131. Recalling Arnav (Part 17-)

Part 17

Khushi stood watching the cars leave the courtyard for Delhi, waving her arm, smiling till her limb and her cheeks ached. Then she quickly walked in to the house, making her way to her room.

Buaji looked at Garima and Sasi, worried for her Titliyaa.

“She should have gone with Arnav babua, Nandkisore,” Buaji whispered. “What is the use of staying in two places after shaadi?”

“Let her stay here, Jiji,” Garima smiled. “It will help her take a decision about her future.”

Sasi nodded. “She…she has suffered…a lot. Let her decide…this time,” he whispered.

The ladies nodded in agreement.

Buaji moved closer to Sasi to push him in to the house but halted in shock as Khushi came rushing out like a whirlwind.

“Amma, Babuji, Buaji, I am going to the shop,” she said, a strained smile on her face.

Without waiting for a reply she rushed away.

The Guptas looked at each other.

“It is good that she goes to work, Jiji,” Garima said. “What is the use of sitting here and moping? Let her keep busy.”

Arnav called Khushi a few hours later.

“Khushi, where are you?” he asked.

“At the shop. Aur aap?” she asked.

“On our way to Delhi. We stopped for breakfast on the way,” he said. “Tum theek ho?”

Khushi tried to smile. “I am fine. Why shouldn’t I be theek?”

“Because I am not fine. Because I miss you,” he whispered, moving away from the crowd of people walking in to the restaurant for breakfast. He looked out at the garden, at the fountain gurgling in the midst of shrubs laden with flowers.

Khushi felt her throat constrict with unshed tears. Finally she said, “Have you had your breakfast, Arnavji?”

“No, Khushi,” he replied.

“Where are the others?” she asked.

“Inside. I am out, talking to you,” he whispered.

“Go have your food. If you feel dizzy, Arnavji, you won’t be able to travel further,” she said softly.

“Khushi,” he protested. “I want to see you. I am going to return to Lucknow now.”

“Arnavji? No, you shouldn’t,” she protested half-heartedly.

“And who will stop me?” he asked.

“Bye! I will call you at night, Arnavji,” she whispered.

Khushi clutched the pillow Arnav had used to her chest, breathing in his distinctive scent. Her heart ached at his absence and the bed felt empty and cold.

She grabbed her phone from the bedside table and called him.

“Khushi,” his voice touched her as though he were in the room with her.

“Arnavji,” she whispered.

“How was your day?” he asked, discarding the file in his hand to lean back in his recliner.

“Busy. Yours?” she asked.

“I went to the office as soon as I reached Delhi. Aman had slotted meeting after meeting. I got home at nine and had dinner, a pill for headache and my medicine. I was going through the accounts,” he explained, his eyes resting on the stars and the moon in the sky.

“You work too hard, Arnavji,” she whispered.

“I will cut back when you join me in Delhi, Khushi. I will make time for you and our family,” he promised.

She remained silent.

“Khushi, the sky is filled with stars,” he murmured. “Do you remember the night when you pointed out your parents to me?”

“Yes,” she said softly.

“Khushi…”

“Go to bed, Arnavji. Shubh raatri,” she said hurriedly before cutting the call.

Khushi blinked the tears away and buried her face in his pillow.

“Khushi, good morning,” Arnav wished as soon as he woke up.

“Good morning, Arnavji,” Khushi smiled.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked.

Khushi looked at the tangled covers and thought of her restless night. She parted her lips to lie to him but could not.

“I tossed and turned,” he said, trying to hide a cough behind his clenched fist.

“What is wrong, Arnavji?” Khushi asked, worried.

“Nothing. Where are you, Khushi?” he asked.

“At home. I will be leaving for the shop soon,” Khushi said, the frown still on her face.

Arnavji did not call all day. Khushi looked at the phone, worried.

“Maybe Jiju has a lot of work to do, Didi,” Munna tried to comfort her.

Khushi smiled.

“Can he waste every moment of every day thinking only of you, Didi?” Krishna teased.

Khushi threw a laddoo at him.

Khushi checked her phone in the evening. There were no missed calls. 

She called him. The phone rang and rang and then died. She tried again only to get a busy tone.

