221. OS 11. An Uncomplicated Wife (Part 4)

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 4      

It was morning. The rain had finally come to a reluctant end and the wind was dying down.

Arnav sat with his cheek resting against the top of Khushi’s head, his stubble tickled by the soft satin of her fragrant hair. His right hand covered her left that was curled around the neck of his jacket.

Khushi stirred slightly, her cheek rubbing his shoulder. 

She sighed.

As he watched, her lashes fluttered. She opened her sleepy eyes and looked at him.

He looked into her eyes, deep pools with a hundred secrets.

“What should I call you?” she asked directly.

He blinked. “Anything,” he mumbled. As long as it was not Chotey, he thought.

“I will think of something,” she promised. “You didn’t sleep at all?” she asked softly.

“No,” he murmured.

Her face fell.

He fell triumphant seeing the concern on her face, not really thinking about the reason for the victory dance his heart was doing in his chest.

She took a deep breath. He felt the movement of her bosom against his chest, dreading the moment she would move away from him, let go of his jacket.

Even as the thought passed through his head, she released his jacket and slowly eased away.

“We need to move,” Arnav said softly. “Get to the nearest town,” he added.

“Yes,” she agreed. She stood up, grabbed the small bundle of her jewellery and shook out her lehenga and coat.

Arnav joined her. He stepped out of their hiding place to stop short. The incessant rain had created a river of mud around the outcrop.

Khushi, standing behind him, gasped at the sight of the slush they would have to navigate through.

Arnav looked around carefully. The mire was a definite nuisance, but it would keep the wannabe killers from wandering too close.

“Khushi,” he called softly, holding out his left hand, his eyes still on the vast expanse of slime.

She stepped out from behind him and put her hand in his.

He tugged her to stand before him. Then, without any fuss, he bent slightly and lifted her in his strong arms.

Khushi gasped and looked at his face. Her mangalsutra glinted in the light.

He waded through the mud, taking care not to drop her, making sure that his feet were steady.

Slowly her arm came to coil around his strong neck and she rested her body against him, letting him ferry her to safety.

Slowly, painstakingly, he made his way through the slurry with her soft warmth pressed against him.

A while later, he set her down on dry land.

“Your pants...” her voice trailed away.

He looked down. His shoes and pants were covered with mud. He looked around, especially at the highway. The road was empty of vehicles.

“Let’s go, Khushi,” he said softly. He wanted them to be out of here at the earliest. They were hungry, dirty and in danger of being killed.

He looked at Khushi who was staring at what she could see of the road with calm eyes.

A small smile twisted his lips. What a girl! She had been shot at, had spent the night in a burrow like an animal, was hungry and thirsty but had no complaints. She was waiting for him to start walking so that she could follow.

He looked around once more.

His eyes went cold as ice.

Travelling in daylight was hazardous to their existence. Walking through the jungle as the heat rose would deplete their remaining resources of energy. It was imperative that he find safe lodging for them at the earliest.

“Chalo, Khushi,” he invited and held out his hand.

She placed hers in his. They began walking.

“Won’t Naniji wonder what happened to us?” Khushi asked softly after they had covered a considerable distance in silence.

“Yes,” he admitted. “Di must be crying. Mami too. Nani must be scared. Akash and Jiju must be in touch with your parents to find out if we have contacted them.”

Khushi swallowed hard.

“They must have called Aman to check if I have contacted him,” Arnav thought aloud.

“Aman?” Khushi asked.

“My secretary,” Arnav said. He looked up through the cover of the trees. It was getting hot.

Suddenly she pressed his fingers tightly.

He turned to look at her.

“Listen,” she breathed.

He frowned. He could hear a faint roar. What was it? he wondered.

“I think it is a waterfall or a stream,” Khushi said, hope in her eyes.

He tried to locate the source of the sound. It seemed to be coming from somewhere to the left, away from their planned path.

They moved towards the sound. Clambering over rocks, fighting with shrubs to find a path, they came to an open space with a small pool. There was a tiny stream falling into it from the heights.

