112. Marrying Khushi (Part 10-)

Marrying Khushi: Part 10

  
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Both ASR & Khushi looked up at Mittu, who stared back at them with beady eyes.

Khushi could not control herself anymore. She burst out laughing, her mirth infectious. ASR’s smile made its rare appearance, and he had to fight not to engage in a belly laugh.

Khushi had no such issues. Caught against the hard frame of ASR, her arm twisted behind her, there was nowhere she could go. She fell against the hard, muscled chest of her captor, laughing hard. He could feel the soft lines of her stomach move against him as laughter rumbled within her. He too began chuckling, unable to hold back his amusement.

Without volition, his fingers released her arm, and his hands joined to gather her closer to him. Her arms decorated with mehendi rose and her fingers clutched his sleeves. Her temple fell against his collar bone as she collapsed weakly against him, still chuckling.

Slowly the laughter died down.

Mittu flew away to another perch, carrying a red chilli in her beak to feast on.

The silence between them, in the midst of the noise of a house with hundreds of guests, grew. They stood locked in each other's arms.

“Man mein laddoo phoota…” Mittu announced.

Khushi realised that she was hugging the Rakshas, letting him support her body weight, clinging to his arms as though she were a creeper and he the trunk of a tree…. His right hand was around her waist…Khushi gulped. His left was between her shoulder blades, cuddling her close…. Her head was beneath his chin…she was surrounded by him, his warmth, his musky scent…. His heart beat against hers, both galloping like wild horses, out of control….

“Man mein doosra laddoo phoota…” Mittu sang.

Khushi shuddered in reaction. Slowly, she loosened her hold on his arms, feeling her fingers linger on the expensive material that did little to hide the sinewed lengths. She tried to insert her red mehendi-covered hands in between them, but to no avail.

“Khushi…” they heard Payal call. 

Khushi jumped.

“Khushi…Khushi…” Mittu began. 

Khushi looked at ASR with wide eyes. 

Reluctantly, ASR lowered his arms, and let Khushi take a step away from him. He moved back in to the darkness.

Just in time.

Payal came in to the changing room.

“Khushi, kya hua? Why are you so late? Buaji and Amma are looking for you. Waise, did you see Raizadaji? His brothers are with Buaji, but he is not to be seen. They said that he had gone to attend a phone call, lekin…. I hope he has not lost his way.”

“Jiji…” Khushi gasped, short of breath. Her nervous fingers smoothed away strands of hair that had fallen on her cheek. “Shall we join them?”

“Haan, chalo.” Payal moved away, but the frown on her face remained. “But where is Raizadaji? He is not familiar with Preetho’s house….”

“Jiji, please don’t worry about him. Woh chota bacha thodi na he!” Khushi sent one glare at the Raizadaji skulking in the shadows.

“Khushi!” Payal lovingly knocked on Khushi’s head with a knuckle. “He is a guest. We should take good care of him.”

“Hhmmmpppfff…” Khushi snorted. “I am feeling hungry, Jiji. I am going to have my dinner.” she declared as she left the room and ASR behind.

“Aaj khane mein meeta kya he?” Mittu screeched.

ASR joined Buaji, Amma, Payal, Khushi, and his brothers. The Guptas were too well-bred to ask him where he had vanished off to. They quickly helped the boys to seats. Male members of the family began serving food to them on dried leaf plates.

ASR looked to his right. NK. And next to him was Khushi. How to get NK out of his seat? he wondered.

Meanwhile, Khushi was having a wonderful time chatting with a friendly NK.

“You are Laa… Arnav Singh Raizadaji’s brother?” she asked doubtfully. “Really?”

“Yes. I am Nannav’s brother. That is, my mother is his aunt’s sister. That is, Akash & I are first cousins.” NK explained.

“Acha.” Khushi nodded.

“Lattoo! I love lattoos.” NK said, smiling at the big platter of laddoos waiting to be served.

ASR watched Khushi laugh. “Laddoo, not lattoo!” she laughed.

Buaji, sitting to ASR’s left, heard NK & exclaimed, “Hai Re Nandkisore!”

NK leaned towards Khushi and asked, “Why does Buaji keep calling my name?”

Khushi burst out laughing. ASR grit his teeth. How dare NK monopolise her attention?

“I will call you Nanheji.“ she declared. “Buaji is calling Lord Krishna, not you.” she explained. “You happen to be named after Him.”

“Oh!” NK was one relieved man.

“Why don’t you have the pulao, Nanheji?” she asked.

“Yes, yes.” NK tried it and loved it. “It is good!” he mumbled.

“And the shahi paneer.” Khushi suggested.

She frowned. What was that sound? She looked up. The Rakshas’ jaw was clenched. He looked furious, his eyes burning with a fire that could burn the whole tent down. He is so funny when he gets angry, Khushi thought.

 The plate in front of him was untouched.

NK finished his pulao. “I love it, Khushiji. I want more.” He stood up to go and fill his plate again.

“Nanheji! They will come and serve you….” Khushi began, but he had already moved away.

She looked warily at ASR’s face. Why was he angry? She thought furiously and came up with the perfect answer.

“Aap khayenge nahin?” she asked slowly. “Are you angry with the food?”

ASR looked at her.

Khushi moved in to NK’s seat to speak confidentially to him. “I know that you like to eat geela geela pusta and your soup and your sandwiches and all the strange things that we, normal people, don’t eat. But there is no choice here. In a wedding function, you will get served paneer and dal and kadu ki sabzi and aloo mewawale  and bhindi and parwal and khoya makhana matar and kachori and poori and moong dal ka halwa…. Aap please adjust kar leejiye. Otherwise Preetho’s parents will feel bad.”

ASR stared at her in shock.

Khushi pushed his plate closer to him. “Please, khayiye na!” she hissed.

ASR ate, as though reluctant. That kept her by his side, persuading him to try this or that.

NK returned and slipped in to Khushi’s seat, his mind totally on the food.

Akash made sheep’s eyes at Payal over Amma’s head. 

Payal blushed and lowered her head to look at her patal.

At the end of the lengthy meal which ASR had stretched as far as it would go, the boys had to bid goodnight to the Guptas, including Sasiji who had joined them halfway through dinner.

