249. OS 13. Laad Governor and Afghan Jalebi (Part 16)

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/

Dedicated to Supriya Sahasrabuddhe (Sups/ aniyathi). She wanted Mami and Payal to plot to bring A-K together. So here goes,

Part 16

ASR walked into his house after his midnight drive and walked up the steps to his room. His feet slowed as he reached the door of his room.

After a second’s halt, he walked past his room to the guest room Khushi had occupied. Slowly he turned the knob and pushed the door open.

Moonlight fell on a pristine bed and two pillows, a bedside table and table lamp.

He shut the door behind him and walked in.

He looked around. There was no sign that Khushi had stayed here for a week.

He moved to the wardrobe and slid it open.

Empty.

The surface of the dressing table was clear. No lipstick, no bangles, no jewellery as his sister’s table had.

Khushi had left nothing behind. She had left the room as soulless as she had found it.

His chest ached. He slowly raised his hand to touch the left side. What was this pain, this twinge, this pang?

He turned away in distress only to stop.

There was something glinting in the moonlight on the bed.

Arnav grabbed it.

Her anklet.

His hand shook. He finally had something of hers to hold, to reassure him that she really existed, that she had been here in the flesh and was not a figment of his imagination.

He sat on the bed, his limbs trembling, his fingers closed tightly around the silver anklet as though it were a straw and he a drowning man.

What did he know about Khushi? Nothing, his mind whispered. Then why did he like her so? Why did he miss her so?

He shook his head to clear it. He had no idea what was happening to him. Maybe he was going crazy.

He ran the fingers of his free hand through his hair, tousling it.

It may have been minutes or hours later when he slowly lay down on her bed, burying his face in her pillow, seeking her fragrance, her warmth, her essence in the softness.

He slept. His body relaxed. His mind, free of all doubts and fears, rushed to Khushi.

He saw her in a blush gown designed by him, gliding towards him, the pleated chiffon skirt flying around her and the beaded bodice and spaghetti straps emphasising her full bosom and creamy skin. Her eyes were shy but happy; there was a smile on her lips.

He held out his hand.

She placed hers in his.

His fingers closed around her hand, their palms touching.

Her eyes fell; her lashes fluttered.

“Khushi,” he breathed.

She lifted her lashes to reveal her glorious hazel eyes.

He led her to the bed and with his hands on her shoulders, seated her on the bed.

He kneeled down by her and lifted her foot to place it on his thigh.

Then slowly, reverently, he fastened the anklet around her ankle.

“Arnav bhaiyya,” came a disturbing call.

Arnav ignored it. Where were they in the dream? Yes, he was fastening the anklet.

“Arnav bhaiyya, get up.” The summons was accompanied by a hand on his shoulder.

ASR opened his eyes, ready to burn the intruder to cinders.

It was HP.

ASR frowned. But before he could open his mouth, HP said, “Arnav bhaiyya, kya hua? Why are you here? I looked for you in your room, but you weren’t there. It is seven. Aaj aap jogging nahi jayenge?”

ASR sat up and looked around.

He was in Khushi’s room.

His hand tightened around her anklet.

“Arnav bhaiyya, I am sorry. I--I forgot to change the sheets and clean the room after Khussi bitiya left,” HP confessed, sure that he would get an earful. 

“Don’t do it. Don’t let anyone in here. I will lock the room from inside,” he instructed HP. “Tum jao.”

HP nodded and turned away, a perplexed look on his face.

ASR quickly slipped the anklet into his pocket, locked the door and left the room through the glass door to the garden.

As he showered, the realisation struck him that he had felt no qualms about entering Khushi’s personal space, that he had spent the best night of his life and had the deepest sleep ever and that the nightmares hadn’t troubled him at all.

                                                  ***

“Hai Re Nandkisore,” buaji called as she walked into Gomti Sadan after one week at the hospital.

Khushi helped buaji into bed in her room.

“Khussi, tanik razai lai do,” buaji requested.

Khushi took a thick blanket from the wardrobe and covered her with it.

“Are you feeling better, buaji?” she asked, rubbing buaji’s arm.

“Yes, much better, Nandkisore,” she replied. “The smell of phenyl in the hospital, the tasteless food, uuugghhh. It is so good to be back home.”

“Yes, jiji,” Garima bustled in. “Chai peejiye,” she said, offering tea to her sister-in-law.

“Khussi, did you give the box of laddoos to the doctor saheb?” buaji asked.

“Yes, buaji,” Khushi replied, snuggling down by buaji and hugging her.

