198. OS 10. An Unexpected Visitor (Part 6)

Link to my new short story: Taking Care of You


“I thought I was dreaming when I first saw you," he said.

 “How did you know it was me?” she asked. “I could have been anybody. A thief even.”

He smiled wearily. “I don’t know many thieves who would look at me with anxious eyes and then cry because I was sick,” he mumbled.

Is it possible for love to bloom, sight unseen? Juhi and Abhay are strangers who know each other better than they know themselves. One night changes the equation and the even tenor of their lives and puts all their doubts and fears to rest.

http://pothi.com/pothi/book/ebook-smita-ramachandran-taking-care-you

Link to my first e-novel; A Home for Meenakshi

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

"I love the way you love, Meenu," he whispered, his eyes on hers. "Such loyalty, such passion..."

Meenakshi Sharma, an orphan, lives in Varanasi with her uncle, a chronic bachelor who wants her to become a professional musician. She unwillingly relocates to Delhi to study under a renowned musician for eight months. Staying for rent in the outhouse of the Agrawals, she meets Aditya Agrawal, an attractive young man brooding over the memories of his horrendous past. Pulled between her uncle's expectations of her and Aditya's love for her, Meenakshi struggles with her feelings. How can she disappoint her uncle who had devoted his entire life to her upbringing? How can she pretend to be blind to Aditya's feelings for her? A romance that moves between the alleys of the holy city of Varanasi and the modern city of Delhi.

A blog for my VMs:

http://smitarsvms.blogspot.in/

Part 6

Arnav paced the length and breadth of his room, trying to outwalk his panic-inducing thoughts.

Laxmi chewed on his Management Skills journal as she relaxed on his bed. Her beady eyes looked at his anxious movements with amusement.

“Hamre Arnav bitwaa ko kaa hua?” Mami wondered, standing at his door. “Did someone steal hijj laptopwaa, Hello Hi Bye Bye?”

“Chotey, what is wrong?” Anjali asked, limping into his room.

Nani and Mami followed her.

Arnav sat down on his bed, locking his fingers and resting his elbows on his knees. He mutered, “Khushi.”

“Khussi ko kaa hui gawa?” Mami asked, her big eyes as wide as they could go. “Did she burn her housewaa like her dupatta?”

Arnav frowned. “No,” he said miserably. He would take  a burned house any day over a prospective rival in the marriage stakes.

“Kaa hua, Chotey?” Nani asked, sitting down by him.

Laxmi shifted an inch to accommodate the ladies on the bed.

“Tomorrow evening,” he paused.

“Tomorrow ebening?” Mami fluttered her heavily painted lashes.

“A boy is coming to see Khushi. He wants to marry her,” he said baldly.

All three ladies gasped.

“Who ijj this enemy number one?” Mami asked, her crafty brain at work.

“I don’t know,” Arnav shook his head helplessly. He couldn’t very well ask Khushi. Nor could he ask Aman to find out who the mystery suitor was.

“You should know, “ the female Chanakya advised. “Albays know your enemy, Arnav bitwaa.”

“We should have spoken to Madhumatiji about you when she was here for the pooja,” Nani fretted. “Now we can’t ask her to cancel another proposal and consider ours.”

“Arnav bitwaa, phind out details of that boy phor me. I bill go to his house and talk to his parents and cancel the marriagewaa,” Mami promised him.

“How, Manorama? By badmouthing Khussi bitiyya?” Nani asked bitterly. “If it succeeds and then Chotey marries her, what will the boy and his family think of us?”

“Saasumma, hamre Arnav bitwaa’s happiness ijj more important than some last minute entry phellow’s pheelings,” Mami said clearly.

“What if Khushiji likes the boy?” Anjali asked, scared to her soul. She would have to put up with a crying papad ka tukda, jab dekho ukhda all her life. What if Chotey became like Devdas in Khushiji’s pyaar? She looked her brother from head to toe. A beard, long hair, red eyes, hungover look, always drunk...she swallowed hard. He was bad enough as akhdoo ASR!