She quickly phoned Payal.

“Jiji, is Arnavji alright?” she asked.

“Yes,” Payal said. “Why Khushi? What is wrong?”

“Nothing, Jiji,” she said before cutting the call.

Khuhsi called Arnav again. After about a dozen attempts, he picked up the phone. His voice sounded strained.

“Khushi, is anything wrong?” he asked.

“Why didn’t you call me back, Arnavji? Do you know how many times I called you?” she asked.

“I was caught up in work, Khushi. Sorry,” he said.

“What is wrong? Your voice sounds odd,” she asked.

“Nothing. Khushi, I am sleepy. I will call you later,” he said.

Khushi waited all of next day but Arnav did not call. She tried to call him but his phone was switched off. Finally he called her in the evening.

“Khushi?” he asked.

“Why was your phone switched off, Arnavji?” she asked.

“I was in meetings all day, Khushi,” he said. “Listen, I need to go now. I will call you later.”

“Arnavji!” she called.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Are you sure you are fine?” she asked.

“I am fine,” he replied before cutting the call.

Khushi stared at the phone, tears in her eyes. What was wrong? Why was Arnavji so distant? Why was he disinterested in talking to her? What was wrong?

Part 18

Khushi went to bed that night to toss and turn. Sleep eluded her as she tried to make sense of her feeling that Arnavji was slipping out of her fingers. Finally at dawn, her lashes fell over her eyes and she slipped in to a light doze.

She saw Arnavji in his formal clothes as she had seen him in Sheesh Mahal for the first time. He was walking by her, his eyes on the phone in his hand. 

“Arnavji,” she called.

He walked away without looking at her.

“Arnavji,” she called, walking behind him. As she was about to reach him, he quickened his steps and strode ahead, his long legs making short work of the distance.

Khushi tried to run after him, but could not. Her feet were leaden, heavy.

“Arnavji,” she called, tears raining down her cheeks but he walked away from her, unaware, deaf to her call.

She watched him, helpless to stop him as he left her behind on his way.

“Arnavji,” she screamed.

 

She sat up in bed, sweat pouring down her body, drenching her clothes.

“Arnavji…” she whimpered. There was no one to hear her. She was in her room in Gomti Sadan and Arnavji was in Delhi.

She left the bed on unsteady feet, almost falling on the floor in a tangle of covers. She grabbed her phone and made to call him but stopped herself at the last moment. It was too early in the morning to disturb him.

She called at a more reasonable hour.

Anjali picked up Arnav’s phone.

“Khushiji, how are you?” Anjali asked. “How are the others?”

“We are fine, Di. Can I speak to Arnavji?” Khushi asked.

“I am so sorry, Khushiji. Chotey went to the office early today. He forgot to take his phone. I will ask him to call you when he returns,” Anjali smiled.

“Ji,” Khushi said. What else could she say?

Khushi waited all day and night but he didn’t call. The next day Arnav called in the morning.

“Khushi, I am sorry. I was busy…” Arnav began.

The silence from the other end was broken only by the sound of weak sobs.

“Khushi,” he gasped. “Khushi, please don’t cry. Please,” he pleaded.

Khushi wept as if her heart would break.

“Khushi, I was sick. I had fever. I didn’t want to worry you. That’s why I…” he tried to explain.

Khushi tried to hold back her sobs.

“I am fine now. Much better. I will be as good as new in a couple of days. Khushi….I asked Di and Payal to lie to you. Khushi…” he tried to calm her down.

Khushi cut the call, weeping brokenly.

“Titliyaa, kaa hua Nandkisore?” Buaji clutched her heart at the sight of Khushi sobbing.

“Arnavji is sick…” Khushi cried. “I didn’t know…I should have known…”

Buaji sighed. “How can you know what is wrong or right with Arnav babua when you are here and he is in Delhi, Nandkisore?” Buaji asked reasonably.

Khushi cried, clutching her knees.

“Life is short, Khussi…and unfortunately it does not come with any guarantees. Every moment brings its own risks. You have to decide where you want to be and with whom. What is the use of sitting here and crying for your husband when he is pining for you in Delhi?” Garima asked, a fond smile on her face.

