179. OS 8: One Rainy Night (Parts 5-7)

              Yeh Raatein (Sung by Sanam Puri & Simran Sehgal)


Part 5

Khushi and her family walked into the huge house belonging to Buaji’s friend, Devyaniji. The house was lit with lights and decorated with marigold and rajnigandha flowers. Red roses were arranged in huge vases at every corner.

The purohit was making arrangements for the havan and ladies in bright clothes were greeting each other and chatting happily. The entire house smelled of flowers and ghee and incense.

“Khushi, the house is beautiful, isn’t it?” Payal asked, awed at the grandeur of the mansion.

“Very, Jiji,” Khushi said absently, her eyes looking eagerly for her raajkumar. Was he somewhere around? He had promised to stay with her, hadn’t he?

“Madhumatiji, I am so happy you could join us for this pooja,” Nani approached them with folded hands, smiling in delight.

Buaji greeted her in turn and thanked her for the invitation. “You wanted to meet my nieces, didn’t you, Devyaniji? Here, I have brought them to you. This is Payaliyya and this is Khussi, Nandkisore.”

The girls bent and touched Nani’s feet. The elderly lady beamed and blessed both of them with all her heart. “May you live long. May you get married to good men soon. May you have a hundred children!”

Payal blushed, hoping desperately that no one could see her face as she was bent over to touch Naniji’s feet. A thrilled Khushi smiled, her head lowered. She hoped her raajkumar was listening to this blessing.

“Meet my family,” Nani invited them. She summoned Anjali and Mami. “This is Anjali, my granddaughter. This is Manorama, my bahuriyya.”

The Guptas greeted them politely.

“Saasumma kahath rahe about you, Madhumatiji. Aap bhi Lucknow se hein, Hello Hi Bye Bye?” Mami asked.

Buaji looked at Mami’s colourful visage and averted her face lest her shock be visible. “Ji, ji,” she muttered.

“We are very glad that you are here with your nieces,” Anjali beamed.

“I have a son and two grandsons too,” Nani said. “They will join us later.”

“Ji,” Buaji nodded.

“Shall we sit down for the pooja, Nani?” Anjali asked, smiling.

“Yes, yes, the purohit must be ready to begin,” Nani replied. “Madhumatiji, please come with us.”

The Raizadas and the Guptas moved towards the white, plush mats laid on the floor for the guests, Mami and Anjali herding all the ladies to take their seats.

Khushi looked around the hall for at least a glimpse of her lover with the propensity for vanishing. Where was he? Was he hiding behind the curtains to tease her? Would he join her for the pooja?

“Khushi, chalo,” Payal muttered, tugging at her hand.

“I am coming, Jiji,” Khushi said absently, her eyes roving.

Payal grimaced and moved ahead.

Hari Prakash who was bringing a vessel of ghee for the pooja found an unexpected obstacle in his path in the form of a Khushi who was standing on tiptoes to stare at the landing. The vessel tilted and a few drops of ghee fell on the pleats of her red sari.

“Hai Re Nandkisore!” Buaji exclaimed.

“Hari Prakass, blindwaa ho kaa? Can’t you see a big girl standing on the roadwaa?” Mami asked.

“It is my fault, Hari Prakashji,” Khushi was quick to take the blame. “Maaf keejiye, I should have looked where I was going,” she said, her face flushed.

“Khushiji, go up the steps to my bedroom. It is the third one on the right,’ Anjali whispered.

“Ji,” Khushi said softly.

“Shall I come with you, Khushi?” Payal asked.

“No, Jiji,” Khushi said. “Tum baitto. I will go up and clean my sari,” Khushi said and moved towards the steps.

“Khushi, sambhalke,” Payal whispered. “Don’t get into trouble. Remember that this is not our house.”

“Jiji, I am not so bad,” Khushi protested.

“You are worse when you get into one of your moods,” Payal smiled.

Khushi pouted in reproach.

Khushi walked up the steps, turning her head to look down at all the well-dressed ladies settling down for the pooja.

She looked at the havan kund. “Hey Devi Maiyya, I don’t know his name or his address. But you know both. Please tell him that I am waiting for him. Please, please bring my raajkumar to me,” she prayed.

She walked along the corridor.

“First bedroom,” she counted. She walked on till she reached the second door. “Did Anjaliji say second bedroom or third?” she asked aloud. She slowly turned the knob of the door. “I will see if it is Anjaliji’s room,” she muttered. “If it is not hers, I can move on to the next.”

She pushed the door open and gasped.

