192. OS 9: The Diabetic and the Halwai (Epilogue)

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Epilogue

Khushi stretched in bed, her fist hitting a sleeping Arnav’s chin.

“Khushi, so jao,” he murmured in his sleep, knowing his attacker.

“Khushi, so jao,” Khushi mimicked her husband of two months. “How easy it is to say, Khushi, so jao in the morning after keeping this Khushi awake all night,” she whined.

Arnav smiled, his eyes still shut. He grabbed her warm body wrapped in their blanket and pulled her into his arms.

“Chodiye hamein,” she squirmed.

“No, never in this lifetime,” he whispered in the crook of her neck.

“Don’t touch me, Arnavji. You know how I get when you touch me. I throw hosh and sud-bud to the wind...”

“Clothes too,” he murmured helpfully.

“... and before I know it half the day is gone,” she complained, trying to push him away. "It is all your fault."

He chuckled, his chest rising and falling against hers, his tummy tickling hers.

“It is Sunday,” he managed to say between guffaws. "Let's sleep in."

“Acha? Today is Sunday? Every day is Sunday for you,” she tried to tickle him to get him off her. “Today is Saturday, Mr. Arnav Singh Raizada. Are you going to the office or working from home today?” she asked.

“Home,” he murmured against her neck. “I need to go to office for a couple of hours at noon. That’s all.”

“You will be at home? Then I will make lunch special today,” she smiled, her mind busy with the menu.

“Lunch is at noon. Let’s make the morning special,” he murmured, his eye twinkling and his fingers moving up the curve of her waist.

“Arnavji,” Khushi tried to stop him by clamping her hands over his. “I have to go to my shop.”

“Your balushahi is waiting for you?” he teased, his eyes gazing directly into hers.

“Yes,” she laughed.

“I will take you,” he offered.

“No, you stay at home and rest. You work too hard, Arnavji. I will go with Mohanji,” she replied.

“No, I will take you,” he insisted. “I am your husband, not Mohan.”

Khushi chuckled. She threw her arms around him. “You are so funny, my sweet bhalu,” she complimented him, dropping a warm, loud kiss on his cheek.

“I am your teddy bear, right?” he asked, showering her with kisses.

“Yes, yes,” she laughed.

He rewarded her with hot kisses and soon her laughter turned into moans and pleas.

                                              ***

Arnav started the car and drove towards her shop in a trendy mall in the centre of the city.

“How will I look Jiji in the face again?” Khushi fretted.

“Why? What is wrong with Payal’s face? Akash didn’t tell me that anything was wrong when he married her,” Arnav teased her.

Khushi snorted. “Nothing is wrong with Jiji’s face. The problem is with your neeyat, Mr. Arnav Singh Raizada. I was late for breakfast today too. Jiji and Di had already helped Hari Prakashji to make all the dishes when I finally strolled downstairs,” she complained.

He chuckled.

“The problem is not with my neeyat, Mrs. Khushi Arnav Singh Raizada. It is with your beauty,” he said.

“Hein? The fault is mine?” she asked.

“Yes, bilkul yours. When you look at me with those big eyes,” Arnav confessed.

“What happens?” Khushi asked.

“Kuch kuch hota he,” he smiled.

Khushi blushed.

“And when you wear a saree and I see your kamar...” he continued.

She blushed. “Enough,” she pleaded.

“And your choli has two doris that tempt me to...” he continued, his eyes lingering on her rosy cheeks.

“Arnavji,” she protested.

“And your plump lips beckon me to bite into them...” he stoked the fire.

“Bas bhi keejiye,” Khushi begged. “Please.”

“OK,” he agreed. His naughty eyes looked at her red face. “Khushi, you are beautiful. Your face is,” he paused.

“”My face is?” Khushi asked curiously.

“Your face is,” he stopped again.

“My face is?” she asked eagerly.

“Red like a beetroot,” he teased.

