234. OS 12. A Delicious Theft (Part 12-15)

ALL IMAGES USED IN MY BLOG ARE CREDITED TO ORIGINAL UPLOADERS.



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 12

It was Sunday.

Khushi was at the temple and ASR was in Agra, negotiating like the pro he was. Aman was with him.

The doorbell rang.

“Kaun he, Nandkisore?” Buaji wondered as she got up and walked to the door with a ponderous gait.

“I will get it, buaji,” Payal offered. “Must be the milkman for his money.” She marched to the door and pulled it open to stand blinking at the motley crew at her doorstep.

Nani, Anjali, Mami and Akash stood with folded hands.

“Namaste,” they chorused.

“Namaste,” Payal muttered. “Please come in,” she invited wondering why Anjaliji was invading her home with her entourage. Was she here for a catering order?

Akash’s shy eyes rested on Payal’s beautiful face and big, lustrous eyes, fascinated.

Buaji stood staring at Mami’s colourful appearance. Who was this rainbow? “Please sit down, Nandkisore,” she invited.

“Buaji,” Payal began. “This is the Raizada family. We catered for a couple of poojas they had at their house a month back. Anjaliji, this is our buaji, Madhumati Gupta.”

“This is Devyani Raizada, my nani. This is Manorama Raizada, my mami. This is Akash, mami’s son,” Anjali performed the introductions. “Where is Khushiji?”

“At the temple,” Payal replied. “Kya hua, Anjaliji? How can we help you?”

“Aap ko yaad he, Payalji, that you didn’t take the full amount of the last order from us? We wanted to give you the cheque for the remaining,” Anjali smiled, handing over a cheque.

Payal looked at the numbers on the piece of paper and said, “Thank you.”

“We want you to take over the catering for all the poojas in our house, Payalji,” Anjali smiled widely.

“Ji?” Payal asked.

“We hold one pooja per week, every Tuesday. Can you cater for about a hundred ladies every week?” Nani asked.

“If it is in the evening, we can manage,” Payal said. “Woh kya he, we are contracted to a company every morning six days a week. We can start work for your party only at two at noon. If your pooja is in the evening and the menu isn’t elaborate, we can manage.”

“Company?” Mami asked, nudging Nani. “Kaun sa company?”

“AR Designs,” Payal said.

The ladies almost shivered in excitement. Akash choked. He hadn’t believed the ladies when they had told him about his bhai and Khushiji when he had returned from a business trip to Mumbai.

“Then it is fixed, Payalji,” Anjali beamed.

“Give us your requirements a week before, Anjaliji.We will cook here and deliver the food to you on time,” Payal said.

Anjali pouted. “Can’t you come home and cook, Payalji? It would be so nice to have you there.”

“We won’t have the time, Anjaliji,” Payal explained patiently. “Khushi, I and two boys will be in the company kitchen till one. We have two other helpers here, but we can’t leave all the work to them. Carrying our commercial-strength stoves and vessels to your house will take time. It is easier for us to cook here and deliver.”

Realising that Payal wouldn’t budge, Nani said, “That’s fine, Payal bitiya.” She turned to buaji. “You are so lucky to have two enterprising and hardworking nieces, Madhumatiji.”

“Ji,” buaji agreed. “Generations of our family have been cooking, Nandkisore. We are khandani halwai and bawarchi.”

“Madhumatiji, where are their parents?” nani asked.

“Sasi babua and Garima are in Lucknow, Devyaniji. We have our Satwik Mishtaan Bhandar and Caterers to look after. They will be visiting us for two days next month on the 2^nd, Nandkisore,” buaji explained.

“We must meets them, Hello Hi Bye Bye!” mami exclaimed. “Nahi to baat aage kaise badhegi?”

“Baat?” buaji frowned. “Kaunsi baat, Manoramaji?”

Nani glared at Manorama. “Jaan pehchaan ki,” she explained quickly. “You are from Lucknow, we are from Lucknow....”

Anjali nodded vigorously.

Before poor beleaguered buaji had to find a reply to the Raizadas who were forcing their acquaintance on her, Khushi walked up the steps.

“Jiji, buaji,” she called. “Dekhiye what I have brought home. The priest gave me sheera for prasad,” she said as she hung her bag on the peg.

She turned around to see her living room filled with Arnav Singh Raizada’s relations. The specs-wala must be his cousin, Khushi surmised. But what were they doing here? She had expressedly asked him to wait till her parents came to Delhi. She would take his class when she saw him next, she thought.

“Khushiji,” Anjali trilled.

Khushi folded her hands and greeted all of them, trying hard to smile.

Akash took a good look at his soon-to-be bhabi. She was beautiful and the family seemed a very orthodox and sanskaari one. Would they accept his bhai and his anger? More to the point, would this frail girl be able to stand up to his bhai and his aggressive behaviour?

“I will bring tea,” Payal offered. Khushi excused herself to join her sister in the kitchen.

“Where in Lucknow are you from?” buaji asked nani.

Nani talked about her home in Lucknow, her relations, their spouses and children and how they had shifted to Delhi more than a decade back, how Anjali’s brother, Arnav Singh Raizada had started his business, how Akash had helped him, how they were a great success in the city, how they hadn’t visited Lucknow in years, the friends they still had in Lucknow etc.

“Kamla Shukla? The wife of Ravi Shukla, the namkeen king?” buaji asked. “She is your friend, Nandkisore?”

“Yes. Do you know her?” nani asked, smiling.

“Yes. We went to school together,” buaji replied.

                                          ***

After the Raizadas left, Khushi and Payal served dinner. They sat together and began eating, only to notice that buaji seemed distracted.

“Kya hua, buaji?” Khushi asked.

“Why did the Raizadas come here?” buaji asked, a frown on her face.

“Chodiye na, buaji,” Khushi tried to distract her.

“No, Sanka Devi. There is something wrong. Why should they come all the way here just because you cooked for them for two poojas?” buaji asked reasonably. “If they wanted to book you for further poojas, all they had to do was phone you. Coming here and that too with their entire family. Kuch to gadbad he,” the aunt of two personable nieces decided.

“I think they came to give us the cheque for the remaining amount, buaji,” Payal remarked.

“Yes, buaji,” Khushi tried to calm her aunt. “They should have given it to us a month back. I think they were so ashamed of themselves that they came here to hand it over in person.”

Buaji nodded unwillingly. “Payaliya, Khussi, eat well and go to sleep. You have another busy day ahead of you tomorrow.”

                                               ***

After the girls went to bed, Buaji called up Kamla Shukla.

“Kamla, do you know a Devyani Raizada?” she asked anxiously.

“Yes, I do,” Kamla said, smiling. “Why? Did you meet her in Delhi?”

“Yes. What do you know of her family?” buaji asked.

“Good family,” Kamla said without hesitation. “Her husband, Rudra Pratap Raizada was a zamindar and a gentleman. They owned estates in Lucknow and Kanpur.”

Buaji felt her heartbeat slow down.

“Poor Devyani,” Kamla sighed.

“Kya hua usse?” buaji asked, perplexed. “She looked fine.”

“Poor thing. She married off her daughter to another reputed family in Lucknow,” Kamla explained. “Par kya karein? Fate had terrible things in store for her.”

Buaji frowned. “What happened?” she asked.

“You know the Malliks, don’t you? The ones who lived in Sheesh Mahal?” kamla asked.

“I have heard of them,” buaji admitted. “One son and his wife killed themselves, didn’t they?” buaji asked.

“Yes,” Kamla answered. “The wife was Ratna Mallik, Devyani Raizada’s daughter.”

Buaji placed her hand on her head and shut her eyes. “Hai Re Nandkisore!” she whispered.

“Ratna married Arvind Mallik and had two children. On her daughter’s wedding day, Ratna found out that her husband was having an illicit relationship with another woman and she shot herself,” Kamla said softly.

