127. Recalling Arnav (Part 8-)

Part 8

Suno Na Sangemarmar

Arnav lay in bed that night, worrying about Khushi’s answer to his proposal, wondering what he would do if she refused him. The moon peeked in through the open window to see an Arnav, his hands under his head, looking at the ceiling with a frown on his face.

The door to his room creaked open.

Arnav sat up in shock.

Khushi stood there, her slim body in white giving her a ghost-like appearance.

“Khushi?” Arnav called, his voice thready in shock.

“Ji, I—I just wanted to…” Khushi paused, uncertain about why she was there.

“Come in,” he invited, throwing his blanket away and leaping out of bed. He strode up to her and took her arm to lead her to bed. He made her sit down and sat by her.

Khushi looked down at her fingers, at the bedspread, at the feet of the table in the room, at the floor, at her own feet in jootis. He sat silently by her, knowing that she would speak when she was ready, glad to the depths of his heart that she was with him, that they were breathing the same air, whatever the reason might be.

“I was thinking about…” she hesitated.

“My proposal?” he helped her out.

“Yes,” she wet her dry lips. “I—I am scared. I couldn’t sleep.”

“Why? Why were you scared, Khushi?” he asked, knowing that the answer would be a dagger to his heart.

“Each time I tried to sleep, I could see all the terrible things that happened between us,” she whispered, clutching her head. “From Sheesh Mahal to our cancelled wedding and then our baby.”

Arnav sighed heavily, knowing where the blame lay.

“Arnavji, why did such tragedies happen to us and only us?” she asked, a frown creasing her forehead. “Other people fall in love and get married with little fuss. They live together, fight together, have babies together. Why did we have to go through such terrible times?”

“I don’t know, Khushi,” Arnav whispered, swallowing hard. “Maybe because you dared to fall in love with a Rakshas like me. Rakshases are cursed beings and all those who throw in their lot with them have to suffer along with them.”

Khushi looked at him in silence.

“Nani always says that our family is cursed. It looks like she is right,” he said softly. “I tried to pull my family out of an abyss of betrayal and pain, Khushi,” he said, trying to smile. “I tried to make a life for all of us, but all I managed to do was drag you in to it.”

Khushi’s silence encouraged him to confess further. “I wanted Di to be happy, to get over our past. When she said she wanted to marry Shyam, I arranged it for her. I bought him for her, hoping that she would finally get a chance at a normal life. You know what happened to that plan of mine,” he said, looking at her.

Khushi nodded.

“I worked day and night to make my family financially secure. I got my reward when Shyam kidnapped me for my wealth,” he smiled wryly at himself.

“I scoffed at love and marriage, laughed at people who fell in love, felt contempt for those proclaiming to be in love. And then when my eyes met a pair of innocent eyes that night in Sheesh Mahal, I felt as though someone had knocked me on the head, punched me in the gut,” he smiled. “Your Devi Maiyya must have laughed at me as I tried to fight this weakness. The more I fought, the more I fell. The more I pushed you away, the closer you came. The more I pushed you away, the closer I wanted you to come. And when I successfully pushed you, cornered you in to submitting to the engagement with Shyam, I realised that I had lost you. That realisation floored me. Khushi, if your fiance had been before me when I found out that you had gotten engaged, I would have killed him,” he said simply.

Khushi looked at him.

“Everything that happened to you, Khushi, happened because of me. My past is a mess, my judgement is bad, Khushi. The fight has always been in my head, Khushi, the fight between what I wanted and what I wanted to want,” he said, looking down at his clenched fists.

“At times I didn’t know what I wanted, Khushi. When I knew what I wanted, I fought the knowledge. When I found you going out of my sphere of control, my life, I tried to get you back. When I badgered you in to my life, forced you to marry me, Devi Maiyya must have laughed hard,” he said.

Khushi looked at him in enquiry.

“I had many options, many ways of dealing with Shyam, Khushi. I could have flattened him in a day, wiped him out regardless of the consequences to Di. Your involvement complicated the issue, tied my hands, Khushi. Any decision I took had to bind you to me because I couldn’t lose you again. That was the need that drove me in to forcing that marriage on you; that was the real reason, Khushi. I preyed on your weakness, your love for your family. I joined you to me before Devi Maiyya knowing that you would never leave me, that you would honour the mangalsutra and the sindoor,” Arnav said, sighing. “But that is not the worst of it, Khushi. That was yet to come. There we were, husband and wife, living in one room with the spectre of Shyam between us.”

