196. OS 10 An Unexpected Visitor (Part 4)

Link to my first e-novel

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


A blog for my VMs:

http://smitarsvms.blogspot.in/

Part 4

Arnav tried hard but it was a few days before he could actually get to Khushi’s house and feel blessed to watch her favourite serial with her.

He called her daily to apologise.

“Khushi, I am so sorry. I will be late leaving office today,” he said as he rubbed his aching temple.

“Koi baat nahi. We will watch it together another day when you are free,” Khushi said, popping channa into her mouth. “Did you have dinner?”

“No, I will have it at home. Khushi, how are you?” he asked, more interested in her day than his own.

“I am fine, Arnavji,” she swallowed the channa. “But I can’t say the same for Kanshi Ram chachaji,” she grimaced.

Arnav felt a smile appear on his face.

“Why?” he asked.

“We were playing cricket, the boys and I,” she sighed. “I bowled. Chinnu hit the ball hard.” She paused.

“Then?” he asked.

“It hit Kanshi Ram chachaji on his cheek. Hard,” she winced.

Arnav winced in empathy.

“He shouted at us. We tried to apologise, but...” she sighed.

“He didn’t accept your apology?” Arnav asked.

“To be fair, he was in no condition to accept our apology,” she muttered. “His cheek was red and there was blood on his new kurta.”

“Blood?” Arnav frowned.

“The ball dislodged a couple of his teeth,” she said, her voice low.

Arnav looked at the glass wall of his office, fighting amusement.

“We went to his house to say sorry,” she continued.

“And?” Arnav asked.

“Kanshi Ram chachaji opened the door, saw us, picked up the gamla on his veranda and threw it at us. He was so angry,” Khushi confessed.

“Gamla?” Arnav frowned. “What is that?”

“Pot. The one in which you plant seeds. The one with lots of mud?” she asked.

“Yes,” he gasped, trying very hard not to laugh.

“But it was a small one,” she comforted herself. “Had it been a bigger one, we would have been in real trouble.”

Arnav gave up the fight. He threw back his head and burst out laughing.

Aman stared at him though the open door. ASR was laughing? Aman pinched himself. Was he dreaming?

Khushi pouted. “You are laughing at me? I won’t tell you what happened in the serial today,” she delivered his sentence.

Arnav tried hard to keep his chuckles under check, but was not entirely successful.

“What happened today, Khushi?” he asked, his voice huskier than normal.

Khushi? Who was that? Aman frowned.

“Let me think if I want to tell you,” she mused, chewing on another handful of channa.

“What are you eating?” he asked.

“Channa,” she mumbled.

He frowned. “Channa?” he asked. “Didn’t you have dinner?”

ASR was worried about some Khushi’s dinner and channa? Aman looked around. Was he in ASR’s office or had aliens airlifted him to their land?

“I did. This is my after-dinner snack,” Khushi informed him.

He shook with laughter. “Where does all this food go?” he asked. “You are so slim!”

Khushi smiled. “Buaji says the food goes to my brain because it needs extra nourishment to come up with sanki ideas,” she explained cheerfully.

He smiled. “She may very well be right,” he teased, his voice tender, indulgent.

Aman leaned against the door, feeling faint.

“Aap ko pata he aaj kya hua?” Khushi asked.

“Kya?” he asked, leaning back in his chair, all relaxed, his nerves and muscles feeling like melted butter.

“The heroine wore a red sari and the hero’s hosh ud gaya,” Khushi recounted.

Arnav swallowed. He could relate to that scene. Had she told him about a red sari stealing his neend and chain before he had seen Khushi in a red sari, he wouldn’t have believed it, but now he could find it in himself to pity the angry, violent hero with the penchant for throwing the heroine from a height.

“Then?” he asked, eager to know how the hero had managed the scene.

“He stared at her and stared at her till I thought she would have holes on her face. It was a Rabba Ve moment,” she explained. “Then he let her keep the sari and turned and walked away.”

“Let her keep the sari? The sari is not hers?” Arnav asked, confused.

Khushi laughed. “It is a long story. You see, Lisaji came for a fashion shoot...” she explained.

Aman hung on to the door handle, watching ASR laugh and tease some channe-wali Khushi on the phone while his Finance Manager waited in the conference room for the meeting scheduled to happen ten minutes ago.

                                              ***

“Aap ko pata he kya hua?” Khushi asked him over the phone as she fried pooris.