“He Devi Maiyya, shukriya,” Khushi breathed, her face lit up as though a thousand bulbs had been switched on within her.

Arnav looked at Khushi’s happy face with a wry smile on his. Khushi was happy with so little.

She kneeled by the pool, placed the bundle with her jewels down, washed her hands, cupped water in her hands and washed her face and mouth thoroughly. She drank a handful and turned to look at him.

He was standing behind her, watching her.

She dipped a hand in the pool, gathered water and held it out to him. “It is sweet,” she said with a smile.

He lumbered to her, weighed down by the drying soil on his clothes. He crouched by her and sipped the water from her hand, his warm lips touching her skin. He then washed himself with ample help from her. He removed his mud-filled shoes and scrubbed at his pants to cleanse himself of the dirt.

“We should leave,” he said softly, looking up at the sun, his hand shading his face.

She stood up, ready, the bundle in her hands.

Holding hands, they walked back to their original path and moved parallel to the highway.

As they trudged towards what they hoped was the nearest town, she asked him, “Why did you give into Naniji?” she asked.

He sighed inwardly, lost for an answer. What could he tell her? His idea of what marriage should entail had changed, his vision of what his life should be had altered beyond recognition. How could he explain to her what and how he had been before their wedding? That is, before yesterday? Had it been just one day since they got married? he wondered. It seemed as though he had known Khushi for ever!

Glancing at her, he said unwillingly, “I—I was planning to get married at thirty.”

She looked at him, all attention.

“Everything had gone to plan,” he explained. “My family, Di and her marriage, my responsibilities...I wanted to be free to focus on expanding my business overseas,” he said. He paused. He looked at her. Her face was curious, non-judgemental.

“I already have an office in London,” he explained. “We are a name to reckon with. Our fabric, our designs, they are the best. I wanted to grow, take it to the next level, go international in a big way...”

She waited.

“I knew I couldn’t put off my family about marriage once I was past thirty. So in my mind, I planned to get a wife this year. It would get the family off my back and leave me to work,” he said, finding himself mumbling, feeling faintly ashamed to reveal the way his head had worked.

“So Naniji was trying to force you to marry me when you were not averse to marrying...a girl...any girl,” she concluded, not meeting his eyes. Without waiting for him to agree or disagree, she added, “You wanted a convenient marriage.”

Arnav opened his mouth—whether to agree or disagree he didn’t know.

She moved on comfortably, “You wanted a wife who wouldn’t disturb you. Nani wanted you to marry. I had to marry someone. So it looks like all of us got what we wanted.” Her fingers touched her mangalsutra.

Arnav swallowed, feeling her words bite him even though her voice held no rancour.

“So who wants to kill us?” she asked.

Arnav frowned. This thought had been plaguing him ever since the failed attempt. “Can’t be bussiness adversaries,” he decided. “It was too amateur an effort,” he passed judgement. “They would have paid top dollar and hired professionals. We would have been dead by now.”

Khushi’s face became drawn.

Arnav asked to bring a smile to her face, “So Khushi, do you have many enemies in Lucknow? What have you done that someone wants you dead?”

She smiled wryly. “I stole mangoes from Kamla chachi’s terrace,” she admitted.

Arnav shook his head in mock seriousness. “That’s terrible, Khushi,” he lamented her evil nature.

“She should have thought twice before putting salted mango pieces to dry on her terrace. She knows how much I love them,” she excused herself.

“So she must have hired people to kill you to protect her pickles,” Arnav decided.

“Looks like it,” Khushi joined in making light of the situation.

“Whoever made the arrangements knew that I was in Lucknow. He made arrangements with our driver to position us in a place where his men could kill us,” Arnav said softly.

Khushi nodded.

They walked on.

A while later, Khushi asked, “Tell me about your Di. I know only what Naniji has told me over the years.”

“She had polio as a child,” he explained.

“The limp,” Khushi added.