Khushi nodded.

“Every moment of our six month marriage was torture, Khushi. I know I hurt you with my words and actions. You can take comfort from the fact that I was undergoing the fine torture of having what I desperately wanted right in front of me without having the freedom to reach out, of knowing that you loved Shyam, of knowing that my breath was entwined with yours, that my heart beat was a mere echo of yours…and still being helpless to do anything about it. I was trapped by my love for you, Khushi. There was no way out. I couldn’t go ahead; I couldn’t backtrack. I was caught, Khushi,” he confessed.

Khushi stared at him.

“How many times did you ask me why I had forced you in to marriage, Khushi?” he asked.

Khushi frowned. “Many times,” she replied.

“I couldn’t reply, Khushi, because if I told you that I knew about you and Shyam and you admitted to loving him, I would cease to exist. That would have been the end of me, Khushi. Only your attempt at suicide could make me admit the truth,” he sighed.

“I told you he was lying,” Khushi protested.

“I wanted to believe you. You will never know how desperate I was to believe you. I was so desperate that the very desperation was a warning to me to disbelieve you,” he whispered.

They sat in silence for long.

Then he said, “Khushi, I deserve to lose my child. Arvind Malik’s son can make no claim to happiness. I—I just wish you didn’t have to be caught in this cycle of punishment.”

Khushi looked at him.

“But I can’t live on without you. That is where the real problem lies now, Khushi. The gulf between what I deserve and what I need,” he admitted.

Khushi and Arnav sat in silence, thinking about their future.

Finally Khushi said softly, “I am very scared, Arnavji.”

“You should be, Khushi,” he replied in an equally soft voice. “Your Devi Maiyya has linked our fates together.”

Khushi looked at him. His face was drawn.

“I have given you pain, Khushi. Only pain. At this point I can only promise you that I will try my best not to hurt you anymore. But Khushi, all these are words, just words. The proof will be in my actions, but I can prove myself only after we get married and start living together,” he said with a sigh.

“What if you hurt me again with your words?” she asked.

“You know my temper, Khushi,” he said honestly. “And my diabetes and my work load don’t help. I am bound to get testy, but I can promise you that I will never mean it. Khushi, if I scold you, hit me on the head,” he offered.

“What?” Khushi asked.

“You can never match me in the sharpness of my tongue, Khushi. So hit me to remind me that I am impossible,” he suggested.

“And if you hurt me with your actions?” she asked.

“Kill me,” he said.

“Arnavji!” Khushi exclaimed.

“Kill me, Khushi, because if I hurt you again, then I don’t deserve to live,” he said sincerely, his molten chocolate eyes on her aghast face.

Khushi sagged.

Arnav put his arm around her shoulders and held her to him. Khushi rested against him, her head on his shoulder.

The sun rose, throwing golden rays across the sky, lighting it up with myriad colours. Light seeped in to the room to fall on the faces of Arnav and Khushi who were locked in a tight embrace.

He woke up first, looking at the bundle in his arms. The fingers of her left hand were locked tight around the collar of his white T-shirt, the hold firm even in deep sleep. Her body was on his; her legs were curled around his to keep him in place. Her face was buried in the crook of his neck and he could feel her hot breath singeing the skin of his neck. Her chest was rising and falling evenly against his and her right hand was on his left shoulder.

Arnav swallowed hard. 

After their conversation last night, they had sat for long till exhaustion had driven them to sleep. Loath to leave each other, they had quietly slipped in to bed together.

 He ran a loving hand over her hair. As he watched she stirred, turned her head towards his and opened her eyes to look at his face.

“Arnavji,” she murmured, a small smile on her lips, still caught up in some dream.

He looked down at her, captivated by her smile. Slowly the smile died as she realised where she was. She sat up, looking around her.

“Buaji…if Buaji sees me,” she whispered.

Arnav smiled.

“She has seen worse, Khushi. Don’t worry,” he said to comfort her. “Will you marry me?” he asked, his eyes turning serious.

