186. OS 9: The Diabetic and the Halwai (Part 5)

Darlings,

I finally published my romantic novel, A HOME FOR MEENAKSHI on a self-publishing site. It is an e-book. You can purchase it and read it at your leisure. Here's the link. Enjoy!

http://pothi.com/pothi/book/ebook-smita-ramachandran-home-meenakshi

http://pothi.com/pothi/book/ebook-smita-ramachandran-home-meenakshi

Link to e-book

http://pothi.com/pothi/book/ebook-smita-ramachandran-home-meenakshi

Part 5

She went to his room a couple of hours later to fight. She paused before pushing open the door.

What if he was still unclothed? Last time he had been just shirtless. What if he didn’t have the pants too this time? She gulped and knocked gently on the door like a good girl with impeccable manners.

There was no response.

Khushi frowned and tried again. Why was he not playing fair when she had mended her behaviour?

He didn’t open the door.

A horrible thought flashed through her mind. What if he was lying unconscious in the room? What if her pijja had made him ill? Abandoning her newfound manners by the wayside, she pushed open the door.

He was lying on the green diwan near the window, thankfully fully dressed.

Khushi tiptoed to him and looked at the easy rise and fall of his chest. He was asleep. She heaved a sigh of relief.

He was asleep. Khushi frowned.

He was asleep? After driving her crazy with his pijja and his lack of response, he was asleep? She placed her hands on her hips and looked at his face with cross eyes.

“Haiyye! Look at him!” Khushi exclaimed. “He looks like a nice, innocent baccha when asleep. It is only when he wakes up that he plots to fool me. His pijja and his challenge! The devil! Let him wake up. I will show him who Khushi Kumari Gupta is!”

She turned and walked out of the room.

Arnav opened his eyes and smiled. He better rest and conserve his energy to face the next pijja-like bomb she was going to throw at him, he mused.

His smile widened. His life was changing for the better.

Khushi walked up to Arnav’s room in the evening with a tray in her hands. It held a cup of tea. She looked anxiously at the dark liquid. Should she have added more milk to it? Would the colour give away the fact that she had spiced it up with pepper, lots of pepper?

“Khushiji?” Akash called, leaving his brother’s room.

“Err..I..I brought tea,” she stammered.

Akash looked at the single cup on the tray.

“Err..your tea is downstairs,” Khushi explained quickly. “All are waiting for you in the dining room.”

Akash pushed his specs up the bridge of his nose. “Shall I take it in for bhai?” Akash looked at the tray.

“Ji, ji,” Khushi smiled, relieved. She pushed the tray into Akash’s hands and ran down.

“Bhai, tea,” Akash called as he placed the tray by a reclining Arnav.

Arnav stretched after a restful nap filled with pleasant dreams of a smiling Khushi.

He looked at the single cup on the tray. A warning tingled down his spine, his instincts working overtime.

“Where is yours?” he asked.

“In the dining room,” Akash replied.

"Who brought this?” Arnav asked, knowing the answer.

“Khushiji,” Akash replied.

A smile quirked Arnav’s lips. “Go and have your tea, Akash. I will come down for dinner,” he said.

After Akash left him, Arnav carefully dipped a finger in the steaming liquid and tasted it.

His eyes watered, his tongue burned. He quickly disposed off the tea and drank glass after glass of cool water from the earthern pot in the room.

Khushi looked up eagerly at the stairs. Would he shout for help? Drop the cup? Thrilled at her own inventiveness, she hugged herself. The tea would do its job.

“Arnav Singh Raizada and his veg pijja! Hmmmpppffff,” she snorted. He would think twice before he even looked at her!

She chuckled at her own smartness.

“Khushi, why are you laughing?” Payal asked, a look of suspicion on her face.

Khushi wiped off her smile with great difficulty. “Nothing, Jiji,” she replied, batting her eyelids to establish her innocence.

Payal’s frown intensified.

“Kaa he, Nandkisore?” Buaji asked.

“Khushi is up to something,” Payal passed judgement.

“Hai Re Nandkisore!” Buaji exclaimed. “What have you done now?”

Khushi put her hands on her hips. “Why do you always assume that I am up to no good?” she asked, her lips pursed.

“Because you often are?” Payal asked.

Before Khushi could retaliate, Mamiji, Nani and Anjali joined them.

“Buaji, I was thinking of going to the temple,” Anjali smiled.

“Acha he, acha he, Nandkisore. Jao, jao. Take Payaliyya with you. Khussi, will you go with them?” Buaji asked.

“I have to go to the shop, Buaji,” Khushi replied, gulping down her tea. She had wasted too much time on the pijja, the pijja man and his gut-burning tea.

“She and her shop,” Buaji muttered. “They were born together from her mother’s womb.”

All laughed.

Khushi narrowed her eyes at Buaji.

“Don’t growl at me, you Sanka Devi,” Buaji retorted. “Other girls will marry boys and start their lives. You will sit here hugging this shop to your heart.”

Before Khushi could reiterate her love for her shop, Mamiji stepped in. “Bhere are the shops phor shopping?” she asked. “I have to buy kajal, bindi, rouge, jhumka...” Her list was never-ending.

“Manorama!” Nani chided her. What would the Guptas think of Manorama?

But Mami had no such worries. “Saasumma, I am Manorama Raijjada. I have to be tip-taap.”

As the ladies discussed the best shops, Khushi went to her Satwik Mishtaan Bhandar where her boys were waiting for her. She spared a worried look in the direction of Arnav's room as she left.

Why hadn't he called out? Had he drunk the tea? Had he dropped in a dead faint, overpowered by the goodness of her pepper tea?