207. OS 10: An Unexpected Visitor (Part 15)

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 15

Arnav stared at her, speechless, his mind whirling.

Khushi turned to place the bouquet on the table by her chair. She then looked at Arnav trustingly for the answer to her question.

He swallowed hard.

“Err...Khushi,” he stammered.

“Ji?” she asked.

“Khushi, woh...” he paused.

“Don’t you know what live-in is, Arnavji?” she asked kindly. “It is alright if you don’t. I will ask someone else,” she smiled at him.

His eyes widened in horror. A picture of Khushi asking her Buaji or his Nani flashed through his mind.

“No,” he exclaimed. “I know,” he claimed.

“Acha?” she smiled, unaware of his uneasiness. “Then what is this live-in?”

“It is—it is like marriage,” he sweated.

“Acha?” she frowned. “Then why is it called live-in and not marriage?”

“I—I mean it is like marriage, but not marriage,” he drew in a deep breath, praying for ideas and the vocabulary to ease her into the workings of the modern world.

Khushi frowned. She parted her lips to ask more, but Arnav rushed in.

“Everything is like shaadi...the boy, the girl....in a house...but without a shaadi,” he explained.

“Oh,” Khushi said slowly. “So they have shagun, sagai, sangeet, mehendi and haldi, but don’t have shaadi?” she asked. “Such a couple is called a live-in? And after shaadi they are husband and wife?”

He stared at her slack-jawed.

“But Arnavji, how can that be? The hero only lets that girl adjust his tie. They didn’t have shagun like we did. Nor did they have any of the other rasms. Then how can he call it a live-in?” Khushi asked, worried.

Arnav looked heavenwards for inspiration and help, desperate.

“Khushi,” he gasped.

“Arnavji?” she asked.

“Khushi, it doesn’t work that way,” he tried.

She frowned. “Then how does it work?” she asked.

“I mean,” he said, his heart sinking at the thought of shattering her illusions, “I mean, the boy and girl live together like husband and wife,” he said.

“Tho?” Khushi asked, confused. “All married couples live together as husband and wife. We too will be living in your house once we get married. Isme itni badi baat kya he?”

“Yes,” he swallowed. “But they live together without marriage.”

Khushi stared at him open-mouthed.

Arnav braced himself for tears, shock and the trauma of her awakening to the ways of the world.

Khushi surprised him.

“They live together in one house?” she asked.

He nodded warily.

“Like husband and wife?” she confirmed.

“Yes,” he admitted.

“But without getting married?” she asked.

“Yes,” he sighed.

“How stupid,” Khushi scoffed.

He looked at her.

“If the hero and that girl want to live like husband and wife, why can’t they just get married?” Khushi asked. “Why pretend as though they are husband and wife when they are not?”

Arnav floundered.

“Either this world is ajeeb or I am ajeeb, Arnavji,” Khushi sighed. “Buaji will tell you that without doubt it is me who is ajeeb. I really can’t understand why two people would want to stay in a house and fight like a cat and a dog if they don’t really want to get married to each other.”

Arnav felt a smile relax his lips.

Khushi’s brain jumped to the next problem with all the agility of a monkey on steroids.

“Arnavji, the girl whom the hero invited into his house is not the heroine of the serial. The heroine is the pretty girl we saw the other day,” she reminded him.

“So?” Arnav asked, glad that the discussion had moved to the serial.

“In a serial, the heroine has to get the hero at the end. That is fixed, non-negotiable. The live-in boy will have to marry the heroine. Otherwise we will throw rotten eggs at the TV screen. But what will happen to the poor girl who packed her bags and came to live in with the hero?” Khushi fretted.

Arnav looked around for a solution to this three-ring circus that was the hero’s life. Finally he said, “I don’t know, Khushi.”

“Poor girl. She will have to carry everything back to her house and unpack them,” Khushi lamented.

Arnav smiled slightly.

Khushi looked at Arnav with perturbed eyes.

He looked at her, on guard, wondering what was going on in her head.

“Arnavji, the life shown in my serial is real. So are there really people who live in a house like couples without shaadi?” she asked, her eyes watchful.

He nodded.

Khushi hesitated.

Knowing Khushi, he expected the worst. And got it.

“Arnavji, have you ever lived-in with a girl?” she asked directly.

206. OS 10: An Unexpected Visitor (Part 14)

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 14

“Kya kar rahein he aap?” she asked, one scared eye trained in the direction of the kitchen. “Buaji will see us,” she hyperventilated, forgetting that she had sworn not to talk to him.

Arnav cupped her sweet face in his palms. “Khushi, are you really angry with me?” he asked, his eyes serious.

