6.
A room full of men...oops, sorry.... monsters. The air is heavy, thick with smoke, power and blood-soaked reputations. Every man is sitting on his chair, waiting. Waiting for one name. One presence. The mafia lord, Ethan Frost.
He is the lord of the underworld, the ruler of the mafia world. He has been ruling for thirty years and in all those years, no one has dared to stand against him. No one has ever dared to even look him in the eyes. Fear walks before him and death follows behind.
“He has come to India to choose someone from us” one mafia says, lifting his glass and taking a slow sip, his eyes sharp as he talks to the man beside him. “Someone who will work for him here. He will choose one of us today”
“I think he will choose Zayran” another one says. His fingers curl into a fist on the armrest as he speaks. A few men clench their jaws hard. A few shift in their seats, clearly uncomfortable at the mention of that name.
“Zayran doesn’t have the experience we have” another one scoffs, bringing the cigarette to his lips and exhaling smoke. “So of course, the lord will choose us”
“But he is a manipulator” another voice cuts in, calm but sharp. His eyes darken as he speaks, clearly impressed and slightly jealous. “His tricks and plans almost never fail. While we went to jail and suffered all those punishments, he never faced any of that. His sharp mind always saved him”
“Are we here to praise Zayran or to attend a meeting?” one of them snaps irritably, slamming his hand lightly on the armrest.
The room falls silent for a moment. Slowly, they shut their mouths and turn to different topics, avoiding eye contact, avoiding names.
He is not here yet. But his name alone is enough for people to know who he is.
“Lord is here” one of the guards announces loudly.
Every man present in the room immediately gets up from his seat. Chairs scrape softly against the floor as tension tightens in their bodies.
A man around sixty-three years old enters the room. The moment he steps inside, everyone bows their heads, out of respect or maybe greed. No one dares to raise their eyes.
It is Ethan Frost.
“Hello, gentlemen” Ethan says as he sits on the chair placed at the center of the room. Only after he settles down does everyone else slowly sit. A wicked smile curves on his lips, calm and dangerous, as his sharp eyes scan every face in the room.
“Everyone knows why I have come to India, right?” Ethan says, standing up from his seat. He starts walking from left to right with slow, measured steps, his hands clasped behind his back.
Before he can say anything else, the atmosphere in the room suddenly turns cold. A strange tension spreads, crawling under everyone’s skin.
The door opens again.
And there comes The Sinister.
His boots click against the floor, each sound echoing in the silent room. Fear moves faster than thought. Everyone lowers their eyes immediately. No one dares to look up.
He doesn’t look at anyone. He doesn’t greet anyone. He walks straight to his place and sits down, his presence alone enough to silence the room.
Grover stands behind him, his face blank, unreadable.
“Oh, so you are Zayran Kaalver” Ethan says, laughing slowly as he walks toward Zayran.
Zayran finally looks up at Ethan. His face shows nothing. No fear. No respect. No smile. He says nothing.
“Nice to see you” Ethan says, a kind of evilness dripping from his voice. The sound alone makes the room shiver. Some men tremble because of Zayran’s fearless attitude and some because of Ethan’s cold, dangerous tone.
Zayran only nods his head in response. He takes out a cigarette and lights it slowly. The flame reflects in his eyes for a brief second before he starts smoking, completely unbothered by the tension around him. Smoke curls around his face as he leans back slightly.
Ethan walks back to the center of the room and looks at everyone with a wide smile on his face, the kind that promises nothing good.
“My right hand died last month and now I want someone from all of you to work in his place” Ethan says, moving slowly as his sharp eyes scan the room.
A few men immediately sit straight, adjusting their posture, trying to catch his attention, their hunger for power clearly visible.
Meanwhile, Zayran is sitting leaned back on his chair. His eyes are fixed on the table in front of him but his ears catch every whisper in the room. His unbothered attitude makes many of them angry but no one dares to do anything about it.
“Zayran” Ethan says, turning his head toward him.
A few men instantly glare at Zayran, their faces hard with jealousy. A few loosen their ties, nerves getting the better of them because if Ethan chooses Zayran, he will become even more powerful and they all know it.
“I am not meant to serve. I am meant to be obeyed” Zayran says. That single sentence makes everyone’s eyes widen in shock.
Ethan is not someone who tolerates this kind of attitude. The room holds its breath. But what shocks everyone even more is that Ethan starts laughing.
“I like your attitude” Ethan says, looking at Zayran with strange eyes, as if he is already planning something dangerous in his mind.
“Okay, I choose Fernandes” Ethan announces, turning his gaze toward a man around forty-five years old.