Buaji could only chant, “Hai Re Nandkisore.”

“Arvind Mallik shot himself a couple of hours later,” Kamla explained. “The wedding was cancelled. Ratna’s daughter and son went to stay with Devyani.”

“Anjali,” Buaji whispered. She had met the girl that very day.

“Yes,” Kamla said. “Anjali and Arnav. Ravi was telling me that Arnav changed his name to Raizada and is a big businessman in Delhi.”

“Yes.” Buaji could feel her legs tremble. She sat down quickly. “How many children did Devyaniji have?”

“Two. Ratna and Manohar. Manohar married a girl who came to work in their house as a maid. Her name is...” Kamla tried hard to remember.

“Manorama,” buaji supplied, her voice low.

“Yes,” Kamla smiled. “That’s the name. Manohar fell in prem with her when she came to their house to clean. It was the scandal of the decade. Devyani was very upset, very angry. Rudra Prathap Raizada wanted to throw his son out of their house, but Devyani managed to stop him from taking such a harsh step. And it is a good thing she did. Otherwise Manohar would have had to beg on the streets for a livelihood. Manorama had nothing and Manohar was still in college. I think they have a son now.”

Akash Singh Raizada. Buaji saw the bespectacled youth sitting by his painted mother.

“And as if this wasn’t bad enough, it was followed by Ratna’s suicide. Thank God Rudra Pratap Raizada had died by then. I don’t know how he would have taken his daughter’s death and the humiliation and the gossip. Devyani moved her entire family to Delhi after selling off many properties she owned in Lucknow and Kanpur.”

Buaji leaned her head on her hand, feeling weak and scared.

“Are Arnav Singh Raizada and Akash Singh Raizada married?” buaji asked, her voice thin, hopeful.

“No,” Kamla dashed buaji’s hopes. “The last I heard, they are still bachelors.”

“I will call you later, Kamla,” buaji managed to say. “It is very late, too late.”

                                                ***

“I won’t talk to you,” Khushi declared, pacing her room, the phone at her ear.

“Khushi, kya hua?” Arnav asked, a smile in his voice.

“I told you not to approach my family. I told you to give me one month, but you couldn’t wait, could you?” she asked, one hand on her waist, ready to do battle.

“What the!” Arnav exclaimed.

“The minute I said yes, you ran off to tell your family. And they couldn’t keep the secret. They raced to visit us in Laxmi Nagar,” Khushi grumbled.

Arnav was too shocked to react, to say that he had said nothing.

“Buaji couldn’t understand why strangers were visiting us. Anjaliji gave Jiji the cheque you owed us and asked us to cater for the poojas every Tuesday,” Khushi explained.

“Maybe they came over for that purpose,” Arnav tried to calm her down.

“Do you take your grandmother, your mami, her son and the neighbours with you when you go to make business deals, Mr. Raizada?” Khushi asked scowling.

“No, of course not,” Arnav blustered.

“Ask your family to sit at home and not help you in this marriage thing,” Khushi said firmly. “Buaji, amma and babuji think love marriage is a dirty word—no, two dirty words. If they know that we love each other, this marriage won’t happen. They will throw you and your bhajan mandali out and send me to Lucknow. If you want this to happen, you have to make a formal proposal as though it were an arranged marriage. They will match our horoscopes, our wealth, our heights, the size of our pupils, our blood groups, our hair colour etc and then decide if we are to spend our lives together. Then, like two innocent souls who don’t even know that the other existed, we can get married with their approval.”

“Khushi,” Arnav called, his voice fading away.

“It is no use calling my name. Take Devi Maiyya’s name. That might prove more useful. Arnavji, this is the only way our marriage can happen. If anyone here so much as gets a whiff that we like each other, getting this marriage to happen will be more difficult than going to the moon. In fact, it will be easier and safer to go to the moon. At least you won’t get attacked by Buaji’s belan on the moon,” Khushi said, showing him the direction their lives were to take.

Arnav sighed.

Khushi smiled. “This is what happens when you get tangled with a smalltown girl, Arnavji. There will always be too many rules, too many rasms and too many people poking their noses in our business. You are regretting meeting me now, aren’t you?”

“Never,” Arnav said, a smile on his lips. “Never, Khushi,” he reiterated.

Khushi grimaced. “Arnavji, amma, babuji and buaji are the best,” she said softly. “Very loving, very protective. But they are also very traditional and orthodox.”

“It is fine, Khushi,” he soothed her. “We will do this their way.”

Khushi smiled. “Good night, Arnavji. Aap so jaayiye. You have to start work early tomorrow, don’t you?” she asked.

“Yes,” he admitted. He sent her a kiss through the phone. “Good night, Khushi,” he said.

Khushi blushed, hearing the sound of his kiss.

“Don’t blush, Khushi. You are a Lakhnavi chef and Devi Maiyya’s ladli. Be brave. Come on,” he encouraged her.

Khushi kissed him through her phone.

"I am counting the days when I can see you, Khushi," he whispered.

"Me too," Khushi admitted.

They went to sleep with smiles on their faces.

                                                                                 

                                            ***

When the Guptas met for breakfast the next day, buaji’s face looked drawn and pale. She had her inhaler with her.

“Buaji, kya hua? Did you have trouble breathing last night? Why didn’t you call us?” Khushi asked anxiously.

“I am fine, Titliya,” buaji said, pinching Khushi’s chin fondly. She turned to Payal. “Payaliya, tell the Raizadas you won’t be taking their catering order.”

“Kyon? Kya hua, buaji?” Payal asked, her eyes wide.

“Do I have to explain everything, Payaliya?” buaji asked. “Isn’t it enough that I don’t want you walking in and out of their house?”

Payal and Khushi looked at each other in astonishment.

Khushi opened her mouth to protest.

Buaji took puffs from her inhaler, trying to regulate her breathing and ease the congestion in her chest.

Payal gave Khushi a glance of warning and said, “Fine, buaji. As you say.” Maybe buaji would think better of it when she felt better, Payal thought.

Buaji nodded, relieved. “It is getting late. Go to your company and cook a feast for the workers. Get home at noon, both of you. Don’t loiter around gazing at chudiyaan and colourful dupattas. Don't be late getting home.”

“No, buaji. We will be back on time,” Khushi promised. Arnavji was out of office and she didn’t have to stay back.

“I will take you out in the evening and buy you as many golgappe as you can eat,” buaji promised them a treat for their obedience, feeling bad that she was killing their innocent joys because of what was possibly her paranoia.

Khushi and Payal ran to hug her, crushing her in their arms till she squealed like a stuck pig. “Hai Re Nandkisore! Chodo mujhe, you pagal girls. You are out to kill your buaji, aren’t you?” she asked, panting and rubbing her ribs.

Payal and Khushi hugged her once more before leaving for the company, promising to beggar her that evening by devouring the entire golgappe stand and laughing as they left the house.

                                                  ***

Buaji left the bank and walked slowly along the footpath to Laxmi Nagar. Why did she feel so unsettled, so worried? Maybe it was the heat, she thought, wiping her neck with the fringe of her pallu.

“Buaji,” a voice called.

She turned her head to see Vishal, a neighbour standing behind her.

“Bitwaa, aap?” buaji asked. “What are you doing here?”

Vishal smiled at her. “This is my business,” he said, pointing to a small Internet cafe and DTP centre.

“Acha,” buaji said, making to walk ahead.

“It is very hot and I was planning to have a sherbet. Why don’t you join me, buaji?’ he invited.

“Nahi, bitwaa,” buaji refused politely. “You have it.”

“Then sit in our office for a moment,” he insisted. She looked tired and pale.

“I will,” she agreed. He took her into his office and seated her in his air-conditioned cabin. Buaji leaned against the headrest and sat silently as Vishal did his work.

“Bitwaa,” she called suddenly.

“Ji?” he asked.

“Can you find information about a man on the computer?” she asked.

