212. OS 10: An Unexpected Visitor (Part 20)

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 20

“Khushi,” he gasped.

She was sitting on the floor, wincing, her eyes shut tight.

The Raizada ladies came running to help Khushi stand up.

“Aaaa,” Khushi moaned.

Arnav swallowed, feeling his limbs freeze and hold him in place.

All Raizada eyes turned to look at Arnav as though he were the murderer of infants.

Khushi lifted her wet eyes to look at her groom-to-be’s face.

His face was ashen, his expression tortured, his fists clenched.

She opened her mouth to call his name, but Nani cut in, “Khussi bitiya, rest in my room. Akash, open the door. Fast.”

Akash ran to do her bidding and Khushi was led in a procession to Nani’s room to lie on her bed.

“Khushiji, are you alright?” Anjali asked unsteadily. When had the idea to hire a choreographer for Chotey’s sangeet struck her? It was a bad decision, a folly to expect Chotey to dance without causing an accident, she mused.

“I am fine, Anjaliji,” Khushi said softly.

“Is your pichwada hurting?” Mami asked solicitously.

“I am alright, Mamiji,” Khushi replied. “Can I see Arnavji?”

The Raizada ladies looked at the hurt girl on the bed with worried eyes.

“He—he is bad at dancing,” Anjali confessed.

The Raizada ladies nodded at this understatement.

“Oh,” Khushi replied. “He never said.”

“We forced hamre Arnav bitwaa to dance,” Mami confessed. “How can the groom stay away from dancing on his own sangeet, Hello Hi Bye Bye?”

Nani sighed, “But I didn’t expect him to be so clumsy, especially when Khussi bitiya is in his arms.”

Khushi frowned. Was clumsiness contagious? Had Arnavji become clumsy because of her?

“Can I see Arnavji?” she asked again.

“Yes,” Nani replied. “We will ask him to join you. Are you sure you are fine?” Nani cupped her face.

“I am fine, Naniji,” Khushi smiled, ignoring her throbbing butt.

The ladies slowly moved out of the room, leaving Khushi rubbing her sore backside. They saw Arnav pacing outside the room like an expectant father outside the labour room.

“How is she?” he asked, the words running into each other in his anxiety.

“Khussi bitiya wants to see you,” Nani told him.

“She does?” he asked, looking horrified and relieved at the same time.

“Yes, she does,” Anjali replied. “How could you drop her, Chotey?”

Arnav shook his head helplessly, lost for words. He was speechless at his own actions.

“Go in, Arnav bitwaa,” Mami urged.

Arnav walked into the room feeling like a student entering the Principal’s room for punishment.

Khushi was sitting up in bed, her eyes serious.

“Khushi,” he gulped. “How are you?”

“Arnavji, please come and sit by me. I can’t crane my neck to look at you,” she said.

Arnav quickly took a seat by her on the bed, feeling terrible.

“Arnavji, you can’t dance, can you?” she asked directly.

“No,” he confessed with a sigh.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked. “We could have told every one that we didn’t want to dance for our sangeet and just enjoyed the performances.”

Arnav opened his mouth to tell her that he had tried to dance for her sake and then stopped himself.

But she didn’t need his words. She caught on fast. “That is why you called me last night!” she discovered. “You wanted to tell me. That is why you asked me what people did during their sangeet. I, like a fool told you that it would be fun dancing together. That is the truth, isn’t it?” she asked.

Arnav nodded.

“Thank God!” Khushi heaved a sigh of relief.

Arnav’s eyes flew wide open.

“I thought my clumsiness spread to you because we have been spending a lot of time together,” she admitted.

Arnav stared at her in shock for a moment and then burst out laughing.

Khushi threw her arms around Arnav and hugged him tight.

Arnav sat there feeling as though he had attained nirvana.

Someone nudged Khushi’s hand. She looked down in surprise to see Laxmi.

“Laxmiji,” Khushi cried as she threw her arms around the white goat’s neck.

Laxmi glared at Arnav. How dare he hurt this girl?

Arnav averted his guilty eyes from the goat’s beady stare.

“I am fine, Arnavji,” Khushi reassured him. “I am not made of glass.”

Arnav cupped her face. “I am so sorry I hurt you, Khushi.”

“I won’t accept your sorry,” she pouted, her eyes filled with a teasing light.

He looked at her, upset.

“Is this the way a groom says sorry to his bride?” she asked.

Arnav sat, lost and bewildered. He had little experience in being a penitent groom.

“Sorry aise kehte he,” she murmured before kissing him soundly on his lean, stubbled cheek.

Joy spread over his features. “Khushi,” he murmured.

She angled her head to show him her cheek. Taking the loud hint, Arnav kissed her firmly, loving the soft satin feel of her creamy cheek against his hard lips and breathing in her floral fragrance.

“Shall we join the others?” she asked.

Arnav nodded reluctantly. He wanted to sit here with her all day apologising through kisses.

“Khushi, you are ok?” Ankita asked.

She nodded. “Ankitaji, we won’t be dancing on our sangeet. Why don’t you train the others? Buaji will be joining us soon. She loves to dance,” she suggested.

Ankita drew in a deep breath of relief. She had been imagining a week of accidents and the house going up in flames as she taught Arnav Singh Raizada to dance.

“Would you like to do a number with Manoramaji or Anjaliji?” Ankita asked Khushi. Never let it be said that she didn’t give the bride a chance to perform.

“No, thank you,” Khushi smiled happily. I will enjoy the programme sitting by Arnavji.”

Ankita nodded.

Khushi came dressed in a pink lehenga with gold stars sprinkled across its folds for her sangeet, prepared to sit with Arnavji and watch the programme arranged by the Raizadas and Buaji.

“You look like a princess, Khushi,” Arnav blurted out with little finesse when he saw her.

Khushi burst out laughing. “Buaji called me a monkey just before we left the house. Arnavji, I am a monkey dressed up as a princess.”

Arnav chuckled and led her to the front row of seats.

It was an evening of great fun and enjoyment. The Raizadas and Buaji rocked the stage, murdering old and new songs with great enthusiasm and spirit. Mamaji and Mamiji danced to Dance Basanti and Arnav’s eyes widened to their maximum extent at their shenanigans on stage.

“I never knew,” he gasped. “Mamaji?” he asked in disbelief.

Khushi doubled over laughing.

“What has happened to all these people? They were normal today morning!” Arnav exclaimed.

Khushi looked at his shell-shocked face and hugged his arm close to her, smiling away.

“For bhai and Khushiji,” Akash announced, pushing his specs up.

Arnav stared at his tame brother in shock. Akash led Buaji to the stage. Arnav and Khushi stared at the sight of Akash and Buaji dancing to Keeda from Action Jackson.

“This is so much fun, Arnavji,” Khushi gasped, drying her eyes.

Arnav’s laughter died as he looked at her.

“Khushi, will you come up with me?” he asked, praying that all his arrangements were still in perfect condition.

“Up? Kahan?” Khushi teased. “To heaven?”

“Yes,” he said, his eyes serious.

Her laughter died out as she looked at him. Then she nodded. He took her hand and led her up the steps to his room.

Khushi gasped as she walked in to the dark bedroom.