“Payalji, goodnight.” Akash blushed.

“Shubh raatri.” whispered Payal, her eyes lowered in shyness.

The boys moved away to their car. The Guptas were busy wishing many of the guests goodnight. Khushi was standing away from them, in the courtyard of her house.

“I will see you tomorrow.” ASR told Khushi.

Khushi looked suspiciously at his face. There was nothing in his words to alarm her. After all, she would have to go to Sheesh Mahal to work the next day. But the way he said it…and the look in his eyes…as though he were inviting her to an elopement or something clandestine…as though there were secrets between them that no one knew anything about....

“Why should you see me tomorrow? My job is in the kitchen and yours is inside the house. Aap apna kaam keejiye, and let me do mine.” Khushi made her feelings clear. She didn’t know why, but this Shaitan was dangerous. Especially when he demanded a kiss…and looked at her with eyes that seemed to see through her clothes.

Khushi quickly pulled the dupatta more firmly over her bosom, stepped back, and turned her cheek away. What if the Rakshas gave her a jhappi?

“Shubh raatri. I am sure you will have good dreams. Bad dreams won’t dare to disturb you.” Khushi said, sorry that he would have a good night's sleep while she would toss and turn thinking about what had happened in the changing room....

“I will have lovely dreams.” ASR declared. “Of a bhootni.”

Khushi gasped and looked around nervously. If Amma or Buaji heard the Rakshas!

“Bhootni Khushi Kumari Gupta…who wanders on strange grounds at midnight…singing old Bollywood songs…” he raised his voice slightly.

Khushi silenced him, her hand over his mouth. “Aap chup rahiye! He Devi Maiyya, this Delhi Rakshas will get me killed by Buaji!” She looked around nervously.

ASR put his lips to good use and gave her palm a loud smack.

Khushi fell back, holding her palm to her as though she had received a jolt of electricity.

Part 11

ASR lay in bed, smiling. 

Khushi lost in the music and the movements of her dance, the skirt of her red lehenga swirling around her, the feel of her as she lay against him laughing, her softness, her warmth, the fragrance of her silky smooth hair, the fast pumping of her thundering heart, the sound of her happy laughter, like the tinkling of bells….

And the way she had looked at him as he had glared at her during dinner! As though she couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him. And the tiny frown on her face as she thought seriously about the cause of his anger. Only she could come up with such a reason! He chuckled soundlessly. Khushi! She was a unique piece, meant all for him, only for him….

He pulled the pillow in to his arms, against his chest, as though it were her.

The softness of her palm as he had pressed his hard lips to it….He wished he could kiss her all over. Would her cheeks be softer?

Khushi sat on her bed, shocked, lost in her thoughts.

The Laad Governaar had kissed her hand. She looked down at her palm. It didn’t look out of the normal. She frowned. But how could it be normal? She had felt his lips burn against her skin like a brand. Where was the mark, the scar? She scrutinised the skin of her palm thoroughly.

“Khushi, sona nahi he kya?” Payal asked the girl sitting on her bed, inspecting her palm. “What are you doing? Reading your palm?”

Khushi smiled wanly.

“Tell me, Khushi. What can you see in the lines of your palm? What will your dulha look like?” Payal teased her.

An image of a furious Raizadaji glaring at the food placed before him flashed through her mind.

“Like a volcano, with lava erupting from it….” Khushi whispered.

“Kya?” Payal asked.

“Nothing.” Khushi blinked her eyes rapidly to push the spectre away. She hid her palm under her dupatta.

“Khushi, change your clothes and come to bed. I am feeling sleepy.” Payal grumbled.

“Haan, Jiji. Just a minute.” Khushi got up to get a set of casualwear from her wardrobe.

Payal slept, lost in vaguely romantic dreams of Akash Raizada, innocent and harmless dreams in which she was batting her eyelashes at him and he was simpering at her, she was washing dupattas and he was watching her with besotted eyes,  she was making roti and he was waiting to taste them, looking at her through the window of her kitchen with puppy dog eyes….

Khushi tried not to sleep, knowing that if she shut her eyes, the rakshas would invade her dreams. 

She stared at the ceiling; she stared at the bedpost.

 She looked around the room, blinking to stay awake. Her eyelids drooped in fatigue, but she shook herself awake. 

She widened her eyes, she washed her face, she did sit ups, she danced humming a Bollywood tune, she swung her arms and walked about the room…and then around midnight, she collapsed in bed, her eyes shut, her body limp.

She saw him take hold of her arm and pull her in to the darkness.

“Please let go of my arm. Koi dekh lega. And it hurts.” she said softly, looking around nervously, not wanting anyone to spy on their moments together.

Shaitan loosened his hold, and gently lifted her arm towards his face, his eyes burning in to hers.

He touched the faint marks left by his fingers with his lips, caressing the fine skin with open delight, his lashes falling to cover his eyes.

Khushi jumped up, her arm tingling. She looked around with wide, startled eyes, panting, sweating as though she had just competed in a marathon. She was in her bedroom in Gomti Sadan. She was nowhere near Sheesh Mahal or the Shaitan living there. It was night…she wouldn’t have to see him for a few hours more…she was safe till then…. She looked down at her arm. There was nothing to be seen there. She rubbed the spot he had held as though to wipe away all remnants of his touch.

She looked at the clock. 12.30. She sighed. If she didn’t get some sleep, she was going to be a wreck the next day.

 She slipped back in to bed, looking enviously at her Jiji who was sleeping soundly, a slight smile on her lips. Why shouldn’t she sleep, thought Khushi, disgruntled. The Rakshas hadn’t kissed Jiji’s palm. If he had, Jiji too would be staying awake with her!

Slowly her lashes fell over exhausted eyes. The sound of the blades of the ceiling fan lulled her in to sleep.

She saw them in the gazebo at midnight, she in the white saree that was threatening to fall down her ankles, standing with her back against the wall, literally and figuratively, the bhootni trapped by the Rakshas.

“You have much to learn about me, Khushi Kumari Gupta…” he drawled. “I never lose. I win, always.” His eyes twinkled with deep delight at cornering her.

Defiant eyes trying to hide her weakness at his nearness rose to his amused, intent ones.