“If he is famous, then easily,” Vishal assured her. “If not, it will be difficult.”

“He is a businessman. Arnav Singh Raizada,” buaji revealed.

"He is a well-known businessman, buaji. Who in Delhi doesn't know of him?" he asked before typing in his name. Links to articles in business sections of newspapers and magazines appeared.

“Here, buaji,” Vishal moved aside so that buaji could see her quarry.

Madhumati saw a handsome man in formal clothes, his eyes cold, his face lean, his jaw clenched.

‘Hai Re Nandkisore! He is too good looking,’ she murmured to herself. ‘What if Payaliya or Khussi sees him at his house and likes him? It is good that I asked Payaliya to refuse their offer.’

“Bitwaa, what business does he do?” buaji asked.

“His firm designs clothes for the rich, buaji,” Vishal explained. “AR Designs has won more awards than they can count.”

“What?” buaji asked loudly after a moment of shock. “What is the name of his company?”

“AR Designs,” Vishal said.

Madhumati felt her head spin.

“Buaji,” Vishal shook her. “Are you alright?”

“I am feeling slightly dizzy,” she whispered.

“I will take you home. Let me get a rickshaw,” he said.

“Yes,” buaji whispered. She had lovingly sent her innocent, pure nieces to the den of Arnav Singh Raizada that very morning!

Part 13

Buaji sat in a chair on the veranda by the open door of her house and gazed anxiously at the road.

 Where were the girls?

“Hai Re Nandkisore, it is already twenty minutes past one. Where are the girls?” she fretted.

The catering van came to a halt before the house that very moment as if buaji’s thoughts had summoned it and she drew a deep breath of relief.

Payal walked up the steps to the house. “Kya hua, buaji? Why are you sitting outside?” she asked.

“Where is Sanka Devi?” buaji asked anxiously.

Payal laughed. “Where will she be, buaji?” Payal asked, shaking her head in exasperation. “She has gone to make sure that Sureshji has set up the golgappe stand today. How can she miss her treat today?”

Buaji pursed her lips. “This Parmeswari will be the death of me, Nandkisore!” she muttered. Then she asked Payal, “Sun, Payaliya, where do you work in the company?”

Payal frowned. “In the kitchen, buaji,” she replied.

“Woh—does anyone come to check on you while you are working, Nandkisore?” buaji asked anxiously.

“Amanji looks in once in a while, that’s all. It is a very busy office, buaji. Who has time to peek into the kitchen when all the employees are running about with laptops in their hands?” Payal replied.

“Payaliya, woh—who owns this company?” buaji asked, feeling dread close over her heart.

Payal frowned. “How should I know, buaji? Why should we know? Our work is to cook for 300 and leave at noon. That’s all that matters to us. As long as they don’t interfere in our work, it can be owned by Raavan-with-all-ten-heads and it wouldn’t matter to us,” said the cool-headed businesswoman.

Buaji almost sagged in her chair in relief.

“Kya hua, buaji? Are you unwell?” Payal asked, the frown intensifying.

Before buaji could reply, Khushi came rushing in, a triumphant look on her face. “Buaji, Sureshji has set up the stand. I told him we will be coming by in the evening to eat golgappe,” she informed them of her efforts.

Buaji buried her head in her hands. “This chatori, Hai Re Nandkisore! Please give her a husband who owns a golgappe stand or he will become bankrupt buying her golgappe,” she grumbled.

Payal nudged Khushi teasingly. “Or get her a millionaire, buaji. He will buy her a hundred golgappe stands. She can spend her whole life eating them and becoming as gol as a golgappa,” she teased.

Khushi blushed but buaji’s head was thankfully still buried in her hands.

“Buaji, can we go to Devi Maiyya’s temple before we attack golgappe?” Khushi asked. “I promised Devi Maiyya a basket of laddoos last week.”

“Yes, of course,” buaji replied. “But why did you promise her laddoos?” she asked.

“I made a bet with Munna. He said that my ice halwa would look like kheer but I said it would come out perfect. I promised Devi Maiyya a basket of laddoos if she helped me win. She helped and I won,” Khushi explained smugly. Her expression changed to that of a starving dog. “Buaji, I am hungry. Kuch khane ko do na?” she begged.

“Hai re nandkisore! She is such a tiny girl but she eats enough for four men. Such a bhooki atma,” buaji teased as she led the way to the kitchen, worries of a handsome Arnav Singh Raizada with a murky and sordid background swooping in and stealing her sweet nieces’ hearts leaving her mind for the moment in her preoccupation with poori and aloo.

                                        ***

Khushi placed a basket of golden laddoos at Devi Maiyya’s feet and stood with her hands folded and eyes shut.

‘Here, I have made the laddoos as I promised. In pure desi ghee and the best ingredients. Aap khayiye, maza leejiye. Thank you for making my ice halwa perfect, especially as it was the first time I was making it. Munna dang reh gaya when he saw how perfect it was! Shukriya, shukriya, shukriya,’ she thanked Devi Maiyya.

“Chalo, Parmeswari,” buaji called.

“Ek minute,” Khushi begged.

She continued, ‘Please make buaji healthy and strong. Pata nahi kyon, she has been behaving strangely since yesterday. Was it because the Raizadas came to visit us? Please take care of jiji and get her a handsome and sweet husband. Lekin he shouldn’t take her away from us. She is learning to be the Kheer Kumari of Lucknow and no husband should stop her from her goal. Please take care of Munna and Krishna. They work with hot oil and boiling curries daily, wield knives, light fires. Please, please keep them safe. And my sweet, sweet Arnavji who is so diabetic and is working so hard in Agra. Please keep him safe. Let his brain be as sharp as my knives. Let him vanquish his enemies. Let him be happy and smiling always, his lips twisting unevenly and so cutely when he smiles at me. And Amanji too. He is so nice, bilkul like a brother. I will tie rakhi on his wrist this rakshabandhan.’

Buaji pulled Khushi by the arm and dragged her away. The ladies waiting behind Khushi to pray heaved a collective sigh of relief.

‘Bye, Devi Maiyya. I will see you soon,’ Khushi said on her unwilling way out. ‘They never let me talk to you in peace. We will continue this tonight in our room before I go to bed,’ she promised.

Payal looked up at the sky as they left the temple. “Poor Devi Maiyya,” she said, tongue-in-cheek. “It is a wonder she does not get up and run when she sees you coming from far, Khushi. You eat her bheja daily.”

“Jiji,” Khushi protested indignantly.

“She was born to eat everyone’s bheja, Nandkisore,” buaji grumbled. “Why should Devi Maiyya be spared of the torture we have been bearing for years?”

Before Khushi could refute the unfair accusation, a glad cry fell on buaji’s ears.

“Madhumatiji?”

All the Gupta ladies turned around in astonishment.

Nani, mami and Anjali stood beaming at them, thalis in hand.

Buaji’s heart sank in degrees, falling to her stomach and then to the soles of her feet.

Payal and Khushi folded their hands and greeted the ladies politely, Khushi trying hard to hide her annoyance and fear that they would spoil all her and Arnavji’s plans. The Raizadas rushed over to talk to them.

“What a coincidence meeting you here, buaji,” Anjali gushed.

“Ji, Nandkisore,” buaji responded wondering why Nandkisore was testing the strength of her heart. She stepped forward to stand between the Raizadas and her nieces, hoping desperately that her not inconsiderable  bulk would protect her girls from being the target of the Raizadas’ matrimonial ambitions.

The Raizadas moved as a group to the side to gaze at the girls with a lot of affection.

Mami’s eyes ran over Payal and Khushi with what buaji felt was a look of covetousness. “Two beautiful girlswaa,” she exclaimed. “Woh bhi Lucknowi. Woh bhi cookers. You are berry lucky, Madhumatiji. We have only two boys,” she said, sending buaji’s heart fluttering in alarm and making Khushi want to commit murder.

