Saturday 31 October 2015

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…



Wednesday 28 October 2015

236. OS 12. A Delicious Theft (Parts 20-21)


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






“So bitwaa, tell me. What are you doing now?” Sasi asked Anand.



They had finished a delicious dinner and were sitting in the living room, all relaxed and content. Payal and Khushi had been sent to bed as they had a catering order to fill the next day and had to wake up early.


Anand curled his long legs under him, hugged a cushion and said, “I am going to move back to Delhi, uncle. I was in the US for ten years, working in a hospital. I want to take life easy, take time out, enjoy a slower pace. I had an interview today at a hospital. They agreed to my terms. I will be starting work next month.”


“Nandkisore, you are a doctor, aren’t you?” buaji asked. “I remember Deendayalji telling me once.”


“Yes, an orthopaedic surgeon,” Anand smiled.


“Bitwaa, are you married?” Sasi asked directly.


Anand smiled. “No, uncle. I went to California one year after our house burned down and killed my parents. During that time, a family friend brought a proposal for me from Goa. I thought maybe I could build a life from the ashes that were left, but...”


“Kaa hua, bitwaa?’ Garima asked.


“On the day of the wedding,” Anand said slowly, “when we sat down before the havan, the girl jumped up, took a thali of flowers and threw it into the fire.”


“Hein?” buaji asked.


“What?” Sasi asked.


“Ee kaa he, jiji?” Garima asked.


“She suffered from mental illness. The family hid it from me. She became very violent when she saw the crowd and the fire. She chased the priest, held him down and hit him on the head with a lamp,” Anand said softly.


“The family lied? Why? Matlab, how can you hide your daughter’s  madness from her future husband? Did they think you would never find out?” Sasi asked, astounded.


“I don’t know, uncle. I had to call a friend in Goa who is a psychiatrist. He came with an ambulance and three helpers. It took all four of them, me and a tranquiliser to get her to the hospital,” Anand sighed.


“Ee to ghor anyay hui gawa, Nandkisore,” buaji exclaimed.


“Yes, buaji,” Anand admitted. “They had to admit her. She was under treatment there for four months after which her parents took her away. Even though we weren’t married, I offered to pay for her lifelong treatment through my friend, but they refused it and left Goa for Kanpur.”


“Do you know where she is now?” Sasi asked.


Anand sighed. “They stopped her medication. A friend in Kanpur, who had been present that day in the wedding hall, said that about three years after the wedding fiasco, she died. She brandished a knife one day and succeeded in fatally wounding her father. In the scuffle that followed, she was hurt badly and passed away at the hospital in which he was working.”


Buaji had to wipe away a tear.


“After this mess, I was pretty scared to think of marriage, uncle. So I focused on my work. But I am thirty-eight now. If I am planning to marry, I need to make a move soon,” Anand said.


Sasi beamed. “Bitwaa, what do you expect in your bride?” he asked.


“I would like her to be between thirty and thirty-eight, uncle. I don’t want a young bride,” he said.


“Bitwaa, there is a very nice girl. Her name is Anjali,” Sasi suggested.


Buaji and Garima nodded vigorously.


“She is beautiful, very devout, very good-natured,” Garima added.


“She is in her early thirties, a spinster,” Sasi said. “She lives with her nani, mami, mama, one brother and one cousin. They are very nice people.”


Buaji and mami nodded.


“Why is she still a spinster?’ Anand asked. “Doesn’t she want to marry?”


“Three reasons,” Sasi said directly. “One, she is Arvind Mallik’s daughter.”


Anand frowned. “The family that lived in Sheesh Mahal?”


“Yes,” Sasi said.


“There was a scandal, wasn’t there, uncle?” Anand asked hesitantly. “I don’t remember exactly what it was.”


Sasi explained about the death of Anjali’s parents.


“I remember babuji remarking once that Arvind and Avinash Mallik were shaitan in human form,” Anand said mildly.


“He was right,” Sasi said.


“What is the second reason?” Anand asked.


“The double suicide happened on Anjali’s wedding day. The shaadi was cancelled and the groom and his family ran away,” Sasi said.


“I see,” Anand said.


“So she is scared of trusting men, Nandkisore,” buaji explained.