Arnav stared at her in horror. What if Khushi agreed to the marriage to please Buaji? What if she actually liked the boy? His heart languished in his shoes. With Khushi, one could never tell what she would do and why!

“I need to be there tomorrow,” he said urgently.

“Bhere?” Mami asked.

“In Khushi’s house,” Arnav stood up in his agitation.

“Arnav bitwaa, sit down, pleej,” Mami requested. “Hamre Arnav bitwaa ijj right. We should all be presents at Khussi’s house bhen that upstart comes to see her.”

“Lekin, how?” Anjali asked, her eyes moist.

Nani asked, “Anjali bitiyya, do you have your phone with you?”

“Yes, Nani,” Anjali replied. She held out the phone.

Nani called Buaji.

“Madhumatiji, this is Devyani Raizada,” Nani greeted.

“Devyaniji? How are you, Nandkisore?” Buaji asked, smiling.

“I am fine,” Nani was the soul of pleasantness. “We are all fine. We were talking about the last pooja we had here and then we thought about you and Khussi bitiyya.”

Buaji smiled. “It was a wonderful pooja, Devyaniji. Nandkisore must be very happy with you and will shower all his blessings on you and your family. Waise your grandson came here tonight to watch the serial with Khussi,” Buaji informed them.

“Yes, we know,” Nani smiled. “We were thinking that he met you both but we didn’t. I called you to warn you that you can expect a visit from us soon. We can sit and chat for long, Madhumatiji.”

“Yes, yes, Nandkisore,” Buaji was surprised but she hid it well. “It will be nice to see all of you again. You are welcome here.”

“You don’t mind us visiting you, do you, Madhumatiji?” Nani asked, sounding like a lonely and forsaken old woman.

“Of course not, Devyaniji. Yeh bhi poochne ki baat he? Nandkisore, come whenever you want. We will be very happy to see you,” Buaji threw open the door of her house to the Raizadas.

Nani smiled. “You are a murti of kindness, Madhumatiji,” she praised her whole-heartedly.

“Sab Nandkisore ki kripa he,” Buaji disclaimed all credit, feeling shy.

“Hum phone rakhte hein, Madhumatiji. We will meet soon,” Nani promised.

“Ji, ji,” Buaji agreed.

Nnai cut the call and looked at her family.

“Saasumma, you are a genius!” Mami exclaimed. “Which soap do you ujj?”

Nani frowned at Mami.

“Nani, thank you,” Arnav said, his gratitude heart-felt.

“Yes, Nani. We can at least turn up in Buaji’s house when the boy is there,” Anjali tried to calm herself.

“Once we are there, Arnav bitwaa, leave it all to me. I bill phinish the boy. Who ijj he before hamre Arnav bitwaa?” Mami asked.

“Mami,” Arnav demurred.

“Hamre Arnav bitwaa has big business, big houses, big cars, big phamily, big bank account. Bhat does that boy have?” Mami asked.

“We will know tomorrow,” Nani sighed. “Anjali bitiyya, light the ghee lamp at Devi Maiyya’s feet and pray.”

                                              ***

“Arnav bitwaa, don’t be scared. Your Mami ijj with you,” Mami told Arnav as he parked his car before Buaji’s house at fifty minutes past seven in the evening.

Arnav drew in a deep breath and looked at the open door of Buaji’s house. Golden light was streaming out from the house. Was Khushi getting ready to meet the boy? he wondered.

“Chotey, shall we go in?” Anjali asked.

“Yes,” he replied before leaving the vehicle and helping his Di out. He led his Nani, Mami and sister up the steps to Buaji’s house.

They stood at the open door and sounded the door bell.

Buaji came rushing out of the kitchen and came to a shocked halt at the sight of the Raizadas.

“Aap?” she stuttered. “Devyaniji?”

“Yes,” Nani smiled. “Do you mind? Are you very busy?”

“No, no, please come in, Nandkisore,” poor Buaji welcomed them in. “Please sit down,” she invited.

“Are you sure you don’t mind, Buaji?” Anjali asked, feeling bad for having landed at the older lady’s doorstep in such a manner.