“Madhumatiji, their parents will be here next month on the second, won’t they?” nani asked.

“Ji,” buaji murmured, shifting to cover her nieces again.

Khushi tensed.

“You can expect a visit from us then, Madhumatiji. We need to meet and ask them for a favour,” nani said, a naughty smile on her face.

Khushi wanted to stuff an entire basket of laddoos in nani's mouth to stop her from destroying the small chance she and Arnavji had of making their wedding happen.

Buaji swallowed hard. Her suspicion was right, founded on her sound instincts. It was not paranoia.

Anjali smiled widely. “Yes, the two families should build jaan-pehchaan,” she said. She caught hold of buaji’s cold hands in her warm ones. “I can’t tell you how happy we are, buaji.”

“You have raised your nieces so well, Madhumatiji. They are so sanskaari, so well-behaved,” nani showered praise on a silent and scared buaji. “It is our good luck that they came to our house to cook for the pooja. Otherwise how would we have met them? Lal Bahadur Singhji, Vimala’s husband recommended them to us. May Devi Maiyya bless him.”

Buaji struggled to find her voice. “We—we must leave now. Namaste,” she said firmly.

“Namaste,” the Raizadas were forced to say goodbye.

                                 ***

Buaji herded the girls home, pushed them inside and shut and locked the door. She leaned against the locked door, upset and terrified.

“Kya hua, buaji?” Payal asked.

“Nothing,” buaji said in a low voice. “Don’t open the door whatever happens.”

Payal and Khushi nodded, Khushi’s heart sinking at the knowledge that the Raizada ladies were behind buaji’s excessive bodyguard tendencies.

“Both of you go to your room and don’t come out till I call you,” buaji instructed.

Payal and Khushi looked at each other, Payal stupefied and Khushi scared.

“Go,” buaji ordered.

They walked to their room, pausing to look at buaji many times on that short trip.

                                      ***

Khushi called Arnav from the bathroom.

“Khushi,” he crooned, settling back in his bed.

“No, not Khushi. A dayan,” she replied.

“What the!” he exclaimed.

“A dayan who will kill your family and drink their blood,” she retorted. “If they pop up again when we go out, you can forget me, Arnavji. This marriage will never happen.”

“What happened, Khushi?” he asked. The concern in his voice did much to douse her ire.

“Arnavji, I am scared. I don’t know what to do and you are not here,” she admitted, her voice small.

“Khushi, I am setting out right now,” Arnav said, getting up.

“Your meeting,” she reminded.

“That can go to hell,” he replied.

“No, Arnavji. Finish your work. Just ask you family to lay off. Did you talk to them?” she asked.

“I asked them not to visit you at your home,” Arnav replied. “I thought a face-to-face explanation was better. So I didn’t elaborate on it.”

“Your Mami, sister and nani are competing with each other to prevent our shadi,” she began. She explained the incident at the temple.

Arnav shut his eyes in fury. “I will call them now,” he said. “They won’t dare to look buaji in the eye the next time they see her by the time I am done with them,” he said, sure of his bulldozing, browbeating ways.

“They scared buaji so much that she has condemned us to house arrest for today. Pata nahi if she will let us out tomorrow. If she doesn’t, your employees can eat air tomorrow for lunch. When Amanji calls me to ask why we broke the contract, I will tell him it is all because of your relations,” Khushi threatened.

“Contract ko goli maaro,” ASR summarily dismissed the agreement.

“And I didn’t get my golgappe,” Khushi cried.

“What the!” he exclaimed.

“What the nahi, my golgappe. I arranged Sureshji to be ready with the golgappe because buaji said she would treat us to golgappe today evening if we got home on time like good girls without hanging about markets gazing at dupattas and trying on choodis. But our sacrifice was in vain! We met your family in the temple. They satyanashed the evening and my golgappe,” Khushi’s long lament was heart-felt.

“Khushi, Khushi,” Arnav tried to calm her. “I will buy you a hundred golgappe stands.”

Khushi burst out laughing. “That’s exactly what Jiji said. That I should marry a man who is well-off and can buy me a hundred golgappe stands,” she laughed.

Arnav had to smile.

He heard a banging on the door through the phone.

“Khushi, are you done? I need to use the bathroom,” Payal called.

“One minute, jiji,” Khushi called. She whispered into the phone, “Hum chalte hein, Arnavji.”

“Are you hiding in the bathroom?” Arnav asked incredulously.

“Or nahi to kya?” Khushi asked. “How else can I talk to you? Jiji and I have to stay in our room and we can leave it only to use the bathroom.”

“I am sorry, Khushi.” He had to say this.

“Koi baat nahi. Jiji and I were playing cards on our bed. So it is alright,” Khushi said. “Good night,” she whispered.

“Good night, Khushi,” he whispered right back in his husky voice.

Khushi shivered.

                                                ***

The next morning, Khushi and Payal looked anxiously at buaji as they sat around the breakfast table.

“Go to the company,” buaji said calmly, “and get back here on time.”

“Ji, buaji,” Payal said, relieved.

“We will settle this by night,” buaji spoke to herself.

“Settle what?” Khushi asked Payal.

Payal shrugged. “Who knows?” she asked. “Come on. Let’s leave before she changes her mind.”

Khushi nodded and quickly left the table with Payal.

                                              ***

That evening, there was a knock on the door.

Khushi got up to open the door, but buaji stalled her. “I will open it,” she said.

Payal and Khushi stood back and let buaji open the door. They gasped when they saw their parents.

“Amma, babuji,” they screamed as they ran to hug them as tight as they could.

After their luggage had been placed in their room and they had freshened up, Sasi & Garima sat with their girls and buaji around the dining table having tea and snacks.

“Why did you summon us to Delhi, jiji?” Sasi asked.

Khushi choked on the samosa she had been devouring happily. Payal rubbed her back till she could get her breath back.

“Yes, jiji. What is wrong? Have the girls been causing you any trouble?” Garima asked anxiously.

“No, Nandkisore,” buaji replied. “The girls haven’t been causing any trouble. But I want them to wind up their Devi Maiyya Catering and return to Lucknow with you,” she said.

All stared at her, their jaws hitting the floor for different reasons.

“At the earliest,” she added. “And if possible, I want you to marry them off fast to two good boys from our biraadri.”

“Kya hua, jiji?” Sasi asked, his eyes serious.

“Have you finished your tea?” buaji asked Payal and Khushi.

“Yes, buaji,” Payal replied.

Khushi was in no condition to reply with a piece of samosa still stuck in the wind pipe.

“Go to your room. I want to talk to your parents in peace,” buaji instructed.

Payal and Khushi left.

“What is wrong, jiji?” Garima asked. “You are scaring me.”

“A family has been showing interest in our girls,” buaji began. “They have two boys in their family and from the way they spoke the last time we met, they seem interested in having Payaliya and Khussi as their brides. They said they would visit to ask for their hands when you came to Delhi.”

“Isme burai kya he, jiji?” Garima asked. “What is wrong with this?”

“Everything,” buaji said. “The family is not a good one, Nandkisore.”

“Then we can refuse when they bring the proposals,” Sasi said mildly. “Why do you want the girls to shut down their business here just because a family is interested in them?”

Buaji drew in  a deep breath. “Sasi babua, listen carefully. The girls went to their house to cook for a pooja. They have two boys who are cousins,” buaji tried to explain.

“To? What is the problem?” Sasi asked.

“They own a big company in Delhi, AR Designs. A boy named Aman came here and got Payaliya and Khussi to sign a contract to cook at their office daily from morning to noon, Nandkisore,” buaji added.

“Yes, the girls discussed it with us. The family must have liked their cooking, jiji,” Garima tried to downplay the seriousness of the situation.

