Chapter 23
CHAPTER 23
VIREN
I spent the morning working from home because I had promised to spend time with Aisha after she got home from school. Sufi and Sunaina took off early in the morning, and I didn’t know where they were headed. They were up to something, for sure, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what it was.
I took a break for lunch and was surprised to hear a lot of commotion from the living room.
“Arre! What are you doing?” shrieked my Chachi. “Where are you taking the sofas and the coffee table? Vireeeeen!”
I raced out of the study and came to an abrupt halt at the sight of a bunch of men taking the sofas out of the living room, as the rest of the staff stood by and watched in shock.
“What the hell is going on here?” I thundered.
A man stepped ahead with a sheet of paper.
“Sahab, we’re just following orders. We’ve been paid to move the sofas out of this room and replace it with the furniture that we have in our trucks,” he said, keeping a wary eye on my aunt, who looked ready to attack him with her walking stick.
“What furniture? You’ve come to the wrong house. We haven’t ordered any furniture,” I said wearily. After tossing and turning all night, I was too tired to deal with this crap right now.
“ You haven’t ordered any furniture, but I have,” announced Sunaina, walking into the house, with Sufi suppressing a smile behind her.
I knew those two were up to no good.
“How dare you?” raged my aunt. Tahira stood behind her, looking tight-lipped with fury.
Interesting.
“But the three of you did ask me to redecorate the living room this morning,” said Sunaina gently. “I was just following orders.”
We were forced to step back as the movers brought in the stuff that Sunaina had bought. She had replaced the plush couches my aunt had ordered from Italy with what looked like very desi furniture.
“Where did you even find all this?” asked Tahira, screwing her face in distaste.
“Right where you guys suggested,” said Sunaina gleefully. “In Chor Bazaar.”
I bit back a laugh at the identical looks of horror on my Chachi’s and Tahira’s faces.
“Oooh! I feel faint,” moaned my aunt.
“I think you should go and lie down, Chachi,” suggested Sunaina, beckoning for my aunt’s attendant to help her out of the room.
Chachi staggered out of the room, but not before she shot me a commanding glare.
“Fix this, Viren,” she ordered before her attendant led her away.
“Are you out of your gawaar little mind?” hissed Tahira, advancing on Sunaina. “How dare you fill this beautiful house with junk from Chor Bazaar?”
“Considering this is my husband’s house and not yours, I don’t need your permission to fill it with whatever I like,” said Sunaina, and I was very proud of her for standing up to Tahira.
I could have intervened at any point, but I had a feeling my wife was making a very savage point right now, and I didn’t want to get in the way of that.
Instead, I began to examine the furniture carefully. There were a couple of exquisitely hand-carved teak wood sofas upholstered with brocade.
“What’s this for ?” I asked, examining a large wooden trunk that was almost stark in its simplicity, but was a work of art.
“It’s a gala that was traditionally used to store bed linen,” said Sunaina. “I thought we could repurpose it as a coffee table. It will add character to this room.”
“It will only add bedbugs and fleas to the room. Viren, do something,” shrieked Tahira, stomping her feet.
I ignored her and moved to the next piece.
“What’s this one? Is it a bench?”
“That is a ninety-year-old jhoola made from pure Burma teak. I think they sourced it from an old haveli in Rajkot,” said Sunaina proudly.
“I love this tile work,” I murmured.
“Are you serious, Viren?” asked Tahira in disbelief.
“Dead serious,” I replied, getting to my feet. “This furniture is gorgeous. All of it!”
Sunaina shot me a surprised glance before she turned to Tahira.
“I guess I understand my husband’s taste better than you do,” she said sweetly. “And one more thing, if you ever dare to try and put me down again, I’ll kick you out of my house so fast you’ll have gravel burn on your skinny little ass.”
“Your house?” spat Tahira. “You’re nothing more than a paid servant in this house, Sunaina. Everyone knows your marriage is fake. You can try and fool the social worker by moving into Viren’s room, but you don’t fool me.”
“Enough,” I yelled, scaring her into silence. “I’ve put up with your crap because you’re Chachi’s niece. But you don’t get to interfere in our personal lives, Tahira. Consider this your last warning. If you ever speak to my wife like that again, I’ll cut you out of our lives and out of the company. Is that clear?”