Anand nodded. “I understand,” he said softly. “The third reason?” he asked.


“Polio, I think,” Sasi said. “She has a limp.”


“I see,” Anand said.


“Babua, her father and uncle were ghatiya men, but her mother and the rest of the family are good, sanskaari people,” Sasi said. “In fact, her brother, Arnav likes Khushi and her cousin, Akash wants to marry Payaliya. We are considering the proposals,” Sasi revealed.


“That’s great,” Anand said. “Payal and Khushi in one family. Uncle, can we meet Anjali informally? We can decide whether to proceed or not after that.”


“Why not?” Sasi asked. “Let me see what can be done.”






                                              ***





Payal and Khushi were serving Anand aloo paratha when Sasi came rushing in.


“Bitwaa, aa jao. We can eat later,” Sasi said frantically.

Anand stood up obediently.


“Babuji, bhaiyya didn’t eat even a morsel,” Khushi complained.


“We will get back soon,” Sasi said apologetically.


“The food will cool,” Payal pouted.


“It is urgent,” Sasi dragged Anand by the arm and led him out.


“Kya hua, uncle? Is someone sick?” he asked.


“No, Anjali and her family are at the temple,” Sasi said. “We can deliberately meet them there by accident.”


“You are wicked, uncle,” Anand said, chuckling as he crammed his length into a rickshaw and left with Sasi.






“That’s them,” Sasi inclined his head towards the three ladies standing on the landing.


Anand saw the back of a tall, slim girl wearing a pink sari. Lush, black hair fell down her back like a silk waterfall. As he watched, she turned and he caught his breath. Bright, big eyes, a pert nose and full lips. A lovely complexion and a beautiful smile. She had a pooja thali in her hands.


“I am going up to meet them,” Sasi murmured.


“I will wait here,” Anand whispered. “Will join you later.”


Sasi nodded and walked up.





Anand saw the moment Anjali’s eyes fell on Sasi. Her eyes lit up, her face bloomed.


“Uncle,” she called, limping down the steps to reach him.

“I will come to you,” Sasi called, quickly walking up to reach her.

Anjali caught hold of his hand in her free one. “I am so happy to see you, uncle. It has been one month since we met,” she pouted.

“Yes, hasn't it? How have you been, Anjali?” Sasi asked.

Anand slowly walked up the steps to take a place from where he could hear the conversation.


“Well, uncle. How are Garima aunty and buaji? Payal and Khushi?” Anjali asked.


Mami and nani joined them, greeting Sasi warmly.


“Garima and jiji are fine. Khussi and Payaliya are not very happy,” Sasi said truthfully.


Anjali’s face fell. “Chotey and Akash have been working very hard this month, uncle. They have always worked hard, but this month—it has been too much. I am scared they will fall ill,” she admitted.


Sasi nodded.


“They don’t eat properly, don’t sleep well and then work long hours. Aisa bhi koi karta he, uncle?” she asked. “They know how we worry about them.”


“That’s why Anjali came here today, Sasiji, to get two raksha dhagas for the boys,” nani explained.


“And hamre Arnav bitwaa was saying that there ijj no isspace on his wrists for another raksha dhaga, Hello Hi Bye Bye!” mami added.


All smiled.


“Let me introduce you to Anand Bharadwaj. He is the son of my friend, Deendayal,” Sasi said.


Anand stepped forward.


All the ladies folded their hands and greeted him. He reciprocated.


“Anand, this is Devyani Raizada, her daughter-in-law, Manorama Raizada and her granddaughter, Anjali Raizada,” Sasi said.


“Are you in Delhi for a visit, bitwaa?” nani asked.


“No, I am moving here permanently. I will be starting work at AIIMS next month,” Anand said with a smile.


“He is a surgeon setting broken bones,” Sasi explained.


All smiled at Anand.


“Your parents are here with you?” nani asked.


“No, they are dead. A fire burned down our house and my parents were caught in it,” he said simply.


Mami covered her mouth in shock.


“He bhagwan!” nani exclaimed.


Anjali’s eyes filled with tears.


“I am a bachelor. My wedding was fixed, but we realised that the bride was insane, violently so, on the wedding day before the shaadi. So I am unmarried and alone. Now Sasi uncle is helping me find a bride,” Anand said directly.