Khushi looked at him for a long time. Then she nodded uncertainly. “I don’t know if I am doing the right thing,” she said. “But living without you…”

Arnav swallowed hard and nodded, relief sending his body trembling.

“I don’t want another baby now,” she whispered.

“We can wait, Khushi, till you are ready,” Arnav said, ready to give her anything under the sun as long as she married him.

“I want to be sure before…” she paused.

He waited.

“Before we…” The blush on her face and the way she hid her eyes from him were telling.

“We lived in one room for six months, Khushi. We can continue the platonic relationship till you are sure,” he said, giving in to her request. Anything as long as she was with him under one roof, he thought.

Khushi nodded.

“Khushi, take me to your Devi Maiyya’s temple today morning. I need to talk to her,” Arnav said.

“Talk to her?” Khushi’s eyes resembled saucers.

“Yes. I need to,” he said.

Khushi nodded obediently, her face still shocked.

Part 9

Khushi looked uncertainly at Arnav as they walked up the steps to the temple. He was, as usual, dressed in formal clothes and stood out like a sore thumb among other devotees.

“Khushi, do you need to buy something? I mean, when Di goes to the temple, she takes a plate with flowers and stuff with her,” Arnav asked, a frown on his face.

“Yes,” she whispered as she led him to the vendors selling pooja material. ‘Why does Arnavji want to meet Devi Maiyya? He is an atheist,’ Khushi wondered as she purchased the offerings.

“How much is it?” Arnav asked the vendor before paying him.

Khushi stood staring at him.

“What is wrong?” Arnav asked, cocking one brow.

“Nothing,” Khushi tried to smile, tightening her hold on the thali with flowers and other offerings.

They walked up to Devi Maiyya’s idol. Khushi handed over their thali to the priest and folded her hands in prayer. She stole a look at Arnav to see him doing the same. He stood looking at Devi Maiyya’s kind face for a few seconds before shutting his eyes. Khushi followed suit.

Arnav stood before Devi Maiyya, his eyes shut, his hands folded. He could hear the pigeons cooing, the temple bells ringing, the wind rustling the leaves of the banyan tree, the soft chants of other worshippers…

“One day you will understand that you were not charting your destiny, but that Devi Maiyya was holding your hand as you wrote your future,” he heard Khushi tell him.

He saw himself running down the stairs in Sheesh Mahal, Di limping after him, asking him to return her sketch book to her. He had deliberately paced himself so that Di could follow him comfortably.

His Mama had looked up to see them, a smile taking birth on her face. She had said, “Chotey, will you trouble your Di so?” knowing very well that he would never let anything happen to his sister, that he loved her even though he was not good at showing it.

His feet had come to a stop at Mama’s question and Di had caught him by his shoulder.

“Here’s your book,” he had thrust it at Di, not wanting to trouble her any longer.

“Chotey,” Di had pulled him down to sit on the steps. She had sat by him and turned the pages of the book till she had located her latest sketch.

He had stared at it. It was of him sitting on his bed, hs face as cross as always. Di had written “My papad ka tukda, jab dekho ukhda” by it.

“Anjali has drawn a picture for you, Chotey,” Mama smiled. “What will you do for her?”

“Anything,” he said softly, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Mama had smiled at his words. Then she said, “Look after your Di, Chotey, after I am gone.”

Arnav had frowned. “Where are you going, Mama?”

But Mama had only smiled.

Arnav swallowed hard.

He had tried, as hard as he could. As a teenager with the rug pulled from under his feet, he had tried to hold his family together, keep his Di smiling, standing tall with her head held high against the snide remarks of society. ‘Hadn’t I?’ he asked Devi Maiyya. ‘Didn’t I try to give her every happiness under the sky? Where did I go wrong? Why did Shyam come in to her life? Couldn’t she have fallen in love with an ordinary, decent man? Why did Di have to lose her child too?’

Khushi looked at the frown on his face as he prayed silently.

‘Why did you send Khushi in to my life? Was it to teach me a lesson or to punish her? Whatever your intention, meeting me, marrying me, living with me and bearing me turned her life in to a punishment, a punishment she didn’t deserve,' he said silently.

