I blew at the cigarette smoke. But, it was too late to regret.
My experience in the orphanage, and my subsequent hardship after Mr and Mrs Naiks death had taught me a valuable lesson - the world is only for the monied.
I yearned for the luxury provided by the Naiks. But after finding myself in a hopless job in Mumbai, I wondered if this would ever be possible. But, then the wheel of fortune began to turn in the most unusual circumstances.
I was on my way for a jog one September morning. As I was walking towards the park, I chanced upon an elderly gentleman in jogging suit who appeared to be sweating profusely and breathing hard.
I took little notice of the man. After nearly 20-minutes, as I was walking back the same stretch, I saw people crowd around a slumped figure. As I made by way through the crowd, I recognized the man. He was barely conscious, sweating, and breathing heavily - symptoms of a cardiac arrest.
No one in crowd offered to help. Hence, I called up the medical emergency number from my cell phone. Within a few minutes, I was sitting in the ambulance as it rushed towards the nearest private hospital.
When I tried to check for his ID, I found that his watch, cellphone and purse had gone missing. I then called up the police.
He was placed on the ventilator and administered IV drips. I spent a princely sum on his initial medication and room expenses, never really expecting him to recover. However, his condition began to stabilize by evening.
At nearly 5 p.m., a policeman arrived along with the man’s family friend and daughter, Minal. The family had contacted the police since he had failed to show up at office after his usual morning jog.
Minal stood beside her father’s bed, Mr Narendra Sharma, with tears streaming down her face. Mr Sharma was a shrewd wheeler-dealer who dabbled in several business ventures. I later came to know that Mr Sharma knew Aditi and was her source for several .
This apart, Mr Sharma was known to have close contacts with members of the ruling Jana Parikrama party, which had benefited him in the form of lucrative government contracts.
Mr Sharma had now been shifted to the posh Aditya Specialty Hospital. As Mr Sharma regained his health in the next few weeks, he began to warm up towards me.
During the course of his recovery in the next few weeks, I often visited his bedside where I met Minal. She was initially coy and appeared uncomfortable in my presence. But as we became familiar with each other, she opened up. I found Minal to be a down-to-earth person, and unlike Aditi, she was sensitive and frank about her opinion.
I always thought that rich kids were blessed with everything. But, Minal obviously wasn’t that lucky. Though her dad had become a successful businessman, he had little time for his daughter. Minal had grown up as a lonely child after her mother’s death six years ago.
She had finished her BCA owing to the insistence of her father but her heart was in fine arts and someday she hoped to be a painter. She often confided in me and gradually we were drawn towards each other. As I began to gain the trust of Minal and Mr Sharma, the devil in me began to take hold of me.
I began to realise that winning her heart lay the key to a huge fortune. I knew Mr Sharma would strongly oppose his daughter’s wedlock with anyone below his social standing.
But, then, I had the confidence in Minal’s persuasive powers and my charm over her. Having lost his wife, Minal was Mr Sharma’s only daughter and he would do anything for her. Mr Sharma’s fortune and political clout was on the rise. If I married his daughter, this would add to my advantage.
As my visits to Minal became more frequent and more personal, Aditi began to drift into oblivion. I began giving excuses to avoid Aditi and managed to evade her for two weeks.
Meanwhile, with a bit of Sharma’s goodwill and Aditi’s persistence, I was employed as Public Relations Manager for Sharma Group of Companies.
But soon Aditi realised something was amiss, and her phone calls became persistent. That’s when I decided to confront her and tell her the truth that it was over. We met outside a supermarket where I told her that it was time to call it quits.
I still remember the tight slap on my cheek. She stormed into the night, tears streaming down her cheeks. I laughed it away and breathed a sigh of relief, hoping the worst was over. But it was not to be.
For nearly a week, my life went smoothly as I began to make concerted efforts to win over my prospective father-in-law with help from his daughter. But, then, Aditi would never let go of me. She began calling me again. I refused to entertain her calls, reminding her of the insult she had heaped on me. However, she persisted, first by pleading and then by threatening.
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