“Awwww,” Khushi exclaimed. “Arnavji, see if I don’t take revenge for this! Grrrr,” she threatened, her clenched fists in the air.

“What is wrong, Khushi?” Arnav was on a roll. “I compared your face to a beetroot, that’s all. After all, we are shakhahari people, aren’t we?” he laughed.

Khushi pretended to punch him in the stomach.

“What is for lunch?” he asked, driving into the parking lot of her shop.

 “Veg pijja and hot pepper tea,” she teased him.

“Hey Devi Maiyya!” Arnav Singh Raizada exclaimed.

Khushi winked at him and left the car.  

As she walked to her shop with Arnav following her, she sang,

Smile malai he teri, style he gajak

Narmi bhi garmi bhi, tu badi gazab

Nain namakpaare, hont kalakandi

Chakh loon thoda sa, de ja razaamandi

Marzi teri to arzi meri, bana le na mujhe lover...

He chuckled.

The End

Next story on Monday.

191. OS 9: The Diabetic and the Halwai (Part 11)

HAPPY 66th REPUBLIC DAY!

NARI SHAKTHI

 Part 11

Khushi went to her room and began to think furiously.

Arnavji and balushahi or just balushahi?

Delhi or Lucknow?

Marriage or spinsterhood?

A life with Arnavji’s kisses or a life without Arnavji’s kisses?

She sat down on the bed with a huff. What kind of choice was this?

Moving to Delhi...making sweets in Delhi...being kissed by Arnavji...being able to touch his bare, hairless chest...it was a very attractive prospect. She could have the best of both worlds.

She smiled but suddenly the smile vanished.

But her Jiji?

How could she leave her Jiji behind?

Tears filled her eyes. In the chakkar of Arnavji’s lips and chest, she had forgotten her poor Jiji. How cruel she was! How thoughtless!

A picture of Payal washing dupattas rose in her mind. Her jiji was so sweet, so innocent, so silent, more silent than a real-life payal was.... She deserved better.

She ran back to Arnavji’s room and pushed open the door.

Arnav was lying on the bed worrying about Khushi’s response to his offer when she thrust open his door.

“Khushi, kya hua?” he asked.

She came weeping to him and sat down on the bed by him.

“Why are you crying?’ he asked, totally lost.

“I can’t marry you,” she sobbed.

He swallowed hard. He sat up.

“I will buy you a shop, Khushi. You can design it as you wish. You can employ as many people as you want and...” he began.

She drew a shuddering breath and threw her arms around his neck.

“You can make jalebis and balushahis and jamun and peda and rabdi and...and whatever you want,” he tried to tempt her, his heart beating loudly. He rubbed her back with his right hand.

“I can’t marry you. I am sorry,” she wept.

“Why?” he asked, sacred that all his plans were being toppled.

“I can’t leave her alone,” she sobbed into his neck.

“Whom?” he asked.

“My Jiji,” she blubbered.

“Your Jiji?” he asked. Now her Jiji was the problem? He had fought all the sweets and won. But now her Jiji was the next hurdle?

“My Jiji. She refused proposals because I wouldn’t get married. Now,” she wept.

“That’s OK,” he said, relieved. “Bring Payal to Delhi. Heck, bring your whole family to Delhi. Our house is huge and there’s ample space. We will look for a groom for her. I will find a boy for her,” he promised rashly.

She lifted her head and moved back a bit to look him the face. “You will?” She was so shocked that she forgot to cry.

“Yes, yes,” he promised. If every other plan failed, there was always Akash to sacrifice. What were brothers for, after all?

“You are a marriage broker?” Khushi asked, her eyes wide.

“No, but I will find someone,” he reassured her.

Khushi smiled. “Then I will marry you,” she assured him.

Arnav pulled her back into his arms, more relieved than he could say. If only the sun rose early today, he wished. He was scared to leave her alone all night. What if she came up with more reasons why she couldn’t marry him?

Khushi pulled out of his hold. “Acha, let me go to bed now. Shubhraatri,” she wished.

