(Untold Stories) Chapter Thirty Five (2) : Storytellers

Khushi had her cupboard open before her and her face hidden behind its frames when a knock at the door caught her attention. And the face that greeted her made her forget whatever it was that she was doing.

“Kaka!” she exclaimed, walking quickly forward to meet the grey haired man at the door. His wrinkle faced features broke into a toothy smile. He had served the household for most of his life, like the generations before him. From being Khushi’s confidante while she climbed up mango trees, to being the one who stole streetside food into the house for her sake, he had done it all. His frail demeanor made Khushi feel a pang of sorrow in her chest, but she hid it with a smile.

“How are you Kaka? I’m sorry, I didn’t see you last night. It wasn’t…” her voice trailed away. Surely whatever had happened the night before would be common news in the servants’ quarters by now.

Raghubir Singh shook his head. “I wasn’t there last night. My nephew does my work here now, I don’t find it in myself to do it anymore.”

Khushi nodded understandingly.

“—But this morning I heard that Bibiji has come. So I had to of course come see you,” he said, then pursed his lips in a grandfatherly pout as he looked at her. “They don’t give you food in Delhi, do they?”

“They don’t have Chottelal’s chooran and chaat papdi with extra imli chutney, I can tell you that,” she said, and the man chuckled heartily in the shared memory of their secrets.

They spoke for a while, with Khushi asking him about his health and family, and his village house. He in turn asked her how life was in Delhi, and they spoke briefly about her Buaji and how her absence could still very much be felt in the house. The subject of her marriage, Shyam, or the incidents from the previous night did not come up. It did not matter for how long one had been serving a family. Some lines weren’t meant to be crossed in the house, and Raghubir Singh was more aware of it than anyone else.

After a little while, however, a look of hesitance flitted across his face before he abruptly blurted out, “Things have not been good here, Bibiji.”

“What do you mean?” Khushi asked with some trepidation in her voice.

“I know it’s not my place to say…” he began, looking distinctly uneasy. “But I have…my father, grandfather, all have been serving the family and there are some things—”

“Kaka you can say what you want if it’s concerning you so much, you have the right,” Khushi urged him. She would have been more cautious, but it did not seem like it was her own personal life he was trying to open a conversation on.

He nodded slowly. “They’ve just let it go…Bibiji. Something needs to be done.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maalkin is frequently sick these days, but Maalik…isn’t doing well either, lately. Govind, my nephew, overheard the doctor insisting him to get proper checkups, but he brushes it off. Cholesterol problem he had, you would remember. Now it’s worse but he will not do anything about it. But what’s more concerning is…” he paused, then continued, “Maalik has stopped taking active interest in the estate.  You must have seen the house, it’s not how it used to be maintained a few years ago. It needs repair and attention, but it’s just falling apart in many places. A house this old needs constant maintenance, Bibiji. And then there is the new manager…you must be aware that Dinesh Jha left the city a couple of years back so Maalik replaced him. Total corrupt man…he can see that there is no one to help Maalik so he is taking advantage of it. I am not very educated, but knowing the man I can tell you that all accounts records are amiss. So much property…and where half the rent is going no one knows. He keeps inventing problems and urges Maalik that money would be needed to settle them otherwise lawsuits would pile up.”

Khushi didn’t need to be told that her father would readily throw money at anything or anyone if convinced that it would make a problem simply disappear from his sight.

“Then there is a local builder with solid political ties. He has been putting pressure to sell the house to make a five star hotel here…you know this area is considered premium real estate in the city. Maalik has not agreed yet, but he hasn’t refused either. If the house gets sold…Bibiji it’s one of the few remaining havelis in Lucknow that is hundreds of years old. Aise kaise…” he said plaintively. “Seeing all this, the staff has also relaxed and become useless. Someone needs to keep a check on them Bibiji, but no one is there. At least in the house I try to utilize my influence however I can to make sure the kitchen is functioning properly, and the grain coming from the fields is being properly stored…things like that. But I’m also old now, I can’t do much. And even if I could, I’m only a servant of the family at the end of the day…”

When he looked at Khushi, his face was flushed, as if it had been a clear ordeal for him to gather courage to say all that he had. “I have been keeping it all in,” he said in a shaky voice. “You know I’m terrified of Maalik, I can’t say all this to him, not that I have not tried….but in the past few years I often thought to myself, when Bibiji comes home, I’ll tell her everything. She will do something. I have been waiting for you to come.”

Khushi stood listening wordlessly, her expressions unreadable.

“I know you have been upset since you came Bibiji, and I don’t want to add to your worries, I really don’t,” he said, shifting his weight from one tired foot to another. “But I heard you’re leaving very soon…that you don’t intend to stay…so I knew I didn’t have much time. You will forgive me for making you more upset at such a time…but I thought you would want to know. I beg your pardon if—”

Khushi shook her head. “No, it’s okay.” She reached for her bag, took out a pen and paper and scribbled numbers upon it. “Here’s my number, Kaka. Call me if you need anything or if you wish to speak,” she said, handing it to him.

He took the paper from her, holding it between frail fingers.

“If you don’t come more frequently Bibiji,” he said with a sad, watery smile, “this might be the last I see you. Your Kaka is not getting any younger either.”

“Don’t say that,” she said, swallowing hard. “You’ve many more years to go, all that exercise in running behind me is bound to be useful now.”

He let out a dry chuckle once more. Then folded his hands to take leave. Khushi mirrored the gesture, and Raghubir Singh turned away. He had walked away a few steps when Khushi called out to him, “Kaka, take care of yourself. Go stay with your son for a few days in the village, enjoy with your grandchildren.”

A sad smile touched the old man’s face and something a lot like wistfulness flashed in his eyes. He turned slowly and looked at Khushi with a forlorn expression.

“Old age is a terrible time to realize you’ve made mistakes, Bibiji. It is also a terrible time to be left all alone…But…if possible, children should try to forgive…they’re all we have. Although it is understandable if they don’t.”

With that, he had said all that he meant to, and gone a step further. With a parting meaningful look, he finally took his leave.

Khushi slowly walked back into her room, and unzipped the duffel bag she had carried from Delhi. Reaching inside, she took out several velvet boxes of jewelry. It seemed surreal that it had been barely more than a day since she had visited her bank locker.

She sat on the bed with the boxes in her lap for several quiet moments. Then with a determined look on her face, she arose and stepped out of her room, her arms occupied with the weight of family heirloom dating back several generations. Yet it felt like it was more than just the jewelry’s weight she was holding in her hands.

“Where is Baba?” she asked a house help passing by the corridor.

“He’s in his study. Should I—”

“No. I’ll go see him. Thank you,” she said, and walked away.

 

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I realized I haven’t been updating the story index since the past several updates. It’s done now 🙂