20. Red Sari For Khushi



Arnav looked at Khushi and Payal sitting in Akash's room, frantically altering Payal's blouses for Khushi. She had nothing to wear, except her shaadi ka joda. She had married off her sister in it, had been dragged off to marry in it, had entered RM as Arnav's wife in it, had taken the anger and disappointment of the two families in it, had cried her heart out in it, slept in it...She had nothing except what she wore. And going to Laxmi Nagar to collect her clothes was out of the question.

Arnav pocketed his car keys.

He looked at the thousands of saris, suits, and lehengas displayed all around him, and felt sweat bead his forehead. New husbands and newly engaged men were easy to spot, thought the smiling saleslady.

"I need some saris for my...my w..wife. Silk...the best quality..."
"Is there any colour that she prefers, Sir? Or would you like to look around?"

Into his mind flashed the picture of Khushi in a red sari, sitting in the circle of lamps, lighting them, with a smile of happiness on her lips, her eyes shining brighter than the lamps.

"Red", he said decisively.

The saleslady looked astonished at Arnav who touched each sari that she drew his attention to or displayed, ensuring that the material wouldn't hurt his wife's fair skin. Some lucky lady, she thought enviously. Handsome, rich, and crazy about her. Some people had all the luck. Well...

His eyes fell on a yellow suit with flowing lines. She had worn yellow when she had cried in the hospital and he had placed his hand gently on her head. He added that to his growing collection. He picked up a green sari that reminded him of that sensational Sangeet night when Khushi had turned into a flame in his arms in front of hundreds of guests. She had burned for him, only for him. How could Shyam claim to love her? She was his. How could that creep claim that she loved him? Her eyes, her tears, her touch...all spoke of her love for her Arnavji. The way in which she uttered his name thrilled him no end, every time. As though she had some right over him, as though his name was meant to be said only by her lips...How could she love that...piece of...?

Arnav continued selecting clothes for his Khushi...a pale green suit that made him itch to touch it, for it brought the memories of him untangling Khushi from the fairylights by the poolside...a pink sari, the sight of which brought to his mind the suit she had worn while berating him for staying away for 3 hours without informing anyone...a pink suit like the dupatta he had clasped & used to pull Khushi close to him before kissing her...a yellow sari like the suit she had worn while kissing him...The pile of clothes grew larger, as did the eyes of the saleslady.

Could she have kissed him if she had no feelings for him? How could she forget the many moments of love between them, hidden from all prying eyes, kept safe like the secret desires of the heart? Shyam must be lying. A simple lie would be nothing for a man who was willing to leave his pregnant wife for ...Khushi. Had she been a willing partner in the hug? His head spun, the thoughts flashing furiously in his head.

A peach nightdress caught his eye, peach like the flush on her soft cheeks. His fist clenched around the silky material as he thought of her cheek, bruised by her mother's slap. She had cried silently for a good part of last night, her head turned away from him. Losing one's dreams, her family, her reputation...all in one fell swoop had shattered her. She had fallen asleep at dawn, and Arnav had stayed awake, looking at the sweetest face he had ever beheld, wincing each time she moved restlessly in the grip of nightmares or flinched as her hurt cheek touched the pillow. Could she be so affectionate towards Di while planning to destroy her world? Could she do it? She who had thrown away her life for her sister...could she destroy Di?
Four employees carried the huge load of clothes to his car.

He walked into a leading jewellers, and inspected the vast array of pieces with diamonds and gems. Diamonds were too cold for her. Garnets could not compete with the beauty of her eyes. Sapphires would do. They reminded him of her dancing to Desi Girl to put a smile on her Jiji's face. Rubies would look good on her, blood red against her creamy skin. Emeralds too. Pearls..perfect..warm like her.

He had one more stop to make before going home.

It took him half an hour to transfer all his purchases into his room, and to arrange them in the space he had made for Khushi's things among his.
She wouldn't take any of these with her when she left after 6 months. He knew that as surely as he knew that the sun rose in the east, everyday. But..but she would wear it for 6 months. Atleast he would get to see her wearing them for 6 months. Then would she go with Shyam? Why should he let her go to that much married scoundrel who wouldn't know love if it bit him on his ...nose? He could try to keep her with him. He could. What did Shyam know about her? Nothing. Not about her fear of speed, the dark, sleeping alone...She had jerked awake last night, caught in the grip of some nasty dream. Arnav had pretended to sleep, watching her in the dim light. She had inched closer to him on the bed, and had finally gone to sleep with her head tucked cosily in the space between his arm & his torso, and her fingers closed tight around a bit of his T-shirt. She wanted him. She needed him. She trusted him in spite of all that he had done to her. So why shouldn't he try to lure her away from Shyam? She was his, dammit. And no one was going to take Arnav Singh Raizada's girl. Wife, not girl. Khushi Arnav Singh Raizada... Shyam had destroyed his Di's life. Why should he let him destroy Khushi's too?
He ordered Hari Prakash to serve breakfast for two in his room, and went to Payal's room. They were still at it, working furiously.

"Khushi...", he whispered.

She looked up, jumped off the bed, and stood staring at him. Her hair, wet from her shower, hung loosely down her back. Her maang was filled with sindoor. The neck of the suit she had borrowed from Payal gaped. The golden skin of her neck highlighted the beauty of the mangalsutra he had placed there. He watched her hand clasp her mangalsutra as it rested against her thudding heart, feeling his fiery eyes on her.

"Come with me." He had the right to summon her to their room, to clothe her, feed her, look after her as he wished.

In their room, Arnav said, "Have your breakfast. And change into something that you like. These are for you."

Khushi looked at the plate of food, and tears filled her eyes. She had been ashamed and scared to go down for breakfast. She had also refused Payal's offer to bring a tray to her room.

Khushi opened the cupboard, and stood shell shocked. Among Arnavji's staid clothes were hung more saris, suits, and lehengas than she could count, all in the bright colours that she loved. And there was a pile of jewellery boxes.

Arnav said, indicating a packet on the bed. "After breakfast, we can hang it over the bed."

Khushi looked at him, unable to make a sound.

"I bought you some stars for company."

He looked into her tear-filled eyes, eyes filled with pure love for him...for remembering, for giving her something that mattered more than the rich clothes and jewels. Arnav gently touched her poor, hurt cheek, and her tears trailed down. He reached for the first red sari that he had selected, and slowly draped it around her, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Wear this. It is time to go downstairs and deal with the family."
She nodded.