Page 21 of The Maze

AYAAN

I wasn’t joking when I threatened Meher and Vishnu about leaking Meher and my kissing news to the media. My intention behind it was nothing new. I want Meher to step down from whatever she is doing for the Walia family because that has always been a strict no for me. And now, things have escalated furthermore. With my righteousness gone down the drain and my unforgiving side coming to the fore, Meher is bound to encounter a series of unexpected shocks heading her way in the near future.

After a sleepless night, tormented by thoughts of Meher’s touch and the memory of our passionate kiss at Arya Bhavan, my longing for her has intensified. One would think that my anger and frustration towards her loyalty to her family would diminish my attraction, but it only seems to fuel my desires further. I yearn to make love to her endlessly, to etch my love into every fibre of her being so she forgets her obligations and responsibilities towards her family and remembers only my love for her. I want to consume her completely, leaving no space for anything or anyone else in her heart but me.

The next day, I listen intently as Krish shares the latest update on the investigation of the missing car belonging to Pratap Walia. He informs me that despite sending old pictures of the vehicle to his sources, they haven’t been able to locate it yet. However, there’s one significant detail we know for certain—the car hasn’t crossed any toll plazas within a 10-km radius from the location of Dad’s accident. Which means it’s hidden somewhere in that area.

As I examine the photos, my eyes focus on a small yet significant detail—a four-inch lion sticker on the front mirror of the car. It’s a clue, a breadcrumb that could help us identify the car, no matter what state it is in.

“We have to find that vehicle before the authorities do.” I turn to Krish, determination gleaming in my eyes.

“I understand, Ayaan. The Walias are desperate to keep it hidden, and they won’t hesitate to tamper with the evidence or bribe the police.”

“Exactly! We can’t let them get away with their crime. The car must be somewhere near the accident spot, hidden from the prying eyes,” I suggest. “We have to search every nook and corner, leaving no stone unturned. We must find that vehicle.”

Krish nods in agreement.

“My team is looking for it. And there is something else you should see,” Krish says, showing me a video footage. “This happened yesterday. And my source has confirmed that Pratap Walia wasn’t a part of this meeting.”

I grin at the prospect of what I could do with this information as I idly toy with my black King chess piece in my hand. Ever since I have got it back, I can feel the tide of events shifting in my favour.

“Now that’s what I call a game changer, Krish,” I smirk. “Tell your source we need all updates as and when he gets it.”

I’m thrilled to discuss more on this with Krish. Time is running out, especially with the elections approaching in four months. I can’t afford to wait any longer. I must expose Pratap Walia’s true nature to the nation, ensuring he is stripped of his current position and barred from contesting the elections. And once that happens, I’ll focus solely on bringing Meher back to me, officially.

MEHER

Two Weeks Later

I may be the passive supporter in Dad’s election campaign, but I play a crucial role in garnering the necessary attention from the media and our prospective voters. Initially, I believed that constantly being by my father’s side as he engaged with his party members and workers would demonstrate to the public that Ayaan’s scandalous claims of an ongoing affair between us were baseless. I have been actively involved, visiting the party office and meeting numerous ministers alongside my father, all in an effort to show my support. Unfortunately, despite my efforts, the tide has yet to turn in his favour.

In order to prioritise grassroots campaigning and establish a connection with the local community, Dad has planned rallies in Ratangiri and Shanipur, accompanied by fellow party members. These events serve as an opportunity for him to share his vision for the state and gain the trust and support of the people for the NEP party. However, upon our arrival in Ratangiri, a wave of protestors, including Kailash Shergill’s social reformers, stirred up the locals, leading to utter mayhem. They vehemently opposed Dad’s presence on the stage, citing the ongoing accusations related to Kailash uncle’s accident. They demanded that he refrain from promoting party rallies until the investigation cleared his name. Anticipating this possibility, Dad had taken precautionary measures to keep his participation in the rally confidential. To our dismay, not only was this information leaked, but the social activists supporting Kailash Shergill were already present, seemingly instructed to disrupt the event. Naturally, Dad made the decision to step back from presenting in Ratangiri, allowing other ministers to take the lead.

Two days later, upon our arrival in Shanipur for a similar rally, the Chief Minister delivers an unexpected blow, instructing Dad not to address the crowd. He fears a repetition of the chaos that unfolded in Ratangiri. This news infuriates Dad, particularly when his sources confirm that Ayaan is behind it all. Ayaan is actively turning the locals against him, even manipulating certain reporters to expose the party’s internal agendas. These actions are eroding the faith of loyal NEP party members in Dad, making it increasingly challenging to gain public support. Ayaan’s sneaky manipulation has become a headache for both Dad and his political party.

