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Word Count : 4400

Target : 300

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04 | The First Trouble in Paradise

I have booked a private dining room—11A at Jamavar, Leela Palace. The reservation is under my name.

- M. Dogra

10:30 a.m.

The driver left to park the car in the parking area of the hotel after dropping her at the main entrance.

She read the message Mahadevan had sent her in the morning and walked in as the guards and the two doorkeepers bowed and welcomed her into the hotel.

"Good evening, ma'am. How may I help you?" The receptionist greeted her with the customary bow of head and a smile.

"I have a prior reservation in the restaurant Jamavar for today's evening." She replied.

"Under whose name, Madam?" The receptionist questioned further while moving towards the system kept nearby.

"Hinduja Rao"

"Your name and photo ID, Madam?" She said while typing vigorously on the keyboard.

"Hinduja Rao." Opening the zip of her navy blue-colored office satchel, she searched for her ID card. In the corner, on the left was her services ID card, and on the right was her Aadhaar card. She picked out her services ID card and passed it to the receptionist.

"Ma'am, I am sorry again for interfering, but just for security reasons, since you are a bureaucratic official, can you please tell me the reason for the booking?" The receptionist did try to look apologetic.

"Just a reunion with college friends." She said, looking directly into the receptionist's eyes.

"Alright, Madam, a private dining room has been booked under the specified name. One of our support staff members from here shall escort you to the designated room." She turned around a bit and called for someone, "Subodh, please escort ma'am to Jamavar, private dining room no. 11B."

"Sure, Ma'am." A young lad of around twenty-four in the managerial staff uniform turned from the reception lady and smiled at her, "Ma'am, please." He made a gesture with his right hand to follow him.

Hinduja faintly smiled back and nodded.

Now that she noticed, men in black formals were standing not only in front of the hotel entrance but also inside the hotel at every corner. As she followed the man in charge of escorting her to the dining room, the number of men in black only increased—the same kind that she had seen on the day of her marriage, outside the courtroom.

Two minutes later, they were entering into a corridor from the main dining area of the Jamavar restaurant. In the far corner, there were only two doors. The one on the right side had a number plate with 11B written on it, while the one on the left had 11A on it. And right in front of 11A stood Karim, Mahadevan's head bodyguard and close confidante. Opposite to him was a woman also dressed in black attire. Both of them still hadn't noticed her or the staff member.

She observed the woman from top to bottom, her eyes glinting with something unknown and mysterious.

"There you go, ma'am; that's the private dining room no. 11B, the room that you have booked." He pointed at the door on the right side of the corridor. "I shall take my leave from here. Enjoy the joyous evening!"

She waited a bit for the staff member to go back. She then looked up discreetly to examine the juncture where the ceiling met the walls. There were two CCTV cameras—one was at the start of the corridor where she was erect on her feet; the second CCTV camera was in the middle of the corridor on the ceiling around three meters away from where she was standing. The far end of the corridor where Karim and the woman were standing was a blind spot, maybe, to maintain the privacy of the elites of the society who entered the two rooms there.

As Subodh left the corridor, she started walking deeper into the corridor.

Sensing her presence, Karim's eyes darted towards her. She gestured at him with her eyes to not come towards her. Walking straight for six more meters, she crossed the visibility range of the second CCTV camera and then started wending her way towards the room on the left side—11A, where Karim was standing.

"Good evening, Madam." The man's deep voice resonated in the long corridor while the woman bowed.

"Good evening, Karim Bhai." Returning the same gesture, she nodded at the woman.

"Both the Sahibs and their friends are waiting for you, madam."

"Sahibs?" She was confused.

"From 'Sahibs,' I mean, Sahib's younger twin brother, madam—Aridaman Dogra." Karim replied.

"Okay."

He chivalrously pushed open the door of room 11A for her.

She could hear faint voices and a few deep chuckles as she adjusted her black blazer that she had worn over a pale grey handloom saree.

Smiling at Karim, she entered the room.

A sudden silence engulfed the private dining room as its current occupants stilled in their conversation. The room, which she now knew wasn't exactly a dining room, surprisingly had an open-air setting with a comfortable-looking rectangular seating arrangement decorated regally.

Its six occupants smiled at her while the seventh person on the farthest settee—her husband, the Dogra patriarch—stood up and advanced towards her.