Khushi opened her mouth to assure him that she was mad at him, but an inconvenient sense of honesty made her hesitate.

“I am sorry I hurt you. Sorry I almost got you scolded by Buaji, sorry that...” he began.

Khushi cut him off with the simple trick of placing her finger against his hard, sinfully delicious lips.

He swallowed hard, the hands cupping her face trembling at her innocent touch.

“I was angry then, but not now. Don’t apologise, Arnavji,” she told him, her voice soft, loving.

He parted his lips to ask why not but was silenced by the feel of her finger against his sensitive curves.

She explained anyway. “Arnavji, if you apologise so much for such a small incident, just think how many times I have to apologise to all the people I have tortured over the years?” she asked, looking downright scared of the prospect.

Arnav had to chuckle at her question.

She waited him out.

He said with a sigh, “Do you know how good you are, Khushi?” His eyes were tender, lit by love.

Her eyes flew open. “Me? Good? Don’t let Buaji hear you,” she whispered.

“I won’t. Let it be a secret between you and me,” he whispered.

Khushi nodded happily.

He wanted to gather her close, hug her till her ribs cracked, kiss her senseless. But both of them heard the rattling of teacups in the kitchen.

“Sit down,” Khushi hissed. “Buaji is coming.”

Arnav obediently left her and took a seat.

By the time Buaji carried the tray to the living room, Khushi and Arnav were seated on chairs, each placed at a distance of two metres from the other.

Buaji beamed. Arnav bitwaa was mature, decorous. Even her pagal Khussi could not persuade him to lower his standards. She hoped he would keep a strict eye on the scatter-brained girl.

Arnav drank the tea, making small talk with Buaji while Khushi sat silently watching her husband-to-be.

“Bitwaa, I was telling Devyaniji that we can have the sagai in two days. She was very happy, Nandkisore,” Buaji smiled at Arnav.

He drew in a deep breath of contentment. Soon Khushi would be with him 24x7, living with him in their house, sharing a room...They were moving towards their marriage on slow but sure feet, giving Khushi time to assimilate the changes in her life.

“When will our marriage be, Buaji?’ Khushi was direct in her query.

Buaji’s eyes flew open to their maximum size. “Shameless girl! No laaj, no sharam! Hai Re Nandkisore! What kind of a girl have I been looking after for years?” she asked, her hand on her head.

Arnav bit back his amusement with superhuman effort.

“If I won’t ask, who will?” Khushi asked simply. “It is my marriage, isn’t it?”

Arnav coughed, unable to control his enjoyment of the situation.

“She will put me to shame when she goes to her sasuraal!” Buaji declared. “Devyaniji will think I brought her up badly, Nandkisore!”

“No, no,” Arnav stepped in, his limpid eyes on Khushi’s cross face. “Buaji, don’t worry. Nani loves Khushi.”

Khushi got ready for battle with Buaji.

Arnav stood up quickly. “Buaji, Khushi, I have to leave now,” he informed them.

Buaji and Khushi accompanied him to the door to see him off.

Arnav pressed Khushi’s hand in the cover of darkness before bidding good night to them and driving off. He looked at Khushi’s image in his glass till he could see her no more.

“He is a fool,” Khushi muttered furiously at the TV as she chomped on channa.

“Kaun, you?” Buaji asked, pushing her specs up on her head.

“The hero,” Khushi mumbled.

“He is a fool and you are an idiot for watching him, Nandkisore!” Buaji declared before walking away.

The serial ended and Khushi switched off the TV, a frown on her face.

There was a knock on the door.

“Who is it, Nandkisore?” Buaji asked wearily.

“Must be Kamla chachi returning the sugar she borrowed two days back,” Khushi replied. “I will see to the door, Buaji. You put your feet up.”

Khushi marched to the door and pulled it open to see Arnav standing there with a bouquet of red roses in his hand.

Her mouth fell open and she stepped back in shock.

Arnav entered the house and shut the door after him.

“Is the episode over, Khushi? I was caught in traffic,” he said apologetically.

“It is alright,” she muttered absently, her eyes on the roses.

“For you,” he handed over the bouquet.

Khushi raised it to her face and inhaled the sweet scent, her eyes shut. He silently promised her that he would make frequent gifts of flowers to her, especially red roses.

She lifted her head and smiled at him. “How did you know I love flowers?” she asked.

He squirmed. It had been a lucky guess. What could he say?

But Khushi, being Khushi, did not wait for an answer. She took hold of his arm and led him to sit by her.

Arnav looked at her sitting with her arms around the flowers. She looked happy, as though she had got the entire world in her arms. But as he watched, her face fell.