 'I can understand if you are mad at me. I don’t pray. I attend under duress the innumerable prayer meetings Di organises with unfailing regularity. I am arrogant, driven by my ego. I try to do things my way and have a sharp tongue. I am impulsive and hurt others. The punishment should all have been mine. Why did you punish her? Why did you give her the hope of a baby? And having given her the hope, why did you snatch it away from her? Why did you make her cry when it was I who deserved it all?’ he asked, his jaw clenched.

Khushi looked at him and at Devi Maiyya. Other people were moving away after praying but Arnavji was staying put.

‘Why did you punish her? She prayed to you, daily. She made jalebi for you. She called you a hundred times daily; you were never far from her thoughts. How could you bear it when she cried? Why did you let me hurt her? Why didn’t you fell me before I could hurt her?’ he asked.

‘You took her parents and left her alone, scared of the dark, scared of sleeping alone, scared of speeding vehicles. Was her loss not enough, her tears not copious enough that you pushed her in to my arms that night? In to the arms of a Rakshas, a Shaitaan? Why? Why did you do it?’ he asked.

The priest began the aarti but Arnav was lost in his thoughts.

‘What was our baby guilty of that you had to kill it before it could draw breath? Why did you punish Khushi for my sins? Why did Khushi have to pay for my ignorance, my bad judgement, my arrogance, my blindness? Is there no justice in your world? Why did you punish an innocent for my crimes?’ he asked as the bells tolled.

“Beta,” the priest held out the lamp for him and Khushi.

As at the temple when he had bandaged her finger, Khushi extended her hands touched the flame that had been used for aarti and ran her hands over her head. Then she and the priest looked expectantly towards Arnav.

He swallowed hard. He lifted his hands towards the flame, uncertain how to go about it.

As he hesitated, Khushi’s hands covered his and lifted them to the flame. As his hands neared the flame, she let go of them. He extended his hands too close to the flame, the heat of the camphor burning the skin of his palms. Quickly Khushi caught his hands and pulled them away from the fire.

He looked at their hands, hers over his. He lifted his eyes to see Devi Maiyya smiling at him.

 At that moment he understood what life had been trying to teach him ever since he had met Khushi—that their lives were entwined, that there was no his and hers, only theirs. Their life, their marriage, their mistakes, their baby, their future.

“Kya hua, Arnavji? You look pale,” Khushi whispered. “Did you burn your hand?”

“No,” he said as he led her away. Reaching a secluded spot he said, “Khushi, I promise I will be a good husband to you. Not like my father, never like my father.”

Khushi nodded slowly, wondering why he was so insistent.

“And I will be  a good father to our children. Not like my father. I promise to try hard, very hard.”

“Yes,” Khushi said, worried at the pain on his face.

“Will you marry me, Khushi? At the earliest? We can use the time after our marriage to settle in to a life together,” he said urgently.

“Yes,” she said, trying to calm him down.

“We can have a platonic marriage till you are sure of me,” he urged.

“Yes,” she agreed calmly.

“Shall we inform our family?” he asked, frantic at the thought of living one more day without her.

“Yes,” Khushi murmured.

Part 10

Standing in the temple, holding on to Khushi’s arm as though afraid she would bolt, Arnav called his Mama.

“Mamaji, please come back to Lucknow with Akash, Payal & NK,” he asked.

“Kya hua, Arnav bitwaa?” Mamaji’s smooth forehead became wrinkled. “Is Khussi bitiyaa alright?”

“Yes, she is fine. Mamaji, she has agreed to marry me. I want this done at the earliest, without any fuss,” Arnav said, his voice low.

Mamaji sat down in relief. “She agreed? Thank God,” he said.

“Yes,” Arnav too heaved a sigh of relief.

“We will set out tonight,” Mamaji promised. “You make the arrangement at your end.”

                                 ***

Nani, Mami and Anjali hugged and kissed Khushi and wept all over her.

Nani said, “Chotey, my Khussi bitiyaa has a kind heart. No other girl would have forgiven you.”

“I know, Nani,” Arnav agreed fully with her.

“Don’t hurt her anymore, Chotey,” Nani warned him.

“I won’t, Nani,” he said.

“If I see her crying again, I will leave your house, Chotey, and move in to some ashram like your Dadi,” Nani threatened.

“No, Naniji,” Khushi exclaimed.

“He has hurt you too many times, Khussi bitiyaa. If he does it one more time, even Devi Maiyya will not forgive him,” Nani said.