“I want…I want to go to Delhi. I…I want to see Arnavji,” Khushi wept.

Part 19

Darlings, thank you for your infinite patience. Am sick. ASR’s virus travelled all the way from Delhi to my home to flatten me…ha..ha.. I should be more careful what I write about...ha..ha…

“Di, I need to get to Lucknow,” Arnav said, trying to sit up in bed.

“Chotey,” Anjali exclaimed. “How can you travel in such a condition? You are too weak!”

“The phone…get me the phone, Di. I need to call Aman…the copter…I have to go. Khushi…” he said, panting due to weakness.

“Bhai, I will go to Lucknow and bring Khushiji here if you are determined to see her,” Akash said, a frown of worry on his face. “You rest, please.”

“I will go with him, Nannav. If I ask Khushiji to come with me, she will never refuse,” NK assured him.

Arnav scowled at NK. “I will go,” he rasped.

“Chotey, you are too weak to walk to the bathroom on your own. How will you go to Lucknow?” Nani asked.

“Arnav bitwaa, listen to Saasumma. Take food and medicines and become Complan boy. Then you go to Lucknow and carry Khussi bitiyaa on your shoulder like that boy who doejj not wear kapde, only chaddi…that Tarjjan (Tarzan) and bring her here, Hello Hi Bye Bye!”

“I will phone Khushi and tell her how sick you are, Arnavji,” Payal assured him. “She will understand.”

“I want to go to Lucknow,” Arnav repeated.

The next day dawned and the door bell rang.

Hari Prakash opened the door to see Khushi standing in the doorway, her face pale and strained.

“Khushiji,” HP yelped in surprise and delight.

“Hari Prakashji, where is Arnavji?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“In his room. Arnav bhaiyya has fever, Khushiji. I am so glad that you came to Delhi to take care of him. He has been shouting at everyone since yesterday and threatening them that he will go to Lucknow barefoot if need be,” HP said, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

Khushi drew in a deep breath and walked in to the house, almost running up the steps to Arnavji’s room.

Anjali, who was coming out of her brother’s room along with Nani, Mami & Payal after forcing pills down her Chotey’s throat, stopped short.

“Khushiji!” she exclaimed.

“Who ijj this? The missing bridewaa?” Mami was loud in her surprise.

“Devi Maiyya is kind. My Khussi bitiyaa is here,” Nani hugged Khushi in relief and joy.

“Khushi,” Payal hugged her fiercely.

“Khushiji, Chotey was too sick to talk to you but didn’t want you to worry. That is why we had to lie to you. Please, aap hamein maaf kar deejiye,” Anjali pleaded nicely.

Khushi tried to smile. “How is Arnavji?’ she asked.

“Go and see for yourself, Khussi bitiyaa,” Nani invited. “He has been trying to bully Aman in to taking him to Lucknow. While trying to get out of bed his phone fell down and broke. Otherwise he would have called you every minute and apologised.”

"Khushiji, did you come alone?" Anjali asked.

"No,  Amma, Babuji and Buaji are at Laxmi Nagar," Khushi said.

Khushi walked in to Arnavji’s room to see him in bed. His face was dark with stubble and his cheekbones were prominent against his sunken cheeks. His hair flopped untidily against his forehead. His pills littered the bedside table.

“Di…” he murmured as he felt movement near the bed. “Get Aman. Khushi…I have to go to Lucknow,” he murmured as he moved his leonine head restlessly on the white pillow.

Khushi sank on the bed, feeling her limbs trembling at his plight.

Arnav opened his eyes feeling someone sit by him.

“Khushi…” he whispered, sure that he was hallucinating.

She stared at him, silent, beyond words, her eyes moist with tears.

“Khushi…” he murmured, his husky voice caressing her name.

She looked at him, her eyes filled with love and tears.

“You…you are really here?” he asked softly, scared that she would vanish if he spoke loudly.

Khushi nodded, tears dripping down her cheeks.

“Don’t cry, Khushi…Khushi, please don’t cry. Why do I make you cry even in my dreams?” he asked, his voice pained. He lifted his hand towards her to wipe away the tear drops.