“The loser always has to pay a penalty, Khushi. What will you forfeit?” his soft utterance sent a thrill of dangerous temptation down her spine. She tried to glare at him, covering her susceptibility to him behind her pretense of anger.

“I think…a kiss…” ASR decided.

Her heart leaped out of her chest…in fear of the unknown…in anticipation of the unfamiliar…in fear that the novel pleasure would unman her, break her, shatter her, turn her in to a pool of mush, turn her anger in to addiction, her fright in to fascination….in fear that the interloper would take over her senses, her heart….

He lowered his head. 

She watched his lips coming closer to her face with all the fascination of a mouse for a snake approaching it, gliding sinuously towards it.....

His hot breath stung the soft skin of her right cheek before his hard lips branded her as his own….

Khushi fell out of bed in shock.

She scrambled up and ran to the washroom,  pushing the door open with scant regard to the noise she was making. She splashed cold water on her face with trembling hands, spilling water on to her throat and her chest in her clumsiness.

At the end of the midnight exercise, she stood cold, wet, and gasping in her bathroom, panting, clutching her head. What did she have to do to get him out of her head! Why did that devil have to come to Lucknow and turn her life upside down? She who never compromised on sleep was now wide awake while the rest of the world was snoring merrily!

She hit her forehead with her hand, Buaji style. “He Devi Maiyya, raksha karna!” she pleaded. “Or this man will turn me mad. That is, more mad than I already am. Please, please call him back to Delhi….”

The next day, she crept in to the outhouse of Sheesh Mahal before her time.

Manju Singh looked at her in surprise. “Khushi, you are early today.”

What was the use of sitting at home dreaming of a tall, dark man? It was better to slice bread and crush fruits for juice here! Khushi smiled.

Maybe Devi Maiyya had heard her plea, Khushi thought, feeling hope rise in her mind. She asked, “Manjuji, is Laa…Raizadaji here? Or has he returned to Delhi?”

Manju frowned. Anjaliji had told her that ASR and his brothers had visited the Guptas last evening. “Kyon? Kya hua?”

“N…nothing…”stammered Khushi.

“How was the sangeet yesterday?” Manju leaned forward to see the mehendi pattern on Khushi’s hands and arms.

“Ji, nice.” Khushi smiled. “Are you sure Raizadaji and his brothers are still here?” she asked.

“Yes. Didn’t they visit your family yesterday?” Manju asked, a naughty gleam in her eyes.

“Ji. They attended the sangeet….” Khushi murmured absently. The knife fell from her hand.

“ASR danced?” Manju looked as though she had sighted a UFO.

“No…no…they had dinner with us….” Khushi clarified. She dropped a spoon.

“Kya hua, Khushi? You seem very nervous today.” Manju asked, her mind running in many directions. What had ASR managed to do yesterday to make Khushi Kumari Gupta so fidgety and longing for him to be gone? Had he screamed at her? Or glared at her?

Manju’s phone rang. ASR.

Khushi scooted from the outhouse as though all the hounds of hell were behind her. She ran in to the building that housed many washrooms, and hid there.

5 minutes. She looked at the big clock on the wall.

10 minutes.

If she stayed away longer, Manjuji would send an army to look for her. Slowly, reluctantly, she quit the building, and moved towards the outhouse on leaden feet.

Manju said, “Khushi, ASR wants you in his study. Now.”

Khushi swallowed hard and nodded. But she stood where she was.

“Khushi, he wanted you ten minutes back. Are you going to delay the inevitable further?” Manju was blunt.

“No…Manjuji, let me have  a glass of water. I will go….” she breathed.

 Khushi grabbed a glass of water and sipped it. Slowly.

“Laad Governaar kahin ka…Rakshas…Shaitan…Diliwala khadoos….Akhdoo Singh Raizada…” she chanted beneath her breath to Manju’s amusement.

Soon the water was all gone from the glass and was churning in her tummy. She looked up. Manjuji was looking at her, the expression on her face almost comic.

Khushi drew in a deep breath, and slowly moved towards the door of the outhouse.

ASR looked at the clock. Where was she? Eagerness to see her and fury at not being able to see her roiled in his heart, making him edgy, restless.

He looked at the slow moving needle of the clock. Where the hell was she? As he turned away, his hand hit a file on the table. It fell to the ground, spilling its contents on the floor.

There was a timid knock on the door.

“Come in.” he yelled.

The door opened. There she stood, dressed in a light pink anarkali with a silver hem. The colour added a sheen to the healthy glow of her face, and ASR stood spellbound at the sight.

Khushi looked at him and then at the file lying on the ground.

“Why were you late?” he barked.

Khushi forgot her fear in the face of such a direct attack.

“Why are you so angry?” she asked, looking him in the eye.

“Don’t make me wait, Khushi. Ever.” he growled. “I hate to wait.”

Khushi sighed. “Who likes to wait, Baba?” she asked reasonably. “And what is the use of being so angry and knocking down files and making holes in walls with your stares? Will I get here any faster?” she asked.

“Where were you? Were you talking to NK?” Jealousy corroded his insides like acid.

“NK? Oh, Nanheji? No, I didn’t see him. For your information, I was talking to myself.” Khushi claimed.

Arnav frowned, his heart beat settling at her avowal that she had not been with NK.

“Talking to yourself?” he asked.

“Ji. I was looking at myself in the mirror in the washroom and talking to myself.” she stated.

ASR had to look away to compose himself.

“Don’t get so angry. You will fall sick. As it is you are diabetic. Why do you want to be more sick?” she asked, the very soul of reason.

But reason and an agitated ASR were sworn enemies.

He moved towards her.

She stepped back.

ASR stopped.

She stopped.

ASR stepped forward. 

She stepped back.

 He Devi Maiyya, why is this Rakshas coming towards me? Is he going to kiss my other palm?

Khushi quickly hid her palms behind her back, and stood straight.

ASR looked at her standing with her hands hidden behind her back lest he kiss them, and felt laughter bubbling within him.

“Did you sleep well last night, Khushi?” he asked softly, his husky voice driving all thought from her mind.

The bruises beneath her eyes, the pale face…they told their own tale. He knew her night had been as restless and as eventful as his had been.

Part 12

Lahu Muh Lag Gaya....

Khushi glowered at him.

