242. OS 13. Laad Governor and Afghan Jalebi (Part 6)

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 6

ASR snipped an yellow leaf from a rose bush, enjoying the cool wind blowing his  hair away from his forehead.

He had snuck away early from home to enjoy an hour of peace in his mother’s garden before he had to start work.

He looked around with quiet pleasure. The trees mama had planted almost twenty years back were thriving. Some of the plants had died, but he had replaced them with the same and had tended them with great care.

There was greenery all around him, many shrubs and bushes carrying sweet-scented flowers in various hues. The traditional cottage his grandfather had built for them in the centre of the garden was in excellent condition. So were the bench and small table in stone, placed facing the rose bushes.

He walked to the bench and sat down, leaning back and letting his lashes fall to cover his eyes. Golden light, filtered through the trees, fell on him and the bench.

Khushi sat by him and stretched her legs.

He stiffened, his eyes still shut.

“Suniye,” she called, her voice sweet.

“Ji?” he asked, scared to open his eyes and find that he was imagining her.

“Have you come from Delhi for the wedding?” she asked.

“Yes,” he admitted. “Akash, the groom, is my brother.”

“I am Khushi. Payal, the bride, is my jiji,” she said softly.

“Come to Delhi with her,” he found himself inviting her.

Bright eyes filled with laughter looked at him.

“I mean, you can visit Delhi. Your jiji will be living there,” he explained.

“No,” she replied.

“Khushi,” he tried to change her mind. In that moment of urgency, he opened his eyes.

There was no one by his side. The rest of the bench was unoccupied.

Had he imagined her again? ASR wondered. What the hell was happening to him? He shook his head.

A bright red rose on a climber caught his eye. Altissimo, his mama’s favourite.

How would Khushi look with these roses scattered all over her body, their bright red against her creamy skin? he wondered.

His hand went to his pocket and he pulled out the notepad that was never far from him these days.

He began to sketch furiously.

Three hours later, Aman called.

“Yes,” ASR replied in an abstracted manner.

“Sir,” Aman asked hesitantly. “Aren’t you coming to the office today?”

“What the!” ASR exclaimed. He went to the office seven days a week when he was in Delhi.

“Sir,” Aman said softly. “It is ten.”

“What is?” ASR asked, his eyes on the drawing he was making.

“The time, sir,” Aman said gently.

“What?” ASR’s voice was thin with shock. He checked his phone. It was indeed ten.

“It is fine, sir. I have shifted the quarterly review to tomorrow. The quality and safety reviews have been slotted for afternoon. If you would like me to postpone them, I can,” Aman offered.

“No, Aman. I will be there in thirty minutes,” ASR assured him. “Slot the guy from Max Mara for a dinner meeting today. I want that out of the way.”

“Yes, sir,” Aman replied before cutting the call.

ASR looked down at the notepad in his hand. He had filled it with dresses for Khushi.

He placed the notepad on the bench by him and buried his head in his hands. What was happening to him?

                                         ***

Khushi stood before the fortress that was RM, feeling all courage and hope drain away.

“Hey Devi Maiyya, where have you brought me? Kaha tha na aapse that I don’t want to see him again? Haan, galti ho gayi humse, ek galti. I shouldn’t have gone to talk to him. That was my mistake,” she said. “But that’s all the galti I did. Why are you punishing me for it? Didn’t he insult me enough?”

Devi Maiyya looked away. She had been hearing the same whine all the way from Lucknow to Delhi.

“Ek baat kahe deti hoon. If he talks to me in his Laad Governor way again, I will throw something at him. Then don’t say that I didn’t warn you,” Khushi threatened Devi Maiyya.

Mohan stepped in to save Devi Maiyya.

“Khussiji, you are standing here still? Why don’t you go in? They will be so happy to see you. Kya hua, did you like the house so much that you were spellbound by it?” Mohan asked with a smile.

Khushi smiled noncommittally.

“Hamre Arnav bhaiyya built it,” Mohan said proudly.

