Dark Night Dawning

Chapter 17

'Don't you think it is better to wait for the police, Mr Raizada?' suggested Mr Sharma, 'It might get dangerous in there.'

Arnav looked at him, a steely look in his eyes, 'My wife is in there Mr Sharma, I am not going to sit here twiddling my thumbs.'

**

Khushi came into the hall and quietly sat on the floor. She had tied the small broken piece of mirror in her dupatta. She couldn't use it on him because she knew he would overpower her in seconds. There was only one other option. She would use it on herself ......when she finally lost her nerve.

Khushi decided to engage him in talking hoping to delay this as much as possible. Somewhere in the corner of her mind she still had some hope left.

'Why do you hate Arnavji so much?'

'Why do I hate him so much?' Shyam repeated the question, contemplating over it for a few seconds, 'Alright..... you are going to be my wife so I might as well tell you.'

'I lived in this very house as a child,' he began, 'My father worked for Arnav's dad in his estate. One day he took me to their haveli. I immediately fell in love with it. As I stood staring at it, I saw two children playing with each other. Then, a beautiful lady came out and hugged them with love and affection. It was Anjali and Arnav with their mother. All three of them went up to an expensive car and drove away while I stood there gaping at them.

I went back home that day I realized what kind of a dump I lived in. They travelled by car and went to very good schools, while I had to walk 4 kms every day to get to my government school. Their mother doted on them while my mom was too tired working in other people's houses as a maid. In the middle of all this I had to bear the brunt of my alcoholic father beating up on my mother and me in the throes of his drunken state. As the years passed by I began to hate them.

His face was unemotional as he continued, 'One day, my father did us a favour and kicked the bucket. My mother took me away to the city where she had relatives. She somehow managed to put me through college by being at their mercy. I hated each and every one of those bastards who made me feel like I was a beggar. After I studied law I moved to Delhi where I practiced civil law.

During my practice I saw how the rich people manipulated their way in society. How they got respect, power, position ---- all because they were rich. I wanted to be like them. Someone up there heard me, because I accidentally stumbled into Anjali one day at the temple. When I found out she was the same Anjali who used to live in Lucknow, I felt vindicated. I finally had my chance to move in high societies that I only dreamed of.

His face twisted in derision as he came out of his reverie. 'Manipulating Anjali was a cake walk. I entered their family as the most adored son-in-law. I had the last laugh didn't it? I, their son-in-law was actually the son of their servant-----and they had no idea about it. There was no one who could reveal my true identity. My mother had died by then, my only link to my unprivileged background. These condescending rich people deserved it.

'But after a while, their patronising behaviour began to grate on my nerves. Especially, Arnav's over possessiveness about his sister. He wanted his sister to live in the lap of luxury right in front of his eyes and had provided me with a monthly income so that I could maintain her in a way she deserved.

'The day I saw you, everything changed Khushiji. I no longer wanted to be with Anjali. I wanted to be with you. But he had to interfere even in this. He married you and took you away from me.

'Anjali loves him more than she does me ........and you ......... I just hate him for that!'

Khushi realized that Shyam's thoughts were no longer rational. He was driven by insane jealousy since childhood which was very difficult to overcome in adulthood. But she wanted to remove the screen of self-pity he had around him. 'You hate him just because he happened to be born in better circumstances than you? That is so lame! Don't blame your circumstances for all your misdeeds. Great people have often risen from ashes.