“I won’t hurt Khushi any more, Nani,” Arnav promised. He turned to Sasi Gupta, Garima and Buaji.

“I don’t deserve Khushi, but…” his voice trailed away.

“It was not completely your fault, bitwaa,” Garima sighed. “Your father and my connection...” she shook her head in distress. “And we hid the truth of Shyam from you. That was not the right thing to do.”

“What do you want, Titliyaa?” Buaji asked her niece.

“I would like to marry Arnavji, Buaji,” Khushi said in a low voice.

“Then why aren’t you happy, Nandkisore? I thought you would be dancing all around the house when you decided to marry Arnav bitwaa,” Buaji asked.

“Like a titli, Hello Hi Bye Bye,” Mami added.

Khushi smiled slightly at Mami. “I am scared, Buaji,” she admitted. “After everything that happened…”

“She is right to be scared,” Arnav said.

“My Khussi bitiyaa has to leave every thing familiar once again and come to Delhi to be shouted at by you,” Nani sighed.

Arnav looked at Khushi’s wan face and said, “Khushi, you don’t have to come to Delhi with me immediately after we are married. Why don’t you stay back in Lucknow after the wedding? I will come down during weekends. I can work here just as I do in Delhi. You can join me when you feel comfortable.”

All faces brightened at Arnav’s offer. Khushi nodded.

Suddenly Buaji gasped, “Hai Re Nandkisore! How will we conduct the wedding in Lucknow?”

All turned to look at her in shock.

“Everyone thinks that you two are already married. How can we go to the temple and ask the priest to marry a couple he thinks is already married, Nandkisore?” Buaji hit her head with her hand.

All gaped at her.

Mami gasped, “That ijj true. Ek running marrijjwa followed by temple marrijjwa? People will ask kostins.”

“If we conduct it here at home?” Nani asked.

“We can get the priest from another town,” Anjali suggested.

“The neighbours will know. How can we hide it from them?” Garima asked.

“Shall we marry in Delhi then?” Arnav asked. “I will bring Khushi back here after the wedding.”

Nani pursed her lips. “The whole of Delhi saw your dramatic runaway marriage on Payaliyaa’s marriage day.”

“They also saw Khushiji sitting before the havankund crying because her groom did not want to marry her,” Anjali said, grimacing.

“I don’t think the women of Delhi are ready for a hat-trick, Arnav bitwaa,” Mami shook her head in disappointment.

Arnav looked at Khushi with wounded eyes. What would they do now?

“Kanpur,” Sasi Gupta whispered.

All looked at him in surprise.

“Pandit Deendayal Tiwari,” he said softly.

Garima gasped. “You are right. He can conduct the wedding.” She turned to the rest. “He is the main priest at Devi Maiyya’s temple in Kanpur. He is our family friend.”

Buaji said, “He will definitely agree, Nandkisore. And we don’t have to tell him the whole sorry tale of two earlier weddings, Nandkisore ki jai ho!”

All nodded in relief.

“Let Mamaji, Akash, Payal and NK get here first. Then you call Tiwariji,” Arnav suggested. 

“Yes, that is the right thing to do, Nandkisore,” Buaji said.

                                          ***

They travelled to Kanpur in two cars to fix and conduct the wedding.

Arnav looked in the rear-view mirror for glimpses of Khushi sitting with Anjali and Buaji in the back seat of his car. NK occupied the front passenger seat.

Arnav looked at Khushi’s serious face with anxious eyes.

“Tho Khushiji and Nannav, you are going to get married finally,” NK remarked happily.

All smiled at him.

“But without band, baaja and barsaat,” NK pouted.

All laughed.

“Baraat, Nanheji,” Khushi laughed, the serious look vanishing as though it had never been.

Arnav heaved a sigh of relief.

“Third time lucky, Khushiji,” NK comforted her. “Don’t worry about the other two times.”

Khushi nodded.

“This time make Nannav sign a contract for life, Khushiji,” NK smiled. “Don’t let him go.”

All smiled.

“If he scolds you, we can put frogs in his bed,” NK said. “Akash and I did it when we were kids,” he laughed.

Khushi gasped.

“So it was you both?” Anjali asked. “And you said that the frogs must have lost their way and wandered in to Chotey’s bed!”

All laughed.