Fernandes freezes for a second, then quickly gets up from his seat. He rushes toward Ethan and falls on his knees in front of him, his head bowed low. The sight makes Ethan smirk, clearly enjoying the power and submission.
“There is a party tonight from my side and I invite you all” Ethan says. His eyes are fixed only on Zayran, watching him closely.
Everyone starts shouting in excitement. Some men begin walking behind Ethan, trying to stay close to him, laughing and talking loudly.
Zayran stands up from his seat. Without saying a single word to anyone, he walks out of the room. No one stops him. No one dares to.
But everyone knows one thing, if Zayran comes to a meeting, then there is always a reason. He never goes anywhere without a solid purpose.
Outside, Zayran slips his hand into his pocket and takes out his phone as he walks.
“Grover, why do they call me to such meetings when they know I’m not interested?” Zayran asks, his voice irritated.
“Because without you, they can’t make any decision. You are VVIP in the mafia world, in this world, and they want to bless themselves just by seeing you in meetings and gatherings” Grover replies calmly.
“Grover, I’m not that great the way you praise me every time” Zayran says as he sits inside the car. Grover starts the engine and the car moves smoothly forward.
“That’s the sign of a great man, boss. You never come to know how great you are” Grover says, his eyes focused on the road.
Zayran shakes his head slightly. His eyes are fixed on his phone screen.
“Why was she calling?” he asks, his voice showing no interest.
“Liyara wants to go to her friend’s wedding with you and I already told her that you are very busy” Grover replies.
Zayran lets out a tired sigh, leaning his head back against the seat.
“Tara, I’m really scared. What if he kills me?” I say softly while getting ready for my day. My hands shake slightly as I fix my clothes.
“Sita, I’m telling you for the hundredth time, he doesn’t kill people. He just does worse than that” she says like always, speaking casually and making me even more scared. She talks like a friend, no doubt about that.
“He also doesn’t do anything bad with ladies and kids, so there is no way he will do anything like that to you. You just clean his room, do everything properly and leave because he barely stays in his room” she adds.
I nod my head slowly, trying to understand her words and calm my racing heart.
“And I’m really sorry for yesterday. I wasn’t able to save you” she says, talking about last night when the head maid shouted at me. I turn toward her and hold her hand tightly.
“Tara, you helped me and you stood by me. And that Subh, I will surely teach her a lesson” I say, my voice low but filled with anger. My hands clench as I remember everything.
“She is the one who broke the antique piece and blamed me. And that old head maid, she does biasness” I add, frustration clear on my face. “She ignored our words about checking the CCTV footage”
“Look, don’t do anything” Tara says firmly, stopping in front of me. “I’m not saying this because I don’t believe in you. I do. But that head maid will never take our side and we will do our best to avoid Subh. I don’t know why she is after you” she says, her brows pulled together in worry.
I nod my head slowly because even I don’t understand, why?
We walk upstairs together.
“All the best. And your Kanha is with you, so don’t be scared, my baby” she says, kissing my head gently.
A warm feeling spreads through my heart. I smile faintly. Tara turns and walks toward her work, while I start walking upstairs.
I see every family member coming out of their rooms for breakfast, one by one.
But not him. Is he still inside his room? I stop at the corner and look upstairs, my heart beating a little faster.
Kanha ki kasam, aaj tak kisi se dar nahi laga but he…
he is really scary. Aur jo khadoos jaisi shakal bana kar rehte hain poora time aur nahi samajh aata ki gussa hai ya khush.
Wait...woh hamesha gussa hi rehte hain, I think.
Kanha, aap unke andar dusre emotions daalna bhool gaye kya?
Isliye kehti hoon, idhar-udhar makkhan churane mein busy rahoge toh aisi hi galtiyan karoge.
(I swear on Kanha, I’ve never been scared of anyone till today but he…
he is really scary. And he always keeps such a grumpy face, it’s impossible to understand whether he’s angry or happy.
Wait...I think he’s always angry. Kanha, did you forget to put other emotions inside him?
That’s why I always say, if you stay busy stealing butter here and there, you’ll make mistakes like this)
“You are going to work in his room”
The sudden voice pulls me out of my thoughts. I look back and see Subh glaring at me, her eyes sharp and full of dislike.
“Yes” I say slowly. Her eyes throw daggers at me, burning with something I can’t understand. But why does she look so affected? She should be happy that I’m going to work in his room, he will surely make things hard for me…Wait...Wait...wait.