He clasped her hand gently in his own and strolled to the place where he was sitting before she arrived.

And then began a chorus of greetings with the people sitting there. A few minutes later, when the acknowledgements were about to get over, the man standing next to the far left settee suddenly walked towards her and took her in a benign hug. For a second, the sudden proximity with this unknown man sent her senses on alert, but strangely, the warmth he exuded resembled a brotherly warmth like that of her own sibling's. His hands were behind her back, yet not in contact with her frame, which she knew was an intentional move in order to not make her uncomfortable. There was an aura of succorance around him, enough to make her feel sheltered.

Sometimes, it was not difficult to sense the type of aura a person radiates.

Detaching himself from her, he tenderly patted the top of her head as a gentle smile tugged at his visage. "Welcome to the family, kid." He said.

Raising his arm, the Dogra patriarch gestured at the man standing beside him, "Aridaman."

Standing before her was a man with a very slight resemblance to her husband—the same dark brown eyes and facial structure. The contrasts were there, though, like the patriarch was always clean-shaven, wore specs, and had a longer nose with thin lips, while his twin, her brother-in-law, sported a classic chevron-style moustache, a thick beard, and long black locks trussed into a man bun. He was not bespectacled, and his nose was shorter while his lips were on the thicker side.

The current generation of the Dogra clan bore three known names under it—Mahadevan, who was the present patriarch of the clan and head of the business legacy; then Aridaman, who was his twin and a renowned US-based sculptor, artist, and illustrator; while the youngest of all, Nirjhara, was a doctoral student in the Royal Academy of Music. All three of them were extremely private about their personal lives. None of them had social media accounts, as well. The younger two weren't present on the day of the court wedding ceremony either.

"Thank you." Her lips curved up feebly as she stood there awkwardly.

What do you even say after a hug with a family member you've never met before anyway?

He only chuckled, petting her head.

He turned to Mahadevan and continued, "Devi, help her with the coat."

The patriarch nodded faintly.

Aridaman smiled back and started retracing his steps back to the spot he was previously settled on when, in a flash, he turned around a bit. "By the way, Hinduja, my sincere apologies for not attending your wedding, although it was at the registrar's office, but still, I am sorry. I was a bit occupied with an exhibition back in the States."

"It's okay." She replied with a smile. He nodded and sat back at his place.

Mahadevan then helped her out of her coat and hung it on a fancy-looking coat hanger stand that was kept some distance away from the main sitting area. He then came back and kept his hand on her right shoulder.

"My friends." He said, pointing at the other five people in the room.

"That's Tapan and his wife, Manisha. Both of them work as investment bankers in London but are originally from West Bengal." A short, statured but strongly built man in a black turtleneck and blue jeans smiled at her. Next to him was a beautiful brown-skinned lady in a white A-line dress; her voluminous brown hair was in a half-up, half-down hairdo, and her radiant smile had a hint of mischievousness.

She smiled back at them.

"That's Joseph and his wife, Suzanne. Joseph owns the Armor security chain, and Suzanne is a psychiatrist. Their base is in Delhi, but their origins are from Kerala." He explained.

"Armor security chain? As in the Armor India security services?" She asked, her eyes squinted a bit.

"Yes, that one..." Mahadevan affirmed. "All the digitized security equipment in our home, the Dogra manor, the headquarters, office divisions in India and overseas, and our other properties are overlooked by them; even all the security professionals are from there, except Karim."

"This man is an A-grade penny pincher, bhabhi! He gets a hefty discount for all services from the company, and that's why he opts for all the bodyguards and security supplies from us!" The man named Joseph joked, pointing at Mahadevan.

What followed after was a boisterous round of laughter and chortles by everyone.

"Welcome to this idiotic mass filled to the brim with testosterone and a little bit of estrogen, Hinduja!" Suzanne, Joseph's wife, stood up to walk towards her and held her forearms. "You are gorgeous by the way!" Manisha followed.

"Likewise." She responded. The woman Suzanne had an astoundingly curvaceous body, and her soft black curls with streaks of burgundy only made her look more beautiful. And Manisha no doubt was atypically easy on the eyes.

