Roohedaariyaan (On Hold Till Mid May)

Anger Issues

"साचो प्यार रो रंग बिन मौसम री बारिश वांगा है, जेमें रिमझिम हरदम चालती रहे।"

"True love is like the colors of an unseasonal rain, where the gentle drizzle never stops."

----------------------

It was evening, and Dhruvil was still seething with anger. He sat in his cabin, furiously flipping through the file of Mr. Christian, their foreign client. A small mistake in the report caught his eye, and it only intensified his frustration. Dhruvil, a man who demanded perfection, had been in this foul mood all day. His cabin was a disaster-papers and files scattered everywhere, evidence of his frustration. He hadn't eaten lunch, his disheveled hair and open shirt buttons reflecting his inner turmoil. He was a mess-a hot, angry mess.

Without wasting another second, Dhruvil picked up the landline and dialed his secretary's number. After just one or two rings, the call connected.

"I want all the employees who worked on the Mr. Christian investor file in my cabin. Now," he ordered coldly, cutting the call before waiting for a response.

In no time, all the employees gathered nervously in Dhruvil's cabin, fully aware that today they were about to face his wrath. Though known for being rude and arrogant, Dhruvil rarely lost his temper without reason. But today was different. The tension in the room was thick as Dhruvil threw the file he was holding onto the floor with a loud thud, his anger palpable. Placing both hands firmly on the glass table in front of him, it was a miracle the glass didn't shatter under the pressure.

"Is this how you prepare a presentation?" he growled, his eyes burning with frustration. "Where is your focus? Re-prepare it by tomorrow, or be ready with your resignation. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir," his employees replied in unison, their voices shaky. Without wasting a second, they quickly left the cabin, leaving Dhruvil simmering in his anger.

Dhruvil left the office in a storm of frustration, making his way to the elevator. He headed straight to the parking lot, but instead of his driver waiting by the car, Dhruvil slid into the driver's seat himself-a rare and dangerous sign. He almost never drove, and when he did, especially in anger, it was a recipe for disaster. Ignoring traffic signals and road rules, his mind was clouded with fury, and his reckless driving posed a serious risk. Either he would lose control, or someone else would be caught in his path-but by some miracle, no accident occurred that day.

The car engine roared to life, and Dhruvil sped through the city, covering a one-hour distance in a mere twenty minutes. He didn't care about the blaring horns or screeching brakes around him. As he reached the grand entrance of the palace, the tires left deep skid marks along the path, but Dhruvil paid no attention. Without acknowledging any of the family members, he stormed inside, not uttering a single word. He made his way straight to his room, shutting himself away from everything.

The family exchanged concerned glances, sensing something was wrong. Dhruvil only acted this way when his anger reached a boiling point. Upstairs, in his room, Dhruvil paced furiously, lighting one cigarette after another. The air was thick with the heavy smell of smoke, and by the time he reached his fourth cigarette, the room was almost suffocating. As he reached for a fifth, his phone rang, interrupting his thoughts. He answered it with a sharp "Hello?" his tone dripping with irritation.

On the other end, a voice sneered, "Hello, Mr. Sisodia. I heard you've been looking for me, so I thought I'd save you the trouble and call you myself. How's everything going on your end?" The man laughed madly, taunting him.