Dil Beparwah | ✔

thirty four

My suspicions circled her intention, but I had a slight idea of where this was headed. "Esha is talented in avenues she's working for."

"Sir's too kind," was her uncharacteristically shy response. "I'm toh very glad that MR and Varun sir are guiding me."

"I'll certainly read your next blog," Manohar Deewan pointed his finger at her with a jovial flair. "Well done beta. What's it called, again?"

"Weekends With Esha," she replied quickly. "WWE for short."

"Quite an apt name for the bomb she's gonna drop next weekend," Arvika's wink sealed a confirmation of some kind of conspiracy. "Anyways, Chachu, Dad aapko dhundh rahein thhe. The entire fam's planning in his suite."

Not long after Mr. Deewan had left with the promise of another round of BlackJack did Esha's phone light up blaring a disturbing pop of Korean music. BTS or something, Esha and Girish had bonded over this new trend of music. A contemplative frown led her to speak out, "I... kinda need to go. Work calls."

And wasn't that the joke of the century. Arvika's composure didn't falter as she left the table, her attention now flouncing over to the singer commanding the stage. "Her voice is ethereal. Are you into Jazz, Varun? I think I kinda like it."

Latika was, a crazy fan. Her mother used to host huge collections. And after her death, old vinyl records were all that she treasured the most. Afternoons, dusks to nightfall, sultry days in the summers and chilly evenings in the winters, we had spent together listening to Ella Fitzgerald and Abbey Lincoln. Drunk, sometimes in music, other times in each other. A time when my fears weren't solely mine either. And hers, resolved with tender kisses and a bottle of whiskey stolen from my father's cabinet.

"I listen to it occasionally. What were you trying to do with Esha?"

"Just talking. Hum middle school mein saath mein thhe. Always nice to see tattle-tales making a career out of their gossiping tendencies."

"Sweet. What bomb did you implant in her head now?"

Her eye had an inebriated sparkle in them tonight. A smile, not quite reaching them, curbed as she canted the stem of her glass to finish her drink. "So... you can corner my secretary to gruel insider info out of her, but I cannot speak with one of my juniors who just happens to be your employee without being interrogated?"

Clearly Mia got paid satisfactorily. She was trained to dodge questions and be vociferous about her loyalty. But I had a mission too—Renuka's hunches were seldom wrong. "I'm just doing my work, Arvika."

"And we struck a deal, Varun. I honored it, didn't I?" Her hand now cased mine instinctively, until a distant look crossed her face and made her retract immediately. "Unless you think that's not enough. Of course it isn't."

"That's not what I meant. Besides,"—and I hated to admit this—, "she's practically sired to you."

Her casual shrug was non-confirmatory. "You say that as if it's a bad thing."

Considering she was supposed to be the loose thread, yeah. It looked fùçķìñģ gloomy for me. "It's quite rare."

"Do you want a drink, Varun?" She changed the topic abruptly. "Quite rude of me to not ask before. How about a Black Russian? I think you'll like it."