250. OS 13. Laad Governor and Afghan Jalebi (Part 17)

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 17

“Arnav bitwaa!” mami screamed as she ran up the stairs, her high heels click-clacking against the marble floor.

“Kaa hua, mamiji?” HP asked. He was coming out of ASR’s room with a tray of used utensils.

Mami knocked HP down as she ran into Arnav’s room.

“Arnav bitwaa, Arnav bitwaa,” she screeched.

“Mamiji,” HP called from where he was lying on the floor. “Arnav bhiayya went to office early today.”

“Arnav bitwaa go, went, gone hui gawa?” mami cried. “Ab kaa hoga?”

Mami ran down screaming, “Bhere is Anjali bitiya?”

“Di went to the temple, saasumma,” Payal reminded her.

Mami hit her head. “Temple? Ab hum kaa karein, Hello Hi Bye Bye?” she asked.

“Maasi, chill,” NK said, sauntering into the living room, a packet of chips in his hand.

“Chill?” mami asked. “Hum frojjen hui gawa, NK bitwaa. Chill karne ki jaroorat naahi he.” Her eyes were red and moist.

“Sasumma, please don’t be so upset,” Payal tried to calm her.

“Acha yaad dilaya tumhe, Payaliya. Bhere ijj my sssaumma?” mami looked around.

“Dadi is praying in her room,” Payal said.

Mami ran to nani’s room, skidding to a stop and avoiding falling over nani at the very last second. Payal and NK followed her.

“Saasumma!” mami cried.

Nani opened her eyes. “Kaa he, Manorama? Savere savere what drama are you staging here?” nani asked in resignation.

“Khussi ijj going to get married,” mami wept.

“Kaa?” Nani couldn’t believe her ears.

“What?” NK asked. “Khushiji is getting married and she didn’t tell me?”

“Yejj, saasumma. A boy ijj coming to see her today evening,” mami howled. “Arnav bitwaa ijj missing, Anjali bitiya ijj in temple. Hum kaa karein?”

“Don’t worry, maasi,” NK took over. “Don’t cry. Sit down.” He sat down. “I will call Nannav.”

The ladies watched anxiously while he tried his Nannav’s number and Payal tried Anjali’s phone in vain.

Payal shook her head, indicating that Anjali was unavailable.

“It is ringing but Nannav is not answering,” NK mused. “Must be on silent mode. Lekin aap sab chinta mat keejiye. Mein hoon na?” he asked with a big smile.

The ladies looked at him in wonder.

“Give me a list of the gifts you want. I will buy them, go to Nannav’s office and get him and Akash, go to the temple and get di. Then we can go to Lucknow to celebrate Khushiji’s shaadi,” NK said cheerfully.

Mami picked an orange from the fruit dish on nani’s table and threw it at NK.

“We don’t bant to attend Khussi’s shaadi, NK bitwaa, we bant to break it,” mami shrieked.

“Break it?” NK asked, confused. “You don’t want Khushiji to be a dukaan (shop)?”

“Dukaan naahi, dulhan (bride),” mami shouted. “We bant her to be a dulhan, but only hamre Arnav bitwaajj.”

NK almost fell down in shock.

“Nannav’s dukaan?” he gasped. “Maasi, Khushiji is the best, but why do you want her to marry Nannav? Matlab he is happy with his...”

Mami rolled her eyes in warning, shooting a look at nani.

“...happy with his life. Why end his bachelorhood?” NK asked in a  heart-felt manner.

“Becaujj your Nannav likes your Khushiji and we don’t want him to be alone all hijj liphe,” mami explained.

“Nannav likes Khushiji?” NK frowned. Nothing that Nannav had done, especially cavorting with his girlfriends had given him the impression that Nannav was dying to marry Khushiji.

Anjali walked into this argument.

“What is wrong, mami?” she asked softly.

“Bhere were you?” mami asked, upset.

“At the temple,” Anjali smiled. “Listening to a speech on the need for moderation in all we do. Mami, you should have come too. It was...”

“You sit there and listen to moderation while hamre Arnav bitwaajj liphe is going down the drainagewaa,” mami wept.

“Mami,” Anjali called anxiously. “What is wrong?”

But mami was crying too hard to speak.

 Nani dabbed her eyes.

Payal said, “Di, a boy is coming to see Khushi this evening.”

Anjali gasped. She set the thali down on the table before her and asked, “Where is Chotey?”

“In his office,” nani said quietly.

“I tried to get him on the phone, but,” NK interjected.

“Get Akash,” Anjali panted, looking at Payal. “Tell him to catch Chotey by his collar and drag him home. No excuses.”

“Yejj,” mami nodded. “Jaldi, jaldi. Otherbise hamre Arnav bitwaa bill have to wear sherwani and go to Lucknow to say congratulations to Khussi and her husbaaand.”

“Rest of you, pack to leave for Lucknow,” nani ordered. “I will inform Mohan and Kishen to get the cars ready.”

