felt the satiny silk of her skin. He cupped his hand around her pale cheek and gently nudged her, calling her name.

  Gauri opened her eyes and saw Vikram bending over her, a grim look on his face. Her insides turned at his proximity when suddenly remembrance struck and she closed her eyes in agony. Madhav Dada is dead, her mind whispered.

  She heard Vikram calling out her name softly but kept her eyes shut. She didn’t want to open them and see anger and accusation on his face. It was better to lie still, hoping the agonising pain in her heart would ease a little.

  Suddenly, she heard the sound of her apartment door opening. She opened her eyes cautiously and saw a man enter and murmur something to Vikram in a low voice.

  The next instant she was lifted up in Vikram’s strong arms. Shock held her still for a moment. In so many years, they had never been within touching distance ever and here he was, holding her in his arms. She tried to wriggle away, but in vain, as Vikram held her tight and told her sternly to keep still.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she asked weakly, ignoring the throbbing in her temples. Vikram didn’t deign to answer and she fell silent, defeated by his forbidding expression. Her body was tingling and even through the drumming in her head she w
as extremely conscious of his strong arms enfolding her. Held close to his masculine chest, she could inhale the cologne that he always wore and which had been a part of her restless dreams for so long. She stiffened, mortified and self-conscious, trying to mask the sensations running through her body.

  Vikram carried her effortlessly down the stairs and she demanded, ‘Where are you taking me?’

  He answered curtly, ‘To the doctor. Now keep still until my driver comes.’

  He lowered her into his car and snapped the door shut. He then got in from the other side and an oppressive silence filled the car as they waited for his driver.

  Gauri closed her eyes in despair. She was back into the morass of her memories. Grief engulfed her when she thought of Madhav. She would never see her beloved brother again. Never have her hair pulled by him teasingly or see the twinkle in his eyes as he joked with her.

  So deeply was she sunk in her painful memories that she failed to register that Vikram’s driver had returned and only when the car began moving did she come back from the past. They soon reached a doctor’s clinic and when the car stopped Gauri opened the door, determined to avoid being carried inside in Vikram’s arms. By the time Vikram reached her from the other side she was standing on her own, ignoring the pain shooting up her temples. Vikram ushered her in with grim authority, where they were greeted by a kindly-looking doctor.

  The doctor made her lie down and examined her pulse. ‘I am fine…’ she tried to protest and then felt another excruciating pain shoot up the side of her head. With a stifled moan, she put a hand up to the painful area and found it was quite tender. The doctor examined her head gently.

  ‘She knocked her head on the edge of the table when she fainted,’ Vikram told the doctor.

  The doctor finished his examination and said, ‘The area will remain tender for a couple of days. She seems fine, except for some stress, but the blow on the head needs to be monitored for concussion. Although there is nothing to worry about, she should rest and sleep. Apply this ointment and I’ll also give her a painkiller with a mild sedative. And make sure that she is not alone for the next twenty-four hours.’

  He held out a painkiller. But Gauri refused, saying, ‘I’ll be fine in a moment. I don’t need it.’

  Vikram was immediately at her side and, taking the painkiller, said with gruff impatience, ‘Don’t argue! Just take it!’

  Gauri tried to sit up and bit back a cry as pain shot up her head. Vikram pushed the painkiller at her, an implacable look on his face. She wanted to protest but when the throbbing increased she capitulated and downed it in one go. Then, summoning all her willpower, she stood up.

  Vikram took hold of her elbow and shepherded her out of the clinic. He seated her in the car and slammed the door shut.

  Gauri collapsed in the seat and a mind-numbing sorrow filled her. Thoughts of her half-brother and father engulfed her. Feelings she had kept buried for six long years inundated her and she bit back a sudden sob.

  Her half-brother had been the pillar of her life and she had loved him so much. She would never get the chance to see him again. She tried to keep her grief at bay but it had burst its banks. Silent sobs convulsed her and tears ran down her face in rivulets. She bent over, hiding her face, trying to control her sobs, but her tears wouldn’t be checked and kept falling incessantly.

  When Vikram got in from the other side he noticed her huddled up but didn’t look too closely. She was probably feeling groggy, he thought. But gradually the silent tremors shaking her body registered and he realised that she was sobbing silently.

  Unwillingly, he stretched out his arm and stopped, undecided. But when a particularly long tremor shook her, he grudgingly patted her shoulder. But she wouldn’t stop shaking. Seeing that her weeping wasn’t subsiding, Vikram hauled her close and tried to comfort her.

  ‘Shh…’ he murmured.

  Gauri tried to pull away, conscious that it was Vikram who was holding her, but grief had overwhelmed her and she couldn’t stop crying. Vikram didn’t let her pull away and kept on holding her, stroking her back rhythmically and offering unwilling comfort.

  Her piteous sobs tore through his composure and revived the agony of his best friend’s death that he had submerged deep down. He hadn’t had the luxury of breaking down. Ever. The news of Madhav’s accident had been a crippling blow and he had almost keeled over with grief but he had exerted superhuman control and trudged on stoically, ruthlessly suppressing his deep agony.

  Gradually, Gauri’s sobs petered away and she stopped shuddering.

