122. Recalling Arnav (Part 14-)

Part 14

She landed in Arnav’s waiting arms. Her breath left her in a whoosh at the impact and she stared at his face with shocked eyes.

As she watched, the soft lines of his face hardened.

The tenderness in his eyes vanished and a cold, calculating light entered them. His dangerous and focused eyes moved to her trembling lips and lingered there.

Khushi shuddered in his arms, the look in his eyes hurting her to the core.

The muscles of her tummy cramped at his touch. Lights flashed all around her. Loud gasps and the footfalls of security guards running towards them could be heard. She drew in much-needed oxygen through her parted lips. 

His heart aching at the distress on her face, Arnav steeled himself to walk the next step. 

 With force, he threw her away from him.

 Khushi landed on her feet and staggered back, her shocked eyes looking at the man who had transformed before her eyes from a gentleman in to a monster.

Arnav in ASR form yanked Khushi closer to him by tugging her arm. He twisted her arm behind her and forced her chest to collide with his.

 Khushi gasped, “Ar—Arnavji…”

He caught hold of the pearl dori crisscrossing her back and pulled hard.

The dori broke, scattering the pearls on the floor of the room. As the sound of pearls rolling on the floor stopped, there was perfect, absolute silence.

Khushi stared at Arnav, her eyes wide, moist.

Images whirled through her head.

Sheesh Mahal at night.

She was on the rackety milk scooter. The models walking in a line on the stage.

The lights were hurting her eyes—all were staring at her.

And then his eyes.

They had bored in to her, stripping her off her clothes and her skin, burning every nerve end….

Her head hurt. She clutched her head with both hands.

“Khushi?” came the soft empathetic query.

She looked in to the same eyes. The same eyes but different. These held a tender light and all the love in this world. The past and the present blended seamlessly to confuse her further.

“Arnavji…” Khushi whispered as she collapsed against him, her head in the crook of his neck.

Arnav closed his arms around her, hugging her as tight as he could. He wished he could bear the pain for her, but…

Khushi slipped in to deep sleep, held in his arms. Arnav laid her down carefully on her bed and sat by her, watching her sleep.

Had she remembered their past? he wondered, his heart thundering away. And if she remembered, how much of it had she recalled? He would know the answer to this only when she woke up.

A couple of hours later, her eyelids flickered and her eyes opened. She looked at the drawn face of the man sitting by her.

She sat up in bed, wanting to leave its confines. He helped her to stand up.

“Khushi, tum theek ho?” The husky voice caressed her like  a thousand loving fingers.

Khushi leaned against him.

“My head hurts,” Khushi whispered. Her eyes were shut; her heart was thudding against his.

“Don’t try hard to remember, Khushi,” he murmured.

She lay silent against him, hugging him tightly as though he were her only anchor in the sea of disjointed memories.

A long time later, she lifted her head from his shoulder. He helped her stand and slowly led her to her chair.

He too sat down. 

Part 15 

“Why—why did you look at me like that? As though you hated me?” she asked.

“I didn’t know you then, Khushi,” Arnav said in a low voice.

She said, “I came in search of Abhishek—Abhishek, not Akash Jiju.” She frowned.

“Yes,” Arnav said evenly.

“He wanted more dowry at the last minute,” Khushi sighed shakily.

“Yes,” Arnav murmured, passing her a glass of water.

Khushi sipped it and then set the glass down.

“I am sorry I disrupted your show. Sach mein, I didn’t know what was going on. I was pushed on to the stage,” Khushi tried to convince Arnav.

“I believe you,” Arnav said.

“You thought someone had paid me to spoil your function,” Khushi stated.

“Yes,” Arnav said.

“I wouldn’t have done something like that,” Khushi said, indignant.

“I know. Now,” Arnav said evenly.

“What is the use of knowing now?” Khushi asked. “You had me locked up, you hurt my arm, you tore the dori and insulted me. Is this the way you behave with ladies?” she growled at him.

“I am sorry,” Arnav whispered.

“You should be. You made me cry. All the kajal I wore for the wedding spread on my cheeks. Muh kaali kar ke ghar laute hum uss din. In all ways. Aap ko pata he how much Buaji scolded me when I returned home?” She scowled at him.