Mahadevan at last gestured at two men standing together, holding hands. "And then, these two, Prithvi and his partner Aryan. Aryan is the head of public relations at Dogra Corp, and Prithvi is an associate at Trinity Legal."

She smiled at them, and they both displayed back their two sets of thirty-two teeth in enthusiasm.

The conversations followed after that, including her alma mater and other life details.

She came to know about all of them as the evening unfolded gradually.

"Mahadevan, you remember that gangster Chittaranjan Sahu you had a rift with regarding that construction site in Chhattisgarh two years back?" All of a sudden, Joseph questioned Mahadevan.

"Yes, why?" Mahadevan replied after gulping down a piece of chicken tikka that he was chewing.

"He was the kingpin in an illegal mining case in the Keonjhar district of Odisha. The only thing I can tell you now is that currently he is in deep shit. Someone from within the bureaucracy had collected strong evidence against him and the entire mining mafia regarding this case and sent it to the investigative agencies anonymously. There is no chance for Chittaranjan and his henchmen to come out of the jail this time. The underworld is also badly shaken at this moment." Joseph replied.

"I know," Mahadevan replied while tossing another piece of soya tikka into his mouth.

"Obviously." Joseph simpered, taking a sip of the golden liquid from the flute glass pinched elegantly between his fingers.

Without providing any response, Mahadevan continued chewing a piece of tofu fritter specifically ordered for him.

"Come on, leave all these things aside; let's talk about school." Manisha admonished them.

And the topic of conversation shifted towards their school epoch. Each one of them tried their best to include her in their conversation. They all seemed like a happy bunch of people with a deep sense of friendship between them.

It was around nine-fifteen p.m. when Mahadevan suggested that they should start with their dinner. He pressed the button of the device present in the room to call the waiter. She excused herself to the powder room attached to the room they were sitting in. While in the washroom, she heard a different set of footsteps entering and then a different voice—most likely the waiter—noting down the order. Two minutes later, she heard the waiter opening the door and walking out. Only after she heard the door getting closed again did she get out of the powder room.

The friends had ordered Indian, Jamavar's specialty.

Forty minutes later, Joseph called for the waiter to collect the dishes.

The very next second the Dogra patriarch looked on with narrowed eyes as she excused herself to the powder room again.

There was something about her calmness that he had noticed over time. The calmer she was, the more blank her visage felt. As if she was moving forward with a planned strategy.

Like now?

Perhaps.

His eyes silently followed her movements as she got out of the washroom less than a minute after the waiter walked out with all the collected dishes that were used up by them, while adjusting the plates of her saree.

She quietly made her way towards him and sat down beside him.

A minute later it was decided that Mahadevan would pay the bill, so he went out to make the payment as the rest gossiped.

After he came back, both of them went for a moment of silence to the adjoining lawn-type area around the dining room while the others conversed.

The patriarch's mood looked a bit out of order from the moment he was back after paying the bill.

For Hinduja, there was something she had adopted very early in life. It was literally the cheat code she had adapted herself to. And it was to give people grace and space, even while still noticing their quirks, moods, silences, and behaviors. All while removing herself from the receiving end of their dysfunction.

Yet, when it came to the man walking alongside her, she knew she had to observe and count her own steps before his. It was best in her interests. So, she asked, "Dogra Sahib?"

"Yes?" He looked at her. There was definitely something odd about the way he was controlling his facial expressions. The man was taciturn, and she was well aware of this.

"Geeta told me that Vijay bhai took Anirudh along with him." She asked. "To his farmhouse?" She added.

"Yes, I thought it was better to let him go with Vijay bhai rather than stay alone at home with Geeta. The poor woman was tired. This way, she could take some rest. Moreover, Vijay bhai had dropped by home just casually to meet you but insisted on taking care of Anirudh in our absence instead the moment I informed him about our plans. He said he'll drop Anirudh back at home tomorrow morning." He explained.

"Alright." She replied, satisfied.

Then she tossed the second ball into the court. "What happened? You seem tensed regarding something."

The very next second she saw his expression hardening up a bit.

"You tell me, what happened?" He questioned her instead, hands at the back with utmost attention.

"What do you mean?" Uncertainty marred her profile.

