237. OS 13. Laad Governor and Afghan Jalebi (Part 1)

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/

Dedicated to Supriya Sahasrabuddhe (Sups/ aniyathi). She wanted Mami and Payal to plot to bring A-K together. So here goes,

Part 1

“Look at him,” Khushi whispered to her friend, Preetho.

“Kaun?” Preetho asked, handing her the plate of jalebis.

“That handome man standing near the pillar. Bilkul Salman Khanji lag rahe hein,” Khushi sighed in pleasure, her infatuated eyes running over his length and breadth eagerly.

“Who is he?” Preetho asked, stretching the tired muscles of her shoulders.

“Pata nahi, Preetho,” Khushi said in a low voice. “Must be a friend of Akash jiju who has come from Delhi for jiju and jiji’s wedding,” she guessed excitedly. “Yahan pe to nobody dresses so fashionably. Must be from Delhi.”

“Acha?” Preetho asked in a disinterested manner. She spared another moment on him. “He is alright.”

Khushi drew an outraged breath. “Alright? Did you say alright? He is so good-looking, so,” she began her tirade.

“Acha? You are so interested in him? Then why don’t you go and talk to him? Offer to show him Lucknow? Make jalebis for him? Offer him golgappe and ber? Take him to your temple? Praise his looks, his clothes?” Preetho asked, lifting one brow for full effect.

“Preetho, dheere bolo,” Khushi tried to shush her. “Koi sun lega,” she warned. “If buaji hears us, we are both dead.”

“You are a coward, Khushi Kumari Gupta,” Preetho laughed. “No spine, no guts.”

“I am not a coward,” Khushi declared.

“No? Then I dare you. Go talk to him,” Preetho challenged her.

“I will,” Khushi said firmly, trying to silence the doubts in her mind and freeze the moving butterflies in her tummy.

                                           ***

ASR spoke into the phone, “Aman, I need the zoning report immediately.”

“Sir, Akash is getting married and you are at his wedding in Lucknow,” Aman tried to stall him.

“So? The world is not going to stand still because Akash is getting married and I am in Lucknow,” ASR bit out. “Send me the report NOW.”

“Yes, sir,” Aman said. ‘If only a hard rock would fall on ASR’s head and gift him amnesia for at least two weeks,’ he thought wistfully.

ASR cut the call, frowning ferociously.

“Suniye,” a feminine voice called him from behind.

He turned around, the frown still adorning his face.

Something shifted within him; his heart skipped a beat.

The girl was gorgeous by any standards. Big, hazel eyes, silky hair left unbound, a creamy complexion, a bright smile that could light up a dark sky with little effort, a peach and purple lehenga covering a full figure...

ASR swallowed hard. With this feeling of having been knocked off his feet came fury like a tsunami. How dare a girl approach him? How dare his heart skip a beat for any girl? Was he as weak as his father had been? How could any girl distract him for a second?

He directed the anger against himself towards her.

“Yes?” he bit out.

The smile on the girl’s face faltered for a second. Then she beamed again.

“Hum Khushi he,” she introduced herself.

“So?” he growled.

Confusion crept into her eyes. Then she coughed up enough courage to ask him, “Have you come from Delhi for the wedding?”

His eyes narrowed forbiddingly; his nostrils flared. He leaned forward menacingly.

Khushi felt her limbs tremble at his nearness and the hot, angry look in his eyes. But she didn’t give up. She was determined to be friendly.

“Ek jalebi leejiye na?” she offered in utmost friendliness, holding out the plate. “I made them with my own hands.”

He hissed, “I don’t want your jalebi and I don’t want you. Don’t think that a billionaire will fall for you if you flaunt your assets and accost him. Keep your middle-class tricks to yourself. Apni aukat mein raho, suna tumne.”

Hurt flashed through her eyes. The plate with jalebis shook.

He turned and walked away, feeling angry, hurt, guilty, tired, put upon and very alone.

                                         ***

The venue of the wedding was a huge hall, decorated lavishly with colourful and sweet-smelling flowers and strings of lights. Loud music and the sound of laughter competed with each other to give him a headache.

He shut his eyes, feeling his head hurt. It had been a hectic two months and the last week had been especially brutal, what with work, three new projects on the anvil and Lavanya Kashyap snapping at his heels, trying to force him to consider a live-in.

Added to that was Akash’s sudden marriage and his quick duty trip to Lucknow, the city that had seen his family bleed. Couldn’t Akash have found a bride from another city? There were plenty of cities and plenty of girls out there, weren’t there?

The girl he had vented his ire against—maybe he needn’t have been so rude.

ASR looked out at the night sky studded with stars, feeling vaguely guilty as though he had just kicked a puppy.

“Chotey, come and join us,” nani came to him and murmured. “The wedding is about to begin and Akash is asking for you.”

He heaved a soundless sigh and turned to walk in.

His eyes fell on the girl in purple and peach lehenga. She was standing by the bride.

“What is the bride’s name?” he asked nani. Someone had told him her name, but he hadn’t been listening.

“Payal. She is Sasi and Garima Gupta’s daughter,” nani explained with a fond smile.

“Arnav bitwaa, Garima ijj my classmate. Matmal, we used to sit on one benchwaa in isschool,” mami explained.

