CHAPTER NINETEEN
INAYAT KHALIL
✧ ⋆ ☽ ✯ ☾ ⋆ ✧
His head lolls to the side, eyes open and willfully blank, like two pale shards of glazed pottery, as he stares at Aadhya's aghast expression. "No way! You are planning on meeting with Inayat Khalil?" Her voice rose incredulously when she finally figured out their destination would be Dubai from the Pilot's mouth. He was sure many questions hovered at the tip of her tongue. But the only thing she found worth saying aloud was, "You should've told me that when I was taking oatmeal with us. What if something happened to him?"
"Okay, first of all, I am seriously hurt that you are worrying more about Motu's well being than your husband-to-be," Rocky says, sounding as offended as if Aadhya had just insulted him and his entire family. "And second, I clearly remember asking you why you are bringing that thing along," He adds, jabbing his finger at the dog stretched on Aadhya's lap, dozing off without a care. He wouldn't confess it aloud, but Rocky felt like the tiny mutt was living a far better life than him right now.
Aadhya looked indignant. "Well, First of all, you can fight back," Aadhya starts counting them off her fingers, imitating Rocky's speech, "—and Motu — I mean, Oatmeal," she stressed the word after a brief slip of the tongue, much to Rocky's amusement, "—can't fight back. So, of course, I am worried about him. And second, making a weird face and asking why I am carrying my son with me is not the same as asking me to not bring it along with me."
"Son?" He looked at her searchingly, the way he looked at some people when he was trying to tell if they had finally lost their last two brain cells.
Aadhya pointedly ignores his tone and defiantly adds, "Yes. And considering we are marrying, you should know this beforehand —My handsome Oatmeal will now and always be the first child in our family. And I will have no more discussions over this."
Rocky lets out a long, suffering sigh, his eyes casting skyward like he's searching for help from an uncaring universe. But then, as if he remembered something of a great value, he whips his head to stare at her, eyes wild and wheeling. "Wait? Did you say — children?"
Aadhya blinks as though it just occurred to her that she said something she shouldn't. "Why? You don't want kids?" Even though she looked calm on the outside, the dark-haired man could see the tension in the lines of her shoulders and mouth. There was the slightest change in the pitch of her tone. It's almost as if she was bracing for the worst answer.
Her barely apprehensiveness coaxed a sweet ache from him. It felt a little tightening around his heart. Sometimes, he felt like he didn't deserve to have this, this little miracle before him — the kind you kept close to your heart and would never let go.
Sometimes Rocky feared that he only had her because the gods wanted to take her away from him as some retribution at some point. He dreaded that such a day would come when she had to pay the price for the misdeeds he committed throughout his miserable life. Rocky doesn't think he could ever forgive himself if that situation transpired ever.
The sudden realization knocked the breath out of his lungs. He knew he had loved Aadhya Desai, the girl who came from another universe, for a long time. He knew he had adored her enough to kill for her, treasured her enough to keep the cruel world at bay and not let any harm befall her being. He also acknowledged he admired her enough to treat her with the same respect he would've treated his own mother and had been enamoured with her enough to marry and start a family with her.
But it was now that Rocky had been fully aware that he loved this dark-haired and brown-eyed girl enough to die for her. Because without her beside him, he was a blank canvas. A dark ocean of nothingness. Endless oblivion.
"It's alright," Aadhya's soft voice snaps him out of his reflections. When his eyes came to rest on her, Rocky could see her shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders, trying to hide her disappointment. "It's my fault, really. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have talked anything about anything before discussing it with you—"
"I want 3," Rocky interrupts the foolish girl before she could ramble on about how ridiculous she's being and whatnot. "No! Actually, I want 5," Rocky adds, touching his lips thoughtfully with a single long dark finger. "Three girls and two boys."
Aadhya chuckles faintly at his confession, the tension that clamped her body like a clenched fist dissipating instantly. "I mean, think about it — the house would be a little more lively with kids running around, won't it?"
