194 OS 10 An Unexpected Visitor

Maar dala!

Part 2

Arnav looked at the sweet, enquiring face lifted up to his, his mouth open.

“Kahiye na, do you have a girlfriend?” she asked again.

“Er...no,” he muttered.

Her face fell. “Not even one?” she asked in disappointment.

Her open disenchantment with him amused him.

“No, not even one,” he smiled.

“Why not?” she asked openly.

“No time,” he admitted.

“No time? How can you have no time to have a girlfriend?” she scoffed. “The hero of my serial is working all twenty-four hours but still has the time to have do-do girlfriends,” she claimed.

Arnav chuckled. “That is the difference between real & reel life,” he remarked.

She snorted. “How can you call the life shown in the serial as reel life? My hero has life and blood, relations, feelings, mostly anger. It is real, as real as you and me, as real as this evening,” she said as she pointed out at the evening sky.

Suddenly all the fairylights decorating his garden lit up as they usually did in the evenings of the days leading to Diwali.

Khushi gasped.

He looked at her wonder-struck face and then at his garden. It looked magical, mysterious, a land for fairies to tread gently on dew drops...but not more beautiful than her face.

 He looked at her delighted and expectant face.

“Fairylights,” she breathed.

“Yes,” he muttered. “Di makes it a point to do this for a week before Diwali every year.”

She abandoned his tea mug and leaped out of bed. She ran to the glass door leading to his garden and disappeared through it.

He rushed out after her.

She was standing by the pool, her hands clasped to her chest.

“Is the Rabba Ve over?” he asked.

“Yes, yes,” she murmured. “Aap ko pata he, your house is very romantic,” she praised him.

His eyes wide, he turned to look at his bare room. She was calling this pagalkhana romantic?

“Just imagine, Arnavji, how wonderful it would be if my hero and heroine were here in this beautiful garden!” she sighed. She spread her arms as if she were a bird and spun around and around.

“Khushi, dhyan se,” he cautioned her.

She spun around laughing, “I have learned kathak, Arnavji. I have balance,” she laughed before falling into the cool pool with a plop.

Her laughter ceased as she swallowed water.

“Khushi,” he cried weakly.

“Arnavji,” she choked. “I know only kathak, not swimming,” she admitted, floundering in the water.

Arnav threw her a horrified look, threw off his shoes and quickly eased into the water. He waded up to her and caught hold of her arms and lifted her to stand on his feet.

“My legs are threatening to float away,” Khushi discovered.

“Don’t worry. They won’t go anywhere without your permission,” he comforted her.

Khushi caught hold of his wet shoulders with frantic hands.

“Do you still want the hero and heroine in the garden?” Arnav asked, smiling at her wet kitten look.

“Yes, but not in the water,” Khushi shivered as wind rustled the leaves of the trees in his garden.

He chuckled. “Let’s get you out of here,” he said, slowly inching towards the edge of the pool.

A knock sounded on the door.

Arnav and Khushi looked at each other in horror.

“Buaji,” Khushi whispered.

“Di,” he murmured.

The door opened and Anjali, Buaji, Mami and Nani came into the bedroom.

“Chotey,” Anjali called.

“Khussi?” Buaji called.

“Did you see a missing Khussi?” Mami asked. “Arnav bitwaa, bhere are yous?”

Arnav sighed. “Mami, Di, we are here.”

The ladies rushed to the pool to stand staring at the sight of the recluse and the wanderer standing neck-deep in water.

“Chotey,” Nani could say little more.

But Buaji could. “O Sanka Devi,” she began.

“Buaji,” Khushi’s teeth chattered as she tried to make her Buaji understand that she was not at fault.

“Is this your bathroom, Parmeswari?” Buaji asked, rolling her eyes.

“Buaji,” Khushi swallowed some of the pool water.

“And how did you manage to knock this poor bitwaa into the pool, Nandkisore?” Buaji asked, her hands on her hips.

