Changing Shades - 7

Chapter 7

Khushi was still sitting on the grass on the little hillock, when Arnav came. He approached so quietly that she didn't hear him.

He watched her from a distance for a while, seeing the eyes gazing blindly into the distance, her expression disturbed, her body held in rigid lines showing her tension.

“Lavanya said I might find you here,” he said, and she jumped, her face draining of color as she turned around to face him. Arnav's expression changed to one of concern.

“Are you all right?!”

“You startled me,” she managed, trying to regain her composure. She looked at him warily, unsure of his mood, his reactions. “What are you doing here, Arnav?”

“I'm inspecting the site, the same as you are,” he replied easily. “I am supposed to take over, you know. I should start my new job as soon as possible, don't you think?"

Belatedly she remembered that he was her boss now. “I'm sorry,” she said, uncomfortably, and looked down. “I shouldn't have said that the way I did."

She looked back at him, her eyes clear, her gaze direct. "You're right. You have every right to be here and take a look at the site. It's your project now, after all.”

“No, it isn't,” he said, and sat down beside her. He picked a blade of grass and twirled it reflectively between his fingers, deceptively casual. “It's still your project. Mr. Suri made that very clear. Quite his little blue eyed girl, aren't you?”

She kept quiet, sensing that something was coming. She knew him too well not to recognize the hard note in his voice, underlying the casual words he had spoken.

She didn't have too long to wait. “Tell me, Khushi,” he asked, still in that casual tone. “How do you manage it?”

“Manage what?”

She kept her tone even, hoping the effort didn't show. Her body was still, tense, but her face was calm, almost blank.

Arnav looked at her directly then, and this time his face was anything but casual. His tone remained quiet, almost contemplative, but his words hit her with the barbs of arrows.

“You know. Manage to get all these old men wound so firmly around your little finger that they will do anything for you. Uncle Dewan gave you his son and his business, Mr. Suri is practically dying to hand over his business to you. He made it very clear when I took over, that you and your job were not to be touched, and the deal was by no means final. The firm is not mine yet, and it may never be. You have done rather well for yourself, haven't you? And to think I used to feel sorry for you! You must have laughed at me! You were perfectly able to manage things for yourself. Who needs love? You want all the good things in life, and so what if it's only old men who can give them to you. Old men don't live forever, and till they do, well, grin and bear it. Isn't that right?”   

She looked at him quietly, not answering his anger, feeling his hurt. After so many years, he still carried the bitterness of their last meeting with him. She had known he would find it very difficult to forgive, but that he would be so bitter, she had not thought.

“I know why you think so badly of me, Arnav,” she managed quietly, looking away from the fire in his eyes. “But can't you at least try to understand why I did what I did? You know it wasn't like that. Do you honestly think I'm so materialistic? I don't think so, Arnav. You, of all people, know me better than that.”

“I thought I knew you,” Arnav returned, and his face was bleak, cold, unresponsive to the unconscious plea in her words, her voice. “But obviously, I was wrong. I didn't know you at all. The girl I fell in love with, or thought I fell in love with, was not like you. She would never have done what you did. She would have had the courage to stop, not go through something her heart did not want.”

“I could not!” Khushi cried out, her heart aching for his understanding. “Can't you understand that I just could not do that? I could never have cried off at that time, even if I had wanted to. Is that what you want to hear? Do you want to hear from me in so many words, that I loved you, and still married Manish? All right, I'll say it. I loved you. I married him. What does that make me? A coward? A fool? Do you think you're the only one who suffered?”

“What did you suffer?” Arnav asked savagely, fiercely. “You got a beautiful home, a rich husband, a family, security, lots of money, and doting in-laws, who would give you the world, and make sure that their son did the same. What did you suffer? No, Khushi. You didn’t love me. You were only out for what you could get. And you still are. It must have been a shock to find out that Mr. Suri was not going to hand over the company to you, lock, stock and barrel, but got me in here instead. Why did you want this company too? Are your tastes so expensive that all the money you already have, isn't enough? Do you want still more?”

“What are you saying, Arnav?” she cried. “Listen to me. I have suffered, Arnav. How I suffered, you can't even begin to imagine. Do you really think that's why I married Manish? Is that what you really think of me? That's how much you know me? Don't you really want to know why I'm working here? What happened…?”