“Yes. We looked for a groom for her, but nothing worked. We were relieved when she met Jijaji at a temple three years back and he came and asked for her hand,” Arnav said.

“The wedding was arranged and conducted in a week, right? Naniji invited Babuji and apologised for the short notice,” Khushi remarked.

Arnav’s eyes raced to her face. “Why didn’t you come to the wedding?” he asked. “I would have remembered you had you come to Delhi.”

“Fever,” she smiled. “Jiji got wet in the rain and caught fever. So I made sure to hug her and get the fever too.”

Arnav stared at her.

“What is the fun in being sick alone?” Khushi asked. “I gave Jiji company.”

Arnav looked away, his lips twitching.

“What does Jijaji do?” Khushi asked.

“He is a lawyer,” Arnav explained.

“Akash Jiju?” she asked.

“We run the business together,” Arnav answered her question.

“He thinks the world of you,” Khushi remarked.

Arnav flushed in pleasure. “I—I used to tease him—a lot when we were children,” he admitted.

“And now?” Her voice carried laughter.

“No time,” he replied. Then he added with a smile, “Although the temptation is hard to resist. He begs to be teased.”

Khushi chuckled weakly.

“Not long now, Khushi,” he promised, praying desperately that he was right.

“Ji,” Khushi whispered, touching her neck that felt dry.

They talked about the Raizadas and the Guptas as they trudged miles in the heat and humidity.

“Does Di live in Delhi with you?” Khushi asked.

“Yes. Nani and Mami are very fond of her and Jijaji had no objection to her staying with us,” he replied. “He too lives with us.”

“Oh,” Khushi said. “His family doesn’t mind?” she asked.

“He has no one,” Arnav said.

“Poor Jijaji,” Khushi lavished pity on Shyam.

“There are two more people in our house you are yet to meet,” he said as though their death were not imminent from bullets or starvation.

“Kaun?” Khushi asked, curious.

“HP and Laxmi,” he replied.

“Who are they?” Khushi gasped, holding on to his arm for strength.

“HP helps in the kitchen and suffers Mami’s English. Laxmi is Nani’s goat,” Arnav explained.

Khushi smiled, but weakly.

“Khushi,” he whispered, knowing well that she was exhausted and hungry, that there was every chance that she could collapse on the way. “Hang on. We are almost there,” he encouraged her.

It said much of her that she did not challenge his claim but nodded and tried to put one foot before the other.

“Take off the coat, Khushi,” he suggested. “It is too hot.”

She tried to pull the coat off, but her tired fingers were too weak for the task. Arnav helped to free her of the coat. She stood before him in her choli and lehenga.

He tried to avert his eyes from the delectable picture she made.

“Arnavji,” she breathed, too weak to stand straight.

 He gently folded her close and letting her rest her head and body against him, he walked slowly. She passed one arm around his waist and tried to hang on.

They walked a couple of kilometres more with Arnav lying to her about how far they had to cover.

Then she stopped walking.

She slowly removed her arm from his waist and leaned against a tree trunk.

“Khushi,” Arnav cried in panic. "Don't do this to me right now. Khushi!"

“Arnavji, I am too tired,” she whispered through a dry mouth. “Go on without me.”

“No, Khushi.” He was firm in his refusal.

“I am slowing you down,” she managed to croak. “Go.” She tried to push him away.

“No,” he said. He put an end to their argument. He bent, caught her behind her knees and lifted her over his shoulder.

Khushi gasped faintly.

He strode on, his eyes burning, his blood boiling at the thought of the coward who had dared to endanger Khushi’s life. His heart thundered in his chest at the knowledge that she needed food and water immediately.

“Khushi, tum theek ho?” he asked at regular intervals.

“Ji,” she replied each time, her head bobbing against the strong muscles of his back.

“We will get to a town soon,” he promised her again and again.

“Yes,” she replied every single time.

It was evening by the time they got to a point where the forest began thinning. He looked ahead with eager eyes even as he marched, almost ran through the trees.

There was a small settlement, a town before him.