“Looks like it, a cage for a Laad Governor,” Khushi muttered.

“Did you say something?” Mohan asked curiously.

“No, Mohanji, I was just thinking I need to go in,” she said with a smile. There was no other way except forward. Mohanji might doubt her sanity if she turned to run back to Lucknow. ‘Chal, Khussi. Get it over and done with,’ she told herself.

“That is the entrance. The door bell is to the right,” Mohan said, helping her on her way.

“I will see to you,” she mumbled a message to Devi Maiyya. “See if I don’t. I was happy in Lucknow, minding my own business—matlab Preethos’ business too—babuji’s business too, amma and buaji’s business too...” She leaned on the bell with a vengeance. “And you had to drag me away from my jalebis...”

The door opened.

A gaggle of females descended on Khushi, hugging her and asking after the Guptas.

By the time they finished, Khushi was hanging on to the door knob, panting.

Then came NK.

“Khushiji!” he exclaimed in excitement.

“Nanheji,” she said weakly.

“Come in,” he invited. “Why are you standing in the bahaar (spring)?”

“Bahaar nahi, Nanheji, baahar (outside),” Khushi laughed.

He pulled his ear and dragged her in. “I will show you your room, Khushiji. It has a beautiful view.”

“Shukriya,” Khushi murmured, walking up with him, looking around with a wary eye for a sighting of the Laad Governor.

“If only our Chotey too were so glad to see Khussi bitiya,” nani wished.

“He bill be, saasumma,” mami promised her. “She is Akass bitwaa’s saali. He can’t be angry with her, Hello Hi Bye Bye.”

“He can be angry with anyone, Manorama,” nani said with certainty, knowing her grandson well.

“But bhat ijj the reason? Koi kaaran to hone ka padi? There ijj no reason. He won’t be angry,” mami asserted.

“Let’s hope so, mami,” Anjali said softly.

“Poor Khushi,” Payal whispered.

“Aap chinta mat keejiye, Payalji. We won’t let any harm come to her,” Anjali promised.

Khushi joined them carrying big tins of laddoos and other sweets. “Amma and buaji sent them for all of you, naniji,” she said, placing them on the table.

“How sweet of them,” Anjali said smiling.

Mami jumped up and opened the bins with eager hands. “Sweet to hoga hi, Anjali bitiyya. My Garima knowjj how much I love sweets,” she said.

“Manorama,” nani chided. “You are a mother-in-law now. Don’t behave like a child. What will Payaliya think of you?”

“She knows...,” mami said as she took a bite of the laddoo and went into mithai heaven.

All laughed.

“...that I looooove sweets,” mami said, busily inspecting the rest of the goodies. “The smell of desi ghee, saasumma. I am fida on it, Hello Hi Bye Bye!”

After all finished laughing, Khushi said softly, “Naniji, I would like to leave after two days.”

A peda fell from mami’s hand. “Kaa?” she asked. “Leave? In two days? Naaahiiiii,” she protested in typical Bollywood style.

“Khussi bitiya, why are you planning to leave us so soon?” nani asked. “Don’t you like us?”

“Naniji, please don’t think like that,” Khushi said, flustered. “Woh kya he, it is shaadi season in Lucknow and we are halwai. So it is a very busy time for us. I need to be there, helping babuji.”

“We were hoping that you would stay at least a month with us, Khushiji,” Anjali pouted.

Khushi had a minor heart attack. One full month? “I am sorry, Anjaliji. I can’t,” Khushi said, trying hard to look sorry. Jiji’s jetji was apparently not at home today, but that wouldn’t be the case for one month. She couldn’t very well expect him to sleep on the pavement outside just because Khushi Kumari Gupta was staying in his house, she thought nervously.

“We will talk to Garimaji and Sasiji,” nani reassured her. “Stay here with us, Khussi bitiya.”

“Please don’t, naniji. Let me leave after two days,” Khushi pleaded.

“Three weeks,” mami suggested a compromise.