“I am glad you reminded me, NK,” Arnav said. “I had almost forgotten.”

NK jumped. “Nannav, I was just joking.”

“I will wait for the day you get married, NK. And then…” Arnav threatened in fun.

“I won’t get married,” NK said in panic. “I will never get married.”

“Good. Some girl just had a lucky escape,” Arnav muttered.

                                  ***

The two families unpacked in their hotel rooms and all of them went to the temple to meet Tiwariji. As they walked up the steps of the Tapeshwari temple, the elderly priest summoned them, “Sasiji, Garimaji, Madhumatiji, come over here.”

They turned to look at the well-built man whose strong body and imposing figure belied his age.

“Khushiji, make friends with him. He looks more a wrestler than a priest. Then if Nannav says no to the wedding or scolds you after the marriage, just inform Tiwariji. He will flatten Nannav,” NK whispered in Khushi’s ear.

She smiled while Arnav glowered at NK.

Tiwariji hugged Sasi and led the Guptas and the Raizadas to a room with mats laid on the floor.

“Sit down, sit down,” he beamed, making space for Sasi’s wheelchair.

“So this is Khussi,” he remarked. “It has been years since I last saw you.”

Khushi touched his feet and sat down.

“Tiwariji, this is Devyani Raizada. This is her son, Manoharji. This is her daughter-in-law Manorama,” Buaji introduced the family.

 Tiwari greeted them politely.

“This is their son, Akass bitwaa. He is married to our Payaliyaa,” Buaji said.

Payal and Akash touched his feet and took his blessings.

“So you are marrying Khussi in to the same family?” Tiwari asked.

“Yes, Tiwariji,” Garima said. “Arnav babua and Anjali bitiyaa are the children of Devyaniji’s daughter. We would like to conduct Arnav babua’s wedding with Khussi here.”

Arnav and Anjali touched the priest’s feet and sat down near Khushi.

“This is Nandkisore bitwaa. He is Manoramaji’s sister’s son. His parents live in some phoren country, Nandkisore!” Buaji introduced NK.

“Kidney, Kidney,” Mami said.

Tiwari looked at NK with a jaundiced eye.

“Hi,” NK greeted the priest.

Tiwari frowned at him.

NK looked around at the others, wondering what he had done wrong. Maybe he hadn’t been polite enough? Akash tried to pull him down but NK was desperate to make friends with Tiwari. He quickly waved at the priest. “Hi, I am Nandkisore. Call me NK,” he offered smiling away.

Tiwari glowered at him. “Sit down,” he said. He turned to the others and said, “I will definitely conduct the marriage for you, Sasiji, Garimaji, Madhumatiji. But where are the parents of the groom?” the alert priest asked.

“They are no more,” Nani said softly.

“The ways of Devi Maiyya are known only to her,” Tiwariji said with a sigh. “We can have the ceremony tomorrow morning.”

All smiled at him in relief and gratitude.

“But will you able to get your guests here in such a short time?” he asked.

The Raizadas and the Guptas blanched.

Buaji finally said, “There will be just us, Nandkisore.”

Tiwari frowned. “Why do you want to hide Khussi’s wedding from your relations and friends? It is not like she is marrying daily. Marriages happen once in a lifetime. She may want her friends with her.”

Mami whispered to Nani, "Saasumma, he doesn't know Arnav bitwaa and Khussi. They can marry many times, Hello Hi Bye Bye."

"Sshh," Nani warned her.

The Raizadas and the Guptas tried to evade Tiwariji’s eyes.

“Madhumatiji?” Tiwariji called.

Buaji looked up.

He looked Buaji in the eye and asked, “Why don’t you want to hold the wedding in Lucknow? Why have you travelled all the way to Kanpur to conduct it here? What are you trying to hide?”

Nani sighed. Slowly she told Tiwariji everything, right up to the cancelled wedding and Khushi’s amnesia. The elderly man listened to her silently, his expressionless face displaying neither anger nor disgust.

When the sorry tale had been recounted, all Tiwariji did was to turn to Khushi to ask, “Do you want to marry Arnav?”

“Yes,” Khushi answered.

“Do you want to marry Khussi?” he asked Arnav.

“Yes,” he replied, his eyes sincere and honest.