Sasi nodded his approval of Anand’s straight talking.


Tears trailed down Anjali’s cheeks for the pain and disillusionment this stranger must have felt.




Anand held out his kerchief.


Anjali took it and dried her cheeks.


“I am so sorry you had two terrible experiences in your life, Anandji,” Anjali said in a low voice.


“This is life,” Anand said, shrugging.


She held out the kerchief. He took it.


“I hope you find a bride who makes you very happy, Anandji. Aap bilkul chinta mat keejiye. I will pray for you,” Anjali promised him earnestly.


Anand nodded. “I am sure I will, Anjaliji, if you pray for me,” he said, a small smile lurking about his chiselled lips.


“You pray, Anjali, but please, please don’t fast,” Sasi requested.


All laughed.


Sasi turned to Anand and said, “Anjali has an inordinate fondness for fasting.”


Anand smiled.


“Acha, hum chalte hein,” Sasi told the ladies.


“Sasiji, you said you want to know the boys better, but you haven’t visited us even once,” nani complained. “Aap hamare ghar aayiye na.”


“Ee long distance jaan-pehchan se kaa fayda?” mami asked.


“And bring Anand bitwaa with you, Sasiji,” nani said. She turned to look at the tall, young man. “As long as we are here, you will always have friends in Delhi, babua,” nani told Anand.


He smiled his thanks.


“We will visit tomorrow evening around six, Devyaniji, if it is fine with you,” Sasi promised.


“Any time is fine with us, Sasiji,” nani said smilingly.


“Pukka promise?” Anjali asked, holding her hand out for Sasi’s promise.


“Pukka promise,” Sasi placed his hand on hers.





                                      ***




“Chotey, Sasi uncle and his family will be visiting us at six tomorrow,” Anjali told Arnav over the phone.


“We will get there before they do, di,” Arnav promised. “I will ask Aman to reschedule the appointments.”


“Are you fine, Chotey? You sound odd,” Anjali said.


“Just tired,” Arnav said. His head hurt, his eyes felt as though they were burning.


“And Chotey, do you know whom we met today?” Anjali asked.


“Who?” Arnav made the requisite reply.


“Anand Bharadwaj, Sasi uncle’s friend’s son,” Anjali revealed. “His story is so sad, Chotey.”


“I will get back to you, di. I have a lot of work to get through,” he said before cutting the call.




                                           ***




Sasi asked Anand, “So what do you think of Anjali?”


“I think we should pursue it,” Anand said softly. “But before that, we need to find out if she intends to marry or has decided to remain a spinster. I have to respect her decision.”


Sasi nodded. “I will talk to Devyaniji today evening. If Anjali is willing to give shaadi a chance, take a few weeks to get to know her. I don’t want any more unpleasant surprises in your life, babua,” he said.


Anand smiled.


“You don’t mind her limp?” Sasi asked to be sure.


“No, I have seen worse,” Anand said lightly.


“Some people consider the bride unlucky if her wedding gets cancelled,” Sasi reminded him, wanting him to be certain of what he was planning to do.


“Then I must be equally unlucky,” Anand smiled.


“The family—it is not good,” Sasi spoke the truth.


“I know. Had my parents been alive, they would never have considered a girl from the Mallik family. But they are dead. I have no one to please, no one to ask, no one to help me except you, uncle. If you are ok with them, I don’t mind,” Anand said.


Mohan phoned at that very moment.


“Your Arnav Singh Raizada is working from home today. His brother is mooning about the office like a hen that has lost its only chick,” Mohan said with a laugh.


Sasi chuckled.


“The news is that ASR is sick,” Mohan said seriously.


“What?” Sasi asked. "Did he eat his own cooking?"


“The long hours and lack of proper food have taken their toll,” Mohan said.


Sasi sighed. “Mohan,  call off your detective,” he said.


“You are satisfied with one month’s report?” Mohan asked.


“Yes, I don’t have the patience to listen to you giving me the same list every evening for six months,” Sasi said.


Mohan smiled.


“Mohan Tiwariji, I am delighted to inform you that my daughters are getting married sometime very soon. You will receive a formal invitation as soon as we fix the date and the place,” Sasi teased. “Waise, I wonder if ASR will be able to spare two hours to get married.”