How dare he ask her if she had slept fine last night when he had not let her shut her eyes for a moment?

A thought rushed in to her mind with lighting speed.

Why was he smirking as if he knew for sure that he had invaded her dreams and made it impossible for her to rest her eyes? Had he peeped in to her bedroom at night and seen her running around trying to keep sleep at bay? She drew in a deep breath, all unsettled. This shaitan from Delhi! He had to come with a sticker of warning taped right across his forehead, Handle With Care!

Anyway, she wouldn’t let him kiss her hands again. She made sure that she had safely kept her hands behind her back, and looked at him, all defiant.

“I slept very well.” she claimed.

“Acha?” asked the wicked devil, smirking. “What did you dream of when you slept?”

Khushi paled as memories rushed through her head.

She said quickly, “Jalebiyaan….”

“You dreamt of jalebi?” he asked, an eyebrow raised in amused enquiry.

“Yes.” she said firmly.

ASR’s lips twisted in an effort to hold back laughter.

“And rabri…and laddoo…and Mittu.” she added, lifting her chin in the air, her hands still hidden.

“And a rakshas, a Laad Governaar….” ASR added, his tone low but determined to make her admit her helpless fascination for him.

Khushi frowned as if all this was news to her.

“Why should I dream of you, Raizadaji, when I have so many other pleasant things to dream of?” she asked, turning her head away, proud of her self-control and inventiveness.

She missed seeing him take the necessary steps to invade her personal space. The first she knew of his nearness was when his hard lips tasted the sweet softness of her plump right cheek.

Khushi jumped back in shock, staring at his intent, hot eyes with wide, astonished ones. She cupped her abused cheek with her right hand.

“What…what did you do?” she gasped, her voice a mere thread.

“What do you think I did? I kissed you.” ASR claimed victoriously, his eyes glinting in triumph and delight at finally having gotten the chance to savour the softness of her tempting cheek.

“You…you…” Khushi was lost for words. But not for action.

She grabbed the paper weight off his table and threw it at him. He ducked gracefully. It hit the wall and fell harmlessly to the carpeted floor.

He smiled.

She threw his files at him. They fell to the floor before they reached him. 

He smiled.

She picked up his mobile phone and slung it at him. He caught it with all the dexterity of Sehwag.

He smiled.

She looked around, frothing at the mouth. He and his smirk! She would show him what he could do with his smirk! What could she throw at him now? She scanned the room eagerly. His laptop was too heavy. The chair…the table…she couldn’t throw any of them.

She looked him in the eye, and bit out. “My face is not a municipal corporation road for you to travel along it as and when you please!”

ASR burst out laughing.

Khushi could not bear his mirth at her expense any longer.

She threw the only object left at him. It was her own phone. It hit him squarely on his chest, fell to the ground, and broke into 3 pieces.

His laughter died down. Both of them stood looking at the remnants of what had once been a mobile phone.

ASR said, “Khushi, you broke your own phone.” Laughter was hidden beneath the surface of the words.

Khushi looked at him, her eyes like those of a mad bull at the sight of  a red cloth.

“You Laad Governaar! How dare you touch me? Who do you think you are?” Khushi began.

“Arnav Singh Raizada.” ASR stood straight and tall, trying to impress her with his imposing figure.

She was not in the least impressed.

“Aap Arnav Singh Raizada honge apne ghar me, apne kapde ke dukaan me, apne Dilli-Billi mein, but not in my Lucknow, not to me.” she declared, giving reason a good miss.

ASR straightened his lips that had a tendency to curve in to a smile in her presence. “I am Arnav Singh Raizada everywhere.” he said simply.

Khushi frowned at the voice of reason.

“Maybe. But you are no body to me. No body. No one. Samjhe aap?” she asked.

“Acha?” ASR asked sceptically.

“Who are you to take hold of my arm? Who gave you permission to…to….”

“To?” ASR asked, his eyebrow quirked.

“To…” she lowered her lashes, lifted them, and tried to avoid his eyes. “…to give chumban on my palm…or my cheek?” she managed to speak through her frozen throat.

“To give what?” ASR asked. “Chumban? What is that?” His eyes twinkled.

She gave him a hot cross look that could kill him if he were not made of cast iron.

“You know very well what that means, you… you… Shaitan!” Khushi fumed. “Is this the way you behave with all girls who work in your stupid dukaan? Take hold of their hand, chase them in the dark….” She was too angry to continue.

“And give…what was it? Yes, chumban, give chumban on their palm and cheeks.” ASR teased her, his face expressionless, his eyes loving her anger.

“I am not your Dilliwali girlfraand for you to do badtameezi with!” Khushi declared. “I am Khushi Kumari Gupta.”

“Jalebi Bai of Lucknow.” ASR nodded. “I know.”

“You know? What do you know? You know nothing! You have no akal, no tameez. Here, we don’t…we don’t give …give chumban to every girl and boy who passes by.” Khushi bit out.

“Acha? For whom are you saving your chumban?” ASR asked, his arms crossed to stop himself from hauling her infuriated form in to his eager hold.

“For my woh!” Khushi said.

“Who?” ASR frowned.

“My…my husband. Matlab, when I marry, I will have a husband…”

“And you will give him all your chumban…” ASR concluded, smirking.

“Don’t smile at me. How dare you smile at me?” Khushi asked, angry. “I will not stay here one moment longer! You can make your own pusta and your soup and your sandwiches and eat them. I am going home!” Khushi declared.

“Khushi!” ASR called, alarmed. “You can’t do that!”

“Can’t I? Watch me carefully and learn. I will show you how I can do it!” Khushi declared.

“Khushi, you are an employee here!” he reminded her.

“So?” she asked.

“You can’t leave me…AR Designs like this.” he tried to stop her. “Khushi, you will regret this. I will….”

Khushi placed her hands on her hips and glowered at him. “You will…? What will you do except watch me walk away?” she asked. “Babua, this is Lucknow, not your stupid Delhi full of wimps wearing coat, boot, and suit. If you try something with me, kheenchke kaan ke neeche maaroongi. And all my chachas and mamas and bhaiyyas will line up outside your cloth factory and beat you black and blue.” she threatened.

ASR stared at her. “Really! You don’t know me, Khushi Kumari Gupta!” he threatened.