“Chotey, kya hua?” Anjali asked, a worried look in her eyes.

“Di, Buaji,” Arnav explained. “Khushi lost her way.”

“Oh,” Anjali heaved a sigh of relief.

“I am not surprised, Nandkisore,” Buaji commented. “She walks about with her head in the clouds all day long.”

“But how did she lose her way into the poolwa? That ijj my kwestion,” Mami pondered loudly.

“Let’s get her out,” Arnav suggested diplomatically, hoping that no one would see the tray of tea and biscuits on the bed.

Anjali and Buaji helped to pull a drenched Khushi out.

Arnav hefted himself out of the water and quickly got Khushi a couple of towels.

Khushi handed over one to him.

“You dry yourself,” she told him. “Or you will have fever along with shakkar ki bimari. Then you will have to take bitter medicine along with bitter tea.”

Arnav smiled as he took the towel & dried himself.

“I will get you a sari and blouse,” Anjali offered Khushi, limping out of the room.

“Chotey, change out of your wet clothes and leave the room so that Khussi bitiya can dress,” Nani suggested.

Arnav nodded and left to do the needful after a long look at Khushi’s wet figure.

Soon he left the room and Khushi entered his bathroom with Anjali’s sari and accessories.

“Is the choli too tight, Khushiji?” Anjali asked through the shut door.

“A little, Anjaliji, but it is alright,” Khushi mumbled.

“I am sorry, Devyaniji,” Buaji sighed. “This girl! She gets into trouble with little effort, Nandkisore!”

“It is alright, Madhumatiji. Don’t worry about it. No harm was done,” Nani smiled.

“But haaw did she get into the water?” Mami peered into the inky depths of the pool. “And how did hamre Arnav bitwaa fall into the pool? Pehle to nahi gire woh. Did Khussi push him into the water and then jump into it? Yahan pool party tha kaa? Aaj blue he pani pani...”

“Manorama,” Nani hissed.

Khushi came out wearing the red sari and tight choli gifted by Anjali.

“I will never bring you for a pooja again, Khussi,” Buaji threatened her.

“That is what you said last week when I fell asleep at the temple during satsang,” Khushi muttered.

“Sanka Devi,” Buaji roared.

“And when my dupatta caught fire at the Satyanarayan pooja at the Mishras the week before that,” Khushi reminded her.

Mami gasped and looked this bundle of trouble from top to bottom with wondering eyes.

Buaji opened her mouth to deliver a stinging diatribe.

“Chodiye, Madhumatiji,” Nani poured oil on troubled waters. “Khussi bitiya, Chotey didn’t scold you, did he?”

“Scold me? Arnavji? No,” she replied. “He is my friend. Why should he scold me?”

The Raizada ladies stared at her with wide eyes and wider mouths.

“Fraaand?” Mami made sure. “Hamre Arnav bitwaa?”

“Yes,” Khushi replied. “He gave me tea and biscoot,” she said smiling.

Mami looked at Anjali and Nani.

“Is Laxmi yours?” Khushi asked Nani.

Nani nodded.

“I like her, very much,” Khushi smiled. “Mamiji, she watches serials with you?” she asked.

Mami nodded. Her heavy earrings danced; the metallic paint on her eyelids glittered.

“Arnavji told me,” Khushi said casually.

“Arnavji..I mean, Chotey did?” Anjali asked, her big eyes as big as they could get.

“Ji. We talked about the serial I watch. Arnavji was very interested in the story,” Khushi shook out her pleats.

Mami sat down on the bed on the tray.

“Ooooimaaaa,” she yelled, jumping up. “Bhat ijj this? Bedwaa mein minewaa lagaya hamre Arnav bitwaa?”

Anjali quickly took away the tray, the mug and packet of biscuits and placed them on the low table.

The door was pushed open by Arnav.

“Di, is Khushi ready?” he asked. His eyes fell on Khushi in Anjali’s red sari and he stood still, electrified.