"Following the regular security protocol, Karim went to the reception to check all our 'in' timings to ensure that there wasn't any breach of security—that no one was following us. Guess what? There wasn't a single lady with the name Hinduja Rao in room 11A registered on the hotel's system. But yeah, there was one lady with the name Hinduja Rao who made a prior reservation on her own in room 11B. The purpose?" His brows quirked amusedly. "A supposed reunion with her college friends."

He took two steps forward, entering into her personal space. She maintained direct eye contact with him while remaining absolutely erect in her spot.

"What's going on, Hinduja?" He questioned her again.

The light from the wall lamp on the opposite wall fell on his eyes. The dark brown, earthy orbs had questions in them, akin to an incandescent golden fire.

Much to his chagrin, her phone pinged.

"Excuse me." Without waiting for his reply, she went aside to check the message.

Roughly a minute later she came back and faced him.

"Even I have some questions for you, Dogra Sahib. But for the time being, duty calls . . . I have to reach my office urgently. I promise you, I'll make sure that we finish this conversation as and when time permits. For now, just know that I have taken your problem into account."

Mahadevan took a deep breath. "Okay."

"How will you commute?" He added.

"Just the way I came here, in my official vehicle. Don't worry, I'll try to come back by one."

He nodded.

Answering him, she swiftly walked back into the room from the lawn.

He just looked on. Slowly, her svelte frame disappeared behind the closed doors of the hotel room.

***

A week had passed since the incident at the hotel. The only sounds audible in the house in these seven days were Anirudh's squeals and blabbering.

The Dogra patriarch didn't know if his wife was genuinely busy with work, as she told him, or if she was just plainly avoiding him.

The truth was people wear masks, not because you want to see them in a certain way. They wear masks because they want you to see them in a certain way. And that was where all the differences lay.

For him, he could never find out how she wanted him to see her.

He didn't know if this lack of communication between them affected her at all or not because it was clearly not visible through her actions or her countenance, but this was surely and gravely affecting him, as a matter of fact.

A knock on his cabin's door brought him out of his reverie.

A woman in a long, short navy blue kurta, a white waistcoat, and a pair of white pants walked in, and following just behind her was Karim Khan, the chief of security.

"Sahib," Karim greeted.

"Sir," followed the woman.

Two crisp and serious tones echoed in his office with their heads bowed.

"What happened, Manoramaa?" He probed, clasping his digits on the table. "Anything I need to be worried about?"

"No, sir. I am here to provide you with updates regarding the Guangzhou Convention Center deal we signed last month." The five-foot-eight woman answered back in her regular, professionally tempered voice.

"What now?" Curiosity with a mix of seriousness shadowed his mind. "The cost?

The woman—Manoramaa Pandit—shook her head. "The cost is exactly what we surmised before, sir—eight thousand crores in Indian currency, so there is no issue about that. In fact, there is no issue at all. We have good news. It's a clean chit from both the Indian side and the Chinese side. The external affairs ministry has approved of the project. We got the official news just now." 

Manorama took two steps forward, placed the hardbound black-colored file she carried with herself in front of him on his table, and then took two steps back to her initial position. "Just a few official signatures here and there, and we are good to go with our plans in a week or two. The Chinese are trying to contact us for a meeting with you, though." She enunciated.

"That's good." Came his short reply, "Arrange a meeting with Ahlawat on Thursday, next week. I don't want any more hindrances. Let's finish this off in a week's worth of time. As for the Chinese, let them wait, because if they aren't desperate, they aren't interested, for desperation is the raw material of drastic changes. I'll inform you later about when to entertain their requests." Playing with the platinum wedding band on his ring finger, he directed in a clipped tone. "Alright?"

Manorama nodded back with a quick word of affirmation.

"You can take your leave, Manorama." He commanded with a wave of his hand.

"Yes, sir." With a slight bow of her head, she turned around and walked off, closing his office door behind her.

His attention was now solely centered on Karim, whom he signaled with a tilt of his chin to start speaking.

"Sahib, Madam has just returned from a site visit to her office now."

"Okay." Flexing his brawny arms, he got up to collect his blazer from the stand nearby. "I'll drive on my own. You stay back."

"But Sahib, your security—" Mahadevan, who was standing next to the coat stand, religiously adjusting the lapels of his double-breasted blazer, turned around to look directly into the eyes of the man in black standing opposite to him, exactly four meters away, as the said man abruptly halted the words rolling off his tongue, immediately standing in an attentive position.

