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

garden, and spun an elaborate and entertaining story around them. I understand forensics is an inexact science and dating bones is problematic.

I suspect that the Opposition parties, working in tandem with Pakistani agents, are trying to discredit me because my role in the surgical strikes has made me so popular. It is their stated official position that the surgical strikes never happened at all, and now they are trying to embroil me in this DTC case simply because I happen to be a member of the Club.

As for me, my commitment to my men, the army and the nation speaks for itself. I am sure that our excellent police will absolve me eventually. Jai Hind.

END OF INTERVIEW.

The watchmen outside the Khurana residence in sleepy, leafy Panchsheel Park don’t quite know what to make of the twisted, satyr-like figure who has emerged suddenly from an autorickshaw to loudly demand entrance into the bungalow within.

Exuding a powerful smell which makes them all wrinkle their noses, he leans heavily on one crutch while waving the other about like a weapon, and shouts in a thin but extremely carrying voice.

‘I’m here to meet the beautiful Urvashi Khurana! She needs to explain why she doesn’t love us any more! Let me in! Let me in or I will expose how the rich mistreat the crippled classes! Or—’ His eyes light up suddenly. ‘Even better … I will expose myself!’

Dropping one crutch, he starts to fumble with the front of his pants.

‘Oye, bhikari!’ says one watchman. ‘Keep your pants on! This is a decent neighbourhood!’

‘Who’re you calling a beggar?’ demands the interloper, one hand poised upon his crotch.

‘Nobody,’ the other watchman replies hastily. ‘Here, take ten rupees and git. You can’t show us anything we haven’t seen before anyway!’

‘Who is it, Rambahadur?’ Urvashi’s exquisite voice speaks suddenly through the intercom. ‘Who is making so much noise outside?’

Rambahadur wipes his forehead. ‘Madam ji, it seems to be a crippled gent—’

Hearing Urvashi’s voice, the visitor hobbles up to the security camera. ‘It’s me, Urvashi!’ he shouts shrilly. ‘Leo’s friend! From Badshahpur! We sat together at the funeral, remember!’

He licks his lips and peers into the camera, an ingratiating smile upon his face.

There is a long pause.

Then Urvashi speaks crisply. ‘Let him in.’

A few minutes later, an impassive manservant lets a visibly triumphant Randy Rax into the Khuranas’ tastefully done-up living room. Urvashi is seated on a wicker chaise lounge, dressed in her usual flowing white, Lahore-chic outfits.

‘Hello, Rakesh,’ she smiles pleasantly. ‘How have you been? Missing your friend?’

He stares at her, gulping unattractively. ‘Yes,’ he manages to say finally.

She gestures towards a comfortable couch. ‘Do sit down! What will you drink? Or eat? Or both?’

He lowers himself awkwardly into the seat, throwing his crutches down beside him. ‘Coffee,’ he says hoarsely. ‘And biscuits.’ Then he specifies challengingly. ‘Jim-Jam biscuits.’

She gives a tinkling laugh. ‘Well, I’m not sure we have that exact brand, but we’ll organize some jammy cookies for you.’

She issues some instructions to the hovering manservant, then turns her full attention to Rax. ‘Now tell me, what is troubling you? Why have you made the long trip from Sohna Road to meet me?’

Rax executes a theatrical little double take. ‘You know where I live?’

‘Oh yes,’ Urvashi replies serenely. ‘But tell me what the problem is?’

Randy Rax struggles visibly to hang onto his obnoxiousness in the face of so much graciousness.

‘You’re the one with the problem,’ he manages to spit out, finally, coarsely. ‘Not me!’

Urvashi’s eyebrows rise. ‘How so?’

He grimaces oddly, eyes darting from here to there, looking at the various expensive objects d’art in the room, the discreetly flashing diamonds at her ears, throat and fingers, the huge lawn visible from the French windows.

‘It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God. That’s from the Bible!’

‘That’s very wise. And true.’

‘It’s the Bible. Of course it’s wise and true! It’s the world’s biggest bestseller! Outsells Agatha Christie, J.K. Rowling and Lady Chatterley’s Lover – combined!’

‘I’m not surprised.’

He gives a low moan and starts to sway back and forth. ‘Where are my Jim-Jams?’

‘Coming,’ she says composedly. ‘You will enjoy them, you know, my chef is quite excellent.’ She smiles at him kindly, sympathetically.

He shivers visibly under her gaze. ‘You’re pretending to be nice.’

‘Why would I pretend? Tell me, why did you say that I have stopped loving you?’

His face gives an odd sort of spasm. ‘Vicky told me you’ve stopped donating to Badshahpur Children’s Village. How are they going to manage if you don’t provide for them?’

‘That’s not true,’ she says. ‘I’ve been giving them money for the last twenty years. Much before Father Victor Emmanuel’s time. Why would I stop now? Ah, here come your coffee and biscuits!’

Rax looks at the pretty tray, steaming coffee in spotless white china, a floral Wedgwood plate piled high with gorgeous raspberry jam tarts, and produces a sound which is half-giggle, half-snarl.

‘Those look like titties!’

‘Well, don’t hold their looks against them,’ she says humorously. ‘They taste really good – and that’s the main thing, isn’t it.’

She proffers the plate to him invitingly.

Rax takes a cookie warily. ‘Not laced with Pinko Hathni, are they?’

She gives an incredulous little laugh. ‘Why would I want to poison you?’

He bites into the cookie, then starts to rock back and forth again, his head cocked to one side, his eyes mischievous, and curiously birdlike.

In a thin mocking voice, he starts to sing.

‘You think, your secret’s safe,

You think you left no trace …’

You think that no one knows,

You’re smelling … like a rose …’

Chrysanthemum’s night range for men is beautifully designed. There is one navy-blue dressing gown with white piping, in particular, which has been hailed as a classic by all the fashion magazines. Unfortunately, when Mukesh Khurana wears it, he looks rather like an unappetizing extra from the Star Wars movies.

Thus attired, he emerges from his spacious Italian-marbled bathroom and smiles