She gulped in fear at the threat and nodded, even as her eyes shot sparks of hate at us.
“Also, since you seem to think our marriage is fake, would you like to count the hickeys on my body?” asked Sunaina with a sweet smile.
Sufi choked with laughter in the corner as I shook my head ruefully. My wifey was really on the warpath today. I waited till Tahira slunk out of the room before I turned to Sunaina.
“Was that last bit really necessary?” I murmured.
She rolled her eyes before she looked around the room.
“I…I got a little carried away, sorry,” she said stiffly. “I was just so angry at those three biddies that I wasn’t thinking clearly. I’ll tell the movers to bring your old furniture back.”
“Why?” I asked in confusion. “This stuff is so much better than what we had before.”
She turned to me in surprise.
“Are you sure? It is from Chor Bazaar. I wasn’t lying about that.”
“Does that matter?”
“You tell me. From what I hear, Chor Bazaar is too downmarket for the Chaudhrys.”
I rolled my eyes because there was only one woman who would spout that kind of tripe - my Chachi.
“You’ve been listening to the wrong Chaudhry,” I said dryly.
“And Tahira said…”
“Let me stop you right there! Is Tahira a Chaudhry?” I asked her, with my index finger held up in a stop sign.
Sunaina shrugged in response.
“She wants to be one, that’s for sure.”
“Well, she can want it all she likes. It’s not happening in this or any other lifetime. And since she isn’t a Chaudhry, she doesn’t get a say in the furniture at Chaudhry House.”
Sufi went out of the room to deal with the movers, and Sunaina turned to me curiously.
“Can I ask you something? Why do you put up with Tahira if you’re not romantically interested in her? That woman is all over you as if she is your wife and not me. But I haven’t heard you tell her off until now.”
I sighed heavily and led her to one of the new sofas, which was as comfortable as it was pretty.
“I tolerate her for my Chachi’s sake, Sunaina. As you know, she is Chachi’s brother’s daughter. She practically grew up in our house because she was so close to Deven. After he died, my aunt was heartbroken. And the only time she cheered up a little was when Tahira was around. How could I deny her the little joy that was left in her life?”
“But the woman is insufferable,” insisted Sunaina.
“I agree. But the last time that I tried to ban her from the house, my Chachi stopped eating. I was forced to accept defeat on the third day of her hunger strike. If Deven was around, I wouldn’t have to put up with any of this. But the selfish bastard chose to die and left me to deal with all of this. Now, whether I like it or not, my aunt and uncle are my responsibility, which means I can’t cut Tahira off completely. Unless she’s rude to you. The next time she tries to put you down, feel free to boot her out of the house. If my aunt complains about it, I’ll tell her to go and live with her precious Tahira,” I promised.
She looked slightly mollified, but I knew she still hadn’t forgiven me for yelling at her last night. Well, I hadn’t forgiven her for going behind my back either, so we were at a stalemate.
“Viren, I think it’s fair to warn you right now that Tarana and The Bandra Boys will be collaborating again soon. The band’s fans loved the reel I posted yesterday, and we are going to keep posting more to see if she can work with the band in the long run.”
“In that case, she needs a manager. Unless she plans to join the band full-time,” I replied.
“Not yet. She wants to keep her options open and is content to collaborate with them for gigs and albums for now. And she does have a manager. You’re looking at her,” said Sunaina proudly.
“I cannot sign Tarana for Silver if my wife is her manager. It’s a conflict of interest,” I informed her. “If she does as well as you’re predicting, Silver would definitely want to sign her at some point. Whose side will you take in a fight - your husband’s or your client’s?”
“My client’s side, of course,” she replied promptly. “And I won’t be your wife for too long.”
“The actual divorce will take up to a year, Sunaina. Do you plan to keep Tarana waiting until then?” I asked, a little annoyed by her willingness to pick her client over me.
“Damn it! That’s not fair! I worked so hard to get her and Tanvir together, and now, when she’s about to make it big, I’ll need to drop her and look for other clients,” she complained.
I took a deep breath and told myself she had to deal with the downs that came with the ups in her career. I was allowed to feel sorry for her, but that didn’t make it my problem. Still, when her shoulders drooped with defeat, I couldn’t help myself.
