Club You to Death by Anuja Chauhan (books to improve english .TXT) 📕

does have a point, Bhatti,’ rumbles Balbir Dogra. ‘It would be in the interests of the Club to have a sycophant like Mehra as president. I’d vote for him.’

Mehra, not sure if he should be insulted or pleased, wisely decides to turn his famous deaf ear to this remark.

Bhatti gives a finicky little nod. ‘Very well. I shall anyway be spending more time at the IIC once my term is done! So, coming back to the point – should we postpone the election by two months or choose two fresh candidates as Todi suggests?’

‘Postpone by two months,’ Mehra says decidedly. ‘The lovely Urvashi is, of course, forever young and beautifully immortal’ – he bows gallantly in her direction – ‘but I may not even be alive two years from now! I want to take my chances this year.’

‘Well, you’ve blown up so much dosh on expensive parties, it makes sense for you to collect on it now, when it’s still fresh in people’s minds,’ Balbir Dogra says bluntly. ‘In two years these buggers are quite capable of demanding a whole new round of parties from you.’

Mehra throws back his head and laughs, baring large, yellow teeth. ‘Brilliantly put, sir!’

‘The general overestimates both my youth and my beauty.’ Urvashi smiles tightly. ‘I too, would like to contest this year – if you could continue for perhaps a month or two more, Devendar, I would be so grateful.’

There is a general chorus of agreement from around the room.

‘Very well, very well, at your kind insistence, I will continue in this post for two months more.’ Bhatti smiles thinly. ‘Ah, here come the snacks!’

A rather elderly looking bearer comes in with tray of appetizing-looking starters. Sizzling, crispy kebabs, loaded, multicoloured canapes and garden-fresh vegetables served with a creamy dip. Everybody digs in.

‘Amazing dip, Bhatti!’

‘Is that mutton? Or beef? It’s buff! You’re serving buff with an IJP government in power, you crazy bastard!’

‘You’re welcome not to eat any,’ Devendar Bhatti says with a sly wink.

‘Give it here! Oh, delicious! Try some, Urvashi!’

‘Thank you – I am enjoying these delicious vegetables! So very fresh!’

Bhatti’s face brightens. ‘All the vegetables here are from the DTC’s organic kitchen garden!’

‘Set up by Todi Corp when my wife was on the horticulture committee,’ puts in Pankaj Todi.

‘And me,’ Behra Mehra says at once. ‘I was on the horticulture committee with her! We set up that garden together!’

‘Then you can both take a bow,’ Urvashi says smilingly. ‘These beetroot canapes are delicious! Such a deep, rich red colour! What’s the secret ingredient?’

Todi and Mehra look at each other hesitantly.

‘What?’ Urvashi asks, lowering a half-eaten ruby-red canape from her mouth. ‘What is it?’

The general nudges the industrialist. ‘You tell the lady, Todi.’

Pankaj Todi pats his fleshy lip with a napkin then leans forward. ‘Well, good old Guppie Ram – the old maali you know, God rest his soul – was sometimes sighted er … irrigating the vegetables with his personal, patented fertilizer!’

Urvashi’s eyes widen suspiciously. She puts the canape down. ‘Matlab?’

‘Matlab, the chap was a raging alcoholic and not above pissing into the plants!’ Behra Mehra says.

‘Ewww!’ Urvashi puts her plate away, looking queasy.

The two men roar with laughter.

But Devendar Bhatti is not amused. ‘Urvashi, please, the man’s been dead for a year or more. There is no way he could’ve urinated over this current crop of beetroot! It’s such a deep red because the gardeners put so much onion peel in the compost, that’s all! Urvashi!’

But she has already put a hand to her mouth and rushed out of the room. The men all look at each other.

‘How can this lady run the club?’ Todi asks in a low voice. ‘Seriously? She’s much too delicate!’

‘You’re a crass fool, Todi!’ Devendar Bhatti snaps angrily. ‘Urvashi Khurana is a highly intelligent woman with a strong sense of aesthetics—’

‘Which is why she married Mukki!’ Somebody sniggers.

‘And unlike you, Todi the toady, who can’t think beyond toadying up to the Ruias, she has a great vision for the club!’ Bhatti concludes forcefully.

‘What’s her great vision, I would like to know?’ Mehra demands. ‘All she wants to do is set up a new rainwater-harvesting system!’

Urvashi re-enters the room, perfectly composed, and takes her seat.

‘Did someone say rainwater harvesting?’ she enquires as she picks up her Scotch and soda and gives it a rather militant swirl. ‘You, general?’

‘The Club doesn’t need a new rainwater-harvesting system.’ Mehra picks up the cudgels at once. ‘The current system is quite adequate.’

Urvashi’s clear, beautiful eyes start to sparkle. ‘Are you serious? The current system is a joke! The new one will halve our water bill!’

‘You just want to make me look small!’ Mehra roars. ‘That garden is dedicated to my dead wife, madam! It’s named after her – The Shrimati Savitri Mehra Udyaan!’

Her eyebrows rise. ‘I assure you I have no such intention! It’s just that the assessment team recommended the kitchen garden – because it’s low-lying, and perfectly accessible to all the run-off pipes. They say it’s the cheapest and best spot. And so, though we all know how much you loved your wife—’

His eyes bug out. ‘Are you being sarcastic, madam?’

‘What?’ Urvashi draws back, startled. ‘No! No at all!’

‘Because I will not tolerate any disrespect to my spouse!’ Behra Mehra waggles a celery stick in her face.

Urvashi’s eyes kindle. ‘Well then, general, you should think twice before disrespecting other people’s spouses! What the hell do you mean by telling the ACP that Mukesh has a mental health issue?’

There is a collective intake of breath at this. Mehra looks a little ashamed of himself.

Backing down a little he mutters, ‘I was just genuinely concerned … for Mukesh. He behaved so oddly during tambola that day.’

Urvashi gives a short, disbelieving laugh.

There is tense silence.

‘What do you want?’ Mehra says finally, offensively. ‘An apology? For voicing genuine concern about your husband’s mental state?’

‘Yes.’ She nods, as regal as a queen. ‘And for spreading rumours about my affair with Leo Matthew! A double apology!’

Mehra licks his lips. ‘Well, you aren’t going to