"I said, I'll drive myself, Karim." He specified, his right eyebrow imperceptibly uplifted.

"Sure, Sahib." Karim replied back.

"Then, please do the needful, Karim." Securing the 'H' monogram inscribed gold cufflinks, he started walking towards the door. "Yeah?"

"Sure, Sahib."

Twenty minutes later, a sleek black Rolls-Royce Phantom rolled down on the roads of the National Capital Region.

"Hey Siri, call my wife." Taking a left turn, he drove the car through the busy Delhi road.

The A.I. placed the call as per his direction as he waited for her to pick up his call, which she did after exactly seven rings.

"Hello?" Her soft and gentle voice echoed in the car. "Dogra Sahib?"

He cleared his throat.

"I am coming to your office. We need to talk." He emphasized. "Clear up your schedule."

"Wait, what?!" He could easily detect the sudden shock she felt but was trying to subdue. "You are coming to my office? Now? Like right now?!"

The woman was always calm, so calm that now that he heard her absolutely stunned tone, he felt the amusement and excitement creeping up his bones.

He wondered what she would sound like when angry. "Yes," he replied back.

"No, you can't." He heard a thud in the background. "You can't!"

"What was that noise? Did you fall down? Are you okay?" His tone turned anxious.

"Oh no, that was just the vase that I knocked off with my hands by mistake." He heard the sound of her zipping her tote bag. "Dogra sahib, you can't come here. Stay where you are, text me your current location; I'll come there, but you don't come here."

"What? Why?" Irritation was evident in the way he spoke. "No, I am going there."

"Just do as I say, will you?" Each word roared in a voice so commandingly compelling that the man in question had to immediately push on the brakes.

Quietude followed, as he adjusted his pants.

"Okay, I am just twenty minutes away from my office. How about we meet there? Will that be okay with you?" He asked.

"That can be considered." She switched back to her calm and gentle tone again, and then he heard the ringing of an office bell. "Wait a minute; let me check."

"Yes, Madam?" The voice of another man was audible from the other side of the phone.

"Are they still on trail?" And there it was again—that 'I am the one who possesses the highest voice of authority here' tone of hers.

"No, ma'am, I just checked; none of them are on our trail at the current moment. I think the fact that you made no movement from your side must have caused this. Moreover, they were uncertain about you from the beginning."

His brows furrowed as he heard what the man said on the other side.

"Care to tell me what the heck is happening, woman? Who is on your trail? Just what the fuck is going on?!" He hit the steering wheel with a thud in frustration and worry.

"I'll explain everything to you, Dogra sahib, just some more time. I am going there." She replied to him, and then he heard her directing her attention back to the other man, "Alright then, Bakhtawar, ask the valet to take my car out, and yes, ask him to take my private vehicle out, not the government-authorized one. I need to go somewhere urgently, and I need to go alone. Make sure of that, clear"?

"Crystal, madam."

They were still on call, the reason why he could hear the closing of the door and then her sigh.

"I am going to your office; meet me there." She paused and then continued, "And Dogra Sahib, is there any lift in the underground parking area of your office that leads directly to your personal cabin? or any other way in which I can reach you without garnering any attention; I want my identity hidden, as we had discussed before."

"Just what is happening? You are worrying me now."

"Please, Dogra sahib—I am coming there, aren't I? Just be a bit more patient."

He sighed and massaged his glabella. "Okay. The Dogra Headquarters are constructed on two hundred acres of fenced land, Inu. It's detached from the entire National Capital Region. Do this thing: you drive to its southern gate via the Maharana Marg and just be seated inside your vehicle itself. I'll ask Karim to escort you from there." He paused. "And what vehicle are you driving?"

"My personal one. The black Mahindra Scorpio." She replied.

"Alright, I am waiting here for you." He let out. Then trailed, "And yes . . ."

"What?" She probed from the other end.

"I need answers. I can't compromise with your safety."

"Alright." She hung up.

Exactly forty minutes later, Karim was escorting Hinduja into the Dogra patriarch's office.

It was time for a much-needed head-to-head confrontation about all recent events, starting from the hotel incident.

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Target : 300 Votes

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