“Acha he, Nandkisore,” buaji said with a sigh of relief. “Poor man, watching over me night and day.”

Khushi said, “He asked if we wanted to make him sick with an overdose of sugar when he saw the laddoos.”

All laughed.

“Where is Sasi babua?” buaji asked.

“He went to the shop, jiji, to check the accounts. He will be back in one hour. Aap so jaayiye. I will make lunch. Khussi, stay with jiji till she falls asleep,” Garima ordered.

Khushi nodded. Garima left.

Buaji asked, “Khussi, what happened in Delhi to take away your smile?”

Khushi tried to smile. “Nothing, buaji,” she replied.

“Payaliya is happy?” she asked.

“Yes, buaji,” Khushi reassured her.

“The Raizadas looked after you well?” buaji asked.

“Very well,” Khusghi replied, shutting her eyes to avoid thinking of one Raizada.

“Acha he, Nandkisore,” buaji said. “But you had to return early because of me,” she said sadly.

“Buaji, I was missing home,” Khushi said. “I was glad to return. And it was just one day.”

Buaji nodded.

"But I lost my payal there, buaji," Khushi said, sad at the loss.

Buaji clucked her tongue. "Payaliya is married there, Sanka Devi. She is not with you here, but you will never lose her, Nandkisore," she tried to comfort Khushi.

Khushi grimaced. "I am not talking of your favourite niece, but of my payal, my anklet," she said, pouting.

"Hein? You lost it? You bhooleshwari devi! You should be glad you didn't forget yourself in Delhi and return home," buaji exclaimed.

Khushi turned away to hide her eyes.

Preetho put her head around the door.

“Buaji, may I come in?” she asked.

“You have been walking in and out of this house since you could walk. Why are you asking now, Nandkisore?” buaji asked.

“Amma sent some tehri,” Preetho handed over a container to Khushi. “She said you love it.”

Buaji smiled. “Yes, Kamla knows me well. Go give it to Garima, both of you and let me sleep in peace,” she ordered.

The girls smiled at her and left the room.

“So tell me, Khussi rani, how was Delhi?” Preetho asked once they were seated in the living room.

“Delhi was fine. It didn’t get cold and fever just because I went there,” Khushi retorted.

“Itni akkad?” Preetho mused. “Looks like you spent some time with your jiji’s jetji.”

Khushi threw a cushion at Preetho who caught it easily.

“So tell me, did you talk to him?” Preetho got directly to the point.

“Not much,” Khushi replied.

“Why not?” Preetho asked.

Khushi shrugged.

“Khushi?” Preetho called, her tone making it clear that she intended to get to the bottom of the affair.

“He is not a nice man,” Khushi said bluntly.

“Matlab?” Preetho asked.

“He has girlfriends and is happy. He doesn’t need Khushi Kumari Gupta’s chatter to be happy,” she muttered.

“Disappointed?” Preetho asked, her sharp eyes on Khushi’s face.

“Of course not. Why should I be disappointed? Woh he kaun hamare for me to be upset?” Khushi asked.

“Your jiji’s jetji?” Preetho asked. “And the first boy you noticed and hyperventilated over?”

Khushi turned her head away from Preetho’s perceptive eyes and busied herself with arranging the newspapers in order.

“You don’t feel anything for him?” Preetho asked.

“No,” Khushi replied, ignoring the protest of her heart.

“You were not sad when you realised he had other fish to fry?” Preetho asked.

“Of course not. Aur waise bhi, I am vegetarian,” Khushi turned her head and prepared to walk away, only to come to a stop at Preetho’s words.

“Good,” Preetho said. “In that case the news I am going to tell you won’t distress you.”

“What news?” Khushi asked.

“A boy is coming to see you tomorrow evening,” Preetho said quietly.

Khushi was too shocked to even cry out.

“His parents have been hounding yours for the past two weeks. They managed to keep them at bay because you were away and buaji was sick. They called today morning and said they want to see you tomorrow. It seems the boy had been transferred to Varanasi and the parents want to fix his wedding before he leaves,” Preetho informed her.

Khushi fell on the sofa in shock, her eyes filling with weak tears.

“Khushi, tum theek ho?” Preetho’s voice was kind.

Khushi nodded.

“I am leaving,” Preetho said. “Go lie down. You have a lot of thinking to do, don’t you?” she asked before walking away.

                                     ***

Once lunch was over and buaji was taking a nap, Sasi called Khushi to his room.