  ‘I’m sorry for losing control like this,’ she said haltingly, pulling away, agonised that it had to be Vikram who had witnessed her loss of control. He was the last person she wanted to bare her emotions to.

  Face grim and hard, Vikram let her pull away. This was the second time he had held her in his arms. It had been torture. His body had been submerged by waves of sizzling awareness. The feel of her soft ripe breasts against his chest had set off unwanted sensations inside him and he had been tempted to crush her close.

  He wondered why holding her nestled in his arms had felt so right and why now that she had pulled away did he suddenly feel bereft. The next moment he furiously berated himself for succumbing to her lure and letting her get under his skin.

  She was adept at affecting people by batting her huge eyes and shedding crocodile tears. Just like her notorious actress mother! He, too, it seemed, wasn’t immune to her appeal. His rage returned. He sat up straight, angry with himself, all softness gone and a forbidding expression in place.

  ‘You are wasted as a lawyer. You should have been an actress like your mother,’ he said cruelly.

  Vikram’s harsh words were like a hard slap on her face. Gauri recoiled, almost gasping aloud in pain. He had caught her at her most vulnerable point.

  She stared at him with still wet cheeks, unable to react.

  Vikram stared back at her stonily, steeling himself against the effect her wet cheeks were having on him. ‘These crocodile tears are wasted on me. I’m immune to your tricks.’

  Gauri bowed her head and tried to pull her tattered emotions around her. She was in no fit state to argue any more. Her storm of weeping had left her feeling weary and she felt tiredness swamping her. She wanted to lay her head back and close her eyes but she dared not give in to any more weakness in front of him.

  Biting her lip, she said hesitantly, ‘Can you please take me home? We can continue our discussion tomorrow.’

  ‘Don’t think you can dismiss me so easily! We have matters to discuss. I have found you with great difficulty and I don’t trust you. There’s no telling when you might skip out again,’ Vikram said in a soft, chilling voice which raised goose bumps on her skin.

  His eyes bored into hers relentlessly and Gauri looked away, unable to meet his implacable gaze.

  ‘Lie back and close your eyes. It will take us time to reach our destination,’ he said tersely.

  ‘I … I’ll sleep once I reach home,’ Gauri mumbled.

  ‘Don’t make me more angry, Gauri. Just do as I say.’

  Gauri capitulated with a sigh. She knew she didn’t stand a chance in the face of Vikram’s indomitable will. And she was feeling too spent to argue any further. It was only her air of bravado that was keeping her going.

  She laid her head back on the seat and closed her eyes. Despair overwhelmed her again and, despite her bout of crying, fresh tears pricked at her eyes under her closed eyelids. But she didn’t let them escape. With tremendous control she lay soundlessly, pushing away the painful memories, blocking out everything from her mind and trying to focus on her breathing as she had been taught.

  She had been an emotional wreck years ago and then she had run into Meenakshi Singh, who had been her saviour and on whose insistence she had seen a counsellor. The counsellor had trained her to switch off whenever painful memories began to intrude. She had had years of practice now and had become adept at pushing away agonising emotions w
hile continuing to function stoically.

  Vikram looked at her spent form, angry at the unwanted feeling of protectiveness that surged inside him. The only people he had ever truly cared about were his mother, his childhood friend Madhav and, later on, Madhav’s father. He had always been a loner and had never formed any attachments, even as a child. He’d always maintained an emotional distance with everyone, including Madhav’s family. But, ironically, Gauri always managed to disturb his equilibrium and had ruffled his equanimity on countless occasions.

  The circumstances of her birth, her sudden appearance in Madhav’s family and the resulting furore had shaped his view of her. She had been the product of a one-night stand between Madhav’s father, Maharaj Sambhaji Rao, and a desperate and greedy actress who had seen the married Maharajah as a meal ticket and who had connived to get him very drunk at a party, seduced him and then trapped him by becoming pregnant.

  That the Maharajah was bound to a terminally ill wife whom he could not leave had suited Gauri’s mother perfectly—knowing the limited shelf life of an actress, she had only wanted a benefactor to fund her expensive lifestyle. After Gauri’s birth, she had pretended great love for her daughter and had actively discouraged the Maharajah from having any contact with Gauri.

  She had tearfully convinced the susceptible Maharajah that she didn’t want their daughter growing up ashamed of her illegitimate birth. The Maharajah had acquiesced and had retreated to the background. The astronomical sums of money she was given every month for Gauri’s upkeep were spent on leading a lavish, hedonistic lifestyle.

  When Gauri turned five, Maharaj’s wife had died and, ironically, so had Gauri’s mother in an accident. Maharaj finally brought Gauri home.

  Madhav had welcomed his chhoti bahen—younger sister—whom he lovingly called chhoti with open arms but the issue of her illegitimacy and her mother’s notorious reputation had filled Vikram with dislike.

  As a child, she had been jealous of Vikram’s bond with her brother and would either ignore him or behave in a prickly manner. In turn, her doglike devotion to Madhav would irritate Vikram intensely and he had frequently been forced to hold his tongue, swallowing the scathing words springing to his lips in order not to upset Madhav.