Aadhya turns to him. With the elbow to her thighs and chin propped on her knuckles, the young girl stared at Rocky with a sweet smile playing around her mouth. "Oh, really. It does seem lively when I think about it. Are you going to give birth to the remaining four children then?" She asks in all seriousness.
"I don't think it's technically or biologically possible, sweetheart," Rocky answers with a casual air about him.
Aadhya continues to smile even though her eyes slice at him. "Then, as long as you aren't pushing out any human flesh out of your body, don't even dream of having a cricket team for children."
"But, darling—" Rocky's face melted into a look of self-pity. But Aadhya was already scooping up Oatmeal in her arms and moved to sit over in one of the empty seats of the chartered flight and lean her head back and stretch her legs comfortably to catch up on some much-needed sleep.
***
Rocky kept his eyes fixed on the thunderous skyline pocked with black clouds across the Persian Gulf as a wash of brilliant red light reflecting in the water. Soon, he felt Aadhya's presence beside him. Her hair tickled his face, smelling of rain and springtime when she buried her head against his shoulders as his arms came around her.
"They will be okay there, won't they?" She asks after a moment, breaking the silence.
Rocky knows who she was talking about. And he also knows what exactly was worrying her. With no way of knowing how Adheera was doing and what his men might be planning, Aadhya's growing restless. It shouldn't really come off as a surprise that she'd develop an attachment to the people and that place in just a month with her compassion, but it still amazed him a little.
It dawns on him, once again, how different she was to him and the other people he usually mingled himself with. Because the way they were was because no one showed them that empathy. Their hearts have long grown cold, for they never received warmth from others.
"Remember when you asked why I helped those people? If I killed those men for me, or for them?" Rocky asked instead. Aadhya turned her head against his chest to look at him clearly, before nodding. "While it is true that I didn't want to involve myself with their problems, there was also something in them I couldn't ignore. They reminded me a little of myself when I was young, helpless, alone, and couldn't fight back because I thought myself weaker than others. And I thought if that little boy could fight back for a promise he made to his mother, they could too. They could fight for the sake of their sons, daughters, mother, fathers, and even for themselves. All they needed was a little spark."
"And you were an inferno," Aadhya finishes. "Just what they needed." And when she looked at him like that... like he was brilliant and magnificent — it made the ache for his mother in his heart a little less because it made him feel like he could never be totally alone. He never knew how liberating it was; to know that there was someone out there in the world that cared about you.
Almost impulsively, Rocky bent down and kissed her forehead, intending to burn his mark like a brand between her eyes. When he moves back, he exhales through his nose. "So, what I am saying is — Don't worry, they are the people who went through many tragedies in their life, and at the end of the day, they managed to fight back, and if such a situation were to arise again, they would fight again. Because now they know what it is like to live like a human than a slave."
As soon as those words left his mouth, he could distantly hear and see more than a decade of vehicles driving fast toward them along the beach shore. Aadhya draws away from him to turn and throw an anxious stare over her shoulders. And as though she had figured who they were, she lets out an embattled sigh. "Get back safely," She says, glancing over with a resigned expression.
He could see the concern and the undercurrent desperation in the way her brows furrowed together. Shooting her, what he felt like an assuring look, Rocky smiled as the automobiles surrounded them and a chopper flew overhead. "I already told you, darling. I will live for as long as you want me to."
***
Standing before the large painting, Rocky observed the face of the once young Inayat Khalil riding a black stallion with a sword in one hand and the horse reins in another. It was painted in a calculated way that the light spilt from the dome above would fall onto it always. Rocky felt it looked too pretentious for his tastes, to be honest.
Now that he thinks about it, maybe he should have someone make one of his and his darlings.
"Salaam...Valikum," A gruff voice gets Rocky's attention back to the present, the main reason he was here for the day.
"Walaikum Assalam Wa-rehamatullahi wa-barkatahu," Rocky turns, one hand raised in greeting to his chin. When it takes the man by surprise, Rocky hangs his hand back to his side, explaining, "In my country, we are taught to respect every religion."