“No,” Arnav said, cutting her off abruptly. His face was suddenly cold, the fire in his eyes replaced by ice. “I don't want to know. I don't want to know anything. Don't say anything, Khushi. It's no use. What's done is done. It's over and done with. I've moved on in my life, and…" he looked at her in cold appraisal, taking in the expensive suit she was wearing, and the large earrings glinting in her ears (one about five years old, and the other artificial, if only he had known that), "…you obviously have, too. I suppose you and Manish know what you're doing for you to be working here, but it is no concern of mine.”

He stood up, and moved away. Than he looked back at her, and his eyes were cold, bleak.

“Understand one thing, Khushi. From now on, you and I are colleagues. Just that. No more. The college days are over, and we have, all of us, moved on. I don't want to know anything about your and Manish's personal life, and I don't intend to let you into mine. There's been too much between us for us even to be friends, and I will not make that pretense. That's what I came here to tell you. We are colleagues, we work together in the office, and that is all. Do you understand?”

Khushi listened to him, her heart sinking. She couldn't bear it if Arnav, of all people, thought that of her. She had heard whispers from many people around her in the last four years, but she had ignored them. They didn't know her, they didn't matter. But Arnav ...?

She tried again, desperately reaching out to him.

“Arnav, please, just hear me out once. Can't I at least try to tell you, to make you understand…?” she began, but he cut her off brusquely.

“I told you, Khushi, no. There is nothing personal between us. I don't want to know. I'm not interested any more. I was in love with you once upon a time. You killed that love. Now there is nothing, absolutely nothing between us, and there can never be, again. Not even friendship. Least of all, friendship. We work together, that's all. And yes, there’s no need to tell Manish that you work for me now. I don't need to meet him either, I don't intend to. In one stroke, you killed that friendship as well, and now there’s no going back. Now let's go and check the drainage that you were worried about.”

He turned and walked off rapidly down the hill, leaving her standing like a stone, staring after him. And as cold as stone was the coldness in her heart, as she watched the familiar figure stride off towards the workmen on the site.

Don't do this to me, Arnav,  she whispered, but it was to herself. Haven't I been punished enough? If only, she thought bleakly, if only I had at that time had the courage, the conviction in my love, to tell my uncle, Manish, his parents, that I could not go through with the wedding. If only I had had the courage to tell Arnav that yes, I do love you, I love you more than life itself, and always will. But I didn't. I thought that my duty was stronger then my love, and I've condemned myself for a lifetime. He doesn't even want to know anything, he doesn't want to talk to me, he doesn't even want to know me.

Slowly she moved, her legs feeling like lead, as she walked down the hill to join him. He was talking to the contractor, his brow furrowed, and he turned his head as she came up.

“Khushi, this man says that the incline seems to be different from what is indicated in the plan. That means we may have to alter the site of the drain system. Do you have the plans with you?”

She looked at him blindly, barely hearing what he was saying. He looked at her impatiently. The confrontation of the last few minutes seemed to have been wiped out of his mind.

“Khushi, the plans, please?”

She registered what he was saying at last.

“The plans?” she replied blankly, as though he was speaking a foreign language. 

“The plans for this site. The drain system. Can you understand or do I have to spell it out for you?”

His voice was harsh, impersonal. 

 

“They…they're in the car,” she managed weakly, and he continued to look at her with the same impatience.

“Then can you get them, please? I need to take a look at them. How is it that this problem didn't come up before? Didn't you check the incline?”

“I'll get the plans and check,” she said, stammering, and half walked, half ran to her car to fetch them.

He looked at the papers, frowning.

“I'll have a look at these in the office,” he told the contractor. “I'll get back to you tomorrow. In the meantime, don't start the work on the pipes yet.”

The man nodded respectfully, and moved away to his workmen. Arnav looked at Khushi, and she winced from the ice in his eyes.

“Get back to the office,” he said. “We need to go over these. If there is a mistake, it may need a major revision, and some cost increase. You realize that, don't you?”

She nodded. She couldn't trust her voice.

“Just remember,” he continued in the same hard voice. “I do not and will not tolerate slipshod work in my office. Please be more careful in the future. Now get moving and get back to office. I have my own car.”

He turned and walked off to his car, and she followed to her vehicle. She didn't have a car of her own, using the office car for all her work on site. Mr Suri had never had a problem with that. She began to think, with a sinking feeling, that Arnav just might.        

      

There was a problem with the incline, which entailed a change in the plans. It was not major, however, and so Khushi was completely unprepared for the tongue-lashing which Arnav gave her for the mistake.

“You were a good architect in the old days,” he said, with ice in his voice. “I suppose with so many years of doing what you pleased, you've let your work slip. But this is not your company any more, and I am not here to provide you with pocket money at the expense of my clients. If you want to continue here, there are certain standards, which you will have to maintain. If you don't, you can look for another job, or just sit at home and let your husband earn for you. Might be better.”