“Ji. And this Khushi Kumari Gupta does not want to know you. I took up the job to cook for you because you came to my house and won over my family. I did not write away my life to you. My life is my own. I am as free as Mittu. Let me see how you try to stop me from leaving!” she challenged him.

He stepped closer to her, his fists clenched. How dare she try to leave him? 

He Devi Maiyya, Raksha Karna! She moved back.

 She pointed a shaking finger at him. “Don’t come closer to me.” She warned him. “If I tell my friends all the ghatiya things you did to me…”

“What will they do?” Fury filled his voice and eyes. “Who will dare to question me?”

“Nobody will bother to question you. They will hit you first and ask questions later.” Khushi explained. "They will separate your Arnav, Singh, and Raizada."

ASR took one more step towards her.

Khushi, realising that retreat was the best part of valour, turned and ran for her life.

After one moment of shocked stillness, ASR ran after her.

“Khushi!”

“Go away!”

“Khushi, stop! Let me talk to you.”

“Talk to yourself. I don’t want to see you again, you ghatiya Shaitan!”

“Khushi!” 

“Go back to Delhi, you Akhdoo Rakshas!”

“Khushi!”

“Don’t Khushi me, you Laad Governaar! Coming all the way to Lucknow to steal my sleep and my chain!” Khushi shouted as she ran out of Sheesh Mahal.

Anjali, Aman, Akash, NK, and Manju watched Khushi running away from Sheesh Mahal, and ASR runing after her.

As they watched, Khushi flagged down a rickshaw, jumped in to it, and went away in a cloud of smoke.

ASR was left standing by the road, his arm in the air, trying to summon Khushi back.

The spectators to this rare, spectacular vision looked at each other.

“Iss pyaar ko kya naam doon?” NK asked, baffled.

“Jhagda!” Manju quipped.

All laughed.

Part 13

For Segad. Did you think I forgot?

Buaji watched Khushi leap out of the rickshaw and run in to the house.

“Kaa hua, Titliyaa?” she asked.

But Khushi had no time to waste. She flashed past poor Buaji like lightning and ran in to her room.

Buaji fell on to the cot in the courtyard, her hand on her head. “Hai Re Nandkisore! Why is she running so fast? Which wasp has dared to bite my Titliyaa?”

“Kaa hua, Jiji?” Garima asked, perplexed.

“Your Khussi is participating in a 100m running race. Or a wasp has bitten her.” Buaji informed Garima. “Or she is running towards the bathroom. I don’t know which.”

Garima stared at Buaji and then at the shut door of Khussi’s bedroom, wondering what was going on.

The ladies were not left in speculation for much longer. 

Brakes squealed as ASR’s luxury car came to a screeching stop before Gomti Sadan.

Buaji and Garima watched as ASR walked in to the courtyard, striding forward on his long legs.

“Arnav Babua, kaa hua?” Buaji asked, worried. “Did Sanka Devi burn down Sheesh Mahal?”

“Sab theek to he na, bitwaa?” Garima asked, a frown on her forehead.

“Haan. Nothing is wrong.” Arnav comforted the ladies. “I just wanted to see Khushi. To talk about work….”

“Acha….” The two ladies smiled in relief.

Garima called out, “Khussi! Khussi! Arnav Babua has come to see you. Come out of the bedroom.”

Khushi stared at herself in her mirror with eyes that looked like saucers. The Rakshas was here. He had reached her home to haunt and hound her further! She looked around, frantic. The open window beckoned.

“Titliyyaa!” Buaji called, her sweet voice hurting ASR’s ears. “Why are you hiding in your room like a new bride? Shall I bring a palanquin to escort you out, Nandkisore?”

ASR looked at the door of Khushi’s room. It remained steadfastly shut.

“That’s OK, Amma, Buaji. I will meet her later. It is not important.” ASR said. It was no use hanging around, he knew. The bird had flown the coop.

He said his goodbyes and withdrew from the scene. 

As he was about to drive away, his eyes fell on the house next door. Preetho’s house! Khushi must be there. Where else could she go? ASR thought hopefully.

He alighted, his heart thudding, and made his silent way in to the house where he had enjoyed the sight of Khushi dancing. If only she were here….

The front door was left wide open and there was no one in sight. ASR paused at the step, hesitating to walk in to the house with no warning. He couldn’t knock. If Khushi was there, it would send her running again.

He looked around. There was absolutely no sign of life, no one to invite him in. he would have to barge in. There was no other way if he had to reach Khushi.

He walked in to the house. The courtyard…the living room…the dining hall…the kitchen…a small passage leading to a bedroom…all were empty.

He looked around.

There was an old lady sleeping on the cot.

ASR frowned. He couldn’t very well shake her awake to ask after his bhootni.

His ears cocked, his eyes widened. The radio was playing in some room on the first floor and Mittu & Khushi were singing along.

Badtameez dil, badtameez dil, badtameez dil

Maane na maane na….

He ran up the steps, taking care not to make a sound and warn Mittu’s friend who was singing with her.

Yeh jo haal hai, sawaal hai, kamaal hai
Jaane na jaane na…

Badtameez dil, battameez dil, badtameez dil
Maane naa maane naa...

He stopped at the door of the room.

Khushi was dancing and singing with Mittu perched on her shoulder, safe from ASR, the Khadoos Rakshas imported from Delhi. He would drink Buaji's chai, listen to her Hai Re Nandkisores and go back to Sheesh Mahal emptyhanded! Khushi smiled.

As he watched, the song came to an end, and Khushi dropped a kiss on Mittu’s head.

Mittu tittered in pleasure.

“Mittu Rani, my Mittu Rani!” Khushi crooned.

Mittu cackled, pleased, and flew over her head.

The radio announced, “Geetha, Seetha, and Irfan from Ramgarh, Sheela and Munni from Besharampur, Rani, Raja, and Chottu from Allahabad farmaaish ki he to listen to this beautiful classic.”

Khushi clapped her hands as she watched Mittu flying over and around her head, laughing in delight. She didn’t see the Rakshas till he caught hold of her arm. She turned startled eyes to his stern face and determined eyes eating her up.

Baiyaa na dharo, o balma…

Na karo mose raar….

She gasped. “Aap!”