The older man smiled, but his eyes were blank, giving away nothing of his inner thoughts. Gesturing his hand to his right, he calmly asks Rocky to follow him to the two empty divans as an invitation to talk.
Losing the button of his coat, Rocky takes his seat across from him. More than a three dozen guards were standing with guns in their hands in the shadows of the darkroom. Rocky didn't blink an eye at their sight, choosing to calmly regard his surroundings for a moment before turning to Inayat Khalil's throne.
The man with grey hair shifts him with a considering look before he opens his mouth. "You have come to my city and booked all the rooms in my hotel just to gain my attention," a pause, "I admire your style." A half-smile quakes on Rocky's face. "You have travelled so far just to die."
"I'm here to offer you business," Rocky declares, not wavering at the prospect of a death threat.
"Business," there was ridicule in Inayat Khalil's tone, and his voice had an awful sound, Rocky decided, like water breaking over rocks. "What business?"
"Your gold has to move from Africa to Dubai and then from Dubai to India," He explains smoothly, "Double risk." His voice echoes in the darkroom, resounding against the black walls. "Instead, I am offering to take the delivery directly from Africa. And the entire risk will be mine. And I will buy an unlimited quantity of it." Hovering his hand in the air as a way to shake his hand, Rocky finishes, "Deal?"
Inayat Khalil doesn't move an inch from his place. "The offer really is good, but you are late," Rocky draws his hand back at his refusal, looking at the man with luminous interest like a house cat would watch a mouse dying in front of it. "I would've considered it if you had come a little earlier."
He then proceeds to list off all the things he had learned until then. "On one side, the government has fallen, and on the other side, he is moving towards KGF." The Dubai mafia boss leans forward in his seat, eyes shifting like water under the ice, "And you are here like a coward. You have nothing now! You have lost everything." His tone is condescending, "At least you should have made a couple of friends," Rising his chin proudly and contentedly, he proclaims, "I have made friends - all over Hindusthan. What will I answer them if I were to associate with you?"
He breaths out through his nose, almost like he understood he had lost the deal. Lets the man celebrate his assured victory for a few more minutes. He peers to his left, lifting his finger towards the weapon in one of the guard's hands. "What's that gun called?"
Inayat Khalil's eyes follow his finger. Before he or anyone could answer, Rocky was already up on his feet and moving towards it. His steps were smooth and vicious, like a lion waiting for its prey. They let him, self-assured, even when their gazes held curiosity and apprehension behind them. "What's the name of this?" he asks the guard directly in Hindi.
"Kalashnikov," The guard tells him.
Rocky nods to himself. "Kalash," he recites with clinical satisfaction. He holds out his hands expectantly. The taller and sturdy man looks over him to gain his boss's approval. When he gets it, he wastes no time handing it to Rocky. Gripping the gun in his hand, the dark-haired man inspects it. Running his hands over the smooth surface, he clicks and unlocks the safety, aiming the gun at nothing particular.
Just then, he hears a man rushing into the chamber, handing the phone to Inayat Khalil. Rocky could sense the tremors in his tone. His uncle had finished his task, Rocky decided. All the enemies who went against him on the west coast are very dead and departed to the underworld.
"Kalashnikov," Rocky echoes the name, his voice cutting the tense atmosphere like a knife. With a quick turn that had everyone pointing a firearm toward him, Rocky aimed the barrel of his own gun at Inayat Khalil. The handset slips from the older man's hands, a look of utter disbelief across his face that almost made Rocky smile.
"I don't need anyone's friendship," Rocky announces, eyes narrowed and sharp like knife points. The guards fidgeted in their places because they knew before they could put a bullet into his head, he would load the entire magazine into their old man's body. "No one can endure my enmity! Let's do business," he proposed one more time that day, letting the gun fall to his side. "OFFER CLOSES SOON!"