Mohan laughed. “I am sure he will slot you in,” he said before cutting the call.


Payal came in to give Sasi and Anand their tea.


“Payaliya, you and Khussi need to come out with us this evening,” Sasi said.


“An outing, babuji?” Payal asked in excitement.


“Yes,” he replied. “We need to show your Anand bhaiyya the sights, don’t we?”


“Yes,” Payal said, smiling widely. “I will let Khushi know.”


“Tell her I won’t let her sit at home and mope,” Sasi cautioned her.



“Yes, babuji,” Payal replied before leaving.





Part 21 









“Sasiji.” Nani was all smiles as she greeted him. “I am so glad you are all here. Garimaji, Madhumatiji, Anand, Payal, Khussi, come in.”


Mami and Anjali greeted them and dragged them off to the living room, chattering nineteen to a dozen.


“Babuji brought us to Akashji and Arnavji’s house?” Payal asked in astonishment. “Yeh kya ho raha he, Khushi?”


“I don’t know, jiji,” Khushi whispered. Her eyes looked around frantically for a sight of her Arnavji. It had been one full month since she had laid her eyes on him.


“Maybe they are not here. Otherwise babuji would never bring us here. He would be breaking his own stipulation of six months of no contact,” Payal surmised.


“I don’t know, jiji,” Khushi murmured, her eyes shadowed with pain because she couldn’t see Arnav anywhere.


All sat down.


“Hari Prakashji, please bring tea and snacks,” nani requested.


“Ji, naniji,” HP took one last look at his Devi Khushi before leaving for the kitchen.


“I will help him, nani,” Anjali said with a big smile.

As she turned to leave, buaji said, “Khussi, Payaliya, jao, help Anjali, Nandkisore.”


Payal, Khushi and Anjali made their way into the kitchen.





“Devyaniji, we have come here today to let you know that we don’t need six months to know your grandsons. We would be delighted to marry our daughters to them,” Sasi said quietly.


Nani couldn’t believe her ears. She stared at Sasi in disbelief.


“Saasumma, pinch me,” mami invited.


Buaji pinched her as hard as she could make it.


Mami screamed in pain. Then she asked, “So it ijj true? You will give Khussi to hamre Arnav bitwaa and Payaliya to Akass bitwaa?”


“Yes,” Sasi said with a smile.


“Hello Hi Bye Bye!” mami exclaimed.


“Let me call the boys down,” nani said swallowing her happy tears. “They are upstairs working.”


“I don’t want to meet them, Devyaniji. I am convinced they are gems,” Sasi said.


“Phir bhi,” mami tried to insist.


‘I know too much about them as it is,’ Sasi muttered to himself. ‘No more.’ He said loudly, “Why don’t we send the girls to meet the boys? They are the ones who need to know each other.”


Nani’s and mami’s eyes brightened.


“Yes, that’s right, Sasi babua,” buaji said.


“They will be so surprised,” Garima said smiling.


“As you wish, Sasiji,” nani said, happy to fall in with his plan.


“Are you looking for a groom for Anjali?” Sasi asked bluntly.


Nani lowered her eyes to the carpet. Mami touched her on the knee to comfort her. Then she said, “Bhat ijj the use of lookings for a groom? They come for the money, not for our Anjali bitiya.”


“She had polio as a child, Sasiji. So she has a limp. Her age, the cancellation of her wedding, her parents’ death—all are against her. We tried looking for a husband for her, but all we got were fortune hunters,” nani said slowly. “Thank God she has two brothers to look after her after we are gone. Otherwise, I don’t know how we would bear this.”


The Guptas nodded. Anand listened keenly.


“Is she against marriage?” Sasi asked.


“No, Sasiji. I am sure she too wants to get married, but the kind of men who came here to see her were—let me say they put her off,” nani admitted.


“What do you think of Anand for Anjali?” Sasi asked.


The Guptas smiled at the look of shock on the faces of nani and mami.


Finally nani said, “Bitwaa, you know nothing about us. We belong to Lucknow. We...”





“I know everything,” Anand said softly. “Sasi uncle told me.”


Nani and mami looked at Sasi for confirmation.


Sasi nodded.