“Of course, I don’t mind, Nandkisore. It is just that we were expecting another family to visit us. Oo kaa he, Nandkisore, Kamla, who lives next door, arranged for a boy to come here to see Khussi tonight. He will be arriving with his family any moment now,” Buaji explained.

“A boy ijj comings to see Khussi?” Mami asked. “For shaadi?”

“Haan, Nandkisore,” Buaji said. “Shall I make tea for you?”

“No, Buaji,” Arnav replied. “Please sit down with us.”

Buaji sat down across from him with a sigh. “It is a big responsibility, Devyaniji. Her parents are no more and she is sanki. Only Nandkisore can help me find the perfect boy for her.”

Nani nodded in sympathy. “What is the boy doing?” she asked.

“Kamla said he has some business, Devyaniji. I don’t know anything more about him, Nandkisore,” Buaji adjusted the pallu of her yellow Benarsi saree over her head. “Kamla said that his family is good, sanskari,” Buaji fanned herself nervously. “It is just the two of us, Khussi and me. Who will enquire about him? Can I go to his mohalla and ask if he is good, bad or medium?”

The Raizadas nodded, fully appreciative of Buaji’s difficulty.

“I am glad you are all here, Nandkisore,” Buaji confessed. “Arnav bitwaa, you are a man. Tell me how he is, if he will suit Khussi.”

Arnav nodded slowly. He was being given the right to choose Khushi’s groom?

“If I make the wrong choice, how will I look her parents in the eye when I die, Nandkisore?” Buaji hit her head with her hand.

“Don’t worry, Buaji,” Arnav comforted her. “Where is Khushi?”

“Fighting with her sari, bitwaa,” Buaji confessed.

“I will help her, Buaji,” Anjali said. She got up and moved towards where she thought the bedroom was.

“We are all here, Madhumatiji,” Nani took Buaji’s hand in hers. “We will make sure that Khussi bitiyya gets a husband she deserves.”

“Yes, yes,” Mami said. “Don’t borry. No third-rate maal phor Khussi. Why take duplicate maal bhen original ijj ready?”

Buaji blinked in confusion.

A commotion was heard outside the house.

“I think they have come,” Buaji whispered. She turned to look at Khushi’s bedroom with worried eyes.

“Don’t worry, Madhumatiji,” Nani said.

Kamla appeared at the door, her face wreathed in smiles. “Madhumatiji, this is Kishori Lal and his wife, Sheela. This is their one and only son, Banke Lal,” she introduced the family with her.

All eyes stopped at the boy. Slightly hefty, his heavy body was made up of muscles developed at the local akhada. His cheeks and temple shone, showing his fondness for desi ghee and rich food. No one could comment on his looks as the major part of his face was hidden by a lavish, luxuriant moustache that looked artificial as no real mush could grow so lushly. His hair was well-oiled and his white kurta strained over his biceps.

“He looks like an only son, Hello Hi Bye Bye,” Mami muttered to Buaji. “His parents have been stuffing him with rabdi and jamun and parathas with desi ghee. Kahan yeh and kahan hamri phool si bachi, Khussi.”

Buaji swallowed in nervousness. “Please come in,” she invited them. “Please meet the Raizadas, our friends.” Buaji introduced the Raizadas to the guests.

Kishori Lal and Sheela looked around at all they could see of the house.

“Is this your own house, Madhumatiji?” Sheela asked.

“Ji, ji,” Buaji replied.

“It is old,” Kishori Lal discovered.

“Ji,” Buaji agreed.

“How much rent do people pay in this locality?” Sheela asked.

“Ji?” Buaji asked, her eyes wide.

“I was asking what will you get if you rent it out?” Sheela showed all her teeth in her smile.

Buaji blinked. “I don’t know,” she said uncertainly.

“We neber enquired because we don’t plan to give it phor rent,” Mami tackled the lady. “Madhumatiji plans to live here all her life, Hello Hi Bye Bye!”

Kamla looked at Mami’s warpaint with wide eyes.