“Your lives have been filled with trials and pain so far. I hope Devi Maiyya showers her blessings on both of you and lets you lead a happy married life,” Tiwariji said.

All nodded in the same hope.

“Come to the temple in the morning at seven,” Tiwariji said. “I will hand over my duties to my subordinate and conduct special pujas for you both. You need to be protected from covetous eyes and ill health, from taking impulsive and foolish decisions and from threats to your marriage. I will conduct your marriage when these pujas are done,” he declared.

All heaved sighs of relief.

“I can’t do any less for Sasiji’s daughter and son-in-law,” Tiwariji added. “I will get everything ready here. Just buy a mangalsutra and come over at seven.”

The two families thanked him from the bottom of their hearts and left the temple after praying to the deity.

                                ***

As they walked in to the hotel, Arnav caught Khushi by her arm.

She tried to free herself but he held on, a loving yet anxious look in his eyes.

He told the others, “I will take Khushi out to buy her wedding clothes.”

All gasped. They had been in such a hurry to get the couple married off that the practicalities had slipped their minds.

“We will get a mangalsutra too,” Arnav added.

“Nannav, I can join you if you need advice…” NK offered, his voice dying away at the steely look in his Nannav’s eyes.

All hid their laughter at Arnav's eagerness to spend time with Khushi.

“I have brought the jewellery with me,” Garima said. "You don't have to buy any gold."

“We will be back soon,” Arnav said as he led Khushi away.

Part 11

Thank you, Supriya, my friend. Love you.

Part 11

Arnav parked the car before a huge apparel store with wedding sarees and lehengas displayed for the buyers to marvel at.

He slipped his fingers in to hers as he led her up the steps to the shop. She pulled her hand free, uncomfortable holding hands in public.

He pushed open the massive glass doors and cool air enveloped them. A sales assistant came rushing to them.

“How can I help you, Sir, Madam?” she asked.

“Khushi, do you want a lehenga or sari for the wedding?” he asked.

“A lehenga,” she said.

Arnav looked at the sales girl and said, “We want a bridal lehenga.”

“Of course, Sir,” the girl smiled. “Please come with me,” she said, leading them to the bridal section.

Khushi drew in a deep breath as she saw an entire floor of expensive lehengas. Around her were silk lehengas in many colours, studded with pearls, sequins, small gems and stones.

“Is there any colour you prefer, Madam?” the assistant asked.

Khushi parted her lips to reply and then fell silent in the face of such extravagant and lavish display of clothes.

The assistant led them to a mannequin wearing a turquoise blue lehenga. It was beautiful and studded with silver crystals. Rich. And heavy. Khushi gulped thinking about its price.

“Would you like this, Khushi?” Arnav asked.

Khushi looked at the man leaning over her shoulder to examine the fabric with ASR’s expert eye.

“No,” she whispered. “It is too heavy.”

Arnav nodded.

The assistant led them to a blue and yellow lehenga with elaborate work done on it. Khushi shook her head in the negative at Arnav’s look of enquiry.

This went on for one full hour. Khushi’s eyes ached as she looked through hundreds of lehengas. Red, green, white, pink, magenta, lavender, burnt orange, coral, sky blue and many lehengas in combinations of these hues. The colours began to dance before her eyes.

“Arnavji…” Khushi whispered. He was not known for patience. “We have been here for one hour. I can’t seem to pick anything. Why don’t you select one for me?”

“Don’t worry about the time, Khushi,” he whispered. “The first time we got married, you were in red and blue, dressed simply for Payal’s wedding. You had no idea you were dressing for your own wedding. And when you actually picked a lehenga and dressed up for your groom, I failed to appear. What was the colour of your dress that day?” he asked.

“Pink and pastel green,” Khushi said softly.

“Khushi, we are not having the roka, mehendi, sangeet or haldi this time. So I want you to enjoy the few things we have  a control over. Don’t worry about the time, Khushi,” he said, his earnest eyes on hers.

“Will you wear a sherwani, Arnavji?” she asked.

“I will wear anything you select for me,” he replied.

Khushi smiled and turned her head away. Suddenly her eyes fell on a gold and red lehenga…and stayed there.

“Do you like it?” Arnav asked, putting his arm around her shoulder.

Khushi nodded. “But the price?” she whispered.

Arnav smiled.