ASR nodded without interest, his eyes tracking the movement of the girl in the purple-peach lehenga. What had she said her name was? Khushi. Yes, Khushi. She didn’t look so happy now, he thought. Her face was pale and drawn.

“Bhai,” Akash called for help.

Arnav hid a sigh as he walked towards his brother.

“I wanted you to meet Payalji before the wedding,” Akash whispered.

“You don’t need my approval, Akash,” Arnav said shortly. “This is not business.”

“I know, but,” Akash began, but was cut off by Anjali.

“Akash, are you ready?” she asked.

“Yes, di,” Akash said, his voice shaking slightly.

Anjali shook her head, smiling. “Chotey, look at your brother,” she told Arnav. “He is so nervous.” She cupped Akash’s face with one hand. “Stay close to him, please,” she begged Arnav.

Arnav nodded.

Anjali moved away.

“Want a drink?” Arnav asked Akash.

Akash’s mouth fell open.

“A drink?” Arnav repeated. “It will take care of the jitters and the cold feet,” he said laconically.

“Bhai,” Akash protested.

Before Arnav could enumerate the benefits of getting drunk on his wedding day to Akash, the Guptas and nani approached them.

“Sasiji, Garimaji, Madhumatiji, this is Arnav, Akash’s elder brother,” nani introduced him with pride.

ASR folded his hands in greeting, his demeanour distant.

“Jeeyath raho, babua,” buaji wished. Sasi and Garima greeted him politely.

“The wedding was fixed suddenly. Isliye he couldn’t join us for all the other rasms,” nani explained.

“We are delighted he could reach here today,” Sasi said easily.

“Is it time to begin, Sasiji?” nani asked.

“Ji,” he replied.

Arnav stood watching the Guptas welcome the groom, the jaimala, the bride and groom sitting by the havankund and the girl he had insulted thoroughly a few minutes back. She was standing quietly on the fringes of the Gupta and Raizada families witnessing the wedding. She had lost the plate with jalebis.

As he watched, a plump tear slowly made its way down her cheek.

ASR frowned, his analytic brain toying with the problem. Why the hell was she crying? Had his insults registered only now?

She wiped it away surreptitiously.

He stood watching her, frowning. The wedding rituals happened one after the other, but he remained unaware of them, his attention focused on the slip of a girl trying hard to smile and not to bawl.

The newly married couple took the blessings of their elders. A minute later they were before Arnav.

“My bhai, Arnav Singh Raizada,” Akash said softly to his newly minted wife. They bent to touch his feet.

ASR almost jumped back in shock. He hadn’t expected that.

“Fine, fine,” he muttered uneasily.

Akash and Payal straightened.

“Khussi,” Garima called.

ASR’s ears perked up.

“Give this thali of pooja offerings to Payaliya’s jetji,” Garima said with a loving smile.

Khushi took the thali and looked around for an older man.

“Here,” Garima pointed to Arnav.

Shocked hazel eyes met chocolate ones for a moment and then fell.

On shaking legs, Khushi approached him.

“Bhai, this is Khushiji, Payalji’s younger sister,” Akash introduced the girl.

ASR drew in a shocked breath. He watched the girl walk closer to him, proximity increasing her allure and highlighting the perfection of her features and figure.

Mami called Akash and Payal. “Payaliya, Akass bitwaa, come here, pleej. Meet my friend, Kusum. We used to steal phlowers from the isschool gardenwaa together.”

The couple moved away.

Khushi held out the thali, her eyes looking at the floor.

He took it, his fingers grazing hers inadvertently.

Khushi snatched her hands away as though she had been burned. 

What the!

Arnav’s hands shook and his mouth dried up. What had just happened? He had only touched her for a second.

“Khushi,” he croaked, totally thrown by the effect she had on him.

“Laad Governor kahin ka,” she muttered before turning her back on him and marching away.

Thanks a million, Rash for your interpretation:

Arnav and Khushi… synonymous with Nafrat and Pyaar playing hide and seek with them… But this time its with a difference … ASR has to contend with not a Lucknow Jalebi but an Afghan Jalebi…! Khushi who is enamored by the dapper looking man from the grooms side approaches him to talk but that riles up Arnav who is already reeling under the effect of her beauty, a sight that threatens to kill his aloofness, attacks his invincibility… So Arnav opened up his quiver of nafrat as self defence to placate his mind where as his heart is inducing him to come out of his comfort zone…and fired the first salvo… the best defence he could present was a good offence… and what best than his anger to thwart Khushi Kumari Gupta… His choicest words of aukaat and girls of her ilk has shown Khushi she is better off by being away from him… Throughout the ceremony his eyes had wandered towards her unwittingly and had observed her each and every gesture…. Arnav Singh Raizada’s toughened heart is now feeling the flutter which his mind dislikes… His observation has made him feel that she is a sight to behold and a god’s poetry in motion… When she is asked to hand over the thali to her Jiji’s Jethji… she is stunned to see who the person is.. As she hands over his touch is a bolt that stuck both of them sending the waves of ripples in their being… Arnav could only manage to croak her name and Khushi could mutter under her breath Laad Governor kahin ka expressing her distaste… What a Hide and Seek of emotions surfing in waves in them!

Fantastic beginning Smita…