Chapter 6: The Summons from the Bungalow

Lately, people from the Raja’s bungalow have often lingered outside our colony house.

The neighbours began whispering, and children ran past with nervous glances. Even the old chowkidar, who rarely left his post, shuffled over one day and muttered, “Didi, raja log ka chakkar hai, sambhal ke.”

Aunty Lata noticed and nervously withdrew her head. "Could it be that Aarav offended a big shot last time, and they’re here to trouble you and your son?"

Her voice trembled as she peered through the lace curtain. The sight of the Ambassador parked outside made her clutch her prayer beads tighter.

I didn’t understand either. That night, Rajveer had spoken clearly, and though Arjun looked at me with hatred, it shouldn’t be enough to keep pestering us.

My mind replayed every detail. Was there something I’d missed? Had I offended some invisible line again?

Feeling uneasy, I locked the door even tighter at night and personally escorted Aarav to and from school.

Every day, I made sure Aarav’s school bag was packed, and I watched him enter the gate before returning home. The sound of a distant shehnai from someone’s radio seemed to mock my fears.

At first, two maidservants from the Raja’s bungalow came politely. "Since the heir saw you, he’s been ill, calling your name in confusion. Rani-saheb cannot bear it and wishes to invite you to the bungalow to visit."

They spoke in the practiced politeness of old-money servants. Their starched saris and heavy silver anklets clinked as they stood at my door, eyes respectfully averted but voices firm. My heart raced—what could the Rani possibly want with me?

Arjun never acknowledged me as his mother—how could he miss me? Just thinking of the Rani, as gentle in appearance as Rajveer but cold-hearted, sent chills down my back.

Her eyes, kohl-lined and unblinking, could silence even the boldest of the Raja’s men. The memory of her soft-spoken threats still made my skin crawl.

When I first entered the Raja’s bungalow, Rani Meenakshi saw me as a thorn in her side. After I gave birth to Arjun, I was locked in the side outhouse for four years, during which she tried to get rid of me more than once, both openly and secretly.

Her power in the household was absolute. Even the cooks and gardeners reported to her. My existence was an insult she would never forgive.

If not for the kindness of the old maid at the gate, I might never have known how I died.

The old maid, Shanti Amma, would sneak me rotis at night, whispering stories of distant villages to distract me from my pain.

I was determined to keep my distance from the Raja’s bungalow and shook my head to refuse the maids. "Your bungalow has many famous doctors. I am of humble status and not fit to approach the heir."

My refusal was soft but unwavering. They left quietly, but I knew they would return.

For several days, the maids kept coming, and I always replied the same.

Their persistence grew more insistent. Sometimes, they left gifts—boxes of sweets, a length of silk—but I returned everything unopened.

Finally, late at night, the maids came anxiously knocking, clearly desperate.

Their faces were pale in the moonlight. One clutched her sari nervously, the other looked over her shoulder, as if afraid of being seen. Lowering their voices and glancing around nervously, one whispered, "We’re only doing our duty, didi. Don’t make it hard for us."

"Madam, please go just once. The heir refuses to take medicine and has had a fever for two days. He is your own child, after all."

How strange. I am no miracle worker. With all their means, isn’t it easy for Rajveer and the Rani to make a child take medicine?

The words stung, but fear for Aarav prickled under my skin. Rajpur’s power reached everywhere.

I wanted to refuse, but the maid glanced at Aarav, who had been awakened by the noise and came out rubbing his eyes, and her tone changed.

Her look made my blood run cold. In that moment, I understood—if I resisted, they would not hesitate to harm my son to get what they wanted.

"Since you know you cannot offend the Raja’s bungalow, aren’t you afraid that if something happens to the heir, the Raja and Rani will blame certain people?"

My heart clenched.

My hands shook as I squeezed Aarav’s shoulder. The threat was clear: my own son’s safety depended on my compliance.

I dared not risk Aarav’s safety.

After a moment’s thought, I nodded to the maid. "Wait a moment."

I took Aarav to our neighbour’s house, apologetically waking Aunty Lata and asking her to look after Aarav in the morning.

Aunty Lata, still drowsy, glanced at the imposing car outside and was startled, nodding hurriedly without asking further.

She pressed a warm hand to my cheek. “Jaldi laut aana, beta. Don’t worry, Aarav is like my own grandson.”

Before leaving, I carefully instructed Aarav, who clung to my sleeve, looking uneasy. I gently said, "Maa will be back tomorrow."

Aarav replied with disappointment, watching my figure grow distant in the dim light.

His small face, framed in the doorway, stayed with me as I climbed into the waiting car.