She watched as his hand hesitated near her face, fearful of trying to touch her and discovering that she was only a mirage, a mere figment of his imagination born out of his desperation.

Khushi leaned her face in to his hand, shutting her eyes, taking comfort from his palm cupping her wet cheek.

“Khushi, you are really here?” he asked, incredulity making his voice thin and high-pitched.

“Arnavji,” she whispered.

“I am not dreaming, am I?” he asked.

“No, you are not dreaming,” Khushi smiled through her tears.

“Khushi, I am sorry. I was sick. That is why I didn’t call you…” he began.

Khushi placed her finger on his lips to silence him. Then she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him.

“Khushi…” he began a few moments later. “Khushi, you will fall sick…”

Her arms tightened around him and her plump lips pressed a warm kiss on his lean cheek.

Part 20

Arnav looked at Khushi sitting by him on the bed. She was looking through the dishes Di had sent up for them.

“Khushi, did you travel all the way from Lucknow alone?” he rasped.

“No,” she said absently. “Buaji, Amma & Babuji are at Laxmi Nagar.”

Arnav drew in a deep breath of relief.

“Khushi…” he began.

She stuffed a spoon of something in to his mouth.

He swallowed and grimaced. “It tastes bland,” he complained.

Khushi smiled. “I will tell Di that you called her soup bland.”

“No, no,” Arnav tried to backtrack.

Khushi laughed.

He looked at her laughing visage for a long moment and then asked what he had been itching to ask. “Khushi, will you stay with me? Here?”

Khushi looked in to his eager, waiting eyes and nodded.

 A relieved laugh left him. “It is good that I fell sick if it brought you to Delhi to live here,” he whispered in her ear as he crushed her in his arms.

Khushi too smiled as she wound her arms around him, holding him tight and safe to her.

NK & Akash came home for lunch to find Khushi there.

“Khushiji!” NK screeched.

“Khushiji, it is good that you are here. Bhai was about to set out for Lucknow,” Akash said more sedately.

She smiled and greeted both of them.

“I was planning to come to Lucknow to get you, but Nannav said he would go himself,” NK explained.

“NK, you wanted to help me by getting Khushi to Delhi, right?” Arnav asked, a naughty glint in his eyes.

“Yes,” poor NK said.

“You can help me now by going to Laxmi Nagar and getting her luggage instead,” Arnav suggested, a laugh in his eyes.

NK stared at Nannav for a moment, speechless.

“I will get it myself, Nanheji,” Khushi said, throwing daggers at her husband for teasing her brother. “Don’t listen to your Nannav. The fever has done something to his head.”

“I will go, Khushiji. It will be nice to meet Amma, Babuji…and Buaji again,” NK said bravely.

Arnav recovered under Khushi’s eagle eyes and excellent care. No virus would dare to prey on him with his wife hovering over him 24x7, her anxious eyes inspecting the rise and fall of his chest, her hand testing if his body temperature was normal, her hands pushing delicious food and pills down his throat at regular intervals…

Three days later he dressed to go to office. The shirt, jacket and coat hung loosely on his shoulders, the fever having beaten the stuffing out of him.

As he buttoned his coat, Khushi came in to their room with a thali in her hand.

“Arnavji, stand still,” she ordered as she tried to apply a tilak on his forehead.

“Khushi, yeh kya he…?” he complained like a kid.

She applied a tilak on his temple and muttered under her breath, “Now let me see how any disease dares to come a mile near you.”

Arnav rolled his eyes, amused and touched.

“What will you do if any beemari comes near me?” he asked.

“I will pound it in the mortar & pestle we have in the kitchen,” she said, all bloodthirsty and revengeful.

“The one you were pounding when I was trying to make a phone call?” he asked, his eyes laughing at her as he remembered a scene from their past.

Khushi laughed along with him. “How dare you not talk to me, Arnavji? I was punishing you for your silence,” she laughed.

“You asked me not to talk to you,” Arnav protested.

“I did. But who asked you to agree to it?” she asked, with inescapable logic.

Arnav stood with his mouth open for a moment. Then he said, “I am going now.”

“I will send lunch to the office with Hari Prakashji,” Khushi smiled.