“No, I don’t,” Arnav said. But he could imagine. Knowing the Guptas as he did now, he could imagine the reception Khushi had received that night.

“The dulha had vanished, phurrr like a kabootar.”

Arnav nodded.

“The papers to the shop were missing.”

“Yes,” Arnav said.

“The bride’s sister was missing too.”

Arnav nodded.

“The guests returned home after the tamasha, leaving my family disgraced. Then I landed at home,” Khushi pouted.

Arnav swallowed.

“Amma and Buaji were so angry with me,” Khushi shuddered. “They said that I had caused Jiji’s wedding to break off.”

Arnav could only look at her and curse ASR.

“Babuji had to calm down both of them and send us to bed. And what were you doing when I was crying and spending a sleepless night? Sleeping soundly, weren’t you?” Khushi was angry.

“No. I was thinking of you all night,” Arnav spoke the truth.

“Acha? You were wondering how to torment me further? Planning how to get hold of me and make my life hell?” Khushi asked.

“I was trying to understand what had happened that evening and why it had affected me so much,” Arnav said softly.

“Acha? And did you reach any conclusion after your night-long thinking session?”

“No.”

“I know you didn’t. Otherwise you wouldn’t have been so rude at the dargah,” Khushi complained. “What was wrong with you? Did I run after you because I took one glance at you and realised that you were rich? I just wanted to return your mannat ki chabi!”

“I know,” Arnav could not say anything else.

“And you aired the scene of me falling in to your arms. He Devi Maiyya!”

“I am sorry, Khushi,” He knew he would be saying this a lot in the coming days.

“You should be. I was standing before Ramu Chacha’s shop watching TV. Amma & Babuji were paying the grocery bill at Chaman Lalji’s dukaan nearby. And then…” her voice faltered.

“I am sorry, Khushi.” His husky voice broke.

“You should be. When you aired that clip…” Big drops of tears rolled down her cheeks. “…thugs thought that I was a girl who would go with any man, a girl without shame. They pulled my dupatta off.”

Arnav gasped. His fists clenched. “How dare they?”

“Where were you when they did this to me? Where had you hidden yourself?”

Arnav had no answer.

“Babuji came to help me. The boys pushed Babuji and he fell down,” Khushi narrated the incident.

Arnav could only stare at her.

Khushi continued. “Another man came to help us. A Shyam Manohar Jha. With big eyes and muscular shoulders. He looked like an ox. He beat the boys and returned my dupatta to me.”

Arnav could feel his whole body trembling. He had sent Shyam in to Khushi’s life. His thoughtless actions had all but destroyed Khushi’s life. Not for one moment as he had given in to his anger and aired that clip had he thought of the repurcussions of his actions, of the pain and humiliation Khushi would have to suffer because of him.

“Then—then what happened, Khushi?” Arnav asked.

“Then?” Khushi frowned. She racked her brains. She clutched her head in both hands and tried to think but could come up with nothing. Her head was blank.

“It is alright. Don’t strain yourself, Khushi,” Arnav comforted her.

Khushi looked at him. “Are you really Jiji’s Jetji?”

“Yes.”

“But—but you hated me so much. You disliked me. Why did you let Akash Jiju marry my sister?” Khushi was genuinely perplexed.

“Because love is stronger than hate, Khushi,” Arnav whispered.

Khushi frowned. “Why do you talk in riddles?”



Part 16

“Because our lives are more complex than you or I expected them to be, more convoluted than most people can imagine,” Arnav said softly, looking in to her innocent eyes.

She wondered aloud, “Love is stronger than hate? Do you mean that your love for Akash Jiju is stronger than your hatred for me?”

“No,” Arnav said through a constricted throat.

Khushi frowned for a moment and then her brow cleared. “Akash Jiju’s love for Jiji is stronger than your hatred for me?” she tried again.

“No.” He could not speak for the lump in his throat.

Khushi pouted, “Dekhiye Arnavji, my brains are fried as it is. Please don’t drive me mad with your philosophy.”

Arnav smiled slightly with effort. With intent eyes he asked. “Khushi, did you see Shyam Manohar Jha after that?”