“Two days, mamiji,” Khushi insisted.

“Two weeks,” mami proposed.

“Three days,” Khushi said, not wanting to sound churlish.

“One week,” mami said. “Last call. One week one, one week two, one week three. Ho gaya. Phixed. One week.”

All looked at Khushi eagerly.

She sighed in defeat.

“One week, Khushiji?” Anjali confirmed.

“One week,” Khushi had to agree. In her mind, she glared at Devi Maiyya.

“We have only one week, saasumma,” mami reminded her urgently. “We have to starts the planwaa.”

“Plan?” Khushi asked, confused. “Kaun sa plan?”

All the ladies tried to explain together.

“Khushiji.”

“Kuch nahi, bitiya.”

“Shaaping. We were thinking of going shapping, he na, saasumma?”

“Yes, yes, Khussi bitiya, you are our guest. We will take care of your entertainment,” nani said.

Khushi nodded warily.

Payal pressed her hand gently. “Don’t worry, Khushi,” she said softly.

“Where is jiju?” Khushi asked her sister.

“At office. Akashji called. He and Arnavji are in a meeting. They will be home late,” Payal said with a smile.

Relief flooded Khushi’s heart.

“Khussi bitiya, you have been travelling all day. Why don’t we have dinner?” nani asked.

“Yes, nani,” Khushi said, jumping up with alacrity. She could gobble up her food and crawl into bed before the Laad Governor came home bringing with him his sharp tongue.

                                                     ***

Arnav and Akash left Dusit Devarana Hotel after their meeting with delegates of Max Mara brand. Aman followed them.

“The contract manufacturing deal will be profitable, bhai,” Akash opined.

ASR nodded.

“We have the facilities, the equipment, the workers and the experience,” Aman added.

“Yes,” ASR replied. “Akash, go home. Payal will be waiting. Aman, we need to go to the office.”

“Bhai,” Akash protested.

“Go home,” ASR ordered.

Akash went to his car while ASR and Aman went to another driven by a driver attached to the office.

                               ***

ASR returned home about ten at night.

“Chotey,” Anjali called him as he walked up the steps.

“Yes?” he asked, still walking ahead.

“We need to talk to you,” she said urgently.

He looked down. He could see the entire family behind her. Akash was with them and he didn’t look too perturbed. So ASR said, “Tomorrow.” He went to his room.

“Nani,” Anjali called, her voice shaking.

“Pata nahi ab kya hoga, Hello Hi Bye Bye,” mami whispered.

Payal clutched Akash’s hand tight.

“What is wrong, Payal?” he asked.

“Nothing, Akashji. Woh—Arnavji doesn’t know that Khushi is here. That’s all,” Payal explained.

“I am sure bhai will be delighted to meet her,” Akash said. “She is a guest.”

“We can tell him tomorrow,” nani said softly. “She will be safely asleep now anyway. The poor thing has been travelling all day.”

All nodded.

ASR walked into his room and shut the door behind him. He threw the laptop bag on the table and shrugged out of his clothes.

The notepad fell from his pocket to the floor.

He bent down slowly to pick it up. Slowly his fingers flipped the pages and stopped at the dresses he had drawn that morning.

A finger gently traced the neckline lined with rhinestones before he came to his senses.

He left the notepad on his bed and grabbed casual clothes before going for a shower.

As he stood under the warm waterfall, his eyes shut, he felt a small hand touch his chest.

Startled, he opened his eyes.

He was alone.

He let his wet lashes fall.

Again he felt a soft hand touch his chest. He trembled, taking care to keep his eyes tightly shut.

The hand moved up, slowly, taking its time to savour the feel of his shoulders and his neck.

He swallowed hard, his heartbeat sounding louder than a drum in his ears.

The gentle hand cupped his face.

“Khushi,” he whispered, opening his eyes.

There was no one in the shower stall with him.

He turned the knob to shut off the water. He stood there, panting, his head bent, his hands propping him against the wall.

