Smitar's Stories: 208. OS 10: An Unexpected Visitor (Part 16)

Link to my new short story: Taking Care of You

“I thought I was dreaming when I first saw you," he said.

“How did you know it was me?” she asked. “I could have been anybody. A thief even.”

He smiled wearily. “I don’t know many thieves who would look at me with anxious eyes and then cry because I was sick,” he mumbled.

Is it possible for love to bloom, sight unseen? Juhi and Abhay are strangers who know each other better than they know themselves. One night changes the equation and the even tenor of their lives and puts all their doubts and fears to rest.

http://pothi.com/pothi/book/ebook-smita-ramachandran-taking-care-you

Link to my first e-novel; A Home for Meenakshi

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

"I love the way you love, Meenu," he whispered, his eyes on hers. "Such loyalty, such passion..."

Meenakshi Sharma, an orphan, lives in Varanasi with her uncle, a chronic bachelor who wants her to become a professional musician. She unwillingly relocates to Delhi to study under a renowned musician for eight months. Staying for rent in the outhouse of the Agrawals, she meets Aditya Agrawal, an attractive young man brooding over the memories of his horrendous past. Pulled between her uncle's expectations of her and Aditya's love for her, Meenakshi struggles with her feelings. How can she disappoint her uncle who had devoted his entire life to her upbringing? How can she pretend to be blind to Aditya's feelings for her? A romance that moves between the alleys of the holy city of Varanasi and the modern city of Delhi.

A blog for my VMs:

http://smitarsvms.blogspot.in/

Part 16

Arnav looked into the disturbed eyes raised to his and his whole life flashed through his mind.

The pampered childhood that had come to an abrupt halt on the gruesome death of his parents, the years of letting Nani and Mama support him and Di, the days and nights he had spent studying so that he could prove to the world that he was no wastrel like his father, the blameless life he had led, trying to reassure his family that he did not have his father’s blood in his veins....

As he watched, fear crept into Khushi’s eyes as though she was scared of his reply. She sat braced for unwelcome news.

He sat watching her, silent, seeing images from the past.

His roommates bringing girls to their flat while he sat in his room working on his assignments, his friends picking up girls in bars while he sipped a beer alone, his moving out of shared accommodation at the earliest to avoid the pressure to buy hookers for the night and crawl bars seeking girls, resisting the natural urges of a young adult by thinking of the expectations his family had of him, by reminding himself of what his father had been...

Khushi blinked away imminent tears, his silence scaring her to the marrow. Why was he staring at her as though he had never seen her before? Was he lost in the memories of some other girl? Was he missing her? Was he regretting not having married her when he had the chance?

While Khushi was worrying her life short, Arnav was having a startling epiphany about his fastidiousness and extreme caution in matters relating to the opposite sex.

It had all been for Khushi, for her peace of mind. His celibacy had earned him a bride to rival the best on earth, a girl who wore her purity and innocence like a cloak, whose goodness and generosity were beyond doubt.

He smiled.

Khushi frowned. Why was he smiling? Here she was worrying her heart out and there he was smiling? She narrowed her eyes and glared at him. Anger dried her tears. Did he have a live-in girl? She would kill him first and then kill that girl!!! How dare he even look at another girl when Devi Maiyya had set aside Khushi Kumari Gupta for him?

“No,” he replied.

Khushi frowned. What was the question? What was he saying no to?

“No, I have never had a live-in relationship,” he admitted softly.

Khushi’s mouth fell open. In her thirst for revenge she had never anticipated this reply.

“You don’t?” she confirmed.

“I don’t,” he said. “I never did.”

The fire of jealousy and the pain of imagining herself to be one of a long list of women in his life left her in a whoosh, leaving her sagging in her seat.

“But I am planning to live with a girl soon,” he said smirking.

Khushi frowned.

“She is beautiful, naughty, funny, loving,” he paused.

Khushi waited for more clues, tense. Was he talking of her or of some other girl?

“She is prone to accidents, she is...” he broke off as he felt her soft body collide with his and her arms coil around his neck.

“It is me, it is me,” Khushi chanted as though she had won the sweepstakes.

“Yes, only you,” he murmured. Arnav drew in a deep breath of peace and buried his face in her neck.

“Titliyya,” Buaji called from her room. “Has Kamla gone home?”

Khushi remained in Arnav’s arms, deaf to all sounds except his heart beat.

Arnav lifted his head at Buaji’s voice.

“Khushi,” he called softly.

“Hhmm?” she asked, lost in his arms.

“Buaji is calling you,” he smiled.

“Let her,” Khushi snuggled closer.

Arnav chuckled. “Buaji will come to see if Kamla has gone home,” he reminded her.

Khushi jumped. “Buaji, woh..woh..it was not Kamla chachi to return the sugar. It is Arnavji,” she confessed.

“Arnav bitwaa?” Buaji exclaimed. The lovebirds could hear her getting out of bed and making her way towards them.

When Buaji entered the living room, Arnav and Khushi were sitting decorously away from each other.

Buaji beamed at Arnav and at the roses. “Has the groom brought gifts for the bride, Nandkisore?” Buaji teased.

Arnav flushed.

“Hamare zamaane mein, your Phoophaji would buy me ribbons and clips for my hair after our marriage was fixed. He used to throw them through my window, Nandkisore!” Buaji sighed.

Arnav choked.

Khushi being Khushi, asked, “Buaji, you used to wear them for him?”

Arnav looked at Buaji with apprehension.

But Buaji was in a good mood. “Kahan, Titliya?” she sighed. “He had bad aim, very bad aim. The ribbons and clips would fall in our neighbour’s house. Sudha’s toothless nani thought that your Phoophaji was eyeing her and warned me about him.”

Arnav and Khushi burst out laughing.

“Arnav bitwaa, shall I make tea for you?” Buaji asked.

“No, Buaji, I need to get back now,” he said standing up. His eyes twinkled seeing the disappointment on Khushi’s face.

Buaji’s phone, sitting on her bedside table, sounded the alarm it was supposed to sound the next morning.

“Hein?” Buaji exclaimed. “Ab isse kaa hua?”

Arnav, Buaji and Khushi stood looking towards her bedroom. Then Buaji said, “Bitwaa, let me go and teach my phone a lesson. You don’t mind that I am not here to see my damadji off, do you?”

“No, Buaji,” Arnav said sweetly, thrilled to be called her damadji.

Buaji waddled to her room in search of her disobedient phone.

Khushi caught hold of his hand. “Arnavji, stay a while longer,” she wheedled.

“It is getting late, Khushi,” he replied regretfully. “I have to check the accounts before going to bed.”

“Oh,” Khushi sighed.

“Waise Khushi,” he teased. “What if I had lived-in with a girl?”

“Matlab?” she frowned.

“What would you have done if I had lived-in with a girl some time in the past?” he asked, expecting an entertaining response from Khushi.

“Cried,” she admitted. “Then asked you her name and address. Then hit you.”

“Hit me?” His eyes widened in shocked delight.

“Yes, with Buaji's belan. And then gone to her and told her that you are mine and only mine,” Khushi declared.

Arnav burst out laughing.

“Aap hasiye. You can laugh because you don’t have a live-in. Nahi tho you would be crying now and I would be crying with you,” Khushi said, miffed.

Arnav quickly leaned forward and kissed her soft cheek thoroughly.

She stood looking at him, her eyes alight with pleasure.