“Khussi and Payaliya have no idea the Raizadas own AR Designs,” buaji wiped the sweat off her forehead. “The Raizada ladies have been hinting that they are eyeing Payaliya and Khussi for Arnav and Akash Singh Raizada, Hai Re Nandkisore. I don’t want them to come here with a proposal, Sasi babua. It will be very difficult to tell them to their face that we don’t want their boys for our girls.”

Garima looked at Sasi, her eyes clouded with confusion.

“Even worse is the thought, Nandkisore, of the boys dangling behind our girls. What if Khussi and Payaliya like them?” buaji fretted.

“What is wrong with the boys, jiji?” Garima asked, perplexed.

“They are too handsome, especially Arnav Singh Raizada,” buaji fanned herself with her pallu.

Sasi smiled slowly. “Is being good-looking a sin, jiji?” he asked.

“No, babua, it isn’t. But when the boys belong to the family they do, giving our girls to them is like sending them to the slaughterhouse, Nandkisore,” buaji had to pause to dry her eyes. “The sons are not responsible for the sins of their parents, Nandkisore, but we can’t take the risk of having them treat our children badly.”

“Raizada,” Sasi said slowly. “I have heard the name somewhere.”

“You must have heard of Rudra Pratap Raizada in Lucknow,” buaji said softly.

“Yes,” Sasi frowned. “One of his daughters was married to Arvind Mallik, wasn’t she?”

“Yes,” buaji sighed. “Arnav Singh Raizada’s mother and father. Poor boy. They committed suicide, the mother first and the father next, both on the same day.”

Garima gasped, covering her mouth in shock.

“And that too because—Hai Re Nandkisore, how can I say this? Nandkisore, forgive me. If it were not a matter of life and death of the girls, I wouldn’t say this, lekin kya karoon, Nandkisore...” buaji hit her head with her hand.

“Jiji, you are scaring us,” Sasi said. Garima nodded.

“The father was not a nice man,” buaji said weakly. “Woh—he and some woman—the wife found out...” Buaji couldn’t say anything more.

Sasi’s face became serious, drawn.

 Garima bleated, “Jiji?”

“Avinash Mallik is Arvind Mallik’s brother and he is a crook, a cheat,” Sasi said slowly. “Bad family, not at all acceptable.”

“Immoral,” buaji sighed. “What if Arnav Singh Raizada is like his father? Imagine Payal or Khussi married to him!”

Garima began to weep. “It is better our children remain at home as spinsters than be married to men who will hurt them,” she said, sobbing.

“And Akash Singh Raizada’s mother, Hai Re Nandkisore,” buaji sighed. “She came to work in the Raizada’s house as a maid and married the son against the wishes of his family. Naak kaat di of the Raizada family. It seems the Raizada-Mallik family scandals kept the Lucknow society entertained for quite some time like a nautanki show, Nandkisore.”

“We can’t accept this proposal if it is ever made, jiji,” Sasi said quietly. “We can’t risk our children’s lives and happiness. You were right to inform us. Aap bilkul chinta mat keejiye. I will see to this.”

Buaji nodded, relieved. “Whatever you do, babua, do soon. I don’t want the girls to like the boys, Nandkisore. Agar aisa kuch ho gaya, then our children will be unhappy when we tell them this can’t work, that the aukat of the Raizadas is not such that we can marry our daughters into their family. I don’t want to see their tears, babua.”

Sasi nodded. “Don’t worry, jiji,” he pacified her. “I will see to this.”

Part 14

Khushi looked at a comatose Payal, lost in dreams of vats of boiling kheer and tons of balushahi. Then she looked at the time on her phone.

 1am.

She swallowed hard.

‘Shall I call Arnavji? Or should I let him sleep?

Maybe I can call him during the day tomorrow. But when? The house is filled with family and Munna, Krishna and jiji will be with me in the company kitchen till noon.

Maybe I should call him now. Bechara Arnavji. He will be woken up from deep sleep by my phone and what I have to tell him is unpleasant. Should I save the news for another time?’ she wondered.

But the vision of buaji’s worried face and anxious eyes flashed through her mind. The Raizada ladies had spooked her bad, so bad that she had summoned her brother and wife to Delhi and asked them to take the girls home and marry them off.

Khushi quickly called Arnav.

He picked up on the third ring.

“Khushi?” he asked, his voice huskier than usual with sleep. 

“Kya hua?”

“Arnavji,” she whispered.

The sleep fell away from him as if it had never been. “Talk to me, Khushi,” he instructed softly, firmly, sounding alert. “Tell me.”

“Amma and babuji reached here this evening,” she informed him.

After a moment he said, “That’s great, isn’t it, Khushi. We don’t have to wait a month now.”

“Woh—Arnavji, buaji asked them to come,” she admitted reluctantly, knowing that what she had to say would be unpalatable to him.

“Why?” he asked.

Khushi swallowed through a dry throat and spared a look at her sleeping sister before saying, “Buaji wants jiji and me to shut down Devi Maiyya Caterers and leave for Lucknow with amma and babuji at the earliest.”

“What the!” he exclaimed, unable to believe his ears.

“She—she asked them to find grooms for us in our community and fix our weddings at the earliest,” she said, her voice so low that he had to strain to hear her.

He was too shocked to even exclaim. A long moment later, he asked, “Why, Khushi? Why the hurry? What is wrong?”

“I don’t know. Arnavji, I think it was something your family said. Buaji started behaving oddly after they visited us at home, keeping an eye on us all the time, becoming agitated if we were late returning from the company at noon....The meeting at the temple rattled her. I have never seen her in so much distress,” Khushi confessed.

Arnav asked, “Why should she dislike it if my family praises you and Payal and wants to see more of you? Any aunt would be happy that her nieces are thought so highly off, wouldn’t she?” He was confused, bewildered, perplexed.

“I don’t know, Arnavji,” Khushi said softly, trying hard not to sound scared.

But her fear reached the man sitting up in bed far away.

“Khushi, I will take care of this. Tum bilkul chinta mat karo,” he assured her.

“How?” Khushi asked directly.

“I will find a way,” he promised.

“Arnavji,” Khushi said softly, “if buaji insists and amma and babuji give in, then jiji and I will have to leave Delhi immediately.”

“Khushi, I won’t let you go,” he reassured her. “How can you cancel the contract with AR Designs and walk away? Tell buaji that AR Designs will hold you to the contract, that we are very particular about such stuff. I will inform Aman. If Payal contacts him about leaving, I will ask him to stress the negatives of walking away.”

Khushi nodded. “Yes, that may make buaji stop and think,” she muttered thoughtfully.

“Go to bed, Khushi and sleep well,” he said softly. “I promise you things will get better tomorrow, no, today.”

“How?” she asked.

“Wait and see,” he said softly.

A long moment later, Khushi asked softly, “Everything will be fine, won’t it, Arnavji?”

“Yes, Khushi,” he promised.

“We didn’t do anything wrong, did we, Arnavji?” she asked, her voice soft and anxious. “Nothing to hurt our families? We just like each other and want to marry, that too with their blessings. It is alright, isn’t it, Arnavji?”

He shut his eyes. “Yes, Khushi, it is alright. We are not doing anything wrong,” he said softly. “In fact, it is good that your family wants to get you married off. They won’t be averse to accepting our proposal,” he said, trying to make her feel better.

“You think so, Arnavji?” she asked, her voice small.

“Yes, Khushi. Sleep now. Everything will be fine this time tomorrow,” he said.

“Shubhratri, Arnavji,” she said.

“Good night, Khushi,” he said, trying to smile for her.

He cut the call and quickly phoned his nani.

                                           ***

Payal and Khushi were setting the table for breakfast when the doorbell rang.

“Kaun he, Nandkisore?” buaji asked, lifting her head from the newspaper. “And that too so early in the morning.”

Garima was praying.

Sasi set down his cup of tea and went to open the door.

He saw three ladies at the doorstep and blinked. Maybe they were jiji’s friends, he thought.