A few minutes later he returned, took his pills, set his alarm, plugged in his phone for charging, dimmed the lights and got into bed, exhausted.

Something poked him in the back.

He jumped up.

It was the notepad.

He got up with a sigh, walked to the low table and slipped it into his laptop bag.

As he straightened, he sensed movement in his garden, a shadow falling across the pool.

He tensed.

A figure in white was moving through his plants.

ASR, always one to rush in where others fear to tread, marched to the glass door to the garden, yanked it open and strode out.

He saw a girl standing with her back to him, her silky hair unbound and falling down her back. She was dressed in a white salwar kameez and the white dupatta and strands of her hair fluttered in the wind.

Khushi? His heart almost came to a stop.

She turned, a small smile on her lips as the wind whipped her hair across her face. She shook her head, letting the hair fall down her back.

This was too much. He had seen her throughout the day, even minutes ago in his shower stall. She was disrupting his work, his schedule, his peace of mind and now his sleep too? She was in his garden?

Her eyes fell on him. They widened, looking impossibly beautiful.

Her lips parted, then fell shut.

He watched the muscles of her throat fight to swallow.

Then she turned to walk away.

Silently, he marched ahead, caught hold of her arm and dragged her to face him.

She gasped, turning her face away from his.

“How dare you?” he hissed, not realising that he was holding her and that she was not a figment of his imagination.

Khushi struggled hard.

He pulled her to fall against him.

“Taunting me, killing my peace of mind, haunting me day and night—how dare you?” He shook her.

“Chodiye hamein,” she hissed.

Shock made his fingers loosen slightly.

She pulled away to stand a metre away, rubbing her arms where his cruel fingers had held her.

“I didn’t come here because I wanted to,” she bit out. “Your family called me here, sent a car, driver and maid for me. I had no choice. Otherwise I would have never stepped into this house of yours, Arnav Singh Raizada. Never. Not even if my life depended on it.”

He stared at her, horrified. She was really here?

Khushi turned and walked. A few safe metres away, she turned to ask, “Your family is so sanskaari, so polite, so loving. How did a rakshas like you take birth in such a good family?”

He swallowed hard.

“I wish I had never set eyes on you, never talked to you, you Laad Governor. And don’t worry. I will be leaving in one week. You can count the days,” she said, walking away to her room.

ASR stood there, baffled.

Khushi was really here.

She was occupying the room next to his, a room that opened into his garden just like his did.

She would be here for one week.

And she hated him.

He returned to his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Then he went on a rampage, breaking the table in his room. He turned and saw himself in his floor-length mirror. He threw a paper weight at it, shattering it. He knocked down the jug of water and glass on a wooden stand.

Ten minutes later, the room looked as though a whirlwind had struck it.

ASR sank on his bed, exhausted after a night's work.


Gals, just wanted to tell you something. Please don't use abusive language in the comments. You can disagree or agree with the storyline, like it or dislike it, criticise it or praise it, read it or condemn it to the dustbin. I don't mind. But kindly avoid using foul language. This is a place for friends, for fun, a place to escape to when real life gets difficult. Let's keep it clean.

Rash's interpretation:

Part 6

A garden is a grand teacher. It teaches patience and careful watchfulness; it teaches industry and thrift; above all it teaches trust… 