“Bitiya, we wanted to tell you something,” he began.

Her heart quailed.

“Mittu’s nani brought a proposal for you. The boy is working in the electricity department,” Sasi said.

Khushi said nothing.

“He has been transferred to Varanasi, bitiya and so his family wants him to settle down quickly. They insisted on seeing you tomorrow. They will be here at five,” he said softly.

Khushi nodded.

“Just meet him, Khussi. If you like him, we can consider it. If you don’t like him, we will refuse,” Garima said.

Sasi nodded in agreement. “Bitiya, we will never force you to marry a boy you don’t like. Never. Just dress up and meet them when they get here,” he said.

“Ji, babuji,” Khushi murmured.

She returned to her room on unsteady legs. What was happening to her life? Everything was spinning out of control. She sat on the bed and held her head in her hands.

“My head is whirling. He Devi Maiyya, raksha karna,” she begged.

It had been a terrible month. Jiji’s wedding and meeting Laad Governor, going to Delhi and seeing Laad Governor and his girlfriends, buaji’s illness and hospitalisation, managing the shop and home—and now a visit by a prospective groom!

‘Why are you upset?’ Khushi asked herself. ‘You knew what he was the first time you met him. Akhdoo, khadoos, sharp-tongued, rakshas, shaitan Laad Governor. Why did you expect anything better from him when you went to Delhi? Did you think that knowing you were jiji’s sister would make him fawn all over you? And his girlfriends. Who are you to complain if he has one or one hundred? Are you his sister? His girlfriend? His fiancee? His wife? His nani? Nahi na? Then why did you blubber all night? You went on a visit to Delhi, saw him and returned. That’s all. He is just jiji’s jetji, nothing more. And he will never be anything more. He dislikes you. He likes girls who are modern, wear short kapde, have short hair and cling to him in public. And you don’t qualify on any account. Isliye chup chap marry the boy your parents pick for you. He will come to your wedding with a gift in his hands and clap when your wedding is over. That’s all there is between you and him.’

But the ache in her chest refused to subside. Tears filled her eyes.

‘Koi baat nahi, Khussi,’ she told herself. ‘Tomorrow when you do solah shingaar and go and stand before a boy, you will realise how foolish you were to—to think of Laad Governor. And when the boy says he likes you and your family is thrilled about it, you will understand exactly how stupid you were to hope that...’ She looked away, tears pouring down her cheeks. ‘And then the marriage. As a stranger ties a mangalsutra around your neck and fills your maang, you will realise what a gadha (donkey) you were, are, will be. Tumhara kuch nahi ho sakta, Khussi, kuch nahi.’

                                             ***

Payal called Khushi the next day.

“Khushi, how are you?” she asked.

“I am fine, jiji,” Khushi said listlessly.

“Sunn, amma told me about the boy who is coming to see you today,” Payal said.

Khushi said nothing.

“Khushi, if you don’t like him, tell babuji,” Payal advised.

“I will like him, jiji,” Khushi said softly. What did it matter whom she married? And why hang around babuji’s neck like a millstone? And if she got married, she could go off to Varanasi and never see Laad Governor again. And the devil would most likely throw a party for all his girlfriends because she, Khushi Kumari Gupta had married within her aukat.

“What?” Payal asked, perplexed.

“Nothing, jiji,” Khushi said. Why worry jiji with her decision to marry?

“Are you scared?” Payal asked.

Was she scared? Khushi wondered. No, she was not scared. She just felt dead inside, that was all.

“No, jiji, I am not scared,” Khushi said calmly.

“I will call you tonight,” Payal said, frowning.

“Yes, jiji,” Khushi said. By then her death sentence would have been signed and sealed by her own hands, she thought.

                                            ***

“Kaa hua, Payaliya?” mami asked. “Bhy are you standing like you swallowed a khamba?”

“I was talking to Khushi,” Payal said uncertainly.

“And?” mami asked, popping a piece of apple into her mouth.

“A boy is coming to see Khushi today evening,” Payal said.

Mami choked on the apple.

“For marrijjwaa?” mami asked, her eyes wide, her hand on her heart.

“Yes. And Khushi—she was talking as if the wedding is fixed. I told her to refuse him if she didn’t like him, but she...” Payal shook her head in incomprehension.

“She?” mami gasped.

“She seems ready to marry him without even seeing him. What is she up to? I am feeling scared, saasumma,” Payal said.

“Me toos,” mami said before running away.

Payal stared at her back as mami rushed up the steps to her Arnav bitwaa’s room.