“Namaste,” he folded his hands in greeting.

“Namaste,” the ladies greeted him in a chorus.

“You are Sasi Guptaji?” Nani asked, a big smile on her lips.

“Yes,” Sasi replied, wondering how on earth the ladies knew him. His gaze fell on Mami who was dressed in fluorescent pink and had pink eye shadow and pink goggles perched on her head. He gulped.

Buaji got up and came to see what was happening there and froze on the spot, seeing her nightmare playing out before her eyes.

“May we come in, uncle?” Anjali asked, a pretty smile on her face.

“Of course,” Sasi stepped back, inviting them in. “Please sit down,” he offered before turning to look at his silent and petrified sister with bewildered eyes.

Payal and Khushi peeped to see who their guests were and while Payal frowned, Khushi almost fell down in shock. So this was what Arnavji had meant when he said he wouldn’t let her leave Delhi.

Buaji found a chair with shaking hands and sat down. Sasi sat down by her and Garima joined them.

“Sasiji, Garimaji, Madhumatiji, you must forgive us for disturbing you so early in the morning,” nani apologised prettily.

“Lekin how can we delay such a good thing, Hello Hi Bye Bye?” mami asked.

Garima’s wide eyes took in mami’s magnificence, a sight which rendered her speechless.

“I am Devyani Raizada,” nani introduced herself.

Sasi shared a shocked look with his wife. These were the Raizadas, the ladies out to steal away his daughters?

“This is Manorama Raizada, my daughter-in-law,” nani introduced mami.

‘The maid who walked away with her son,’ Sasi thought.

“This is Anjali, my granddaughter,” nani introduced her.

The Guptas nodded slightly, not knowing how to stop the horror unfolding before them. It was not done to be impolite to guests and they were too well-bred to be rude to the ladies who were looking at them as though they held the keys to heaven.

“Sasiji, we have come with two marriage proposals,” nani smiled at him.

Sasi looked at buaji who had her eyes shut and at Garima who was imitating a doe caught in the headlights.

“I have two grandsons, Arnav and Akash Singh Raizada. Akash is Manorama and my son, Manohar’s son. Anjali and Arnav are my daughter’s children. We would like Payal’s hand for Akash and Khussi’s hand for Arnav,” nani said, a smile on her face.

Buaji’s plump body shuddered in fear. She saw a vision of her sanki Khussi shooting herself with a gun and the handsome boy killing himself later.

Payal looked at Khushi with astounded eyes. “Yeh sab kya he?” she hissed.

Khushi shrugged. There was no appropriate reply to this question.

“My grandsons are businessmen, Sasiji. They are doing very well in the city. They own AR Designs,” nani explained.

Payal gaped at them. “Khushi,” she whispered. “The Raizadas own the company we cook for?”

“Sasiji, your daughters will reign like queens in our house,” nani concluded.

The Raizadas sat waiting for a reply, their hopeful eyes on the Guptas.

Buaji looked away.

Sasi cleared his throat and said, “Tea. We must offer you tea.”

Garima jumped up. “Hum banake laavat he,” she said, flustered.

“Rehne deejiye, Garimaji,” nani smiled. “There is no need for such formality. Pehle aap haan kahiye to these two rishte. We will come with the boys and then we won’t be satisfied with just tea, Madhumatiji. We will have dinner with you.”

“I will bring tea,” Garima mumbled and escaped to the kitchen. Her step faltered for a moment when she saw her daughters standing near the dining table, listening avidly to the conversation in the living room, but she said nothing.

Sasi looked at his sister’s fearful eyes and then at the expectant look on the faces of the guests.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Maaf keejiyega,” he said. “We haven’t thought of marrying off Payaliya and Khussi any time now,” he said softly, trying to put an end to this incident without embarrassing the Raizadas. “They are focusing on their catering business now.”

Mami said, “Bhy should shaadi stop their catering? Let them cooks after marriage too. Our bahuriya bill be businesswomen and our sons businessmen.”

“Yes, Sasiji. Aap bilkul chinta mat keejiye. We are not the kind of family that will expect our bahuriya to sit at home doing nothing if they wish to work. And your daughters are excellent cooks and we have been fortunate to taste their cooking. How can we even think of stopping them from catering? They should continue to cook and expand their business across Delhi. Our boys and we will support them in this. Aap nischinth rahiye,” nani tried to put Sasi’s mind at rest.

Garima served tea and snacks and sat down by her husband.

“And if you don’t want the marriage now, to kauno praablem naahi. Engagement kar dio, shaadi phir kar dena,” mami added.

Nani and Anjali nodded.

Payal whispered in Khushi’s ear, “Akash Singh Raizada must be the man with specs who came here the other day. He looked alright. Khussi, have you seen this Arnav Singh Raizada? You must have. He called you to his room to give you the cheque the other day, didn’t he?”

“Yes, jiji,” Khushi mumbled.

“What does he look like?” Payal asked.

Khushi opened her mouth to describe her Greek god, her diabetic sajna, her akhdoo saiyaa, her naughty mehboob, but desisted for fear of revealing the depth of her knowledge to her jiji.

“Okay,” she mumbled.

“Only okay?” Payal asked, disappointed.

“I—I didn’t look—matlab he is theek thaak looking,” she said and leaned forward to hear the conversation.

“Aur hamein dahej bilkul nahi chahiye, Sasiji. We don’t believe in giving or taking dowry. Send the girls to us in the clothes they are wearing and we will take them happily,” nani made it very clear.

“Woh—woh,” Sasi stammered, finding it very difficult to refuse them without hurting their feelings. But he had to do it. It was the lives of his girls that was hanging in balance. “We want to marry them off to boys based in our hometown, not in Delhi. Maaf keejiye hamein,” he said as firmly as he could, his hands folded, hoping that the ladies would give up.

“Isme kaa he?” mami asked, slurping tea from the saucer. “We live in Delhi, Sasiji, but are from Lucknow. Shaadi ke baad, we will visits you in Lucknow so often that you won’t pheel you have given away your daughters to boys from Dilli.”

Buaji sighed.

“If you are agreeable, Sasiji, we will visit you this evening with the boys. You can meet them and we can have the shagun immediately,” nani suggested.

Garima wilted.

Desperate, Sasi looked up for heavenly aid. The more he tried to push them away, the more they were sticking to him with Fevicol!

He turned his head to see his daughters standing near the table in the dining room, listening keenly. The sight of their innocent faces decided the future course of action for him. He couldn’t consider the feelings of the Raizadas when his daughters’ future was at stake.

Taking a deep breath, Sasi took the battle into the enemy camp.

“Anjali is Arnav Singh Raizada’s older sister?” he asked courteously.

“Ji,” nani said with a smile.

‘Devi Maiyya, forgive me for hurting them. I am doing this for my daughters,’ Sasi said in his mind. Then he asked, “Anjali is not married?” he asked.

Anjali’s face paled. The smile faded from her face. The brightness of her eyes dimmed and she looked down at her fingers.

The Guptas squirmed at having had to hurt that poor girl whom fate had ditched and tortured.

Nani and mami looked at Anjali in distress.

“No, our Anjali bitiya is not married,” mami quickly said, hoping the Guptas wouldn’t ask any more questions.

“My marriage was fixed, uncle,” Anjali spoke quietly, all dignity. “But it was cancelled on the evening of the wedding. The boy and his parents went away, refusing to marry me. I was eighteen then. After that experience, I didn’t want to risk disappointment again,” she explained. “I am also lame in one leg. I had polio when I was a child.”

Sasi knew what he had to do next. All he had to do was ask after Anjali and Arnav’s parents and their family in Lucknow. Their reply would damn them and all he had to do was tell them that he would contact them if he were interested in considering their proposals. He could show them the door and be done with it.

But the pain on Anjali’s face and the sorrow on the faces of her nani and mami stopped Sasi from doing it.