Arnav walked to the door and halted. He turned, walked  back and kissed Khushi warmly on her cheeks before he left, leaving her all flustered and pink.

Khushi entered AR Designs, smiling at the guards who greeted her and opened the door for her. After enquiring about their families, she walked in to see Aman.

“Khushiji,” Aman beamed. “It has been so long since we met.”

“A lifetime,” she said, smiling. “How are you keeping, Amanji?”

“I am fine, Khushiji. ASR is in his cabin, meeting with the head of HR,” Aman informed her.

“I will wait here,” Khushi indicated the lounge.

“I will let him know that you are here with his lunch,” Aman said.

“No, Amanji. Let him finish his work. I will wait,” Khushi smiled as she took a seat.

Khushi looked around at the red and white interior of AR Designs.

She had been so scared when she had stepped in to it the first time. Every moment, every day had been fraught with danger. She had been agitated, anxious, on her toes every minute of every day, fearing his eyes on her, his cutting words, his challenges…Even her sleep had been filled with his images. She had woken up every day imagining him shouting her name. An alarm clock hadn’t been needed to send her leaping out of bed. 

It had been  a terrible time.

She had lived on her nerves, running scared of him and unable to reveal her fear to him, caught in a trap of unwilling enchantment, touched by his rare kindnesses, wondering what the man had been made of…she looked down at her fingers, a small smile playing on her lips.

“Khushi!”

She looked up.

Arnavji was walking to her, his feet eager to join her, his eyes lit by happiness.

“I thought you were sending lunch with HP,” he teased her.

“Haan…,” she said, thinking furiously. She had not been able to miss the chance to see Arnavji and had grabbed the bag before HP could even think about taking it to the office. “Woh…woh..Hari Prakahji was busy,” she found an excuse.

“Really?” Arnav took the bag from her, took hold of her hand and led her to his office, ignoring all the overt and covert glances they were receiving.

As he ate, Khushi walked around his room and inspected it for changes. Everything was the same except for the absence of Di & Shyam’s photo. Now it was replaced by a photo of Di smiling at the world.

“Khushi, why don’t you share my lunch?” he invited.

“I had mine,” she replied.

“Khushi, bring your lunch along with mine from tomorrow? We can have it together,” he pleaded nicely.

“Who said I am going to bring your lunch tomorrow, Arnavji? I will send it with Hari Prakashji,” Khushi teased him.

“Khushi,” he protested as he finished his lunch.

She laughed and went to stand near the glass wall to look down at the office. Many chairs were empty of their occupants. Some nibbled on sandwiches as they worked through their lunch break. Amanji was striding across the hall, the phone held to his ear.

Arnav came to stand behind her. He looked at her pensive eyes with troubled ones. He wanted to ask her why she was sad, but feared he knew the answer. All her memories of this office were bad. Some were even terrible.

Slowly his hands cupped the balls of her shoulders.

 Khushi turned her head to smile at him.

“It is time I went home,” she said.

Arnav felt a weight settle on his chest. He gently pulled her back against his chest and moved back from the wall for some privacy. He dropped a kiss on her hair and her right ear.

Khushi stood still in his hold, her heart galloping in her chest.

He turned her in his hold and cupped her face. Khushi looked at him with wide eyes. Just as he lowered his face to kiss her lips there was a knock on the door.

Khushi jumped back, knocking his hands away.

He lifted his head to look at a female employee standing hesitantly at the entrance.

“Yes?” he growled.

“You have a meeting in five minutes, Sir. Aman Sir asked me to remind you,” she stammered. “The delegates from London…”

ASR nodded as he swallowed his ire. The girl ran down the steps with trembling legs, glad that she was still alive after an encounter with the lion.

Khushi picked up the bag and moved towards the door.

“Khushi…” he began.

“You have a meeting now, Arnavji,” she smiled.

How could he keep her with him 24x7? Arnav wondered.

A brilliant idea ran though his head. “Khushi, why don’t you join my office again? We can come to work together and leave together,” he suggested, hope springing in his heart.

Khushi’s eyes skittered away. She brought her gaze back to her husband with great effort. “I am not Lavanyaji to entertain you when I am not working,” she said.