“Kya hua, Khushi?” he asked, worried.

“Arnavji, if you like me, will you bring another girl into our house?” she asked seriously.

Arnav stared at her, unable to comprehend her meaning. They were on different pages, most likely in different books!

“The hero likes the heroine. Phir bhi he brought another girl into his house for a live-in,” Khushi explained.

Arnav heaved a sigh of relief. The fault was the hero’s, not his. “That sounds stupid,” he commented.

“He na? I was telling Buaji the same thing,” Khushi exclaimed victoriously. “Arnavji, what is a live-in?” she asked curiously.

205. OS 10. An Unexpected Visitor (Part 13)

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 13

Arnav led Khushi down, their fingers locked, uncaring of the smiles and stares of the crowd gathered in the living room and hall.

“You saw a reflection of the lights in the pool, Sanka Devi?” Buaji asked.

Khushi looked at Buaji and then at Arnav. She blushed, her face rosy.

Arnav smirked.

Buaji hit her forehead with her hand. “What did you do now, Hai Re Nandkisore?” she asked.

“Nothing, Buaji,” Arnav replied quickly. “She—she enjoyed it—a lot.”

“Hein?” Buaji asked, confused.

Khushi’s blush intensified. She stared at Arnav with a scandalised face.

His shoulders shook at her look.

Khushi poked him in the ribs under the cover of her dupatta.

Arnav burst out laughing.

Buaji stared at Khushi and Arnav with wide eyes. Slowly she whispered in wonder, “Sanka Devi has met Sanka Dev, Nandkisore!”

“Who met whoms?” Mami asked, raising her finely threaded eyebrows over pink and blue eyelids.

Buaji was too shocked to respond. She was moved to silence by heart-felt gratitude to Nandkisore for having sent a Madmiya for her nutcase niece.

“Where is Mamaji, Mami?” Arnav changed the topic.

Mami looked around frowning. “Bhere ijj he?” she asked.

Anjali came up to them, beaming. “Buaji, Khushiji, shall we have dinner?”

Khushi shook her head, smiling.

Buaji nodded.

All of them moved towards the tables set in a pavilion constructed on the extensive grounds of Shantivan.

Khushi stole a look at Arnav. He was looking at her, a slight smile on his lips.

She pursed her lips. How dare he tease her?

“Kya hua, Khushi?’ he asked softly, trying not to laugh at her disgruntled look.

“I won’t talk to you,” Khushi muttered. “Katti.”

Arnav chuckled. “Why?” he gasped.

“You—you did all that by the pool and then you threw me at Buaji’s mercy,” she growled. “You couldn’t control your laughter, could you? Dekhti hoon aapko,” she threatened.

“What did I do, Khushi?’ he asked innocently. “All I said was that you enjoyed yourself by the pool. Was I wrong? You are the one who told me that it was fun.”

Khushi snorted. “No one can win an argument with you,” she fumed. “You are just like my hero, insufferable!” she said. “I pity the heroine.”

Arnav tried to stifle his laughter, but was not entirely successful.

“One day I will cut off your hair when you are asleep,” she threatened. “Just wait till we are married.”

He burst out laughing.

“If you had a moustache, I could cut that off too. But you don’t,” she said regretfully.

He pulled a chair out for her, chuckling.

“Hamre Arnav bitwaa kaahe itna hass rahein he?” Mami asked Nani, her eyes like saucers.

“I don’t know, Manorama,” Nani smiled. “But he is happy with Khussi bitiya. That’s all that matters.”

“Bhat jokewaa did Khussi say to make him laugh? Hum bhi to sune,” Mami said as she leaned forward to hear their conversation.

“Manorama,” Nani hissed.

But Mami was shameless. She cocked her ears to listen to Khushi and Arnav speaking.

“I won’t talk to you,” Khushi muttered.

Arnav smiled, not reminding her that she was speaking to him.

Mami gasped. Arnav bitwaa was happy that Khussi was not talking to him?

“I won’t talk to you ever, samjhe aap?” she asked.

He nodded, trying to look penitent.

“I should go away like my heroine, to Lucknow or Agra,” Khushi grumbled, moving back to let the wait staff serve her.

Arnav smiled at his plate.

Mami stared at Khushi. She was running away before Arnav bitwaa could marry her? Did she have a propensity for running away as she did for burning down houses?

“You are cruel, shameless,” she complained.

Mami looked at Arnav’s amused visage. Her Arnav bitwaa was happy that his bride-to-be was abusing him?

“I won’t speak to you ever again,” Khushi repeated.