But he had to protect his children. He had to let the Raizadas know that he would never consider their proposals and the reason but he wanted to do this without hurting them.

So he asked softly, “Do you know an Avinash Mallik who used to live in Sheesh Mahal?”

Three stricken faces looked at him.

Sasi looked down at the table holding the empty tea cups. He hated himself, but there was no other way out.

“He is my father’s brother, uncle,” Anjali replied softly.

“Your father was Arvind Mallik and your mother, Ratna Raizada?” Sasi asked softly, making it very clear to the guests that he was familiar with every aspect of the sordid story that was their past.

“Yes.” Anjali nodded, blinking away tears. Mami took her hand in her own, pressing it softly to give comfort. Nani’s throat moved in an effort to swallow her tears.

“It is very kind of you to bring proposals for our daughters,” Sasi said softly. “It is very good of you to find our children worthy of your boys. We will contact you after considering the offer.”

Nani, Mami and Anjali stood up. The Guptas joined them and walked them to the door.

Part 15

“What did Khushi’s family say?” Arnav asked, calling from Agra.

Nani turned sad eyes on mami and Anjali. She said slowly, “Sasiji said that he would let us know, that he wanted time to think about it.”

“That’s fine, isn’t it?” Arnav asked. “Nani, get a priest in to fix the dates. Tell him I want the weddings done at the earliest.”

Nani swallowed her tears. “Chotey,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.

“Yes?” he asked.

“I—I don’t think Sasiji will agree,” she blurted out.

There was a moment of silence. “Why not?” Arnav asked, unable to believe his ears. He had gone the formal route as Khushi had wished, sending his family to make a proposal. Then why were the Guptas against the two weddings? Akash was a gem of a boy. Any self-respecting father-of-the-bride would grab him from the marriage shelf with both hands. He had no illusions about himself. He was no prize, but his desire to marry Khushi and share every moment of a hopefully long life with her was so strong that he had been sure that her father would acquiesce to the request.

“Why not?” he asked again.

Nani breathed in deep. She said, “They don’t want to marry off their daughters now.”

“Really?” he wondered, disappointed. Then he rallied. “That’s fine. We can have the engagement now and the wedding later,” Arnav said.

“No, Chotey, they want boys from Lucknow, not Delhi,” Nani replied, praying hard that Arnav would accept the excuse and give up.

“We are from Lucknow,” Arnav replied, a frown of incomprehension on his face. “And if they didn’t want their daughters to settle down in Delhi, why on earth did they start Devi Maiyya Caterers here?”

Nani sent a silent plea for help to mami & Anjali.

“Arnav bitwaa,” mami stepped in to save her saasumma.

“Mami, what the hell is happening there?” Arnav asked plainly.

“Kaa kahe, Arnav bitwaa? How can we force Sasiji to marry off his daughters if he doesn’t want to, Hello Hi Bye Bye?” mami asked.

“But Khushi told me that they were planning to look for grooms for them. Why don’t they want Akash and me?” Arnav asked directly.

“Arnav bitwaa, tension mat lio,” mami tried to calm him down.

“We are solvent, hard working. We don’t drink. We don’t smoke. We don’t gamble. We aren’t ugly. What the hell is wrong?” Arnav asked, stung.

“Arnav bitwaa,” mami began.

“It is alright, mami. I will manage this,” Arnav said before cutting the call.

He called Aman. “Arrange to leave for Delhi as soon as the deal is signed,” he instructed. “I need to talk to Khushi’s family about our marriage.”

“Yes, sir,” Aman replied, watching ASR walk away, his shoulders bunched in tension. What had happened to the boss’ love story?

                                                  ***

Khushi called Arnav, sitting on a bench in the temple.

“Khushi,” he said, his voice carrying a world of love.

“Arnavji, your family came here early in the morning,” she began.

“I know. They called me. Why did your father refuse the proposal?” he asked.

“I don’t know, Arnavji,” Khushi replied, perplexed. “Amma and buaji were crying after they left. And babuji came and hugged jiji and me and said that nothing bad would happen to us as long as he was alive.”

“What the!” Arnav asked.

Khushi nodded. “Wahi to. I wanted to ask him what was going on, but the next thing he did was ask us to cancel your contract and get ready to leave for Lucknow,” she said with a sigh.

“No way,” Arnav bit out.

“Jiji told him that it may not be possible to break the contract and that she would ask Amanji,” Khushi explained.

“Don’t worry about that, khushi. I have already instructed Aman on how to tackle her request,” ASR said.

“I begged him to reconsider, but all babuji did was kiss me on my forehead and ask me to pack my clothes. Aur aap ko pata he, buaji is talking of joining us in Lucknow. She doesn’t want to return to Delhi,” Khushi informed him.

“What the hell is happening here?” Arnav asked.

“I have no idea, Arnavji,” Khushi replied, stumped, scared, feeling a life with her Arnavji slip out of her hands.

“Khushi, don’t worry. Suna tumne?” he asked.

“Ji,” she replied, feeling tears choke her.

“I am on my way back. I will get home in a few minutes, Khushi. I will take care of everything,” he promised.

“Yes,” she murmured.

                               ***

Arnav looked at his nani, mami, di and Akash with serious, sharp eyes.

“Why did Khushi’s father refuse the proposal?” asked the Arnav Singh Raizada who had perfected his interrogation skills in his office.

Three sets of eyes slid away from his.

“Why?” he asked again.

Mami looked at nani’s wan face and decided to take up the dirty job nobody wanted to do.

“Arnav bitwaa,” she said, her voice shaky. “Gupta phamily ijj from Lucknow.”

“Tho?” Arnav asked.

“They—they knowjj Avinash Mallik,” mami said.

“I know. He owes them money for a catering order,” Arnav said. “So?”

A tear trailed down Anjali’s cheek.

“Bitwaa, they knowjj about—about your mother and phather,” mami said softly.

Arnav’s face paled. Akash looked down at the floor, wringing his hands.

“If they know about Ratna and Arvind, they will also have found out about you and Manohar too, Manorama,” nani said softly, exhausted.

“Saasumma,” mami protested.

“Who will want to give their daughter to a boy whose parents created history and geography by running away and marrying against the wishes of the groom’s family, especially when the mother was working as a maid in the house?” nani asked, lying back against the headrest of her seat. “The scandal, society laughing behind our backs, the morbid curiousity of people...” nani shook her head. “I don’t know how we survived those terrible times.”

There was pin-drop silence in the room.

“I never meant to hide any of this from the Guptas. I thought once they knew us we could tell them,” nani lowered her head to rest it on her hand.

“He was very polite, very careful not to hurt us,” Anjali said softly to Arnav. “All uncle asked was whether our parents were Arvind Mallik and Ratna Raizada.”

Her brother’s hurt, wounded eyes met hers. She looked away helplessly.

“What can we does to change their mind?” mami asked, desperate.

“They are planning to leave Delhi and relocate to Lucknow,” Arnav dropped the bomb quietly.

“What?” nani asked in astonishment.

“Bhai?” Akash couldn’t control his shock.

“They are running abay because of us, Hello Hi Bye Bye?” mami asked, her face a picture of astonishment.

“They don’t want to marry their daughters into our family,” Anjali said softly. “Maybe they think Chotey is like our father.”

“That’s nonsense,” Akash was the first to respond.

“It is, but kaun unhe samjhaye?” nani asked.

“Hamre Arnav bitwaa and Akass bitwaa are not responsible for what their parents did, Saasumma,” mami tried to find excuses.

“They aren’t. Unfortunately shaadi doesn’t happen between two individuals, Manorama, but between two families,” nani said, her voice a mere thread. “If Khussi marries Chotey, Arvind Mallik will be her father-in-law and Ratna her mother-in-law. If Payaliya marries Akash, you will be her mother-in-law and Manohar her father-in-law.”

