252. OS 13. Laad Governor and Afghan Jalebi (Part 19)

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 19

“NK, send Mohan and Kishen home. Akash and I will drive,” ASR decided.

“Yes, Nannav,” NK said before running out to inform the drivers that their services were no longer required.

ASR quickly phoned Aman to let him know that he would be out of Delhi for a couple of days. Akash gathered their laptops and files needed to work from Lucknow.

They left in ten minutes.

Arnav was driving Anjali, mami and nani and Akash was driving Payal and NK.

Payal kept on trying the phone in Gomti Sadan, but couldn’t get through.

“Keep trying, Payalji. We need to find out what Khushiji has decided,” Akash said softly.

“Ji,” Payal said.

“And to let your family know that we are going to stay with them,” NK added. “Akash, did you have any idea that Nannav was thinking of marrying Khushiji?” he asked.

Akash shook his head. “No idea, but that’s not unusual. Bhai works in mysterious ways,” Akash said.

“I am scared, Akash,” NK admitted. “What will Khushiji say?”

Akash looked at him in surprise.

“She was here for one week. Kya tumhe laga, even for a minute that Nannav liked her?” NK asked bluntly.

Akash shook his head. “No. But that’s not surprising. Bhai is not the demonstrative kind.”

NK threw up his hands. “We, Akash, we are his relations. Even we didn’t know. We share his blood. Kanoon (law) ka rishta he hamara.”

“What?” Akash asked, frowning.

“Khoon (blood), NK bhai,” Payal said softly.

“Hoga, Payal bhabi. And we didn’t know. Then how will Khushiji know?” NK asked.

Akash had no reply to give.

Anjali tried calling Khushi, a frown on her face. “Why isn’t Khushiji picking up the phone?”

“She didn’t do running marrijj with the boy, did she, Hello Hi Bye Bye?” mami asked.

“Shubh shubh bolo, Manorama. My Khussi bitiya is not that kind of girl,” nani admonished mami.

ASR looked at the road ahead, his head whirling with a thousand plans and ideas.

Had Khushi said yes to the boy? Agreed to marry him? He would have to change her mind. There was no way she was marrying another man. His fears and past couldn’t stop him from offering marriage to Khushi. If he remained caught up in his past, she would slip out of his hands. He would lose the chance to live with her. No way was that happening.

Anjali let out a loud cry. “Lag gayi,” she shouted, holding up the phone.

ASR looked at her, his eyes unguarded, full of hope.

Anjali put it on speaker mode.

“Hello?” Khushi asked, her voice sounding sleepy. “Anjaliji? Kya hua? Jiji is fine?”

ASR’s chest clenched.

“Khushiji, Payal bhabi told us that a boy came to see you today. What happened?” Anjali asked.

“Yes,” Khushi muttered. “He came with his parents.”

“And?” Anjali asked, eagerly.

“Had tea and went away,” Khushi said, yawning. “They called and said they want to pursue this proposal.”

ASR swallowed hard.

“Khushiji,” Anjali asked, scared. “Did you like him?”

“He was alright,” Khushi muttered.

ASR’s breath stopped.

“And?” Anjali asked anxiously. “What did you say?”

“We are thinking about it,” Khushi said evasively. She didn’t want jiji’s jetji to know that she had refused a proposal. What if he thought she had done it because she was lattoo over him? She would never hear the end of it. And he with his girlfriends!

ASR braked hard, his jaw clenched.

“You haven’t decided in favour of the boy yet, have you, Khushiji?” Anjali asked, scared to hear the reply.

“There is no hurry, Anjaliji,” Khushi replied. “How are mami and nani?” she asked, trying to change the topic.

“Woh, Khushiji, please tell your parents and buaji that we will be visiting Lucknow soon,” Anjali informed her.

Khushi sat up in bed, all her sleep leaving her in a second. “Kya?” she asked in disbelief.

“Ji,” Anjali confirmed it.

‘No problem, Khussi,’ she told herself. ‘Go to Kanpur when they plan to visit. You won’t have to see that shameless monster.’ Aloud she asked, “When are you planning to visit, Anjaliji?” ‘Next month, next month, please,’ Khushi prayed.

“Tomorrow morning,” Anjali said softly. “We are on the way.”

The phone fell from her hand. Khushi stared at the wall speechless, shocked, aghast, appalled.

“I lost her,” Anjali frowned at the phone. “Something is wrong with the network, shayad.”

Khushi buried her face in her pillow. ‘Did I imagine that Anjaliji called me? Did I dream it?’ She jumped up and checked her phone. 70 calls from her jiji? One from Anjaliji. She had really called.

Khushi clutched her head. “Hey Devi Maiyya, yeh hamne kya kar diya?” she moaned. “They will get here in the morning and find out that I have already refused the boy. They, HE will know I lied to save my face!!!!!”

Her face brightened.

“Khussi,” she told herself. “That Laad Governor will never leave his office and his girlfriends and travel to Lucknow. It will be just jiji and Anjaliji. Stay calm. You don’t have to run to hide in Kanpur yet.”