“How much do you make from the saree shop in Chattarpur?” Kishori Lal asked Buaji.

“Enough to live on,” Buaji replied quietly. “And to marry off my niece in a way that suits our biradiri.”

Arnav looked at the ladies of his family. He then turned his eyes to the groom who was sitting silently between his mother and father.

“What do you do?” Arnav asked him.

Banke Lal opened his mouth to speak, but his mother preempted him.

“Business,” she said. “Our son is a businessman.”

Arnav asked quietly, “What business do you do?”

Sheela said with pride, “Our son is the best paanwala in Delhi. He owns three paan shops in the city.”

The Raizadas stared at the groom.

Mami asked, “Paan shops or paan carts?”

Sheela fumed.

“One shop and two carts,” Banke Lal said happily. He sounded like a child. The weak voice coming from the huge body was a shocker.

“Where are the girl’s parents? You are her aunt, aren’t you?” Kishori lal asked.

“They passed away when she was eight, Nandkisore,” Buaji explained. “I am her father’s sister.”

“Both of them died?” Kishori Lal frowned as though he disapproved of their death.

Sheela too looked doubtful about the suitability of taking a girl who was little better than an orphan into her family.

“Yes,” Buaji answered.

“Don’t you want to see the girl?” Kamla asked the groom and his family anxiously. “She is beautiful, sanskaari,” the lady tried to list Khushi’s good points.

As if on cue, Anjali led Khushi out.

Arnav felt a large hand closing over his heart. She was wearing a red and green sari and looked a dream. As he watched, she lifted her head and looked directly at him. A big smile bloomed on her face; her eyes twinkled and danced with joy.

Arnav swallowed hard. There was no way he was letting her go to any Banke Lal!

Khushi smiled at Nani and Mami and then her eyes went to the groom and his family. Her face became expressionless.

“Khussi, this is Banke Lalji. Kishorilalji and Sheelaji are his parents,” Buaji introduced the strangers to Khushi.

Khushi folded her hands in greeting.

“Sit down, Titliyya,” Buaji invited her.

Khushi sat down by Buaji and smiled at Arnav sitting across the room from her.

“You help your Buaji in the shop?” Sheela asked.

Khushi nodded and looked at the time on the wall clock. It was ten past eight. She sighed. The serial had already begun and would be over in twenty minutes. Would the guests leave before it ended? Maybe she could catch at least the precap, she thought. She looked at the other clock on the wall. It was five past eight. Khushi frowned. Which clock was right?

“Is the girl dumb?” Sheela asked Kamla. Kamla pursed her lips in displeasure.

“Arnavji, what is the time?” Khushi asked clearly.

“Five past eight,” Arnav said softly, his eyes twinkling as he knew she wanted to see the serial.

Khushi gave him a dimpled smile, knowing that he understood the workings of her mind.

Banke Lal smiled shyly at her. Khushi looked warily at him, especially at his overgrown moustache.

“Khussiji, do you like paan?” he asked, blushing.

“No,” Khushi said. “It stains my teeth,” she explained.

“Oo isliye pooche rahe, Khussi bitiyya, because he has a paan shop and two paan carts in Delhi, Hello Hi Bye Bye,” Mami explained the situation to Khushi.

Khushi looked at Banke Lal with cautious eyes as if he would spit red paan juice all over her any moment.

“Maybe the boy and girl should talk in private, Nandkisore,” Buaji suggested.

Kishori Lal waved her opinion aside.

“What will you give her?” he asked.

“Ji?” Buaji asked.

“Dowry. What will you give her?” Sheela asked.

The Raizadas looked at Buaji, distressed for her.

Buaji stared at the Lals, unable to believe their bluntness.

“An elephant,” Khushi replied.

There was a moment of shocked silence. Kamla and Buaji looked at Khushi and then at the Lals, their mouths open. Arnav’s eyes lit up with unholy amusement and the Raizadas stared at Khushi with hope in their eyes.

“If you are very particular, she will pack all my old clothes and send them too to your house,” Khushi was nonchalant in the extreme.

“Are you mad?” Kishori Lal asked Khushi.