Does she have a crush or something on him? My brain, which usually doesn’t work properly, suddenly starts working very fast in situations like this.
“D… do you have a crush on him?” I ask her.
Her eyes widen slightly, just for a second, like I caught her red-handed. She doesn’t say anything. She turns around and walks toward the kitchen, her steps quick and irritated.
I watch her back and make an 'eww Kitna ganda taste hai tera, Subh' face.
Huh, aaj kal ki ladkiyan bhi na, kya kehne.
Matlab, maanti hoon body achchi hai, par uske alawa hai kya.
.. Thik hai, thik hai, maan leti hoon bade baal aur half man bum ache lagte hain unpar, par uske alawa hai kya.
.. Thik hai, thik hai, maan leti hoon face bhi Kanha ne fursat mein banaya hai, par uske alawa hai kya.
.. Thik hai, thik hai, maan leti hoon dimaag bahut tez hai, par uske alawa hai kya?
Kuch hai toh aap hi batao, jis ke liye ladkiyan unke liye pagal ho rahi hain.
(Huh, girls these days, what can I even say.
I mean, I agree his body is good but what else is there?
Fine, fine, I admit his long hair and that half man bun look suits him but what else?
Fine, fine, I admit Kanha made his face carefully in his free time but what else?
Fine, fine, I admit his mind is very sharp but what else?
If there is something, you tell me, what is it that girls are going crazy for him over?)
Thinking all this, I reach in front of his room. My steps slow down on their own. I take a long breath and knock on the door.
Intezaar kiya maine bahut, bahut, par darwaza nahi khula toh nahi khula
(I waited a lot, really a lot but the door just didn’t open)
“Shut up. Three seconds bhi nahi hue” my subconscious says, making me roll my eyes at myself. I knock again, slowly. Still, I don’t hear anything from inside.
“Move” The sudden voice from behind makes me jump at my place. My heart skips a beat. I turn around with wide eyes, only to see him standing right in front of me.
His eyes are fixed on me and for a second, my heart forgets how to beat.
I immediately move away from the door.
He walks inside the room. I place my hand on my heart, Jo ke mere pet mein gir gaya hai.
(Which feels like it has dropped into my stomach)
“Start your work” I hear his voice again. This time, a shiver runs down my spine because of his tone. I quickly walk inside the room. He goes straight into the bathroom and the door closes behind him.
I take fast steps toward his bed. My hands move quickly as I remove the bedsheet and the pillow covers. I can hear the sound of the shower from the bathroom.
Why are my hands trembling? I try to calm myself. I take a deep breath, then another, trying to relax. I pick up a fresh bedsheet and start placing it on the mattress.
“Ahhh, why is his bed so huge?” I whisper to myself. My hands start hurting as I stretch the sheet properly.
“Chup kar, notanki. Kaam karne aayi hai toh kaam kar” my subconscious scolds me again, making me lightly hit my head with my hand.
(Shut up, drama queen. You came here to work, so just work)
“Chup kar” I whisper to myself and force my hands to keep working.
(Shut up)
I finish spreading the bedsheet properly. Just then, I hear the sound of the bathroom door opening. He walks out while talking on the phone. His hair is damp, water still clinging to the strands. He is wearing a black tee and track pants.
Thank God he doesn’t come out wearing a towel or bathrobe because maine movies mein dekha hai kaise hero nahaa kar nagu pungu nikalte hain.
(Because I’ve seen in movies how heroes come out half-naked after taking a bath)
Suddenly, I realize something. I immediately take three steps back and.....He throws his phone hard on the ground.
This time, instead of getting scared, I smirk in my mind. The phone breaks into pieces right in front of my eyes, the sound sharp and loud in the silent room.
“Aise time par dimaag ka istemaal karke bacha jaa sakta hai” I give sasta gyaan to my mehngi audience inside my head.
(In situations like this, using your brain can save you)
I look up from the ground and meri saans meri naak mein atak gai.
(My breath gets stuck in my nose.)
He is already looking at me. I gulp slowly, my throat dry, my eyes fixed on him. He looks at me as if I am the one who broke his phone.
He doesn’t say anything. He just walks out of the room. I finally release the breath I was holding.
I immediately start cleaning the floor, dusting every surface and carefully wiping the paintings and antique pieces. I stop only when Kanha request me “Bas karo sakhi, ab ruk jao”
(Enough now, my friend, stop.)
I look around the room with the most satisfying smile on my face. Everything looks clean and perfect. Feeling proud of myself, I turn around and walk toward the closet.
The moment my eyes fall on it, I freeze. This is not a closet at all. It is huge, really huge. I don’t even have proper words for it.