“You don't have to make sexist remarks,” Khushi flashed. “If you're not happy with my work, tell me that. You don't have to bring my husband into it. As for being a good architect, remember who used to fight with you for the top position in college.”

“So can I see some of that work, please?” he answered, caustically. “And we're not in college now. We're working to build real buildings for real people, and we cannot make mistakes now. Now, mistakes cost money, either the firm's or the client's. Remember that in future.”

*****

That first clash seemed to set the tone for the weeks and months ahead. Arnav seemed to take delight in finding fault with her – only with her work. He did not make any personal remarks again. He stayed strictly impersonal, and that first meeting in the office, when he had acknowledged they were friends and college mates, might never have happened, so distant and aloof was his behaviour with her. 

But he criticized her constantly, threw barbed remarks all the time and was always ready to make changes to her plans and schedules. Khushi's office, which had become a haven for her, where she could forget herself in her work, now became a living hell. Earlier, she used to be impatient to get to work, out of her little cubbyhole of a room, and would spend far longer in the office than she needed, to postpone her return home. Now she got to work in time – just. But once she was there, Arnav did not let up for a minute, and she could not leave early, either. He made sure of that. She worked late, trying to keep up with the load he piled on her, often reaching back to her hostel after midnight, and going without food, as the canteen was closed. But she could not tell any of this to Arnav, or to anyone.

Lavanya noticed the shadows under her eyes, the pale complexion, and grew concerned. She left by 6 every evening, so she didn't know how late Khushi was working, or how little she was eating. But she saw the other girl grow paler and more tired looking, and tried to remonstrate with her.

“What are you doing to yourself?” she asked her furiously. “Do you want to kill yourself or something? Khushi, what's the matter with you?”

“Nothing,” Khushi tried to brush her off with a smile, but Lavanya wasn't having any of it.

 “Don't you tell me 'nothing',” she said, fiercely. “I can see with my own eyes. What is happening between you and him?”

‘Nothing is happening between me and him,” said Khushi, and tried to smile. “It's just that the work pressure seems to be more. Those last couple of projects don't seem to be fitting into place.”

“You mean he's turning down all the plans you show him,” guessed Lavanya, shrewdly. She was able to hear parts of the conversations from Arnav's room, from her desk just outside. Khushi looked at her in despair.

“Lavs…”

“Why is he being such a beast?” said Lavanya, furiously. “Doesn't he know… ?”

“He doesn't,” said Khushi flatly. She had told Lavanya some of the story earlier, the bare details, just enough to satisfy the other girl’s curiosity. But she couldn’t bring herself to tell her of Arnav’s disgust for her, of his conviction that she was nothing but a gold-digger, of his seeming hatred for both her and Manish. “He doesn't want to know, and I forbid you to tell him. If he thinks he is punishing me for some sin I've committed, imaginary or real, then let him get his satisfaction. I refuse to beg for mercy, or kneel at his feet. It's his macho pride, which is hurting. Let him take out all his anger. I can take it.”

Khushi was hurting - badly. Very badly. But her pride was too strong to let him know that. She bore his remarks stoically, doing all the work he gave her, making unnecessary revisions without complaining, knowing he was pushing her to see how far she would bend before she would break. But she didn't intend to give him that satisfaction, not yet. She would not let him see her break.

Lavanya was furious.

“You both are mad,” she told Khushi, angrily. “He's pushing you, and you're getting pushed. Both of you are so busy making each other miserable, that you don't even realize what you're doing to each other. One day, one of you has to give. And it won't be him. There is unfinished business between the two of you, and this is not the way to clear it up. Tell him, Khushi. Tell him about Manish. Tell him you still love him.”

“He doesn't want to hear anything,” retorted Khushi, obstinately. “And he's told me so himself. If he doesn't want to hear it, I don't want to tell him. And tell him for what? Only to hear him say, I told you so? I told you that you should not have married Manish? No thanks, Lavs. I refuse to crawl in front of him. Besides, I made my bed, I have to lie in it.”

“Very well,” said Lavanya, angrily. “Stay miserable. I think you're a masochist. And two people made that bed you're lying on, Khushi. You didn't do it alone. You don't have to suffer alone ... like some all-suffering wonder woman. But if that makes you happy, so be it. Only, you're not happy, Khushi.”

Khushi shrugged and got on with her work. There was a lot of it, in any case.