214. OS 10. An Unexpected Visitor (Part 22)

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 22

Khushi looked at a sleeping Buaji’s face with sad eyes. ‘Poor Buaji! How will she live without me? How can she bear to part with me?’ she wondered.

Buaji turned her head more comfortably against the headrest of the sofa in her living room and sighed in her sleep.

‘It is the fate of all parents and Buajis, Khussi,’ Khushi told herself, ‘to marry off their ladli girls and then live in gham. Kabhi khushi, kabhi gham. First shaadi’s khushi, then bidai’s gham.’

“Why are you crying, Nandkisore?” Buaji asked, yawning mightily. “Did you commit some folly at your sangeet, Sanka Devi?”

“Buaji,” Khushi’s voice quivered.

“Kya he, Nandkisore?” Madhumati asked, irked.

“Buaji, I have to marry Arnavji,” Khushi began.

“I know, Nandkisore,” Buaji frowned. “That is why we had your shagun, sagai and sangeet.”

Khushi drew in a tear-laden breath. “The shop,” she began to ease into the hurtful issue.

Buaji frowned. “What is wrong with the shop?” she asked.

“After marriage,  I won’t be able to look after the shop as I have been doing for years,” Khushi tried to dry her eyes.

“Acha he, Nandkisore,” Buaji replied. “Why did you extend credit to Mrs. Motelal?”

Khushi was distracted. “The poor woman, Buaji. She needed the fabric and sarees for her daughter’s wedding but couldn’t afford to pay for all of them.”

“You idiot!” Buaji castigated her. “That female owns five cars, can afford five drivers, lives in a mansion, owns properties across Delhi, can afford to hold lavish parties for seven days for her daughter’s wedding but can’t afford to pay our bills?” she asked.

Khushi gaped. “Really, Buaji?” she asked in dismay.

“Hai Re Nandkisore! What will I do with her? Thank God she is getting married soon. Nahi to I will become kangaal in her generosity to the undeserving,” Buaji buried her head in her hands.

Khushi’s mouth fell open. Buaji was happy that she was getting married and going away? She tried again. “Buaji, when I go away with Arnavji...won’t you be sad?” she asked.

Buaji stared at her in confusion. “Why should I be sad, Nandkisore?” she asked.

“I won’t be here with you. I will be in Shantivan. You will be all alone,” Khushi tried earnestly to drive the point home.

Buaji folded her hands and looked heavenwards. “I have been waiting for that day for years, Nandkisore knows,” she said. “You will become Arnav babua’s headache and I can breathe easily.”

Khushi’s mouth fell open.

“I don’t have to worry about you, run after you, Nandkisore! If only her wedding day comes faster,” Buaji prayed to Nandkisore fervently.

Khushi stared at Buaji, astounded and hurt. Then she marched to her room in a huff, throwing herself down on her bed to have a good cry.

Her phone rang.

Drying her cheeks and eyes, she looked at the display. 

Arnavji.

She answered the call.

“Hello,” she quavered.

“Khushi, kya hua?” he asked, his voice anxious. Was she upset about their wedding and having to leave Buaji? Had Buaji refused to move to Shantivan?

“Arnavji,” she wailed.

“Khushi?” he asked, feeling terribly helpless. Had he done a cruelty to Khushi by wanting to marry her?

“Buaji...” she wept.

“Buaji?” he asked.

“Buaji is happy...” she sniffed.

“To join us at Shantivan?” he asked hopefully.

“No...” she wept.

“To remain alone?” he was upset.

“That I am going away,” she confessed.

He stared at the wall slack-jawed.

“She said that she has been waiting for this day for years,” Khushi wailed.

Arnav’s lips quirked in a smile.

“She said...she said she can breathe freely when I become your headache,” she choked.

Arnav’s shoulders shook.

“She wants our wedding day to come sooner,” Khushi wept.

Arnav had to fight to keep his amusement down.

“How could she?” Khushi cried.

“It is alright, Khushi,” he comforted her. “She is just happy that you found  someone you like.”

“Acha?” she asked after a long moment.

“Yes, really,” he soothed her. “She likes me, doesn’t she?”

“She thinks you can walk on water,” Khushi admitted.

“She knows I will take good care of you. That’s why she is happy you are marrying me, Khushi,” he said reasonably.

“It is not because she doesn’t like me?” Khushi asked, doubt in her voice.

He swallowed hard. “How can any one dislike you, Khushi?” he asked.

“You like me, Arnavji?” she asked in full seriousness.

He swallowed the words of love that clamoured to leave his tongue. What if he said, “I love you, Khushi,” and it spooked her?

“Very much,” he said.

“Really?” she asked, a small smile blooming on her lips.

“Really,” he affirmed.

“What do you like most about me?” she asked.

“Everything,” he muttered.

“Arnavji!” she complained.

“I like your sense of humour,” he muttered.

“Acha?” she asked, feeling she had been let into some kind of heaven.

“Your kind heart. You are very understanding, Khushi,” he continued. “Beautiful in and out.”

“I am clumsy too,” she qualified his praise.

He smiled. “I will take care that you never fall,” he promised.

“It is a full-time job,” she warned.

“I am ready,” he stated.

“Arnavji, you are so nice. A real-life hero,” she said.

Arnav smiled.

There was silence.

Arnav waited. And waited.

Then she said softly, “Pata nahi how I got so lucky, Arnavji, to meet you. This is why I believe Devi Maiyya exists.”

Arnav’s hold on his phone tightened. He was too choked up to reply.

Khushi yawned. “I am very sleepy, Arnavji,” she mumbled.

“So jao, Khushi,” he said softly.

“Your voice—when you speak to me, I feel you are hugging me close to you,” she breathed, curling up under the blanket.

“Good night, Khushi,” he whispered.

“I will have sweet dreams about you,” she mumbled before falling asleep. Her phone slipped from her hand and fell by her pillow.

Arnav stood staring at the lights in his garden, smiling softly.