She looked at Devi Maiyya’s idol on her table with beseeching eyes. “You won’t let me down, will you? You are all I have, this poor orphan girl from Lucknow.” She tried to tug at the heartstrings of her mother. A girl had to do what a girl had to do to get her way.

“Ab so jaa, Khussi,” she told herself. “Sleep well. Tomorrow you have to cook extra for breakfast.”

Buaji pushed open the door to her bedroom.

“Whom are you talking to, Khussi?” she asked, looking around the room and under the bed.

“Myself,” Khushi replied.

“Hai Re Nandkisore!” buaji hit her head with her hand. “You have given me such a Sanka Devi as niece. Get into bed. Hum rajjai od det he.”

“Buaji, jiji and Anjaliji are coming here tomorrow. They are on the way,” Khushi told her while clambering on to bed.

“Hai Re Nandkisore!” buaji exclaimed. “Why didn’t Payaliya let us know earlier? Garima, Garima,” she hollered.

“Kaa hua, jiji?” Garima came running.

“Payaliya and Anjali bitiya are coming tomorrow morning, Nandkisore,” buaji said. “Why didn’t she call?”

“They are? I am so happy. Payaliya must have called, jiji. There is no dial tone on the phone. Laagat he kharab ho gaya. I will ask Payaliya’s father to call someone and repair it tomorrow,” Garima said.

“Khussi, make besan laddoo and rabri tomorrow,” buaji ordered. “Payaliya loves them, Nandkisore.”

“I love them too but who wants to know?” Khushi grumbled. “Jab se shaadi hua he, it is always Payaliya, Payaliya. Wait and see, buaji. You will cry, tadap to see me after I am married.”

Buaji and Garima chuckled.

Buaji said, laughter in her voice. “That won’t be for another hundred years, Titliyaa. Oo kaa he, your babuji is yet to go looking for your dream dulha, Nandkisore.”

“And there is no guarantee that he will find someone even if he does,” Garima added, laughing.

“So ask your musk-scented, chocolate-eyed hero to come here and ask for your hand. That will save our time and effort, Nandkisore,” buaji laughed.

Miffed, Khushi buried her face under her pillow.

                                          ***

Khushi was rolling pooris when she heard the car doors slam.

“Buaji...amma....” she screamed before running to the open door. “They are here.”

Buaji, Garima and Sasi followed her.

Khushi came to a sudden halt at the door when she saw the entire Raizada khandaan standing before her. And leading the pack was the man she didn’t wish to see, Shri. Arnav Singh Raizada.

She lowered the hand with the belan.

“Khushi,” Payal cried as she hugged her. “I called you so many times.”

“Seventy,” Khushi muttered.

“Khussi bitiya.” Nani hugged her.

“Khussi. You bere hiding from ujj?” mami asked, hugging her.

“Khushiji, I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you,” Anjali whispered in her hair as she hugged Khushi.

“Khushiji, best friends forever?” NK asked, scared she would ditch him after Nannav had his talk with her.

“Yes, Nanheji, of course,” she whispered, shock having taken away a part of her voice.

“Khushiji, how are you?” Akash asked, smiling kindly at her.

“Fine, jiju,” Khushi tried to smile at that kind man.

He nodded and moved away.

The Rakshas came to stand before her. Khushi looked away, clutching her belan for strength. What was he doing here? Woh bhi alone? Had termites eaten his girlfriends?

“Khushi, baat karni he tumse,” he said, his voice husky, low and firm.

“Kiissss baare mein?” she asked, flustered. ‘He Devi Maiyya, I was making pooris in my own kitchen. I didn't do anything else. Why has he come here to scold me?’

Before he could reply, buaji and Garima swooped on him and escorted him inside.

Khushi heaved a sigh of relief, tried to place her hand on her heart and ended up hitting herself with the belan.

                                                  ***

The two families were sitting around the dining table, having a delicious breakfast. Khushi was in the kitchen, making and arranging fresh pooris on a platter.

“Sasiji, what happened to the proposal Khussi bitiya received?” nani asked.

All Raizadas looked anxiously at Sasi.

“They came to see her yesterday,” Sasi replied.

“Acha ladka tha. Very good boy, Nandkisore,” buaji added.

ASR glared at the plate before him.

“He was an engineer in the electricity department, handsome, from Lucknow,” Garima said.

ASR clenched his jaw.

Akash looked at his bhai, worried for him.

“Only son of his parents,” buaji said. “They were very interested, par kaa karein, Nandkisore.” Buaji shook her head sadly.

All looked at her, tensed.

“Khussi said no,” buaji said with a sigh.

A collective sigh of relief was heard.

ASR’s hand trembled as he released his hold on a spoon.

“She is mad, Devyaniji,” Garima said with a smile.

“Hein?” mami asked. “Pagal?”

“Aur naahi to kaa, Manno?” Garima asked her classmate. “You have no idea what she said last night.”