“Kya?” he smiled.

“They got wet in the rain just as we did when we fell in the pool,” Khushi said, lifting a fried poori from the oil, draining it and dropping it into a dish.

“Acha?” he smiled. “Then what happened?” he asked.

“Hona kya tha? The hero is not sweet like you. He scolded the heroine and went away in all his ghoosa. Arnavji, aap ko ek baat bataaon?” she asked.

“Anything, Khushi,” he said softly.

“I think the hero was a steam engine in his last birth,” Khushi disclosed.

Arnav’s eyes flew open.

“Or a volcano. How can he hold so much fury within him, I don’t know. It is a mystery,” she remarked.

Arnav chuckled.

                                          ***

“Arnavji, I am walking home. Why did you call?” Khushi asked.

“I had a free moment between meetings,” he explained. “Were you out shopping with Buaji?”

Khushi laughed. “No, I was out selling with Buaji. We have a shop that specialises in Uttar Pradesh ethnic clothes, dress material and sarees.”

“Where?” he asked, his professional brain active.

“Near Devi Maiyya’s temple,” Khushi explained.

“Which temple?” he asked.

“The one near the banyan tree,” she told him, her eyes on the ber on the fruit stand by the road.

He smiled. “Which banyan tree?” he asked patiently.

“The big one. It has lots of dhagas tied around it,” she described it.

He sat silent, letting her absorb his silence. Suddenly she burst out laughing. “I am so sorry...maaf keejiye..Chattarpur main road...I was looking at the ber,” she confessed.

“Ber?” he asked, one brow raised in amused astonishment.

“Ji,” she admitted.

“Not channa?” he asked, laughter in his voice.

“Ber today, channa tomorrow,” she chuckled. “That is why Buaji calls me chatori.”

Arnav burst out laughing. “How many names does Buaji have for you?” he asked.

“More than a thousand,” she laughed. “More than Devi Maiyya has. “Bhooleshwari Devi, Parmeswari, Sanka Devi, Titliya...” she listed them. “When will you come home?” she asked.

“Soon,” he promised.

“You always say soon, lekin kab? Why can’t your soon come soon?” she pouted.

“Soon,” he promised softly, a smile on his lips.

                                         ***

He knocked on the door to Buaji’s house in Laxmi Nagar.

Khushi was parked before the TV, remote in hand, her eyes glued to the screen. “Hey Devi Maiyya, please don’t take away the current, please, please,” she was chanting.

She looked at the clock. It was one minute to eight. She drew in a deep breath. One minute was sixty seconds. Sixty seconds more for the serial to begin...

“You behri girl!” Buaji brandished her belan. “ Can’t you hear the doorbell ringing, Nandkisore?”

“Which door? What bell?” Khushi asked, leaning forward in her seat.

“This door and that bell,” Buaji caught hold of her ear and turned her head towards the door.

"Aaaaaa," Khushi cried. She saved her ear from Buaji's clutches. Khushi huffed, “Why do guests always land here when I am ready to watch my serial?”

“Go and open the door,” Buaji pointed her belan at the door and rolled her eyes in warning.

Khushi grimaced and went marching to the door grumbling under her breath, “Ek, he never comes to join me. Do, he always calls and says soon. Teen...” she pulled the door panels open to see Arnav standing there.

She stared at him for a long moment, her mouth open.

“Khushi, it is me,” he said, a small smile on his lips.

“Really?” she whispered.

“Really,” he reassured her.

“Pinch me,” she ordered him.

Like  a lamb, ASR pinched Khushi on her arm.

“Aaaaa...,” she squealed.

“Kaa hua, Nandkisore?” Buaji asked.

“Arnavji has come home, Buaji,” Khushi exclaimed in excitement.

“Who?” Buaji asked as she approached them. Her eyes widened when she saw him. “Kaa hua, Nandkisore? Is something wrong? Is Devyaniji fine?”

“Yes,” Arnav smiled. “All are fine. Err..I..err..I just came to..err..” he stammered. Wooing a girl was tough, very tough.

“He came to see the serial with me,” Khushi explained, all smiles.

Buaji stared at her in horror. Then she hit her head with her hand. “Hai Re Nandkisore! What will I do with this girl?”

“Buaji, is your head hurting?” Khushi asked. “Arnavji will massage it for you. He massages very well.”