“We will take that,” he told the sales girl.

“We can stitch the choli for you, Madam. Just give us two days,” the girl smiled.

“We are getting married tomorrow morning,” Arnav informed the girl.

The poor assistant gasped.

“Can you get the choli stitched in a couple of hours? I am willing to pay extra for the inconvenience,” Arnav asked, the soul of politeness.

Khushi stared at him. Arnavji could speak so kindly? she thought, her eyes round in wonder. 

“I will enquire and let you know,” the poor girl said as she ran to the stitching section.

They moved to the sherwani display and began inspecting the many designs available. Soon they were neck-deep in male attire.

The sales girl approached them. “It can be done, Sir. If Madam will come to the stitching section to get herself measured, the choli will be ready in two hours,” she said.

Khushi beamed at her.

“Excellent,” Arnav said, pleased. He watched Khushi going away with the assistant, his eyes tracing her figure till she vanished from his sight.

He checked his phone for messages while he waited and soon Khushi and the assistant joined him.

“What about the black one, Sir?” the boy in charge of the display asked.

“No, not black on his wedding too. As it is he lives in black,” Khushi pouted.

Arnav smiled, his eyes resting on Khushi’s lips and expression with love. 

The female sales assistant sighed. Where could she get a man willing to look at her like that and throw thousands on a dress for her? she wondered wistfully. Some people had an easy life, she sighed.

“What about the white?” the boy asked.

“No,” Khushi said, looking around. Her eyes fell on an embroidered beige sherwani that would make Arnavji look regal.

“Arnavji, that one,” she pointed out.

“I will take that,” Arnav said immediately.

“Try it out, Arnavji. Otherwise you will get a nasty surprise when you wear it tomorrow morning,” Khushi warned.

Arnav smiled. “I will,” he agreed and let the boy take him to the changing room for men.

They left the shop. As they walked side by side, Arnav caught her fingers in his. She threw a scandalised look around and tried to free herself but he held on firmly.

With no recourse left, Khushi let her hand remain in his. Hand in hand they walked to a jewellers nearby.

“We want to buy a mangalsutra,” Arnav told the owner.

“Please sit down,” the man beamed. He pulled out tray after tray of mangalsutras made of diamonds and black beads and placed them before the couple.

Khushi’s eyes widened at the amounts written on the tags hanging from the pieces. She could feed her family and fund her Satwik Mistaan Bhandaar for one full year for the amount a slender mangalsutra cost! She looked around to see if she could locate a tiny, miniscule piece.

“What is wrong, Khushi? Didn’t you like any of these?” Arnav asked in her ear.

The owner moved away to get the next tray.

“Arnavji, look at the price! They are so expensive,” Khushi’s eyes were like saucers, round with indignation.

Arnav smiled and put his arm around her waist hauling her closer to him.

Khushi squirmed, her eyes darting around the room to see if anyone was watching them.

“This is our last and final marriage,” Arnav whispered in her ear. “So let’s not count the cost.”

“But,” Khushi protested.

“You are marrying a very rich man, Khushi,” he continued.

“So?” she frowned.

“What is the use of my money if I cannot spend it on you?” he asked, his eyes serious.

She looked in to his eyes for a long moment and then nodded.

“Now will you take a piece you like?” he asked softly.

Khushi nodded reluctantly. She looked at the new tray and picked a mangalsutra with diamonds arranged in the shape of a pair of peacocks, averting her eyes from the price tag with difficulty.

Arnav smiled, relieved that he was finally doing something right, finally in a position to make her happy.

Clutching the jewellery box, they walked hand in hand to the dress shop, collected their sherwani and lehenga and began the drive to their hotel.

Khushi looked out of the window to see a golgappa stall by the road. The next thing she knew, the car was shuddering to a stop by it, Arnavji was alighting and opening her door and they were walking towards the stall.

"Will Arnav Singh Raizada eat in public? And that too from a wayside stall?" Khushi asked in shock.

"Arnav Singh Raizada will eat from where his wife is eating," he smiled.

"But you don't like to eat this snack," Khushi hissed, tugging at her hand. 

He tightened his hold and said, smiling,"I love it, but only when you feed me."

Khushi gaped at him. Slowly she said, "Arnavji, what is wrong with you? What have you done with ASR?"