“The Guptas are traditional, orthodox, very family-oriented. Maybe they have a big family in Lucknow. They will have to answer questions as to why they picked us for their daughters. I don’t think Lucknow has forgotten us, nani, even though we have tried our best to forget it,” Anjali said quietly.

“But what about hamre Arnav bitwaa and Khussi? They love each other!” mami cried.

No one had an answer.

Arnav’s phone rang. It was Aman.

“Payalji called to ask if they could get out of the contract. I told her it was impossible, that they had to supply food to our employees for one year whatever happened, that if they reneged on the agreement, they would have to pay a huge amount as compensation,” Aman informed Arnav.

“What was her decision?” Arnav asked.

“She asked me the amount. I told her,” Aman said. “She said she would get in touch with me.”

“Let me know their next move,” Arnav instructed Aman.

“Yes, boss,” Aman replied.

                                           ***

“Show me the contract,” Sasi asked.

Payal handed over the copy of the document.

Sasi read it thoroughly. Finally he said, “Yes, we will have to pay the amount Amanji mentioned if we quit half-way through. That’s written quite clearly in the contract.”

Khushi’s heart filled with hope.

“It is a huge amount,” buaji fretted.

“Yes, buaji, it is,” Khushi added her bit.

“It is a very advantageous contract,” Payal tried to sway her father.

“Very good pay, excellent kitchen, very courteous employees,” Khushi joined her.

“There is a way to continue with the contract and leave Delhi at the same time,” Sasi said. “Nowhere in the contract is it said that Payal and Khussi have to be personally present in AR Designs. Devi Maiyya Caterers has to cook on the premises of the firm six days a week, that’s all. We can hand over the work to Munna and Krishna. They and their assistants can supply food to AR Designs while we return to Lucknow. I can visit Delhi once a month to check on them.”

Khushi’s heart sank beneath the flooring of the house.

Sasi looked around his family. Buaji and Garima looked upset and dismayed, Payal was uneasy and Khushi looked downright perturbed.

“But that is not how the Guptas do business. So we will cancel the contract, pay the amount and wind up the business here before returning to Lucknow,” Sasi ruled. “Call Amanji tomorrow and let him know, Payaliya. I will write you the cheque for the amount.”

“Yes, babua,” said buaji. “Wahi theek he, nandkisore.”

Garima nodded her agreement.

Payal nodded, very disappointed that they were cancelling a lucrative deal and paying through their nose to do it.

Khushi lowered her face to hide her tears and grief, feeling bereft.

Sasi smiled at his daughters gently.

“Don’t worry,” he said softly. “It is just money. You are more important to us than a few notes of currency.”

Khushi looked at him directly. “Why, babuji? Why are we running away from Delhi?”

“Yes, babuji. Why?” Payal asked. “Is it because of the proposal?”

Sasi looked down at the contract document, trying to find a reply that wouldn’t agitate them.

“Yes, we don’t want the proposal, Nandkisore,” buaji stepped in.

“All you have to do is refuse, isn’t it?” Payal asked. “Why uproot us, buaji?”

“It is not as easy as that, Payaliya,” buaji answered.

“We were doing so well,” Payal sighed.

“Yes,” Khushi added. “We put in so much work to build the business.”

“Trust me,” Sasi told them. “I wouldn’t ask you to do this if it weren’t imperative. The family is not a good one. Their background—it is not one we would choose for you. I don’t want to say more. And they are persistent. Just know that we need to be away from them.”

Khushi paled. She understood now. Arnavji’s father’s lecherous ways, his parents’ suicide, his sister’s plight, his uncle’s treachery—her family knew all about it and were repulsed by it.

“Go to bed, both of you,” Garima said. “It is getting late.”

Khushi follwed Payal on leaden feet, feeling the life force within her diminish, her hope drain away. She stumbled as she walked into the bedroom.

“Khushi, kya hua?” Payal asked.

Khushi shook her head and turned her head away so that Payal couldn’t see her tears.

“Devi Maiyya ki kripa he that our girls haven’t met the boys and aren’t swayed by them,” Garima said in the living room. “Nahi to...”

“Sahi kaha, Garima. Who can make girls understand they are being foolish when they fall for a pretty face without knowing anything about him, Nandkisore?” buaji asked.

Sasi nodded. “We can’t blame the children for what their parents did, but...” He shook his head sadly. “All I ever wanted for them were good, decent boys who would look after them like we do, care for them, stand by them. And now...”

“Imagine marrying off Khussi to Arnav Singh Raizada. Will she find any happiness in her marriage if he runs after all the girls in Delhi like his father did?” Garima asked, her breath coming fast as she imagined the plight of her daughter.

Buaji’s eyes filled with tears. “Our fate will be that of Devyani Raizada, watching her daughter suffer and die because of her nalayak husband, Nandkisore. And Khussi’s fate will be that of Ratna Raizada. Sasi babua, let’s leave Delhi soon. Oo kaa he Nandkisore, I dream every night of Khussi killing herself out of parem for her husband. Let’s go away.” She took deep puffs from her inhaler.

“We will leave this week, jiji,” Sasi promised. “And as soon as we get to Lucknow, I will look for grooms for the girls. We will conduct both marriages together.”

Buaji and Garima nodded.

                                       ***

“Arnavji,” Khushi wept.

“Khushi, where are you?” he asked.

“Bathroom,” she sobbed.

“Khushi, your family is upset about my past,” he said sighing. “I can’t change it, Khushi. I can’t change my father or mother. I wish I could change all the miserable things that happened in the past to us, but I can’t, Khushi.”

“I don’t want you to,” Khushi hiccuped.

“What?” Arnav asked.

“Your past made you what you are today. I don’t want you to change anything. I like you as you are,” she confessed, her chest heaving as she wept through her confession. “I am sorry you were so hurt, but...”

Arnav shut his eyes and leaned back in his recliner. “Khushi, I love you,” he whispered, the words slipping out of his mouth almost without his knowledge.

“I know. Otherwise why would you have spent a fortune building a kitchen for me?” she asked, sniffing.

“Khushi, I tried to run away from my past. I tried to forget it, but it won’t let me. It won’t let me live in peace. It will dog my footsteps till I die,” Arnav said, his head lowered. “Your father is scared that I will be my father and you will become my mother.”

“You are not like your father and if you so much as look at another girl, I will gouge out your eyes. Then how will you flirt?” Khushi asked, drying her eyes.

“I will meet your father, Khushi. I will tell him, promise him that I will never cheat on you or make you cry, except in happiness,” Arnav said.

Khushi shook her head. “I don’t know if that will work, Arnavji. Babuji has asked jiji to meet Amanji and pay him the money we owe you for cancelling the contract,” she informed him.

“What the!” he exclaimed.

“Yes. Jiji will come to the office tomorrow with the cheque,” Khushi said softly.

“Khushi,” he breathed, feeling her slip through his fingers.

"Arnavji, maybe we should run away and get married," Khushi suggested.

Arnav smiled. "I would take you away in a heartbeat, Khushi, if I could be sure you would never regret it."

"I won't, Arnavji," she promised.

"You will be crying as you steal out of the house, weeping when you get into my car, wailing as we get married without your family to witness it. No, Khushi. That's not the life I want for you," he said softly, a gentle smile on his face.

Tears trailed down Khushi's cheeks.

"They love you, Khushi. That's why they are being so careful and that's why I can't get mad at them. My wealth, my position--all these are irrelevant to your family. They care only about your happiness," he said in his husky, low voice.

They remained silent for a long moment.

“Arnavji, there is only one person who can and will help us,” Khushi told him softly.

“Who?” Arnav asked eagerly.

“Devi Maiyya. Ask her for help, Arnavji. I will do the same. Aap dekhiye. Koi na koi hal nikal hi aayega. We will find a way out of this,” Khushi said with full faith.

Arnav nodded slowly. He was short on options anyway.  “I will try, Khushi,” he promised.

Part 16