Khushi frowned. “Why should I see him again? Is he my Mama’s beta that I have to see him regularly?”

Arnav stared at her.

“Or do you think I get in to trouble every day that I need to take a protector with me each time I leave the house?” Khushi put her hands on her hips.

“No,” Arnav said, not entirely truthful.

Khushi glared at his uncertain ‘No’.”

“No,” Arnav repeated more forcefully.

“I am hungry,” Khushi said suddenly.

Arnav stared at her sudden jump from one topic to the next.

“Let’s go down and have tea,” Khushi suggested.

“You go down, Khushi. I will have it later,” Arnav said.

Khushi sighed exaggeratedly. “Later? When will your later come? Never. You will forget to have tea and your shakkar will disown you. Then your head will spin and Khushi Kumari Gupta will have to come to hold you up.” She grabbed his arm. “Aap chaliye hamare saath. I know you hate the sight of me, but you don’t have to take it out on the tea or your shakkar.”

Arnav let himself be dragged down the stairs.

“Khushi…” he called.

She halted and turned, lifting her head to look at him as he was standing on a step at a higher level. Her head was on the same line as his chest, his heart to be precise.

“Why do you think I hate you?” he asked.

Khushi frowned in to his eyes. “Because you misbehaved with me at Sheesh Mahal and skinned me alive at the dargah.”

“What if I did it because I love you, Khushi?” he asked softly.

Khushi’s fingers tightened on his arm without her volition. Her wide, innocent eyes looked in to the molten depths of his own for a long silent moment.

Then she burst out laughing. ”You are so funny, Arnavji.”

Arnav stared at her, his chest hurting.

“No one who sees your stern, khadoos face will ever know that you have such a good sense of humour,” Khushi gasped, battling the last of her chuckles.

Finally she said, “If that was the way you showed love to me, then I shudder to think what your nafrat will be like, Arnavji.”

Arnav swallowed hard.

Khushi sniffed the air. “Arnavji, Buaji has made your favourite snack. Pakoras. Chaliye,” She dragged him down to the hall.

“Khushi, how do you know I like pakoras?” Arnav asked.

Khushi looked at him, surprised. “Maybe you told me you like them,” she said a long moment later, unsure.

Arnav looked at her, silent.

“But—but when? Not at Sheesh Mahal. And definitely not at the dargah. Then when?” A frown furrowed her brow.

“O Sanka Devi!” Buaji called. “Neeche aao, Nandkisore. Hein? Why are you pulling Arnav Bitwaa by the hand? Did he threaten to run away?”

All the Raizadas and the Guptas looked at the unlikely couple standing on the steps.

Anjali’s eyes asked Arnav if Khushi had remembered. He nodded slightly.

Anjali’s eyes filled with anxiety.

“Amma, Babuji, Buaji, I remembered meeting Arnavji at Sheesh Mahal,” Khushi declared happily as she took her seat next to Arnav.

The plate fell with a clatter from Payal’s hand. All eyes fixed on Khushi with varying degrees of horror.

“Anjaliji, aap ko pata he, I met Arnavji at the dargah after that night at Sheesh Mahal,” Khushi smiled at her.

Anjali nodded, sending a scared look at Arnav.

“Naniji, Mamiji, why was your Arnav Bitwaa so rude then? So angry?” Khushi asked, curious.

 

“What a question, Saasumma,” Mami whispered.

“Hamari to bolti hi band hui gawa, Hello Hi Bye Bye!” 

Nani glanced at Anjali and Mami and said, “Khussi bitiyya, he was always like that. What else did you remember?”

Khushi frowned, her single-minded focus on the secret behind Arnavji’s anger. “Then why isn’t he angry now? He is just sad, not angry,” she remarked.

 

“A crow came and stole Nannav’s ghoosa from him, Khushiji,” NK teased. 

“That must be one brave crow, Nanheji,” Khushi laughed.

The Guptas and the Raizadas watched NK and Khushi laughing at their silly jokes, unsettled at Khushi’s dawning awareness of the past.

Suddenly, Khushi turned to Anjali and asked, “Anjaliji, is Arnavji married?"

Part 17