Nani heaved a sigh of relief, her eyes filling with tears.


“Can we let Anand and Anjali talk in private?” Sasi asked. "They should know if they suit."


“Why not?” nani asked, smiling through the tears.


Anjali, Khushi, Payal and HP entered with tea and snacks.


“Khussi, Payaliya,” mami called. “Bhy don’t you goes up and sees the housewaa?”


The girls nodded, confused.


“I will take them, mami,” Anjali offered readily and turned to escort the girls up.


“Anjali bitiya, you stays here. Khussi knows the way. She will take Payaliya up,” mami said.


Payal and Khushi walked up the steps holding hands.


“What is happening, Khushi?” Payal asked.


“I don’t know,” Khushi replied. “Jiji, I know only Arnavji’s room. This is it,” she said, gently pushing the door open.





                                     ***





“Anjali bitiya, sit down, “ nani said.


Anjali sat down.


“Sasiji, Garimaji and Madhumatiji have agreed to let Payal and Khushi marry Akash and Arnav,” nani told her.


Anjali’s eyes widened in shocked delight. She jumped out of her seat and uncaring of her bad leg, launched herself at Sasi, buaji and Garima, hugging them fiercely chanting “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”


Anand laughed at her excitement.


“Uncle, aunty, buaji, I promise, I will be the best sister-in-law ever and Chotey and Akash will be model husbands,” she repeated, hugging them again.


“Woh sab theek he, Anjali,” Sasi said. “We believe you. But...”


“But?” Anjali asked, her big eyes filled with worry.


“I am worried about you. Are you going to remain alone all your life?” Sasi asked gently.


Anjali looked helplessly at nani and mami. Then she said softly, “Uncle, I couldn’t find anyone to marry.”


“No problem,” Sasi said. “That’s what families are for. We meddle with pleasure. Anjali, after Arnav marries Khussi and Akash marries Payal, who are we to you?”


“Ji?” Anjali asked, bewildered.


“You can’t call me uncle anymore. You will have to call me babuji. Garima will be your amma. Buaji will be your buaji,” Sasi explained.


Anjali nodded slowly.


“We take our responsibilities very seriously, Anjali and have brought a proposal for you,” Sasi said.


Anjali’s mouth fell open.


“You don’t have to marry him if you don’t like him. Just promise us that you will meet him and talk to him, try to get to know him. That’s all,” Sasi suggested.


“Uncle...” Anjali began.


Sasi raised his brow.


“Babuji,” Anjali corrected herself, trying hard not to cry. 
“Babuji, my limp.”


“He doesn’t mind it,” Sasi reassured her.


“What? What about my cancelled marriage?” Anjali tried.


“He couldn’t care less about it,” Sasi said. “And he doesn’t mind about the Malliks.”


“Really?” Anjali was shocked.


“Just talk to him,” Sasi requested.


“I will,” Anjali promised.


“So here we present Anand Bharadwaj as a prospective groom for you,” Sasi turned to look at Anand.


Anjali’s jaw hit the floor.


Finally she managed to ask Anand, “Anandji, aap? Really?”


He nodded, a small smile on his thin lips.


“Now it is your turn to show Anand the kitchen of your house,” Sasi pointed in the direction of the kitchen. “Jaaiye.”


Anjali and Anand left the elders and moved away to talk.






                            ***






Khushi pointed at Arnav’s bed.


“Arnavji’s bed,” she said.


Payal looked at her as though she had lost her marbles. She looked away to see the open door to the garden and the pool.

Payal walked through it into the garden. She stood looking at the placid water of the pool, feeling at peace.


Khushi walked to the bed on tired legs and collapsed on it. She buried her face in his pillow, breathing him in. She slowly pulled the blanket over her to lie shrouded in the very place Arnavji had slept last night.


“P—payal?” came a squeaky cry.


Payal turned her head to see Akash staring at her through his specs. Behind him, Arnav was sitting on a black recliner, a laptop on the low table before him.


Her mouth fell open. “You are at home?” Payal asked. “Then why did babuji bring us here?”


Akash strode to her and took hold of her hand. Payal blushed and lowered her eyes.


“Khushi?” Arnav asked, his voice husky.


Payal turned her head to indicate his room.