For Arnav Singh Raizada… his Mama’s garden is a place for sentiment… the garden of flowers is also his garden of thoughts and dreams… Here this thought grow as freely as the flowers and the dreams are as beautiful… Seated in the stone bench, basking in the golden rays filtering through the trees he let his mind soak in the thoughts of Khushi…. His conscience had come to the conclusion, like we count the garden by the flowers, never by the leaves that fall we need to count our life with smiles and not the tears that roll… His thoughts made him feel her presence besides him… His mind was replaying how better their first encounter could have been… His thoughts seemed so real to him, he found hard to believe that the presence of Khushi, as just a figment of his imagination… Shaking his head to remove all thoughts of her he looked around the garden that always gave him the peace… His eyes met his Mama’s favorite Altissimo, the perennial climber, a classic rose that withstands all types of weather, in full bloom… The multiple flowers in their full glory reminded him of Khushi… He wondered how it would look scattered on her, their vivid red velvety petals against the soft silky fair skin… This thought tripped him to sketch a new design and got engrossed in it without being aware of how the time flew… Only his personal alarm, Aman, brought him out of his reverie, a trance he had slipped into, while sketching his designs for his muse, reminding him of his schedule… A glance at his notepad filled with designs inspired by Khushi made him wonder what was happening to him!  Anything beautiful he sees, he sees Khushi in it… For, he is still a greenhorn in the business of tender feelings to understand… If you can’t get someone out of your head, may be they are meant to be there…

Seeing Khushi dilly dally outside the mansion, Mohan thought she was busy admiring the exterior of the house and directed her towards the entrance… But Khushi was giving her friend, Devi Maiyya, a promise to take her to task later for putting her in the soup… The descent of the Raizada females on her and being subjected to their tight hugs left her panting and stunned to see such warm reception… Even with NK’s presence who took her to the room assigned for her, did not alleviate her apprehension of having to meet the Laad Governor… Though the other ladies were happy to see Khushi were a bit worried over Arnav’s reaction to her presence, Manorama was confidence personified, and was assured of the success of their plan… Khushi deciding to tackle the reason for her discomfort. She told the ladies that it being the busy season, she could spare just two days… With shrewd bargaining, Manorama made her agree to a week’s stay… Coming to know that Arnav would be coming late Khushi decided to be in bed by the time he arrived and was relieved…

As soon as the scheduled work was over, Arnav sent a protesting Akash back home to his newly wedded wife… When he returned late at night he saw that the family was still up … Heeding the call from Anjali stating that there was a need to talk with him, he observed the family and seeing Akash relaxed he decided that this discussion could wait. Saying he would lend his ears the next day went up to his room… His action had everyone on tenterhooks as to what would happen now… Consoling themselves with the thought that Khushi would have been worn out and asleep, they too retired to their rooms…

A glance at the notepad that fell from his pocket, propelled him to flip through the pages and his eyes rested on his latest design… Desire to feel the softness of her skin made him come to his senses… But the minute he had closed his eyes in the cascading warm shower he started to feel the touch of this nymph who was pervading his thoughts and now his senses too… in a state of Forelsket…His senses were acute with the pins and needles, thrill of novelty, attacking him mercilessly and it was an euphoria that he had never experienced…

With this set of mind he got ready to call it a day only to be poked by the notepad lying on his bed… When he placed it on his night stand… a movement of a shadow falling across the pool had his eyes note a vision in white amidst his plants… As he rushed to see, the girl with the cascading silky hair, tendrils fluttering to the wind with her back to him, reminded him of Khushi… Slowly as the girl turned he saw the face and his breath hitched… He thought enough is enough… He softly padded on to the retreating girl caught hold of her arm in a vice like grip he pulled her against him and lambasted her for invading his mind without even realizing that she was not a figment of his imagination… Her response was a shocker for him… She was there at the invitation of his family and she was not stalking him… She could not comprehend how he could be part of a loving family as his… She was there just for a week and given a choice she would have never set foot in his house… Stating so with determination and showing her great distaste for his boorish behavior she walked into the room assigned to her that also had a door opening into the pool area… This permeated into the shocked brains of ASR… Looking into her eyes…he knew he wanted to be good in her eyes as he saw his world in her eyes and her eyes everywhere in the world… He realized that he had done a grave mistake with his behavior towards her and his attitude had generated just hate from her… He knew he had fallen in her eyes… This created such a havoc in him enough to go on a rampage of breaking things in his room in self disgust…

If we fall, we don’t need self-recrimination or blame or anger- we need a reawakening of our intention and a willingness to recommit, to be whole-hearted once again…

Smita…That’s was a fantastic progression from the flight of imagination to the ground reality… Loved it…