“Yes,” Khushi said helpfully.

The Lals stood up, furious. “How dare you insult us after inviting us to your home?” Sheela asked Buaji.

Buaji looked at them with narrowed eyes. “I fully stand by my niece, Sheelaji. Nandkisore ki kasam, she is right in this instance. If you are more worried about dowry than getting a good bahu, then this is not the house for you and my niece is not the girl for your son.”

Mami whistled, two fingers in her mouth.

Arnav sat back and watched the fun.

Nani and Anjali were trying to hide their joy at the turn of events.

“Your niece is mad; she is outspoken and mannerless,” Kishori Lal shouted.

“She will never get a good husband. She will stay unmarried and rot in your house. People will laugh at her,” Sheela blessed a Khushi who was looking at the TV with longing in her eyes.

“Hello Hi Bye Bye!” Mami protested. “All boys are not paanwale like your son and all parents are not greedy like you. There are good boys who will carry hamri Khussi bitiyya away on a bhite horsewaa!”

“Acha?” Kishori Lal was laal with anger. “Then why don’t you sacrifice your nephew? Why don’t you get him married to this lunatic?”

The Raizadas took the offer with a glad cry.

“Yes, we will,” Nani accepted before anyone could withdraw the offer.

“Yes, yes, our Chotey will marry Khussiji,” Anjali gave her word.

“Aur nahi to kaa?” Mami asked. “And Khussi will not have to live with paan stains, Hello Hi Bye Bye.”

The Lals stormed out.

Kamla said bitterly to Buaji, “Madhumatiji, forgive me. I am ashamed I brought this proposal for our Khussi. I didn’t know that they are so...” she paused, lost for words.

“It is alright, Nandkisore,” Buaji comforted Kamla. Kamla left the house, her face drawn.

Buaji said with a sigh, “Shall we have tea, Devyaniji?”

“I will get it, Buaji,” Khushi said as she rushed to the kitchen. “Biscoot and jalebi too.”

Buaji buried her head in her hand, troubled by the scene that had just taken place in her house.

“Madhumatiji, when shall we have Chotey’s and Khussi bitiyya’s wedding?” Nani asked eagerly.

Buaji lifted her head to look at Nani with shocked eyes. “Arnav bitwaa marry Khussi? Devyaniji, you don’t have to do this, Nandkisore. I know Manoramaji spoke in haste.”

“Manoramaji did not speak in haste,” Mami cleared herself of wrongdoing. “Hamre Arnav bitwaa is the perfect broom for Khussi bitiyya.”

Buaji parted her lips to protest.

“Yes, Buaji, please don’t disappoint us. Please,” Anjali pleaded with her trademark pout.

“Bitiyya, what are you saying? Your pity for us is making you suggest a marriage between two people who are not suited to each other, Nandkisore!” Buaji argued earnestly. “Can you imagine poor Arnabv bitwaa living with my sanki niece? Can you? She will drive him pagal in two days, Hai Re Nandkisore!”

The Raizadas smiled. Before they could mount attack again, Arnav got up and moved to sit by Buaji. He took her hand in his. “Buaji, I want to marry Khushi,” he spoke softly.

Buaji stared at the suicidal boy with shocked pity.

“I know she is..err... sanki, but I like it,” he said softly.

“Really, bitwaa?” Buaji asked, unable to believe her ears.

“Really,” Arnav blushed slightly.

Buaji looked at the poor boy who was sacrificing his life to make her niece’s life a happy one. She said softly, “Khussi is accident-prone.”

“I know,” Arnav’s lips twitched. After all, she had given him a very eventful evening in his room on the day of the pooja.

“If there is a lamp burning, she will take her dupatta or pallu near it. If there is water on the floor, she will fall. If she so much as looks at any glass bottle, it will fall and break all by itself without waiting for her to knock into it, Nandkisore! She is an affat ki pudiya,” Buaji confessed.

“I will take good care of her, Buaji,” Arnav promised, laughter and joy filling his heart.

“You will, bitwaa. I know you will. But who will take care of you?” Buaji worried.