All nodded and left the room.

Anjali asked HP to pack for Chotey.

NK caught mami by the arm and pulled her aside.

“Maasi, are you sure Nannav wants to marry Khushiji?” he asked seriously. “Woh kya he, he is happy playing the field and,”

“Bitwaa,” mami said. “Hamre Arnav bitwaa ijj not a boy to play football in a field. He ijj thirty. Soon baal chadne lagenge, his face will become lined. Eberybody ijj not lucky to have skin like Manorama Raijjada. Then who will give him a girlwaa?”

NK tried to explain. “Maasi, imagine you are Nannav. You have a table full of sweets before you,” he began.

“Hamre Arnav bitwaa ijj diabetic,” mami cut in.

“Ok, fine,” NK pull his hands up. “You have paratha, chole bature, kulfi, tehri,” he tried.

“Chup,” mami put her finger on her lips to silence him. “Hum dieting karbe and you tempt me?”

NK threw up his hands.

“Imagine you are Nannav. Before you is a table full of fruits,” NK said.

“Oo theek he,” mami concurred.

“Pineapple, apple, mango, bananas, grapes,” NK said.

“Tho?” mami asked.

“Why should you eat only bananas, maasi?” NK asked.

“Matmal?” mami asked.

“Nannav has lots of girlfriends. He is having fun, is enjoying the variety. Why should you force him to marry Khushiji?” NK asked.

“Becaujj your Nannav loves bananas,” mami said, making to walk away.

“Maasi,” NK stopped her.

“Kaa?” she asked. “I have to do my packings.”

“Maasi, do you think Khushiji will enjoy being married to Nannav?” NK asked, his eyes stern and grave for a change.

“Don’t tell saasumma or Payaliya about the girlfraands, NK bitwaa. Baaki hum sambhal leibe,” mami walked away.

NK shook his head in exasperation.

                                            ***

“Di, Akashji’s phone is switched off,” Payal said nervously.

“I will try Amanji,” Anjali dumped the sari in her hand in her suitcase and limped to her phone.

But it was of no use. His phone was switched off.

“I will ask Mohan to go to the office and get hold of Amanji,” Anjali left her open suitcase and went down.

Mohan returned in one hour to give the family the unwelcome news that Aman, Arnav and Akash were in a meeting with an international delegation at a seven-star resort and couldn’t be disturbed.

Anjali sat down, feeling weak.

“Ab hum kaa karein?” nani asked, her forehead furrowed.

“Pata nahi, nani,” Anjali said, her voice feeble.

“Payaliya wajj saying that Khussi is ready to say yejj to the boy,” mami dropped the bomb quietly.

“Kya?” Anjali and nani called out loudly.

Payal nodded, her mind filled with uncertainty and fear. There was no saying what Khushi would do. She was predictably unpredictable and consistently inconsistent.

                                               ***

Khushi pinned the dupatta on her shoulder and tucked it into her waist, making sure that she looked as modest as possible.

Buaji frowned. “This is the lehenga-choli you wore at Payaliya’s wedding, isn’t it, Nandkisore?” she asked.

“Yes, buaji,” Khushi replied quietly. Then she wore matching earrings and a slender chain around her neck.

“Wear the gold bangles with white stones, Khussi,” buaji suggested.

She nodded obediently and slipped them on her arms.

Garima came rushing into the room. “Jiji, they have come. Please come with me to welcome them,” she begged.

“Sasi babua?” buaji asked.

“He is talking to them. Khussi bitiya, are you ready?” Garima asked.

“Yes, amma,” she replied, her voice low.

Garima came to her and hugged her, saying, “Sunn, bitiya, don’t agree to this wedding thinking we want to be rid of you. Look at the boy, talk to him. See if you can live with him.”

Khushi nodded.

“If you pick this boy, you have to live your entire life with him, Titliya,” buaji warned her. “So be careful, Nandkisore.”

Khushi nodded.

Garima and buaji left, with buaji muttering, “May Nandkisore help our Khussi in making the right decision.”

Khushi looked at herself in the mirror, her eyes dull, her heart duller. ‘What must he be doing right now?’ she wondered. ‘What will he be doing, Khussi? He will be roaming around the city with two or more girls. Why should he be worried that your life is going to change?’

She had to blink away tears.

“Khussi,” came the call from Garima. “Zara yahan aana, bitiya.”

Khushi walked out of her room.

Buaji handed her a tray with filled tea cups.

Khushi walked to the living room and placed the tray on the low table. She took a few steps back and looked at the family that wanted to make her their bahu.

The boy’s father was plump and cheerful, cracking jokes with her father. His mother was gaudily dressed in a yellow sari and lots of jewellery.

Bilkul like mami, Khushi thought. But not as cheerful as her.

She turned her eyes to the boy.

He was very handsome, tall, slim, fair, with light eyes. Dressed in a light pink shirt, he looked like a hero. He smiled at her, showing his shining, pearl-like teeth.