Chapter Text
Rancho made sure to stay away from Farhan and Raju and their families during the graduation. Farhan was so damn perceptive, he’d guess something was bothering Rancho, just like he guessed Rancho liked Pia, just like he instinctively knew something was wrong on the last day and saw Rancho on the roof having a meltdown. Well, the truth was, the whole world was bothering him. Couldn’t he have a single thing in his life without it being snatched away just like that, or without blackmailing him.
He was just waiting for this whole thing to be over. Waiting for the car to turn up, take him far, far away from the happiest memories of his life. He didn’t know why, but running away from happiness was apparently a thing with him. He knew how to run, he had done that all his life. Ran away from diapers when he was a baby. Ran from the bullies at school. Ran from his problems. Ran from Chanchad Bhavan. And now he was running away from his chance at a fucking life. Just running all the time, when was he going to be able to stop?
The car turned up quite early, considering. Waving in the general direction of his friends, red eyed and fucking tired, he climbed into the car to be met with three tissue boxes and his favourite driver’s face. That was when he realized how bad this situation was. I mean, the heir of the whole estate was in his camp, the army of servants at Chanchad Bhavan were ready to do anything for him, the last four years were spent with the best friends he could have ever gotten, but there was one Fucker, one man who had the ability to ruin anything.
So many people were on his side, and still, he felt freaking helpless. How could one man have the power to ruin so many things? Why did he feel like the world was out to get him, when it was only one guy intent on burning the world down and screaming about his undamaged reputation to the ashes?
He didn’t even realize how tight his eyes were clenched and how his teeth were digging so hard into his lips, making them bleed, and how the tissue box in his hands was long since a crumpled mess. He sniffed, trying to take a shaky breath. Releasing his lip, he let out a soft sob, but that descended into a spiral of sobs, he was reaching for tissue after tissue, he couldn’t breathe, he just wanted to scream, and obviously, do things to Shamaldas the fucker.
He wished he was like the other gardener in Chanchad bhavan. He could kill a guy, hide his body, falsify evidence, and be back for dinner. He wasn’t like that, though, so he had to settle for feeling like a toy to be played and cast aside. When he finally opened his eyes, it was dark and the car had stopped. The driver, who had got down to have a cup of tea, returned.
“You fell asleep.” He reported
“Hum ruk kyun rahe hain? Saab kuch to kahenge na hum time par nahi aaye to?”
“Chhote sahab ne business trip par bheja hai, ek hafte ke liye mumbai mein hain.”
Rancho breathed a sigh of relief.
“Arre maine phone kiya hai, gadi kharab hui, repair ke liye ruk rahe hain, kyon ki kuch bhi ho sakta hain, mumbai se wapas bhi aa sakte hain,” the driver said smoothly.
Everyone was ready to lie for this liar, and he appreciated it, so, so much.
“Thank you.” was all he could choke out before he leaned his head back against the window and closed his eyes.
Time seemed to lapse, wait- was he living in a time lapse? Because they were back in Shimla
.
His knuckles were white as he opened the gate and walked in. Depositing his bags in the hall, he looked around. He wanted nothing more than to run to the gardens, but he first had to meet the guy whose identity he had stolen.
“Hello Chhote” said the Real Ranchoddas Shamaldas Chanchad, Fucker junior, but not exactly a fucker, his friend until he started ICE and was blackmailed to hell and back, and mastermind extraordinaire. Also the guy who started this whole mess, so not exactly extraordinaire.
“Uhh - good morning” he mumbled.
“Morning. Chhote do baje hain. 2 pm.” Ranchhoddas Shamaldas Chanchad said.
“Sorry.”
“Car mein so gaye the? It’s okay. Maine dad ko ek-do hafte ke liye bombay bheja hai, you’ll get some breathing room.” He said brightly.
“Yaar aap sab mere liye itna kar rahe hain, or main just, uggh!” Rancho grumbled.
“Khana banaya hai, eat up. You must be hungry, I’ve noticed crying gives you an appetite.”
“I wasn’t crying.” Rancho chokes out.
“I can read you. I’ve known you since you were a baby, remember?”
“Might be so, I definitely didn’t cry.”
“Do not argue. I didn’t send dad away for NOTHING. Eat up, yes, it’s jeera rice and daal makhani, your favourite, and don’t thank me, thank the cook. Then you are going to unpack and have the time of your life for a week.”
“How can I have the time of my life when I just ran away from it?”Rancho questioned.
Ranchhoddas shamaldas chanchad rolled his eyes. “Eat the dal makhni. Take some rest. Don’t even THINK of arguing with me.”
Rancho walked out to the garden. His favourite bench, under which lay a concerning number of bones, was just as he had left it.
He wrapped himself up in a shawl and curled up on the bench, vague memories with his father coming to mind. Playing on that bench, the first time he had sat on the armrest and fell down, and then he scraped his knee. He remembered pestering his dad with questions while he gardened, remembered sitting on this very bench and crying his eyes out when his father died as ranchhoddas sat next to him and plied him with cups of coffee.
He remembered the Fucker telling him that he was going to be doing the gardening from the next day. He remembered doing homework, digging deeper into every aspect of it, explaining things to Ranchhoddas who just looked at him with a blank face that spoke of helplessness. He remembered seeing this garden one last time before he left. ‘I’m back, papa, and I’m gonna make you proud,” he thought to himself.
“Chhote, Dal makhni kha lo jara,” the maid, Chameli said, bringing over a plate. She was a little older than him, now about thirty, and did odd jobs around the house.
Rancho couldn’t enjoy it. He couldn’t even enjoy the best Dal Makhni in the world, what was he coming to?
The Fucker came back sooner than expected.
“Photos, certificates, phone, sab de do,” he said.
Rancho dumped his bag on the table, all of Farhan’s hard work spilling out of it. He hated this. Well, at least the other two had a copy of all the photos. He could try to get them?
“You will not contact anyone from ICE. You understand that I must maintain a reputation, right? I paid your fees, allowed you to get an education, it’s the least you can do to pay me back.”
A traitorous thought about spoons and wires in the toilet crossed Rancho’s mind.
“Ji saab.” he mumbled, wishing to be done with this.
Most of what Shamaldas said next was tuned out, but he did remember some words that sounded suspiciously like fake blessings and reassurances and good wishes.
“To kya karoge ab tum?” his sworn enemy asked.
He mumbled something about being a teacher, while keeping up his research.
When he moves out of Chanchad Bhavan the next day, running away again to find SOME semblance of a new life, his parting words are, "Kuch bhi karo, main akela rahu isliye kitna bhi kaam karo, ek din, do idiots mujhe dhoondhne ayenge. You don't want to see that day. Chalta hoon.”
He said it while walking out, in a venomous tone, knowing his phone was tapped, knowing he had no escape route, and only praying that they reached him after the fucker died. For the first time, he felt afraid and scared and helpless. None of those feelings had been accompanied by each other before.
He cried in the car, yet again.