“Did you think I would let you go, Khushi?” he bit out in desperation.

“Shaitan, Shaitan!” cried Mittu, flying over their heads.

He pulled her deep in to his arms, folding her arm behind her back and forcing her against him, her chest against his, her face near his. He looked down in to her eyes, liquid pools of confusion and panic.

Dhalegi chunariya tan se

Hansengi re chudiyaan chhan se....

Her glass bangles broke and fell to the ground, but ASR retained his tight grasp on her arm. She was not slipping from his hands again.

Machegi jhankaar

Baiyyan na dharo o balma…

“You broke my choodi!” she complained softly, her voice catching. How to breathe when each breath pushed her in to closer contact with him?

“How dare you leave me, Khushi!” he whispered, loving the touch of her fast breath on his face, relieved that she was finally where she was supposed to be...in his arms.

“Balma…Balma…” Mittu sang, perching on a beam and looking down at them, wondering at the strange mating rituals of homo sapiens.

  

Mohe chhodo haay sajna…

“Chodiye hamein!” Khushi whispered. “Dadi will wake up.”

“Let her.” ASR declared.

Diya sees uthaye sajna

Raha mohe nihaar...

“What are you doing here, Raizadaji?” Khushi hissed. 

She did not wait for an answer, but tried to free her arm, squirming against him in her war for independence.

Baiyyan na dharo o balma….

ASR pushed his face closer to hers.

“I am Arnav Singh Raizada.” he breathed against her face.

“So?” she asked, frowning, trying to twist her arm free. “Does that give you the right to trap girls and….”

“Everything happens the way I want it to, Khushi Kumari Gupta. You will return to work for me.” he ordered.

“Says who?” Khushi asked.

“Says me, the Rakshas in your dreams.” ASR countered, looking deeply in to her eyes with devilish intent.

Khushi paled.  Her dreams!

Main to aap behki behki

Chalun jaise mehki mehki…

He freed her arm and pulled her tight against himself with one arm around her waist. He lifted his right arm and gently touched her cheek with one finger.

Chameliyan ki daar…

Khushi shut her eyes, unable to bear the torture of his touch.

Baiyyan na dharo o balma

Na karo mose raar…

The pleasure was too much for her to bear, worse than the kisses on her palm and cheek. The kisses had been unexpected and she had not been given the opportunity to enjoy them. But the caress on her cheek was slow, his warm, rough finger trailing down her cheek from the cheekbone down…down…down to the curve of her lips!

Khushi panicked.

Baiyyan na dharo o balma….

Khushi stamped ASR on his foot as hard as she could make it!

ASR jumped, wincing. His arms fell away from her in shock.

“What the!” he exclaimed.

“What the! What the!” Mittu chirped, turning around the beam in circles.

“How…how dare you touch me!” Khushi asked after moving towards the door, a safe distance away from him. She was panting after her exertions.

ASR glared at her.

“I will file a case against you, you…you Arnav Singh Raizada! Trapping me where ever I go, not letting me dance, breaking my choodi, invading my dreams and not letting me sleep in peace! How dare you, you Akhdoo Singh Raizada!”

ASR stared at her, his heart leaping in joy.

Khushi was not finished yet.

“Who asked you to come to Lucknow?” she asked him, her brows raised. “Who invited you? Had you finished torturing all the girls in Delhi that you had to come to Lucknow to find new victims? And why do you wear dark glasses all the time? Are you blind? Shall I give you a stick to find the way?”

“Khushi!” Arnav tried to get a word in edgeways. But Khushi was on a roll.

“What did I do to you that you are picking on me all the time? Did I steal your clothes from your shop? Did I drive away your grahak? Did I tell them, don’t buy clothes from Arnav Singh Raizada’s shop. He is bad tempered and khadoos. Buy sweets from my Babuji’s shop? Did I?” she wiggled her brows.

ASR shook his head in the negative, meekly.

“All I did was listen to my Babuji when he said, Khussi, go to Arnav Babua’s shop and cook for him. After all, he is a guest to Lucknow. We can’t let him eat oily food as he has shakkar ki bimari! Why are you punishing me for helping you?”

“Khushi!”

“Besharam kahin ka! Badtameez! You take your anger and your badtameezi and get on the train to Delhi if you can fit all three of you on one train.” Khushi declared.

“Khushi, marry me!” ASR demanded.

“Besharam! Be is for Beimaan
Sha is for Shaitaan
Rum pee ke jeete hum
BESHARAM!” Mittu cried, dancing on the beam.

Part 14

Khushi stared at him, her mouth open. “What for?” she finally asked.

ASR swallowed. How could he tell her why she had to marry him? If he could get her to marry him without having to confess his feelings for her….

But he didn’t have to worry. Khushi had no time to wait for answers. She was too busy asking questions. She quickly switched off the radio that was playing the advertisement for Nirma Washing Powder, and lit in to him.

“We met in the market. You dragged me to my house and forced my family in to forcing me to work for you. Then you tried to give ch…chumban to my hand and cheek…and when I left your job, you came all the way after me to force me to work for you again.” She placed her hand on her head, trying to make sense of what was happening in her messed-up life. “And when I asked you to go away, you want to marry me? Pagal he aap?” she asked solicitously. “Does Anjaliji know?”

“Don’t talk to me like that!” ASR tried to block her from delving deep  in to his illogical actions and unreasonable demands by putting on his cold face.

Khushi placed her hands on her waist and challenged him. “Hum aise talk karenge to aap kya kar lenge?”

ASR was always like a bomb ready to go off. But Khushi was perhaps the only person on earth who could claim to have frustrated ASR to such an extent that he was tempted to pull out his hair with his bare hands and roll on the floor in a childish display of temper, but the irritant was supremely unaware of her inborn potential and innate talent for disrupting his life.

“Khushi! Don’t tempt me to become badtameez….” ASR threatened her through gritted teeth.

Her response to his threat was unexpected.

She burst out laughing. “Can you be more badtameez than you have been so far?”

“Khushi!” He clenched his fists.

Khushi said, placatingly. “Ok, Baba. I agree.”

ASR’s heart did a pole vault. She was willing to marry him, throw in her lot with him?