“Good night,” he murmured.

“Are you happy now?’ she asked.

“Very,” he admitted.

She leaned forward and kissed him on his cheek. It was no light peck or an air kiss. It was a sound kiss, a loud smooch with an ummmmmwah sound.

He smiled, his eyes twinkling with joy.

“You look nice smiling,” she remarked.

“You make me smile,” he confessed.

“I know. I am a regular clown,” she pouted.

He chuckled.

“I am going to bed. He Devi Maiyya, what a man have I found? He does not let me sleep at night!” she complained in fun as she got up to leave.

Arnav choked at the unintended meaning in her complaint.

She walked out, pulling the door shut after her.

Next morning, all were at breakfast when Khushi walked in.

“Lo aa gayi Kumbhkarn’s elder sister,” Buaji hailed her. "Has the day dawned for you yet, you Sanka Devi?"

Arnav looked down at his plate to hide his laughter.

“Amma, Babuji, Buaji, I am going to marry Arnavji,” Khushi declared, too happy to worry about Buaji’s taunts.

“Ee kab hua, kaisen hua?” Mami asked, her mouth open.

Anjali stared at Arnav, unable to believe her ears or her eyes as she saw a light flush cover her Chotey’s face.

Akash stared at his bhai without blinking. Bhai wanted to eat veg pijja daily?

Nani covered her mouth with her hand.

“What did you say, Nandkisore?” Buaji asked.

“Don’t worry, Buaji. We will start a branch of Satwik Mishtaan Bhandar in Delhi,” Khushi reassured her. “Arnavji said he will help me.”

“Hein? Hamre Arnav bitwaa bill make issweets?” Mami asked.

“Khushi?” Payal asked, astounded.

“Don’t worry, jiji. Arnavji will look for a groom for you too,” Khushi set her mind at ease.

“Saasumma, ee kaa ho raha he?” Mami asked. “Hamre Arnav bitwaa bill phind a broom for Payaliyya? He who couldn’t phind a girlwaaa phor himself till now will phind a boy for Payaliyya?”

“Chotey?” Nani asked hopefully.

Arnav looked at the astounded faces of the Guptas.

“Amma, Babuji, Buaji, I would like to marry Khushi,” he said.

“Are you sure, babua?” Garima asked with a wary look at Khushi.

“Maybe you should think it over, Nandkisore,” Buaji tried to spare him.

“Yes, marriage is serious business,” Sasi muttered. “Aap soch leejiye.”

“I am sure,” Arnav said softly.

The Raizadas almost danced in joy.

“Khushi, are you sure? Really, really certain?” Sasi asked.

“Yes, babuji,” Khushi smiled happily. “I am sure. He is like that big toy Guddi has.”

All frowned.

“Guddi? Kamla’s granddaughter?” Buaji asked.

“Yes. She has this huge teddy bear. She pulls its ears, sits on it, lekin it does nothing. It still loves her. Arnavji is like that teddy bear,” Khushi smiled.

Arnav blushed.

The Raizadas looked at Teddy Bear Raizada with new eyes.

“So shall we conduct the marriage between our diabetic teddy bear and our halwai?” Nani asked Sasi with a laugh.

“Yes,” Sasi laughed.

The Guptas and the Raizadas hugged in joy.

Arnav winked at Khushi.

She gasped.

“You look like an akhdoo but you are a naughty bhaloo,” she whispered in his ear.

"Only with you," he whispered back, touching her silky cheek with his lips.

190. OS 9: The Diabetic and the Halwai (Part 10)

Link to e-book

http://pothi.com/pothi/book/ebook-smita-ramachandran-home-meenakshi

Part 10

He kissed her thoroughly, his palms cradling her face, his nose nudging hers, his lips sucking at hers, his tongue duelling with hers.

Khushi, not to be outdone, put up a good fight, giving as good as she got. Her fingers clawed at his hair, clutched at his neck.

His teeth nipped her lower lip. It shocked her into stillness.