“We do have one option,” I said carefully, making sure not to over-promise or commit to something I couldn’t fulfil. “If and when we sign Tarana for Silver, you can still handle her social media marketing as part of Silver’s PR team.”
Sunaina’s head shot up, and she stared at me in disbelief.
“Are you offering me a job?”
Was I? I wasn’t sure. We already had a strong PR team. But I knew that if Sunaina needed a job, I would create a position for her in the company. Hell, if social media marketing was her calling, I’d create a marketing firm for her under the umbrella of Silver Records. I would do whatever it took to provide her with everything that would make her happy in life. Only, I would go to great pains to hide it from her because I didn’t want to look like a fool. Some would call me a lovesick fool, but that was ridiculous since I did not believe in romantic love. Or want it in my life.
“Do you need a job?” I asked gruffly.
Sunaina stared deeply into my eyes for a few sticky moments as if she could see all the feelings I had buried under a load of bluster, but just when my collar was beginning to feel a little tight, she shook her head.
“Not right now, but thank you for offering. I don’t need a handout to get ahead in life. I’ll find a way to make it work even if I have to drop Tarana until the divorce,” she said firmly.
“It’s not a crime to accept help,” I pointed out. “In fact, some people would call it the smart thing to do.”
“Well, those people have never been called beggars or gold diggers in their lives, and it shows,” she said fiercely. “I will grow at my own pace and on my own merit, Viren. I didn’t marry you for your money. You’ve already given me a family, and that’s all I need from you.”
My chest went tight at her words.
That’s all I need from you.
I had never been on the other end of the spectrum until I met Sunaina. When you were as overprivileged as I was, people always needed more than you were willing to give. And apart from Daima, nobody had ever thought about my needs. I was sure that if my parents were alive, I’d spend my whole life living up to their expectations and fulfilling my needs. As I did for my uncle and aunt. As I had done to a large extent for Deven and Disha. It was my job as head of the family.
But ever since I met her, Sunaina had given me more than she ever received. She gave me three years of her life. She gave me Aisha. She gave all of us joy and peace. And she asked for nothing in return.
I had never told anyone that I preferred vintage furniture over the fancy Italian stuff that we had in every room of our mansion except my bedroom. I had allowed Disha and my aunt the freedom to decorate my house the way they liked because I spent most of my time away from home, and they had never once asked me what I wanted.
But Sunaina had understood my taste, and even if she redecorated the living room out of spite, she filled it with stuff that I would like. And what had I done for her? In the two years that I had been married to her, I had only taken her out as a PR exercise or on family outings. Hell, we’d had sex, but we still hadn’t had a first date.
“Do you want to go out for dinner?” I asked before I could talk myself out of it.
“Sure,” she replied. “Aisha wants to try the new Japanese restaurant at Chowpatty.”
I shook my head.
“No, not the rest of the family. I meant just us.”
Her eyes grew as wide as saucers.
“You mean…you and I?” she stammered. “Like a date?”
I nodded.
“Sure,” she said, her voice nothing more than a squeak. “But…are you sure? I mean…”
“It’s just dinner, Sunaina. Don’t overthink it,” I said briskly. “Tell Sufi where you want to go, and he can make the reservations.”
She hesitated again, and I realised that Sunaina Chaudhry was really bad for my ego. Any other woman would have jumped at the chance to go out with me, but my own wife acted like it was a painful chore. I’d seen her show more enthusiasm to go to the dentist.
“What is it?” I asked irritably.
“It’s nothing… Only, do we need to go to a fancy restaurant that needs reservations?”
“Where else would you like to go?” I asked curiously.
“I always had this dream date in mind, but it’s…it’s silly. And too downmarket for a man of your stature,” she said, shaking her head.
I grabbed her hand when she tried to rise from the sofa.
“Tell me,” I urged. “Describe your dream date.”
“I just want to go to the beach and have pav bhaji and falooda from a stall,” she said, not looking at me. “But if I take you to a roadside stall, you’ll get food poisoning, and your aunt will have me arrested for murder. Besides, the beach is far too crowded these days. So I’ll pick a restaurant just to be safe.”
“Would you mind if I made the arrangements?” I asked, and she gave in with a polite smile.
“Of course! Just tell me what to wear,” she replied. “Now, I need to meet with Tarana and the band.”
“Sure. Just be ready for our date by seven,” I said and watched her walk away.