"Only people who are capable of loving strongly can also suffer great sorrow, but this same necessity of loving serves to counteract their grief and heals them." - Leo Tolstoy
After her father, the head of a powerful Mafia family passes away, Shaivi...
It had been a week since I had been released from the hospital. I believed I was fine. The doctors said I was fine. But Shaivi Ma'am still wasn't convinced. She was still concerned that I would fall and collapse again, so she made sure I didn't leave the house. Kind of like an arrest, but in a house that probably cost more than all my organs combined. Morbid, but true, I think.
I wasn't complaining one bit. I had my own room, with not one but two fully functional ACs. A big en-suite bathroom, filled with elegant beige and crème designs. A whole, fully stocked mini fridge. A freaking 55-inch TV, with a gaming console I didn't know how to use. And the best part, was a walk-in closet, filled with designer clothes I had only heard of in movies. Burberry, Gucci, and LV shirts lined the top half, while Tom Ford, Santoni, and Clark's footwear occupied the bottom. Hell, even my vests and briefs were branded. But they all came at a price. The price of my freedom. In exchange for the room of my dreams, I was forbidden to step out of it. And to top it all off, Sharma Ji was to keep an eye on me, as my glorified babysitter. It was fine for the first few days. But as time went by, I was sick of it.
Not only me though. Even Sharma Ji was sick of playing babysitter. He was pacing around, waiting for Shaivi Ma'am to come out of her room. She walked out, dressed in a white suit today. Her makeup was minimal, and her hair was tied up in a bun. Nothing out of the regular, but it still made my heart start acting weird. Maybe a side effect of hyperacidity.
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Sharma ji faced her. "Shaivi, we need to talk. This nonsense ends right now."
If she was offended by his tone, she didn't show it. "What are you talking about?"
"This whole 'Keep Anmay locked away' thing." He crossed his arms. "He's an adult, Shaivi. Not a zoo animal."
"It's for his own good." She replied coolly. "I don't want him to go out into the public and collapse again. Simple as that. He agrees, don't you?"
Both their eyes landed on me, and I gulped. I had no choice but to nod in agreement to my wife's statement. Sharma ji looked like he wanted to rip my head off.
"Oh come on! Tell her what you told me this morning, Anmay."
I gulp again, my palms sweaty as I look up to meet Shaivi's eyes. Her face is a mask of unemotional and cold emptiness, but her eyes speak volumes. I can see some sort of fear in them. Some sort of burden. I scratch the back of my neck.
"All I said was that I was sick of being in my room all day." I cringed at my tone. I sounded like an apologetic schoolboy, damn it. "I wouldn't mind a bit more freedom, you know?"
"Who said you had to be in your room all day?" She shrugs. "I just forbid you to step out of the house, Anmay."
I was dumbfounded. I mean, technically, she was right. She never explicitly forbid me to leave the room.... just the house.
"So I can roam anywhere around the mansion anytime I want?" I question nervously.
"Other than my study and the basement, sure, why not? Who am I to stop you?" She shrugged. Did she really mean it, or was it sarcasm?
Before I could figure it out, she had set her eyes on Sharma ji. "But this isn't completely about what Anmay wants, is it, Sharma ji?" She cocks up an eyebrow, and I swear I could see the man's cheeks darken in embarrassment.
"Not fully, no." He mumbled, before giving up. "I can't do this, Shaivi. I'm accustomed to the office. The mounds of paperwork and deadlines and everything in between."
"That's not what Veena Chachi told me. She was complaining about me making you run around too much." Ma'am was practically taunting the annoyed old man now.
"That woman, damn it! Don't you listen to her." He ran his fingers through his hair. "I have worked by Saheb's side for over 35 years, and I promised him I'll be by your side, Shaivi."
At the mention of her father, Shaivi's face softened momentarily. But she quickly hardened it.
"You're right. I do need you by my side. As for him, guess I'll have Veena Chachi look after him."
Later:
"Uhh.. are you Veena Chachi?" I ask nervously. The older lady near the stove turns to me with a smile. She's in her mid-50s, with a round, plump figure and slightly grey hair. She had kind, somewhat mysterious eyes hidden behind glasses. She smiled at me in a motherly sort of way.
"I am. You must be Anmay, Shaivi's husband, right?" Her voice is soft, and caring, and I immediately feel at ease.
"Yes. She asked me to come find you."
"Of course. Come on in."
I enter the large yet spacious kitchen. Fruits and vegetables of every kind were stocked in the massive double-door refrigerator. There was a separate fridge for milk and meat products, as well as cabinets upon cabinets of expensive china ware. There was a small herb garden, filled with mint, coriander, and a variety of herbs I couldn't even name. I looked back to where Veena Chachi stood, her hands on her hips as she looked fondly at me. "Would you like me to make you something?"
"Uh, are you the cook here?" I ask. She laughs, shaking her head. "No no, beta. Officially I'm just here as your dearest Sharma ji's wife." She rolls her eyes. "But the previous cook had to take a few days off, so I took up this responsibility." She pats my shoulder, before handing me a plate of warm cookies.
I take one bite and immediately am lost in the absolute divine flavor of chocolate and butter. "These are amazing," I mumble, my mouth full of the hot, delicious goodness.
"Thank you, beta." She was proud. "You're the only one here who actually appreciates my cooking."
"Wait, so you're telling me Sharma ji doesn't appreciate your skills? Damn, he's missing out." I grab another cookie.
"All he does is Saheb this, Saheb that." She huffed.
"Chote muh badi baat [Small mouth, big talk], but he's seriously stupid if he doesn't appreciate the actual Annapurna in the house." I mutter, grabbing another cookie.
"Don't I know, beta." She sighs, before going back to the task at hand.
"Can I help?"
"Most of the work is done for now," She gave me a look. "But if you insist on helping, do you know how to chop veggies into small pieces?"
"Sure do." I smile confidently, taking the knife from her. In a matter of minutes, I chop all the vegetables needed for raita.
"Amazing," She pats my back. "So nice and fine, with minimal waste! I'm impressed."
I grin wide at the praise. I had always liked cooking as a hobby, and the fact that someone was appreciative of it made me very happy.
"If you don't mind, I'd actually like to come help you. I don't have anything else to do anyways."
She smiled wide. "Tell you what, you come to join me tomorrow. I'll be making Rajma Chawal, and you can help me with it. It'll help keep you occupied, and even I'll have a helping hand. Deal?"
"Deal." I shake her hand, before going back to finishing the entire plate of cookies.
