Summary
Thakur Vikramjeet Singh Rathore was getting irritated and shouted at his man-servant, Bahadur Singh.
“Bahadur, get me my drink.”
It was a Thursday evening and around every Thursday, at around 6:00 P.M. Thakur Vikramjeet Singh had a special drinking session watching his favourite television show. Though he used to drink every day Thursdays used to be very special for him as had been the custom in his family for generations. Thakur Vikramjeet Singh Rathore belonged to an aristocratic lineage, was an ex-bureaucrat, businessman, and also an ex-politician, and was a very influential man. His residence was a palatial bungalow right in the middle of the poshest area of Udaipur, Rajasthan. His family consisted of his wife Rukmini Devi, who was an architect, his three sons, Ajay, Vijay, and Karan, and two daughters Anjali & Priyanshi. Ajay, being the eldest was married with two children and a wife Kamia, who was an advocate. Vijay and Anjali were also married and stayed with their respective families at their father’s residence only. Only Karan, who was the youngest and Priyanshi were single members of the family. Some people also whispered in hushed tones that many people feared him, as he was privy to many dirty little secrets of influential people in politics and business. He also had a bad heart condition. Only his family, his servant, secretary and family doctor knew of this.
It was at times like these when he was most vulnerable. Otherwise, he maintained and displayed that domineering and overbearing attitude with everybody!
“How long is it going to take to bring one drink for me, you idiot?” Bellowed Vikramjeet Singh.
Bahadur Singh frantically scurried to get him his drink. He was used to all this screaming and shouting as he and his predecessors have been serving the Rathore family for generations. Thakur Vikramjeet Singh Rathore was filthy rich and he commanded a huge following in his area also some say, he had very powerful political, and business connections in some of the biggest business families and at the centre too! He still commanded the same respect as he had when he was the ‘Growth& Urban Development Minister’ in the previous government. All this was good but a majority of the people who were in contact with him went away with the impression of him being an autocrat, who was used to having his way in everything he did or said. Others, including his trusted secretary for more than thirty years, Veerbhadra Singh, also believed that he was like this all the time; that is whether he was in a professional environment or personal! Even his family members, especially, his wife, Rukmini wholeheartedly agreed to this. Despite being an architect, she had been restricted to domestic chores and upbringing the children. Also, she used to be dominated and overwhelmed by her husband and she sometimes used to have panic attacks! Vikramjeet Singh used to dismiss these incidents considering them a sign of weakness! Vikramjeet Singh was used to getting his way and disliked people who did not conform to his way of thinking.
Anyways, as he was enjoying his drink, Rukmini, along with her elder son Ajay, came to his study to discuss a business proposal which Ajay had brought forward. This business deal with the present government would be beneficial for all of the parties. That was what Ajay believed and was excited and nervous at the same time. So he sought the help of his mother in convincing Vikramjeet Singh to permit him to meet the business delegation coming the next day.
“Vicky, can we talk?” Rukmini nervously asked.
It was only his wife and very few close friends who could call him by his pet name.
“What is it?” He asked.
“It’s about tomorrow’s meeting.” His wife said.
“Don’t you know I am busy today?” He glared.
“I know but this was important.” Rukmini persisted.
“ I don’t care!.... When I have said I am busy that’s the end of discussion.” He growled.
“Anyways I will be the one who will be handling the matter. It is I that will decide who does what, when and how.” He remarked.
Rukmini kept quiet for a few moments and then said “At least hear Ajay out.”
“He has exceptionally brilliant ideas about tomorrow.” She said in anticipation.
“Don’t you understand? .........”
“When I have said that I will decide and why hasn’t he come and pitched his idea himself?” Vikramjeet asked with a smirk on his face.
His wife understood perfectly the meaning of this statement and it was very demeaning for her, still, she tried one last time for her son.
“He was a bit nervous coming in front of you.” She said softly.
“Don’t disturb me now and please leave,” Vikramjeet commanded.
That was the last anyone heard or saw Vikramjeet alive.
Meanwhile, Rukmini then gave the news to Ajay, he was disappointed and was crestfallen as he was expecting a positive response and was very excited about it.
“I wish the old man drops dead!” He blurted out exasperatedly.
His mother was stunned and shocked to hear this and looked at him admonishingly. He quickly realized his mistake and apologized. Unbeknownst to them, someone had overheard their conversation and would set in motion a chain of events that would leave a deep impact on the Rathore family!
An hour later, Rukmini trepidatiously again went into her husband’s study to ask for something else. She knew he would scream at her again but she chose to bear the ranting and tirade against her. She neared the rocking chair where Vikramjeet was sitting, she saw the television was on mute and Vikramjeet was sleeping peacefully rolled to one side on the chair. He used to cover himself with a light shawl every time he went to watch his favourite television show, as it was very cold in the study due to the high-performance air conditioner. So she thought that he must have felt cold and wrapped it around himself.
“Vicky I need to talk to you about something else.” She ventured nervously.
There was no response.
She again tried “Vicky are you listening to me?” Still no response.
Rukmini was taken aback at the lack of response and she thought she should shake him a little bit.
Rukmini screamed and called her family immediately.