It was spartan, drab, purely functional, just a place for some unimaginative male to sleep. But her heart sang a paean of thankfulness. He was here. She knew it in her bones. He was here somewhere close by. The dull green recliner, the gray curtains, the white bed cover, the gray blanket...they could not dull her enthusiasm.

She quickly entered the room and shut the door behind her.

“Where are you?” she called softly. “Suniye,” she called again.

There was only silence.

“I am here. I have found you. You promised to stay with me, hamesha,” she reminded her hidden lover.

There was no sign of him.

Khushi placed her hands on her hips, getting ready for battle, the pooja downstairs forgotten.

“You are teasing me,” Khushi thought aloud. “Dekhti hoon mein aapko. But first the stain.” She marched to the bathroom and removed the spot of ghee. “Who does he think he is, playing with Khushi Kumari Gupta?” she muttered. “I will punish him till he screams for mercy,” she decided as she rubbed furiously at the blemish. “I will tickle him, pinch him, punch him...” she paused. A slow smile appeared on her face. In a low voice, she continued, “Kiss him on his cheek, his chin...”

She left the bathroom and entered the bedroom. Where was he?

She fell to her knees on the floor and peeked under the bed. He was missing from that dark cavern. She swiped his curtains aside to find him, but he was not there.

She eyed the open door to the garden. Maybe he was hiding behind the trees like a Bollywood hero, she thought, thrilled at the prospect.

She tiptoed into the garden and stood enthralled.

The garden was a magical place with trees, plants and shrubs, all decorated with chains of fairy lights. Light from the tiny bulbs were reflected in the placid waters of the small pool in the midst of the trees.

She drew in a deep breath, feeling as though she could scent him in the very air. She looked to the left.

Her raajkumar was seated on a black recliner, staring at a laptop on a low table. Khushi smiled tremulously, feeling her heart leap in joy. He was here, waiting for her to find him.

She looked down at her red sari and her ruby and pearl choker and bangles and smiled. She looked good tonight. She was happy that she had made an effort to look extra special for him.

She looked at him with anticipation in her heart. Maybe they could spend some time in privacy here. She had enjoyed the ride to this house with him, but it had been too short.

As she watched with avid eyes, he leaned back and shut his eyes on a tired sigh.

Was he tired of waiting for her? she wondered, frowning. Soon a smile replaced the frown on her face. If he could roott, she could manaofy.

She moved behind a tree and sang softly,

Yeh raatein, yeh mausam, nadi ka kinara,

Yeh chanchal hawa,

Aa..a..a..a...

Arnav’s eyes flew open. Her voice! But how could she be here? Had he begun to hear voices? Did he need a doctor? Or was he dreaming with his eyes open?

Kaha do dilon ne, ke milkar kabhi hum na honge juda

Yeh raatein, yeh mausam, nadi ka kinara,

Yeh chanchal hawa...

Khushi peeked at his astounded face with glee on hers. Caught you! she smirked. He deserved a taste of his own medicine. If he could appear in her bedroom and in the car, she could very well appear before him.

Yeh kya baat he aaj ki chandni mein

Ke hum kho gaye, pyaar ki raagni mein

Yeh bahoon mein baahein, yeh beheki nigaahein

Lo aane laga zindagi ka maza.

Arnav stood up from his recliner, almost knocking down his laptop in his eagerness to find her. His wide eyes frantically sought her among the plants and the lights.

Yeh raatein, yeh mausam, nadi ka kinara

Yeh chanchal hawa...

She plucked and threw a flower into the pool. It landed softly on the calm surface, floating dreamily on the water.

Arnav darted to the pool and looked feverishly around. His face was pale, his body tensed, each tendon and sinew alert.

“Where are you?” he called, anticipation making his voice huskier than usual.

The next thing he knew was the welcome, warm clasp of her arms and the feel of her soft, lush body against his back.

He stood stock-still, unable to believe that his dream was coming true.

She lifted his right arm and ducked beneath it to come face to face with him.

He gasped soundlessly. She was gorgeous, the red sari and her unbound hair making her look as though she had walked out of his dream but after drying herself.

She looked around at the thousands of tiny bulbs lighting up the garden and turning it into paradise.

Sitaron ki mehfil ne karke ishaara

Kaha ab to sara jahan he tumhara,

She smiled at him and cupped his face.

Mohabbat jawan ho, khula aasman ho,

Karein koi dil arzoo aur kya?

Her nose touched his. She smiled and turned as though to move away. He tugged her against him and lowered his face to rest against hers.

Yeh raatein yeh mausam, nadi ka kinara

Yeh chanchal hawa... she sang, her head back against his shoulders.