“I agree.  You are the most badtameez man on earth. You can be very, very badtameez. Your name is included in the Guinness Book as the most badtameez man in India. Ab khush?”

ASR stared at her, the wind taken out of his sails, a familiar feeling in Khushi’s presence.

ASR gathered his senses together. “Khushi, I want your answer. Now.” he demanded.

Khushi frowned. “Are you my teacher? Am I giving an exam? Who are you to ask me for answers?”

ASR’s mouth fell open. “Khushi!”

Khushi frowned. “Jab dekho Khushi, Khushi! Yeh Khushi Khushi ka kya rat laga rakha he?”

ASR looked heavenwards for patience and self-control. “Khushi, I am asking you to marry me.”

“Why?” It was a cry from her heart. “Why should I marry you? You are always angry and never cheerful, you are from Delhi and not from my Lucknow, you are not a halwai, you hurt my arm every time we meet….” Khushi listed her grievances. “Then why should I marry you?”

ASR swallowed, seeing the thorny path ahead of him. He should have started AR Sweets rather than AR Designs. It would have earned him more brownie points with her. Would it count in his favour if he started a sweet shop now?

“And why are you asking me? Who am I to decide whom I will marry? Woh sab is the responsibility of my family. I have nothing to do with fixing my marriage.” Khushi neatly washed her hands off the whole issue. “Asking me to marry him. Who does he think I am?”

ASR looked at her, his jaw dropping at her announcement.

“Khushi! Will you let your parents choose your groom?” he managed to ask.

“Not just my parents. My Buaji too.” Khushi declared.

“Khushi, will you live with a stranger…Khushi, will you be able to share…Khushi….” He stared at her, seeing her uncomprehending look with a sense of frustration. “Khushi, will you give your…all your chumban to a stranger?”

Khushi frowned at him. But only for a moment. “But he won’t be a stranger when I marry him.” she responded cheerfully. “We will meet many times before marriage. And my family will select only a good boy for me. Hamein vishwas he unpe.”

“Khushi!” He was at his wits’ end.

“Do you know what kind of boy he will be?” Khushi asked.

ASR looked at her, almost fearful of her next statement.

“He will have a big moustache.” Khushi said cheerfully. 

(Thank u, aruni50218)

 Was it too late to grow a mush? ASR asked himself.

“And he will have red lips!” Khushi declared.

ASR frowned. “He will wear lipstick?”

“Why should he wear lipistick? Is he one of your patli patli models who eat cabbage leaves?” Khushi asked, challenge in her eyes. 

ASR looked at her, waiting with bated breath. 

“Paan khaye Saiyya hamaro

Sawari suratiyaa, hont laal laal!

Haiyye haiyye malmal ka kurta

Malmal ke kurte pe cheent laal laal!” Khushi sang cheerfully.

Mittu whistled her contribution to Khushi’s vocal performance.

ASR looked at her with horror in his eyes. “You really want to marry a man who chews paan?”

“Or a paanwala!” Khushi giggled. “Just think what a match it would be, Raizadaji! Halwai and paanwala! I will give him sweets, and he will give me paan!” She lowered her head in pseudo bashfulness.

He should have gone to Benares to learn paanmaking instead of going to Harvard for his MBA! he thought, his heart sinking.

“Khaike paan Banaraswala

Khul jaye band akal ka taala!” sang Mittu.

“Khushi! How can you let your family decide whom you should marry?” ASR asked, sweating.

“Why can’t I?” Khushi asked.

“Khushi! It is your life! Your future!” ASR tried to make her understand the enormity of her decision. “You and only you have the right to choose your future, Khushi! How can you let your family decide whom you will marry?”

“Easily. As easily as they adopted me when I was ten.” Khushi said, smiling.

“What?” ASR was dumbfounded.

Khushi sighed. “My parents died in an accident when I was ten. My mother’s sister gave me shelter in her husband’s home. I call her Amma today. Her husband is my Babuji. His daughter is my jiji. His sister is my Buaji.” She looked directly in to his eyes. “They did not ask my permission before giving me a roof over my head and food to eat. They don’t need to ask my permission before fixing my marriage.”

ASR stared at her in shock.

“Khushi, you are an orphan?” he asked, his heart melting, aching with sympathy.

“No, not now. I was an orphan.” Khushi declared firmly. “Have you finished your interview? I want to go home.”

“Khushi…” ASR asked, his throat still choked at the thought of Khushi as a ten year old orphan.

“Ji?” She was impatient to be gone.

“Khushi….?”

“Ji?” What was wrong with this Rakshas man? Why was he chanting her name? And she was hungry. What had Amma made today?

ASR thought furiously. 

“You will marry any man your family chooses?” he asked, brains in full gear and hope budding in his heart.

Mittu muttered in her sleep, “It is just the question of a question,

Ek sawaal ka sawaal he!

Duniya badal de saari

Sahi sawaal ka yahi kamaal he!”

“Ji.” Khushi replied, hunger preoccupying her.

“Whoever he might be?” ASR confirmed.

“Ji, Ji.”

“Promise?” ASR asked.

“Why should I promise you anything?” Khushi asked, grimacing. “You are Dilli’s diabetic shehenshah. I am Lucknow’s sweet Jalebi Bai. You will go away to Delhi after making the models walk on stilt-like chappals in Lucknow. I will marry my paanwala and live here in peace!”

“Let’s see.” ASR challenged, his heart beating fast. He had to make his move now.

“Jab dekhne keliye kuch hoga nahi, to aap kya dekhenge?” Khushi asked, an eyebrow in air.

 (Thank u, aruni50218)

“Let’s see if the paanwala is able to visit you in your dreams, Khushi Kumari Gupta!” ASR smirked as he left the room. 

 

Part 15

“Di!” ASR marched in to Sheesh Mahal.

Anjali lifted her eyes from the documents to look at her Chotey standing near the door. “Kya he, Chotey? Can’t you see I am working?” she asked, preoccupied.

“Di, I want to get married.” ASR declared.

“Theek he. Do it.” Anjali turned her eyes back to the papers, frowning.

Aman stared at the brother-sister duo with shocked eyes, beyond speech.

There was one moment of silence. Then Anjali gasped and raised saucer-like eyes to look at her brother. “Ch…Chotey? What did you say? Just now?”