Arnav held her close, letting her shuddering body rest against his.

“You are a jadugar,” she whispered.

He shook with silent laughter.

“More kaatil than my jalebi,” she concluded.

“Really?” he choked.

“Really,” she conceded.

“More potent than your balushahi?” he asked.

“Yes,” she grimaced.

“Then leave your balushahi and come with me,” he invited.

“Where?” she asked, her eyes round.

“Delhi, as my wife,” he laid his heart and his life at her feet.

Her mouth fell open. “But my balushahi,” she protested weakly.

“Can your balushahi kiss you like I do?” he asked, tongue in cheek.

Khushi swallowed.

“Can it?” he asked again.

“No,” she admitted.

“Does your jalebi have a body like mine?” he rubbed it in.

“No,” she said, looking wistfully at his sinful body covered by his clothes. If her jalebi was as gorgeous as him, she would spend her entire life making and hugging jalebis to her heart. “But my jalebi is healthier than you. It does not have diabetes,” she claimed victoriously.

He bit back laughter with great effort.

“But your jalebi, balushahi, gulab jamun etc can’t marry you. I can,” he offered.

As she opened her mouth to protest against marriage, he added, “If we are married, you won’t have to steal into my bedroom. Both families will lock us in our bedroom.”

Khushi drew in a deep breath, tempted by the offer.

“We can kiss all the time. Nobody will intrude into our private moments,” he dangled the carrot before her.

She swallowed hard.

“You can touch my chest whenever you want,” he permitted her.

“Your bare chest?” Khushi clarified. After all she was a businesswoman and liked all the facts laid down in black and white. 

“My bare chest,” he managed to say between guffaws.

Khushi drew in a deep breath tinged with sorrow.

On one side was Arnavji with his Salman Khanji-type chest and kisses. On the other side were bins of sweets that had stayed by her through thick and thin, turned a callow Lucknow girl into a crafty and successful businesswoman.

A new man versus her khandaani pesha.

An irresistible man versus her friends, the sweets.

Arnavji versus Satwik Mishtaan Bhandar.

What was a girl to do?

Her eyes filled with tears.

“Khushi,” Arnav murmured comfortingly. “You love your shop, don’t you?”

Khushi nodded. Tears trailed down her cheeks.

“Why don’t you start a branch in Delhi?” he asked.

Khushi frowned. “Delhi? I don’t know anyone there.”

“You know me. Marry me, Khushi. I will help you set up shop. Let us become business partners,” he suggested.

Khushi frowned. “A diabetic wants to start a mithai shop?” she asked.

“Yes. If the diabetic wants to marry a halwai, he has to make changes in his life,” Arnav smiled.

“You are willing to make changes in your life to accommodate me?” she was astonished.

“Yes,” he smiled and gently smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because it is not everyday that I come across a halwai with lips like a red rose, who makes a mean veg pijja and pepper tea and tries to scare me at midnight,” he chuckled.

Khushi glared at him. “Don’t think I have forgotten your lies and your underhand methods,” she warned him.

“Don’t forget, Khushi,” he said softly. “You can take revenge on me after our marriage,” he suggested.

“I will,” she said impulsively. Then she added, “if I marry you.”

Arnav inclined his head.

“I need time to think,” she said.

“I will be leaving tonight,” Arnav informed her softly. “I need to get back to work.”

“Tonight?” her face paled.

“Yes,” he said softly, dropping a kiss on her cheek.

“Now go to bed, Khushi. You will be lucky to get three hours in bed.”

Khushi nodded but stood staring at him.

He caught her by her shoulders and led her to the door.

Dropping a lingering kiss on her hair, he said, “You have all day to think, Khushi. Let me know before I leave?” he asked.

She nodded.

“If you choose me, you get your balushahi and me. If you choose your balushahi, you get only balushahi, not me,” he presented her choice before her.

She swallowed.

“Good night,” he whispered before pushing her out gently through the door.