Arnav stood up in haste, his legs hitting the table. The piece of furniture shook but didn’t fall. He rushed to his room, his eyes looking for Khushi.


He saw the bundle on his bed.


Arnav slowly walked up to her and sat down by her, his legs trembling. He slowly pulled down one corner of the blanket.


Khushi’s face was buried in his pillow and she was weeping, her body shaking with soundless sobs.


“Khushi,” he called urgently, touching her shoulder.


Startled, she lifted her head to look at him.


“Arnavji?” she asked between sobs.




“Yes,” Arnav said hoarsely. “Khushi, don’t cry.” He tried to wipe away her tears but Khushi gave him no chance.


She threw herself at him, sobbing brokenly into his chest, her arms tight around him. His arms held her tight to him, his brain unable to process the truth that she was really before him, with him, in his arms. He buried his face in her hair, whispering, “Khushi.”


His phone rang.


“Khushi,” he said softly, before lowering his right arm and taking the phone from his pocket.


“If it is Amanji, I will kill him,” Khushi threatened, her voice laden with tears. “And I won’t tie rakhi on his hand.”


“Mami,” Arnav replied, smiling crookedly.


“Yes?” he asked.


“Arnav bitwaa, ek khuss khabri he tumhare liye,” mami began.


“What, mami?” he asked.


“Sasiji has agreed to the two marriages,” mami said happily.


“Kya?” he asked, his voice thin.


“Yes,” mami confirmed. “Your nani and the Guptas are fixing the dates for your wedding.”


Arnav swallowed. “The six months,” he asked weakly.


“Six months ko goli maaro, Arnav bitwaa. Sasiji ijj ready to give his daughters to us. That ijj all that matters,” mami said.


Arnav nodded. “I will come down now,” he offered.


“This boy! You are bilkul like your mama. No romance. Don’t come down. Sit with Khussi. I bill calls you if they want you.”


Arnav nodded.


“And Sasiji has brought a proposal for Anjali bitiya,” mami said with glee. “Anand Bharadwaj. Kouno doctor he.”


“What?” Arnav couldn’t contain his shock.


“They are talking. You also talk with Khussi,” mami suggested.


“We are coming down now,” Arnav said before cutting the call.


He looked down at Khushi.


“Khushi, we have to go down,” he said.


“No,” Khushi protested.


“Your father,” he began.


“No, I can’t live without seeing you for another five months, Arnavji,” she whispered against his neck. “I won’t go.”


“Khushi, babuji has agreed to the weddings,” Arnav said, a tremulous smile on his face.


“What?” Khushi gasped.


“Yes,” Arnav said, dropping a kiss on her hair. “He doesn’t want to wait for another five months.”


“How? Why?” Khushi asked.


“I have no idea, Khushi. I am just glad this is happening,” Arnav whispered against her forehead.


“Devi Maiyya ki jai ho,” Khushi said, her eyes shut.


“Yes, Devi Maiyya ki jai ho,” Arnav seconded her. “Buaji hurting her foot at the temple, me helping her, your father’s change of heart and now your father bring Anand Bharadwaj’s proposal for di—it is like a caravan of miracles marching into my life, Khushi.”


“Anand bhaiyya for Anjaliji?” Khushi gasped.


“Yes,” Arnav replied.


“He is a wonderful man, Arnavji,” Khushi said, cupping his face.


“Really?” Arnav asked.


“Will babuji bring a bad man for Anjalji?” Khushi asked.


“No, never,” Arnav had to say.


“To phir?” she asked.


“Why is Devi Maiyya so kind to us, Khushi?” he asked, unable to believe that many burdens he had been carrying on his shoulders for years were no longer there.


“She likes my laddoos, that’s why,” Khushi claimed.


“Maybe,” Arnav said, smiling, his eyes showering love on her.


“Not maybe. Say yes,” Khushi insisted.


“Yes, yes. A hundred times yes, my own Lakhnavi chef,” Arnav said against her cheek.