“I want to get married.” ASR proclaimed.

Anjali nodded. “I thought so….. Chotey, it is…it is Khushiji, isn’t it?” She couldn’t be sure. Chotey was nothing if not unpredictable.

“Of course it is Khushi. Di, come with me. We need to go to Khushi’s house and book her before some paanwala comes and stakes his claim.” ASR proclaimed.

Anjali gaped at him and turned to look at Aman.

“He thinks he is submitting some tender for roadwork.” Aman said out of the side of his mouth.

Anjali choked. “Or booking a seat.” she said softly for Aman’s ears.

“Or bookmarking a page.” Aman added, hiding his glad laughter.

“Or buying a ticket.” Anjali giggled softly.

“Where did the paanwala come from?” Aman asked, curious about ASR’s rival for the Lucknow beaauty’s attention.

“God only knows what goes on in this boy’s head!” Anjali sighed.

“Di, come with me!” ASR was his usual impatient self. “Now.”

Anjali sighed. “Chotey, you want to marry Khushiji, right? Not elope with her?”

“I want to marry her.” ASR stated.

“Does she want to marry you?” Anjali asked a very pertinent question.

“Not now. But she will want to. After we approach her parents with a proposal.” ASR declared shortly.

Anjali frowned, perplexed. What kind of love was this?

“She will marry any man her parents approve of. Even if he is a paanwala or chudiwala or parrot seller or channawala. I want to get there before anyone else does.” ASR explained, not realising how much amusement he was providing his listeners.

“So this love is a running race!” Aman quipped softly.

“ASR has to pip the others at the post to win the fair damsel’s hand in marriage!”

Anjali choked with laughter, but managed to keep a straight face. She said, “Chotey, if we have to go to the Guptas with your proposal, Nani, Mami, & Mama should be with us.”

ASR frowned at the delay.

“I will phone them with the news. You make arrangements to bring them here at the earliest.” Anjali planned.

“Yes.” ASR pulled his phone out of the pocket to put his minions to work.

“Chotey, will the Guptas be willing to marry off their daughter to a boy from Delhi? They might prefer someone from Lucknow, someone who won’t take their daughter away from them….” Anjali had to ask.

ASR paled.

Aman said quickly, “Anjaliji, these days people are willing to marry off their daughters to boys working abroad. And Delhi is not in another country or on another planet. It is just half a day’s journey from Lucknow.”

Anjali nodded quickly and smiled at her Chotey. “I will call Nani & the others now.”

ASR left the room to make the travel arrangements.

“Di!” Akash called hesitantly.

“Hhmmm?” Anjali asked. Her attention was on her phone as she searched for RM’s phone number on her mobile.

“I want to talk to you.” he said, blushing.

Aman quickly left the room, lugging his laptop behind him. He did not have the guts to listen to two confessions from the Raizada boys in one day.

“Di, I…I…Can you speak to Mate for me?” Akash asked, his face red.

“About what?” Anjali was perplexed.

“Khushiji…” Akash struggled to get the words out.

Anjali clutched her heart and dropped in to a chair. “You too!”

“Di, kya hua?” Akash rushed to her.

Anjali panted. “Akash, you and Khushiji…?”

Akash frowned.

“You…you love Khushiji?” Anjali whispered in shock.

Akash blushed. “No, Khushiji's sister, Payalji.”

Anjali fell back in relief. “Oh, Payalji!”

“Di, will you please talk to Mate about me and Payalji?” Akash asked, his face lowered in shyness.

Anjali smiled weakly. “Yes, I will. I am going to call RM now. Akash, ask NK Bhai if he too has found someone. Then one call will do to fix three weddings!” 

Khushi peeled a potato violently, imagining that it was Arnav Singh Raizada.

“Kya hua, Khushi?” Payal asked.

“Nothing, Jiji. Ek Shaitan yaad aa gaya.” Khushi muttered.

“Kya?” Payal asked.

“Nothing!” Khushi smiled.

Payal went away shaking her head at Khushi’s pagalpan.

“Arnav Singh Raizada! I have peeled you. Now I am going to cut you in to little pieces and put you in a pan with lots of spices! Ha! Let me see how you like the chillies!” Khushi smirked, her eyes glinting with an evil light.

“Hai Re Nandkisore! You are talking to an aloo?” Buaji asked. “I agree that its’ cost has gone up in recent days, but why do you have to threaten it? It is not the aloo’s fault!” Buaji hit her head with her hand. “Garima! Dekho! Your daughter has become totally pagal. She is talking to aloo these days! Find out the address to Agra’s pagalkhana. Looks like her doli is going to go there.”

Garima came rushing in to the room. “Khussi, Preetho’s mother is asking for you and Payaliya. Go over as soon as possible. The wedding is tomorrow and there is a lot of work to be done!”

“Ji, Amma.” Khushi said obediently.

“Buaji!”

Buaji, who had been about to follow Garima in to their house, turned around at the call.

“Arnav Babua? At this late hour? Kaa hua, Nandkisore! Are you alright?” she asked anxiously.

“I am fine, Buaji. I wanted you to meet my family.” he said.

Buaji looked at the army standing behind him. “Please come in, come in!” Buaji welcomed the Raizadas in.

“Garima, dekho kaun aaye he!” she hollered. “Sasi Babua, tanik idhar aao!”

Garima & Sasi Gupta came to the living room.

“This is my Nani, Devyani Raizada. This is my Mama, Manohar Singh Raizada, my Mami, Manorama Raizada. You know my Di and two brothers, Akash & NK.”

“Ji, ji….” the Guptas said, folding their hands in greeting.

Arnav introduced the Guptas to the Raizadas.

Mami asked, “You hab two daathers (daughters) too, don’t you, Hello Hi Bye Bye?”

“Ji.” Garima said, a wary eye on Mami's multi-colour eyelids. “Today was Preetho’s wedding. She is our neighbour. The bidai was half-an-hour back. Payaliyaa and Khussi are helping her family with the arrangements.”

The Raizadas smiled. 

ASR stole a glance at the door. When would Khushi come in? 

Nani began, smiling “Sasiji, Garimaji, Madhumatiji, we have come with two wedding proposals for your daughters.”

The Guptas looked at each other in astonishment.