Arnav’s mouth fell open. Damning memories of how Khushi had seen Lavanya fiddling with his tie and hanging around his neck in this very office burned through his head like corrosive acid.

As he searched for nonexistent words to console her, calm her, make her feel better, Khushi said evenly, “I will definitely find a job, Arnavji. But I don’t want to be your employee...ever again. I want to be independent.”

Part 21

The Raizada ladies & NK left after partaking of a delicious and sumptuous lunch at the Guptas in Laxmi Nagar.

“We will be leaving tomorrow, Nandkisore,” Buaji said, pulling NK’s cheek. “When will I see you again?”

NK ran to the other corner of the room clutching his throbbing cheek that was as red as a tomato. Buaji’s love was as hazardous to his health as her anger.

“Madhumatiji, let Khussi bitiyaa and Payal stay with you till evening,” Nani said with a smile. “They can spend some time with you and help you pack.”

“Yes, we give you our two bahuranis for the day,” Mami declared. “But nightwaa aa jaaye to dono ko lauta deejiyega. Their hujjbands bill come doonding them, Hello hi Bye Bye!”

Khushi & Payal cleared the table, making quick work of the dishes.

“Khussi, you are happy, aren’t you?” Garima asked. 

“Yes, Amma,” Khushi smiled. “But I want to work. I don’t want to sit at home doing nothing.”

Payal, Garima, Sasi & Madhumati looked at her in silence, wondering what was going though her head.

“Buaji, Satwik Mistaan Bhandaar is doing very well in Lucknow. As long as Munna and Krishna are there and you keep an eye on the shop, you will never need to worry about money again,” Khushi said softly.

The Guptas nodded.

“I want to do something here that will make me financially independent,” Khushi said with a smile.

“Will Arnav babua permit you to work, Nandkisore?” Buaji asked, a frown adorning her face.

“I don’t need his permission, Buaji. Last time I gave up my life and my happiness so that he could be happy, his family could be safe. I gave freely without demanding. I gave in to his unreasonable demands, I changed myself to suit the circumstances so that no one in RM would be unhappy. I remained silent but my silence did not do anyone any good, Buaji. I should have reacted. I should have protested. I shouldn’t have put up with Shyam’s tricks or with Arnavji’s ego. I won’t do it again,” Khushi said softly.

“Titliyaa,” Buaji protested.

“I was very unhappy, Buaji. I was alone and scared. My life was totally out of my hands, Buaji. I don’t want that to happen again,” Khushi murmured.

As the others stared at her in silence, Sasi alone nodded.

“I…I did not…bring you up…to be…unhappy,” he stuttered.

All stared at him.

“You have…the…right to be…happy. Your destiny should…be…in your hands…You…work, Khussi,” Sasi said.

Khushi fell to her knees by his wheelchair and hugged him tight.

“What will you do, Khushi?” Payal asked.

“I don’t know, Jiji. I will find something,” Khushi smiled at her.

“Do you want to start a halwai shop here, Nandkisore?” Buaji asked. “What will people say? The wife of Arnav Singh Raizada rolling ladoos and sweating over halwa!” Buaji hit her forehead with her hand.

Khushi smiled wryly. “He knew that I am a halwai when he married me, Buaji. Nor did I sit in hartal outside his house begging him to marry me. He was the one who decided to marry me.”

“Khussi!” Garima protested. “Don’t shame Damadji with your nautanki any more.”

“Amma, I can’t become a doctor or an engineer with my 12^th pass certificate. I can only do what I know to do. If Arnavji finds it embarrassing, I will not claim any relationship with him. I will work as Khushi Kumari Gupta. At least my father is not ashamed of me,” Khushi said.

Sasi patted her hair. “Do what…makes…you happy,” he said.

“Hmmppfff! A father and daughter like this, Nandkisore! She is getting ready to destroy her marriage and he is blessing her to do it!” Buaji hit her head.

“Let her work, Jiji,” Garima said slowly. “When everything ended last time, our Khussi was left with nothing. We were there to take care of her then. If something goes wrong in the future and we are not alive…” her voice trailed away.

Buaji stared at Garima in silence, struck by her argument.