Elections require significant financial resources. Dad has started organising fundraising events, reaching out to potential donors, and seeking financial contributions for his campaign. Establishing strong financial backing will enable him to conduct an effective and impactful campaign.

I accompany Dad as he meets a renowned industrialist of the country, who has consistently contributed to Dad’s campaigns due to his expectation of favourable treatment and influence in return. However, just a day prior to our meeting, the industrialist backed out on his promise to contribute the required funds. When Dad reached out to him, they engaged in a lengthy two-hour discussion behind closed doors, leaving me to anxiously wait outside with Vishnu to know the outcome. I’ve already gulped three cups of coffee and find myself pacing in the lobby, where the industrialist’s guard diligently records the entries of all visitors. When Dad emerges from his office, visibly disheartened by the industrialist’s refusal to provide financial support this time, a realisation dawns on me. I am curious to discover what happened overnight that caused this change of attitude. As I sign our exit in the register, I deliberately glance at the previous date’s page and discover something unexpected and shocking. Ayaan Shergill’s name appears in the register for the previous night. He seemingly had an extensive hour-long conversation, as proved by his exit entry. I wonder what promises Ayaan made to swiftly alter this businessman’s decision? Once again, Ayaan has successfully sabotaged Dad’s fundraising prospects.

In the evening, Dad confides in Aksh about the disappointing outcome of the meeting, revealing that he has already invested a substantial amount of his personal funds into the election campaign, as many of his regular contributors have declined to back him up this time. Aksh bhai proposes that Dad should refrain from spending excessive amounts from his own pockets to avoid drawing attention from the income tax department, as it may raise questions about the extent of undisclosed income they have accumulated and are openly utilising for the elections. However, Dad has no alternative options.

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Three days later, Dad arranges a meeting with Sanjay Reddy, a prosperous NRI who recently established his business in Mumbai. Dad was introduced to him a few months ago through a mutual acquaintance, and they had discussed the possibility of fundraising. Mr. Reddy expressed his willingness to contribute through corporate donations, aiming to establish connections and influence among politicians.

It just so happened that he was celebrating his daughter Lara’s 25th birthday party, and we had received an invitation. Dad had planned to discuss fundraising with Mr. Reddy at the event. However, due to a prior engagement, Dad was unable to attend and delegated the task to me and Aksh bhai, to represent our family at the party. He scheduled the detailed funds talk for a later date.

Aksh and I arrive at Lara’s birthday party, a welcome respite from the whirlwind of responsibilities that have consumed my days. We enter the party a bit late as the birthday cake has already been cut, but the atmosphere is vibrant with laughter and camaraderie. Drinks flow freely, and the air is filled with the hum of conversations and joyful interactions.

I’ve worn an exquisite and stunning lilac-coloured saree, a masterpiece of design, one of Simran’s creations. The saree is made from sheer georgette fabric and drapes gracefully around my figure, exuding an aura of sophistication. Adorned with sequins and zari detailing, the entire ensemble adds a touch of glamour and elegance to it.

We approach Lara, and I express my birthday greetings to her. Aksh inquires about Sanjay Reddy’s whereabouts, and Lara points us in the direction where he can be found. Before we can make our way towards him, Aksh receives an urgent call, diverting his attention momentarily.

I scan the room, and that’s when I spot Sanjay Reddy engrossed in conversation with someone. My heart sinks as I recognise the man he’s talking to—Ayaan Shergill. What is Ayaan doing here? Does he know Sanjay Reddy? Why is it that wherever I go regarding Dad’s funding for election campaigns, Ayaan has already ruined the show for me beforehand? Mr. Reddy and Ayaan’s easy camaraderie, laughter and shared connection fill me with suspicion. My hopes of securing funds for Dad’s election crumble like a pack of cards, shattered by Ayaan’s influence.

Dressed impeccably in a stylish navy-blue suit that accentuates his powerful persona, Ayaan exudes confidence and charisma, effortlessly commanding attention from those around him. The luxurious fabric clings to his form, emphasising his broad shoulders and athletic physique, highlighting my weakness for him.

My eyes trail along the crisp lines of his tailored attire, my heart quickening with each gesture he makes. I admire every meticulous detail, from the perfectly knotted tie to the subtle sheen of the fabric. As I watch him engage in animated conversations, my body tingles with an undeniable longing. It’s as if an invisible magnet pulls me towards him, drawing me closer with an unspoken desire. My fingers itch to trace the contours of his suit and to feel the warmth of his touch against my skin. But I resist, knowing the sea of emotions that await me in his presence. Ayaan has the power to unravel me, to ignite a fire within me that I struggle to contain. Yet, I can’t help but crave the electrifying connection we share, the intoxicating pull that defies all logic.

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