                                    ***


Rash's Interpretation:


Part 20



You build on failure using it as a stepping stone… Anand has accepted the fiasco of marriage as his past, closed the door on it and has let it go… He has learnt that, the lessons learnt from the past needs to be applied… Hence when Shashi asked his willingness to marry Anjali, he decided to see her first and at Shashi’s suggestion to get to know her… Meeting Anjali at the temple Anand was enamored by her, yet he was cautious in his approach… He accepts to meet the Raizadas’ at Shantivan… Before going ahead and revealing himself as a prospective suitor to Anjali, he wants to know what really her opinion is on her marriage and whether she was willing to take the plunge…


Shashi is satisfied with what he has come to know of Arnav and Akash… His decision was conveyed first to Mohan Tiwary in appreciation of his work with the first invite to the double wedding… He is all set to surprise Khushi and Payal by taking them to Shantivan and give his decision…




Part 21



Though the rest were happy to see Raizadas’ Payal and Khushi were flummoxed to be taken there… Guptas’ sans the girls had a mission to accomplish…. The unsuspecting Raizadas’ were relieved with the pleasant surprise given by Shashi Gupta… of the double wedding… When Shashi suggested Anand as a suitor for Anjali once he came to know that she is willing to seek the marital bliss, their happiness multiplied manifold by the understanding that Shashi showed as to what their happiness really meant and with these alliances formed they were gaining not just relation but kindred clan too… for the value of relation is not how much one feels happy with a person, but it’s the emptiness that one feels without that person… Such is the personality of Halwaii Shashi Gupta, an ordinary man with an extraordinary good heart…


Arnav and Akash get a surprise too to see their girls in their house and Arnav is ecstatic but Khushi is heartbroken with the thought of having to be away from him for another five months… With Mami’s input that there would be a double wedding as soon as it could be arranged and if things went smoothly three weddings in the house both are confounded… Arnavs first instinct is to rush to his Di to see how she is taking it, for in each other, both sought support and strength to tide over all through their perils… But Mami’s chiding keeps him glued to Khushi and later takes her too to the living room where the plans to go ahead were taking shape…

Loved the update Smita…


Epilogue




Anand opened the door of his car and held out his hand.


Anjali placed her hand in his and alighted to stand looking at the beautiful house before them.


“It is beautiful, Anandji,” Anjali breathed. “The terrace, the gardens. It is exactly what I dreamed of.”


“Come in,” he invited, opening the front door with his key.


Anjali stood on the threshold and looked at the expanse of marble within.


Anand lifted her in his strong arms and carried her into the house.


“Anandji,” she protested weakly.





“Hold on tight,” he replied softly.


Anjali tightened her arms around his neck.


He carried her in and bent to lower her at the centre of the room.


Anjali looked around at the spacious room and its bare walls. There were no drapes or furniture.


“You will have to furnish it, Anjali, make it a home,” Anand said softly.




She nodded, her eyes shining with joy.


Anand took out a catalogue of fabric and a notepad from a cabinet.


“Anjali, go through this and pick the curtains you want in each room. I will note it down,” Anand said.


“Ji,” she replied. She looked at the windows in the room and flipped through the catalogue. One fabric caught her eye.


“Anandji, what do you think about this for this room?” she asked.


Anand walked to her to peer at the picture. “It looks good,” he remarked.


His arm went around her shoulder.


Anjali stiffened in surprise. She turned her head to look at him.


He raised his brow as if to ask if anything was wrong.


Anjali shook her head to mean no.


Anand smiled as he tightened his hold on her.


“What about the furniture?” Anand asked.


Anjali stammered as she told him what she wanted.


He freed her to write down her choices.





They went from one room to the next till they reached the master bedroom.


Anjali swallowed.


Anand smiled seeing her nervousness.


She fiddled with the catalogue, picking a random fabric for the curtains.


“You are sure?” Anand asked.


“Ji?” Anjali hyperventilated.


“You are sure you want black for the curtains in our bedroom?” Anand asked.


“Black?” Anjali breathed, staring at the option she had picked at random.


“Black is fine, Anjali,” Anand said, laughter in his voice. “It will look like night in our bedroom even when it is daytime. Imagine lying here on our bed and looking at the black silk curtains,” he teased. "What an ambience for romance!"


Anjali wished she could swoon and end this torture.


“What about the furniture?’ he asked.


Anjali swallowed hard, her throat dry like the Saharan desert.


“A bed is a must, don’t you think?” Anand teased.