Khushi and Payal walked along the road in search of a rickshaw to go to RM. The hot sun beat down mercilessly on their heads.

Khushi turned her head to the left and the right, scanning the road for a free vehicle when her eyes fell on a construction site.

Payal saw her staring at the workers carrying bags of cement in to the site under the sharp eyes of a manager. 

“Kya hua, Khushi?” she asked.

“Jiji, come with me. I need to talk to the site supervisor,” Khushi said. She took hold of Payal’s arm and walked in to the site.

“Khushi, what are you doing?” Payal asked, scandalised. “There are only men here and you are…” she protested.

“Men need to eat, Jiji,” Khushi said softly.

Payal stared at her. What was this Sanka Devi up to?

“Manager Sir, I am Khushi Kumari Gupta. And this is my Jiji, Payal,” she introduced herself to the site supervisor.

The man looked at them, harried.

“We don’t employ women,” he barked.

“I don’t want you to,” Khushi smiled. “Are your workers from Delhi?”

“Of course not. They are from Bihar and Uttar Pradesh. Why?” the man asked.

“What do they do about their lunch? Do they cook it here?” Khushi asked.

Payal stared at her in shock.

The man sighed. “No. They go to small tea shops and shacks during their break. The contractor had employed a cook for them, but he left after one week.”

“I am going to start a business, Manager Sir. I am going to supply packed lunches to workers. Would you like to enter in to a contract with me?” she asked.

The man stared at her. “You? Have you done this before?”

Khushi smiled. “We are the daughters of Sasi Gupta, one of the best halwais in Lucknow. Cooking and selling food is our khandaani pesha,” she claimed.

“You are willing to supply lunch six days a week for fifty-five men?” the man asked.

“Yes. As long as the terms are favourable,” she said.

Payal stared at them as Khushi and the man discussed the dishes, the number of items, the cost, the timing, the mode of delivery etc.

“You get the contract ready, Mohanji. I will come and sign it. Please keep the advance amount ready too,” Khushi said.

“What is the need for a contract?” Mohan asked. “Trust should be more important than a contract,” he tried to sweet-talk the pretty girl.

Khushi’s face became cold and her eyes sharp.

“My father and my husband, both of them are businessmen. I know the rules of the game,” she claimed. “I will not supply a single lunch box till the contract is signed and the advance received,” she said.

Mohan gave in. “Come tomorrow at ten. It will be ready.”

“I will show the contract to a lawyer before I sign it,” Khushi warned him.

“Yes,” Mohan sighed.

“The advance?” Khushi clarified.

“That will be ready too,” he agreed.

“Khushi, what are you going to do?” Payal asked, shocked.

“I am trying to live, Jiji,” she said simply, “doing the only work I know how to do.”

“Now where are you going?” Payal asked as Khushi flagged down a rickshaw.

“I am going to drop you at RM. Then I am going to meet Arnavji at his office,” Khushi said cheerfully.

They sat in silence in the auto. A few moments later, Payal asked, “Khushi, how will you cook for fifty-five people on your own?”

“It has to be done, Jiji,” Khushi smiled.

“Imagine the number of rotis you will have to make, the amount of rice! You don’t have the vessels, you don’t have the stove!” Payal stared at her.

“I will get them,” Khushi said with unimpaired cheer.

She asked the rickshaw driver to stop at Shantivan and waited for Payal to alight.

“Are you sure, Khushi?” Payal asked.

“Yes, Jiji,” Khushi smiled.

“Then I will help you. Jiji hoon teri. How can I watch you struggle?” poor Payal asked.

Khushi laughed. “I knew you would never let me do it alone. Aur sach batao, Jiji, doesn’t it send a thrill down your spine to think that we are going to be cooking together like we did in Lucknow?”

Payal shook her head, unable to hide her smile and walked in to the house.

Khushi marched in to AR Designs, unaware and uncaring of the eyes on her.

“Amanji, is Arnavji free?” she asked Aman.

“Yes, Khushiji,” Aman beamed. “He is in his office, having the lunch you sent with the help.”

Khushi knocked on the door.

Arnav looked up from the food to see Khushi framed in the doorway.

“Khushi, come in. You don’t have to knock,” he said, smiling.