Mami couldn’t hide her astonishment. “But you are isspeaking to hamre Arnav bitwaa, Hello Hi Bye Bye,” she reminded Khushi loudly.

Khushi gasped.

Arnav smiled.

Nani and Anjali glared at Mami, upset that she was trying to drive a wedge between Chotey and the crazy bride he had managed to woo despite all his personality limitations.

Khushi turned her head away from Arnav, miffed.

They ate silently, sitting side by side. Arnav peeked at her frequently to see her looking fixedly at her plate and ignoring him. Once Khushi glanced at him to catch his eye. She turned her head away.

“Khushi, do you want dessert?” he asked softly.

She looked at him and then at the plate he was holding out.

Peda.

Her mouth watered. She wanted to say ‘yes’ but she had taken a vow not to speak to him. She stared at the peda, caught between her oath of silence and desire to eat the sweet.

His lips twitched.

Her eyes brightened. She could nod. She nodded twice in quick succession.

Arnav slid a peda on to her plate.

Khushi happily bit into it, smiling in pleasure.

Arnav smiled at her joy.

Suddenly Khushi’s face fell. Arnavji couldn’t eat sweets! She swallowed the piece she had in her mouth and abandoned the rest on the plate.

“Kya hua, Khushi?” Arnav asked. “Isn’t it good?”

Khushi looked at him in annoyance.

 He had diabetes.

He had angered her.

He was always laughing at her.

And now he was asking her questions when he knew she couldn’t answer him?

It was all his fault.

“You didn’t like it?” he asked again.

Khushi pursed her lips and pushed away the plate.

Arnav looked at the wait staff. “This peda is not good enough,” he complained, one eye on Khushi.

The waiter paled.

Khushi looked at Arnav, aghast. What was wrong with this man? “No, no, the peda is fine, fine,” she reasured the waiter. “I am not hungry, bas.” She glowered at Arnav who smiled at her.

“Khushi, talk to me,” he whispered in her ear as she stood with Buaji who was bidding good night to the Raizadas. The function was over and the other guests had left.

She remained stubbornly silent.

“What is wrong, Nandkisore?” Buaji asked.

“Nothing, Buaji,” Khushi replied quickly. If Arnavji was permitted to reply to Buaji’s question, he would get her in trouble again.

“Devyaniji, we are very grateful for your invitation to this evening’s party. We had a nice time with all of you,” Buaji said with a smile.

Anjali hugged Buaji. “It was a wonderful evening, Buaji.”

“And hamre Arnav bitwaa made sure that Khussi did not get into any trouble,” Mami said.

Nani frowned at her.

“But he got his reward,” Mami added.

Khushi blushed a fiery red even as Arnav smirked. Nani and Anjali looked at Buaji’s frowning face with worried eyes.

“He could see the rephlection of light in the pool bithout phalling into it, Hello Hi Bye Bye!” Mami teased.

All smiled.

“Hum chalte hein, Devyaniji,” Buaji bid good night.

“I will drop you home, Buaji,” Arnav offered.

“No, bitwaa, don’t trouble yourself. We will get a taxi, Nandkisore,” Buaji replied fondly.

“No, Buaji. Let me get the keys,” Arnav said before going to get them.

“It is not safe to travel alone at night, Madhumatiji,” Nani said. “Let Chotey take you home.”

Buaji nodded.

Khushi fretted. She would have to keep Buaji from finding out that she had fought with Arnavji and was on a moun vrat to rile him.

“When will our bahuriyya come to visit us again?” Nani asked Khushi fondly.

Khushi smiled.

“Tomorrow,” Mami replied for Khushi.

All looked at her in surprise.

“Bill hamre Arnav bitwaa stay away from Khussi? He will bring her here tomorrow or go to her house and watch her serial with her,” Mami explained.

All chuckled.

Khushi looked down at her fingers clutching the fringe of her dupatta.

“Buaji, Khushi, chalein?” Arnav asked, walking towards them with the keys in hand.

“Yes, Nandkisore,” Buaji replied.

Khushi stood silent.

He touched her back bared by her choli as he helped her into the car.

Khushi jumped at his touch.

He watched her through the mirror as he drove to Laxmi Nagar.

Khushi turned her face away and pretended that she didn’t feel his eyes caressing her through the mirror.

He took her hand while helping her alight from the car.

Khushi freed herself as soon as possible.

He joined them as Buaji opened the door.

“Shall I make tea for you, bitwaa?” Buaji asked.

“Yes, please,” Arnav said to buy more time with Khushi.

He shut the door and moved closer to Khushi.

Khushi tried to leave him, but he took hold of her hand.

As soon as Buaji entered the kitchen, Arnav pulled Khushi into his arms.