“You choose, Anandji,” Anjali mumbled and made to leave.


Anand caught hold of her hand gently. He tugged her to stand close to him, her chest against his. He put his arms around her and cradled her to him.


He whispered into her hair, “This is as new to me as it is to you, Anjali.”


Anjali looked into his honest eyes.


He ran a daring finger down her cheek.


“I am looking forward to our life together,” he whispered. “Are you?”


Anjali nodded, blushing slightly.


He bent to kiss away the blush from her cheek.



                                 ***




“Payal, you look like an angel,” Akash said, pushing his specs up the bridge of his nose.


“You need to change your glasses,” Payal simpered. “Humein pankh thodi na he.”


“Payal, in a sari—you—you—you are beautiful,” he continued.


Payal rearranged the pallu on her shoulder with nervous fingers.


“It is our sagai. Can you believe it?” he asked.


“No,” Payal admitted. “I thought babuji would never permit our marriage. Suniye, what would you have done had babuji refused permission after six months?”


“Payal, I—I would have suggested we elope,” he said bravely.


Payal’s eyes widened. “Sachi?” she asked. “Like we see in phillums?”


“Yes,” he asserted.


“Kitne cute he aap!” Payal exclaimed, tweaking his nose.


He blushed.




***





“Arnavji, open your mouth,” Khushi said as she held a spoon filled with ambrosia to his sinfully delicious lips.


He parted them and let her feed him.


His lashes fell as he tasted the nectar that was her cooking.


“Gajar ka halwa, sugar free. Like it?’ she asked.


“Hhmmmm,” was all he could say.


Khushi smiled. She dumped the dish on the table and cupped his face. “How thin you became in one month, Arnavji,” she lamented.


He smiled into her eyes. “I was dying for you, Khushi,” he murmured.


“Don’t talk about dying, suna aapne? I will fight with you and never talk to you again," she threatened him.


“Sorry,” he apologised, his eyes dancing.


“Chalo, maaf kiya,” she let him off the hook.


“I have a gift for you, Khushi,” he said softly.


“More diamonds? Arnavji, please,” she begged, folding her hands. “Don’t give me diamonds. I am scared I will misplace them.”


“Not diamonds, Khushi, but something more valuable,” he said, handing over a packet.


Khushi tore it open with all the excitement of a child on its birthday. She pulled out a white chef’s cap from it.


“Awww, you remembered,” she gasped, hugging the cap to her chest.


“I can never forget anything about you, Khushi,” he said, his voice low. He took the cap from her and placed it on her head.





Khushi ran to the mirror in his room, placed her hands on her hips and preened. She was in her sangeet dress of pink and dark blue silk lehenga, her hair piled on top of her head in an artistic bun covered with jasmine flowers. The chef’s cap was the perfect finishing touch.





Arnav came to stand behind her, his arms folded.


“Like it?” he asked.


“Love it, Arnavji,” she replied, beaming. The smile fell away. “But amma and buaji won’t let me wear it to our sangeet.”


“Koi baat nahi, Khushi,” he whispered in her ear, his fingers filching the cap from her head. “I will keep it safe.”


“Aap kitne ache ho!” Khushi gushed.


“You can wear it on our suhaag raat,” he breathed against her sensitive ear.


Khushi jumped.


“You can wear the cap and nothing else on our suhaag raat,” he whispered, his nose touching her ear, his eyes waiting for the shock on her face.


“Awww,” Khushi exclaimed. “Besharam, behaya.”


Arnav burst out laughing.


She stared at the beauty of his face as he chortled.


“Waise,” she began and stopped.


“Kya?” he asked, turning her towards him, taking her hand in his and kissing her palm.


“You are a thief too,” she said.





“Really?” he asked.


She nodded.


“You stole my heart,” she said with a smile.


“I did?” he asked, trying to look innocent.


She nodded. “And my neend,” she added.



“Acha?” he asked, a teasing glint in his eyes.


“And my chain,” she claimed.


“I am going to steal one more thing before this evening is over, Khushi,” he promised.


“Kya?” she asked. “What is left for you to steal? You have taken everything.”


He swallowed his laughter.



“This,” he said before lowering his lips to hers and stealing all her hosh and thoughts away.





The End