Khushi took the chair across from him.

“Have you finished, Arnavji?” she asked.

“Yes. It was delicious, Khushi,” he said as he placed the lid on the box.

“I need a favour from you,” she said.

He stared at her for a moment. Then he said, “Anything, Khushi,” he said slowly. Everything he had was hers. Why did she have to ask him?

“Aap ko yaad he, you bought the house in Laxmi Nagar? Remember Amezing Developers?” she asked.

“Yes,” he frowned in confusion. “Does Buaji want any help?”

“No, her niece does. I want to rent the building from you. Buaji will be leaving for Lucknow tomorrow morning. I want to occupy that house,” Khushi said.

Arnav paled. “You are leaving me, Khushi?”

Khushi frowned. “Why should I leave you? I need the house to cook in,” she said. “I will pay your twenty thousand today evening.”

“What the!” Arnav exclaimed.

“I will be signing a contract to ready packed lunches for fifty-five construction workers tomorrow morning. They will give me an advance too. I will buy the pots, pans & provision I need to start my work,” she said.

Arnav could only stare at her.

“It is alright if you don’t want me to cook in that house,” she said casually. “Happyji and Bediji will never let me down. I can use the shed in their workshop,” she said, sure of her backup plan.

“Khushi…” he whispered.

“You don’t have to feel bad, Arnavji. I haven’t told the site supervisor that you are my husband,” she comforted him.

“Uuhh?” he asked.

Khushi got up to leave, not having expected him to help her. She had a hundred things to do today and the first priority was calling Happyji.

“Khushi, sit down,” he managed to find his voice. “Please.”

She sat down slowly.

“Why didn’t you tell the…who was it? yes.. the site supervisor that I am your husband?” he asked, perplexed.

“Because I don’t want to put you to shame,” she said cheerfully. “You are a well-known businessman. If the world knows that your wife is a 12^th pass girl boxing lunches for labourers, people will laugh at you.”

His face hardened.

“I don’t give a damn!” he bit out. “You want to cook, Khushi? You want to start a business? Do it in your married name. My lawyers will help you. I will fund you. We will draw up a contract that is so tight that it strangles your supervisor. We…”

“No,” Khushi was calm but determined. “I will do everything on my own.”

He stood up in anger. “Why? Why can’t you take my help?”

Khushi looked down at her feet. “I want to start the business on my own. I don’t want to mix up my business and my personal lives.”

He paled. “Khushi, you don’t think that our marriage will last, do you?”

Khushi laughed wryly. “Who am I to think or not think? Things happen to me. I don’t have to do anything, just breathe.”

He swallowed hard.

“Sorrows strike me like tsunamis; tragedies befall me as though I am the only living person left on earth. Before I can figure out what is happening, they loot me of everything I think my own,” she said softly, a smile on her lips. “This time, I am trying to contain the damage.”

He had nothing more to say.

“Khushi, I wrote the house in your name,” he said softly.

She frowned at him.

“I bought it for you. It is yours to use or sell,” he said.

She parted her lips to ask him more, but he stopped her.

“Khushi, you are free to do whatever you want to do, but do it in your married name,” he said.

Khushi looked at him.

“I am not ashamed of you. I will never be ashamed of the work you are doing, even if you decide to sweep clean the roads of Delhi tomorrow,” he said, his eyes serious, honest.

She waited. 

“Promise me that you will ask me for help if you need it,” he said.

She looked long at him before nodding.

“Please don’t pay me rent for using the house you own,” he said.

She got ready to argue, but he added, “I was wrong to blackmail you, wrong to push you to the wall by increasing the rent. I was desperate to get you back home, so desperate that I took the worst way possible to force you to do my bidding. I should have just admitted how much I loved you and asked you to return with me. We could have gotten married again for life.”

Khushi swallowed.

Arnav caught her by her shoulders and helped her up. He pulled her in to his arms and showered her face and forehead with warm kisses.

“My wife,” he said, proud of her. “The Rani of box lunches.”

Khushi looked in to his sincere eyes for a moment and then leaned forward to kiss his lean, stubbled cheek. 

Arnav shut his eyes in relief and pleasure.

Part 22