“Khushi, look,” he called fiercely, lowering her to the ground and cupping her cold face.

She lifted her lashes to look at him.

“Khushi, we have reached a town,” he exclaimed, shaking her vigorously. “A real town.”

“Ji,” she murmured.

“Khushi, I will go and get food and water,” he promised. “Sit here. Please?” he asked.

“Ji.” Her voice was a mere thread.

“Just a few minutes, Khushi. Will you be alright?” he asked, worry eating into him.

“Ji.” She tried to smile.

“Two minutes, Khushi. Just two minutes,” he reminded her as he quickly shed his jacket. He handed over the coat, his jacket and the dupatta with her jewels to her. He pulled the shirt out of his trousers and tried to attain a casual look.

He then sidled into the clear, making sure that no one has spied him leaving the jungle. The fact that the sun was setting helped him make his entrance without attracting attention. He walked to a small roadside shop and quickly purchased a bottle of bottled water and a loaf of bread. He walked away from the shops to where many tourist buses were parked and slipped into the forest in the cover provided by them.

He ran to where he had left Khushi, his heart galloping, his body trembling with fear.

She was sitting slumped against the tree trunk, exactly as he had left her.

“Khushi,” he called urgently as he broke open the seal of the bottle and kneeled by her.

“Arnavji.” She struggled to form the word, panting heavily. Her lashes lifted slowly. Dull eyes looked at him.

“Khushi, water,” he croaked, holding the bottle to her lips.

Her lips trembled. He caught hold of her chin and poured water into her mouth.

She swallowed slowly, her throat aching.

Her eyes were trapped by his frantic, fervent gaze.

He poured more water into her mouth. She swallowed.

He passed the bottle to her. “I bought bread, Khushi,” he said, tearing open the packet. “Open your mouth,” he urged.

“You drink water first,” Khushi said in a low voice, holding out the bottle to him.

He stilled, his eyes intent on hers.

Before he could force her to eat, she pressed the mouth of the bottle to his lips. He drank deeply and sank at her side, exhausted.

She took the bread from him, broke off small pieces and fed him. They ate in turns till the food was gone.

“I feel much better,” Khushi said softly.

He nodded. “We need to find shelter for the night, Khushi. But before that we need clothes.” He cupped Khushi’s cheek in one palm. “They will be looking for a couple in bridal and formal clothes. You can be sure that they will enquire about us here as this is the closest place of habitation.”

Khushi nodded.

“Sit here, please, Khushi. I will be back as soon as I can make it,” he promised.

“Ji,” she agreed. “I am not scared,” she lied.

“I know you are not,” he pretended to believe her lie. “I will be back soon.”

He gave her cheek a final pat, got up and moved away.

Khushi folded her hands and began praying to Devi Maiyya. She sat with her legs pulled up close to her chest, her head resting on her knees.

About twenty minutes later, Arnav joined her.

“Khushi, change your clothes,’ he said urgently, holding out a packet to her. “It is getting dark fast. We need to get a room at the small lodge behind the car park.”

She stood up and pulled out a green anarkali from the packet.

Arnav turned away and began to tear open the buttons of the shirt he had been wearing for two days.

A few minutes later, Khushi turned to look at Arnav and gasped. He was in a gray T-shirt and blue jeans, his feet in sneakers, a cap on his head.

“You look different,” she exclaimed.

Arnav nodded. “Wear these shoes,” he handed over a pair of jootis. “Your hair, Khushi,” he reminded. “Leave it loose to hide your face.”

“Ji,” she agreed, quickly untying her hair and pulling out the dried roses from the plait.

Arnav stood watching her as she finger-combed her hair, shaking out the tresses. Then he shook himself out of stupour and bundled her lehenga and choli, the dupatta with her jewels, his coat and other clothes, the empty water bottle, the plastic cover of the loaf of bread and their footwear into a bag he had bought. He zipped it shut.

“Let’s go,” he called.

She put her hand in his and they walked out of the forest, taking care not to be seen.