Then she turned and looked in to his eyes, her own direct and needy.

Kasam he tumhe, tum agar mujhse roothe

Rahe saans jab tak, yeh bandhan na toote,

He cupped her face in his palms.

She placed her hand on his heart.

Tumhe dil diya he, yeh wada kiya he,

Sanam, mein tumhari rahonngi sada...

She hugged him as tight as she could, her arms trying to crush him, her body trying to absorb him so that no one could determine where she began and he ended.

Yeh raatein yeh mausam nadi ka kinara,

Yeh chanchal hawa...

She lifted her head and took hold of his arm. She led him to his recliner, seated him and quickly sat on his lap.

Kaha do dilon ne, ke milkar kabhi hum na honge juda....

She pressed her lips against his hard cheek, threw her arms around his neck and rested fully against him. His arms came around her to gather her close. The red silk of her sari covered his limbs and the black, silky fall of her lustrous hair fell over his arms.

Part 6

Arnav sat still, afraid to move or speak for fear that his dream would end, this idyllic moment would shatter into a thousand pieces leaving him alone to his solitude.

Khushi had no such issues. “I tricked you this time,” khushi chuckled softly. She looked into his eyes. “Did you think only you could appear in my room and in the car?”

Arnav frowned. Room? Car? What the!

“If you are naughty, then I am wicked!” she claimed, pulling his cheek.

He smiled uncertainly at her, clutching his cheek.

“Khushi,” came the uncertain call from the doorway.

He stiffened.

Khushi lifted her head from his shoulder and frowned at him. “It is just Jiji. Don’t go away now that I have found you. She can’t see you anyway. I am not going to go around this house looking for you, singing like a ghost on a dark night in phillums.” She tightened her arms around his neck.

He stared at her. What was happening here? But her name was Khushi. He drew in a deep breath of relief.

“Jiji, I am here,” Khushi called out.

Payal walked in to see Khushi sitting on the lap of a handsome stranger. She clutched her heart. “Khushi! What are you doing?” she asked, hyperventilating.

“Kya hua, Jiji?” Khushi asked, rearranging herself more comfortably on her raajkumar’s lap.

“Ab hona kya baaki he?” Payal gasped. “Why are you sitting on a man’s lap?”

Khushi’s mouth fell open. She stared at her Jiji and at her raajkumar like the audience at a tennis match for a full minute. Then she asked faintly, “You can see him, Jiji?”

Payal frowned. “Am I blind, Khushi?”

“Nooooo,” Khushi said slowly. “But...you can really see him, Jiji?”

“Yes,” Payal said shortly. “And soon Buaji will have the honour of seeing him too, not to mention Devyaniji, Anjaliji and Manoramaji.”

Khushi gasped.

“They are all sitting downstairs wondering where you are,” Payal informed her.

Arnav looked at Payal and then at the girl on his lap.

This was his house, he was Arnav Singh Raizada, his Di, Nani and Mami had organised a pooja, his girl was Khushi, Buaji was not in Laxmi Nagar but was downstairs for the pooja and the girl standing before him was Khushi’s jiji. He had no idea what else was going on but was content to let it play out as long as he had his Khushi in his arms.

He looked down at her. Who had named her Khushi? How had they found the perfect name for her? His arms tightened around her waist.

“But...but you are not supposed to see him,” Khushi muttered to her Jiji. She turned to look at Arnav. “How come she can see you?”

“Err..” Arnav tried to explain what he couldn’t understand.

Payal had a mentos moment. “Khushi, is this...is this your raajkumar?”

Arnav’s eyes flew open. What the!

A big smile split Khushi’s face. She jumped up from his lap. He too stood up. “Yes. Jiji, I forgot to introduce you. Suniye,” she looked at Arnav. “This is my Jiji, Payal Kumari Gupta. Jiji, this is...” she looked at Arnav helplessly, in a bind. She had no idea what his name was.

“Arnav,” he helped her out.

“Arnav,” Khushi repeated with a smile of relief. She finally had his name. Suddenly a frown creased her forehead. “Then why couldn’t Jiji and Buaji see you in the car?” she asked him.

He blinked. What car? “In the car?” he asked.

“In the car?” Payal asked at the same time.

“Yes, while we were coming here,” Khushi explained.

“How could we see him when he wasn’t with us?” Payal asked reasonably.

“But Jiji, he was. He was with me. I was sitting... err... I was... he was with us,” Khushi protested lamely.

Arnav stared at her.