There are at least and I mean at least, a hundred fitted cupboards. At the far end, right in front of me, there is a glass wall. Perfume bottles are arranged so perfectly that they look untouched.
Different kinds of clothes in different shades fill the space. Uncountable shoes and watches are placed neatly, everything shining like a showpiece. I take a deep breath and walk toward one of the cupboards whose door is open. I close it properly.
Then I start putting a few things back in place, arranging them according to what I feel is right because I don’t know how he likes his things to be arranged.
After cleaning everything with my all jaan, I finally come out. And stop. He is sitting on the couch, working on his laptop, completely focused.
“Put this all back” he says suddenly. His voice makes me look at him in confusion.
Put what back? His brain to its place? I blink my eyes slowly and hold my hands tightly together. I don’t know why but suddenly I feel scared. I look around the room again. Everything looks perfect to me.
He looks up from his laptop screen and tilts his head a little. Gardan tedhi na ho jaaye inki, aise kar-kar ke, I think to myself.
(His neck might get twisted if he keep doing this again and again)
His eyes lock onto mine, as if he is looking straight into my soul. Before I can ask anything, he points toward the pile of books kept in front of him.
I don’t waste a second. I walk quickly toward the tea table, pick up a few books and take careful steps toward the small table beside the couch. My hands move fast, my head lowered, fully focused on finishing the work.
Just then, the door opens after a soft knock. My eyes immediately turn toward the door. I see his mother walking inside, followed by another maid.
The maid walks straight to the bed and places a neatly packed suit on it. She adjusts it properly and then walks out quietly. His mother moves closer to him.
“Wear this for tomorrow’s party” she says, placing her hand gently on his head and caressing it with care. I see everything from the corner of my sharp side eye.
He doesn’t react. He just sits there calmly, his posture relaxed, his face blank.
“Hmm” he replies shortly. His mother smiles as if she has won the whole world with that one word.
“How is your wound now?” she asks softly, touching his bicep. I can clearly see the hurt in her eyes, mixed with something like regret.
“Fine” he replies in a single word. Why doesn’t he talk normally with his mother?
She stands there for a few seconds, looking at him quietly. Then she caresses his head once more and walks away, leaving the room in silence.
I get up and turn toward the bed. Should I place this suit in the closet Yes, you should, my mind answers.
I immediately walk toward the bed, take the suit in my hands and walk inside the closet. All the work of his room is done now. I will leave from here.
I place the suit neatly on a hanger.
As I come outside, I see a girl standing beside the couch, keeping a safe distance from him. His fiancée, I think.
The moment I step out, she looks at me and then her eyes narrow. “Who are you?” she asks in an arrogant tone, making me look at her properly.
“Maid” I reply.
She closes her eyes in frustration, as if my presence itself annoys her. “Where is the head maid?” she asks again.
“I don’t know where she is” I reply honestly. She glares at me harder. Did I say something wrong?
“She is the one assigned to work here in this room. Then who told you to work here?” she asks sharply.
Before I can say anything “I,” he says. Just one word. Sorry, just one letter. She shuts her mouth instantly.
“Ohh okay. Leave, I have to talk to him” she says.
I bow my head slightly toward him in ReSpeEcT and start walking outside but he stops me.
“Give me those books again” he says suddenly. His voice makes me look at her first, then at him. She looks at him with a face full of disbelief, clearly not expecting this.
I walk toward the small table, pick up the books again and place them back in front of him carefully.
“Only this one” he says, taking one book from the pile.
I nod my head and start placing the remaining books back in their place. Somewhere in my heart, I feel like he is ignoring her badly. And my thoughts turn out to be right because she leaves from there without saying anything, her steps sharp and angry.
I finish setting everything properly and stand quietly at the side. Should I ask him if I can go?
“Nahi, yahi reh ja. Zindagi yahi bita apni tu” my subconscious says again.
(No, stay right here. Spend your whole life here only)
Aghhhh.
“Can I go, sir?” I ask very slowly, so slowly that even I doubt if he hears me. But I am so wrong. Mohalle ki auntiyon ke kaan hain inke paas.
(He has ears like the aunties of the neighborhood)
He nods his head. My mind starts dancing on “Panchi bani udtu phiro” inside my head.
I walk outside and tap my shoulder proudly with my hand. I walk downstairs happily and join Tara. I start helping her with the preparations for tomorrow’s party. We talk nonstop, like parrots, laughing and chatting.
But I am completely unaware that two people are glaring at me from a distance, as if they want to eat me alive.