Payal looked at Arnav’s perplexed and astounded face. She lowered her head to smile at the floor. Khushi’s sankiness would soon make him wish he had never saved her on a rainy night and had instead left her to drown!

“I am going to join the others, Khushi. Come down in a minute or Buaji will come looking for you,” Payal said as she turned and left the room, smiling.

Khushi caught hold of Arnav’s hand. “Weren’t you in the car with us while we were travelling from Laxmi Nagar to this house?” she asked.

“No,” he said softly.

Khushi pouted. She had imagined him?

“And you didn’t come to my room when I was getting dressed?” she asked, laid low with disappointment.

“No..err..sorry,” Arnav smiled slightly.

Khushi let go of his hand like a hot potato. She huffed. “I imagined you,” she concluded, annoyed at herself.

Arnav felt laughter rise in him.

“But you are really here?” Khushi clarified.

“Yes,” he looked around for confirmation.

“What are you doing here if you didn’t come with us?” Khushi asked, miffed.

Arnav smiled. “This is my house.”

Khushi frowned. “No, this is Devyaniji’s house. She is Buaji’s temple buddy.”

Arnav choked on laughter. “Your Devyaniji is my Nani.”

Khushi frowned. “So you are one of her grandsons?”

“I believe so,” he smiled, amused at Khushi’s disappointment.

“But you saved me in the rain?” she confirmed. What if her fertile imagination had dreamed up that night’s adventures too?

“I did. And you sang at night in the rickshaw,” he smiled, trying to cover the distance she had put between them.

Khushi smiled in relief. “Thank you for rescuing me,” she said politely. “I am Khushi Kumari Gupta. Woh kya he, I forgot to ask your name. It was only when Jiji asked me that I realised I had never asked you your name.”

“I am Arnav Singh Raizada,” he introduced himself, extending his had, hoping that she would touch him.

She looked at his hand, uneasy. She had let him kiss her cheeks, hug her, pull her on to his lap... Heck, she had launched herself on to his lap. Why should shaking hands with him be a big deal?

Slowly she put her hand out for him to clasp. He held her firmly. 

Khushi looked at him and swallowed her tears.

So he was not her raajkumar, but a stranger who had no idea what was going through her sanki head. She blinked rapidly, fighting her tears and an acute sense of loss.

“Khushi,” he called.

She spared one look at his concerned face and then looked away. She had built a house of dreams on his one act of kindness. She could kick herself! She was destined to marry her Buaji’s choice of ringmaster or lion tamer with bade bade moonch, not her raajkumar. And she would have to call the moonchwala her balma, her jaanu, her saiyaan, her mehboob! 

She could tear her hair out in grief.

She swallowed hard, feeling her throat ache with unshed tears. She extricated her hand from his hold.

And she had sung and danced in his garden! Her yeh raatein, yeh mausam, yeh nadi ka kinara! She deserved to be pushed in to that nadi from the kinara with a kick on her backside! She was begging to be locked up. Buaji was right. Khushi Kumari Gupta was a menace to society...and apparently to handsome men of marriageable age!

 She cringed in humiliation.

Why had she come here? Oh, the pooja!

“Hum chalte hein,” she whispered. “The pooja...they will be waiting...”

Part 7

Arnav stared at Khushi’s crestfallen face with a sinking heart. Why was she withdrawing from him? She had been so happy to see him! She had sung for him and sat on his lap. Why was she leaving him?

“Khushi,” he called.

She looked at his face for a moment and then averted her eyes.

“Khushi, I came to your room when you were changing?” he asked.

Khushi blushed. “No, no. I..I..it is alright. It was a mistake,” she tried to downplay the incident.

“You imagined that I was in your room,” he said thoughtfully. “What was I doing in your daydream?”

Khushi paled and then became redder than a tomato. “Nothing,” she muttered.

“Khushi, what did I do in the car?” he asked, his eyes twinkling at the sight of her embarrassment.

“Nothing,” she mumbled, turning away from him. “I...I am busy...no, you are busy... I have to go.”

He caught hold of her hand. She tried to twist her arm free but failed. His fingers were locked around her arm as though they would never let go of her.

“Chotey,” came Anjali’s call. “Did you see Khushiji? Hari Prakashji spilled some ghee on her saree and she came to remove the stain,” she explained as she walked into the bedroom and out to the poolside.

Her chatter came to a sudden stop at the sight of her brother standing holding Khushiji’s arm, his fingers resembling manacles. His eyes were bright, lit with some kind of excitement that Anjali had never been fortunate enough to witness in him.

She stood open mouthed, staring at them.