“Sanka Devi has a long list of qualities her dulha should have, Nandkisore,” buaji began. “The length of his hair, the colour of his eyes, how his nose should be, the sound of his voice, even how he should smell.”

“Manno, tumhe pata he, she complained that the boy smiled too much,” Garima told mami. "Can anyone smile too much?"

“Hein?” mami asked, one eye moving to her Arnav bitwaa. ‘At least Khussi can’t find fault with hamre Arnav bitwaa for smiling too much,’ mami thought.

“Aap hi kahiye, what kind of dulha-hunting are we supposed to do?” Sasi asked, chuckling. "Her list is impossible."

NK looked at his Nannav speculatively.

Khushi joined them with a platter laden with pooris.

“Naniji, lejiye na?” she asked, placing four of them on her plate.

“Bas, bitiya,” nani tried to stop her but to no avail.

NK looked at Khushi’s face and the way she served everyone except Nannav. ‘Kuch to baat he, NK,’ he told himself. “Try and find out what Khushiji wants.’

But before he could, Preetho’s voice came from the entrance. “Khussi rani, are you there?”

“Abhi aayi,” Khushi replied as she left the table and went to greet her friend.

Nani took the opportunity she had been given. “We came to ask you for Khussi bitiya’s hand, Sasiji,” she said quickly.

The Guptas stared at her.

“Hai Re Nandkisore,” buaji whispered.

“For Chotey, that is, Arnav,” nani stated.

Mami, Anjali, Akash, NK and Payal nodded vigorously.

Three pairs of eyes looked at Arnav with pity in them.

“Bitwaa,” Sasi asked anxiously, “Are you sure you want to get married?”

“Yes, babuji,” Arnav said firmly but softly.

“To Khussi, Nandkisore?” buaji asked.

“Yes, buaji,” he replied.

“You are very sure, bitwaa?” Garima asked.

“Ji, amma,” he said, his eyes meeting hers directly.

“I don’t know if she will agree,” Sasi said doubtfully.

“She found a hundred flaws in one boy in ten minutes, Nandkisore,” buaji warned him.

“Yes.” Garima nodded. “His height, his looks, his hair, his smile, the colour of his shirt. She is bilkul pagal.”

“Let me talk to her, babuji,” Arnav requested.

Sasi nodded. “Talk to her after breakfast,” he said.

The Raizadas nodded.

NK asked, “Buaji, what were Khushiji’s specifications?” He nudged Nannav under the cover of the table.

“Poocho mat, bitwaa,” buaji hit her head with her hand. “He should be tall, but not too tall.”

All Raizada eyes turned to look at Arnav.

“He shouldn’t be clean shaven, but shouldn’t have a beard,” Garima said, shaking her head.

All Raizada eyes turned to look at Arnav's stubble.

“Yeh donon fit baittha he, Arnav bitwaa,” mami whispered in his ear.

He nodded.

“He shouldn’t smile,” Sasi said, smiling.

All Raizadas looked at Arnav, pleasure and relief in their eyes that he was a khadoos, akhdoo, unsmiling boy.

“And he shouldn’t wear pink,” Garima reminded them. “That poor boy wore a pink shirt and Khussi called him a naamard.”

“Nannav won’t wear pink even in his sleep, uncle,” NK reassured him.

“A real man, according to Khussi the gyani, wears only black, brown, blue or white,” Sasi added.

The eyes of the Raizadas lit up.

NK patted Nannav on his back. “I am sorry I nagged you about wearing only black, Nannav. You live in it 24x7 from now,” he whispered. “Black chalega, marathon daudega.”

“And perfume, Nandkisore,” buaji said, propping up her head with her hand. “Nothing floral. Only musk and sandalwood will be taken here.”

NK and mami leaned forward to sniff Arnav.

“What the,” he muttered.

“Sandalwood, Sasi uncle,” NK said in relief.

Sasi frowned, seeing a glimmer of truth in the rigmarole.

“Chocolate eyes,” he said softly, studying Arnav’s molten brown eyes. “Sharp nose,” he continued, looking at Arnav’s nose. “Husky, authoritative voice,” Sasi whispered. ‘He Devi maiyya, this girl was describing Arnav bitwaa,’ he realised.

“A real man has muscled shoulders and arms on a lean body,” Garima was saying and laughing.

Sasi studied Arnav’s body closely.

“Nannav is lean,” NK said. “Isn’t he, Akash?”

“Yes,” Akash pitched in. “And bhai goes to the akhada and jogs. He has strong shoulders and arms.”

“And sab se bewakoof demand, Nandkisore, is that the boy should be badtameez with the rest of the world and full of tameez with Khussi,” buaji laughed, shaking her head at Khushi’s foolishness.

The Raizadas gasped.

Arnav stared at buaji, unable to believe his ears.

“Except when his dil dances to Badtameez Dil when he sets eyes on Khussi,” Garima concluded, laughing. “This ladki is sanki, bilkul pagal.”

ASR swallowed hard. Khushi liked him. She really did. He was not alone here.

NK whispered in Arnav’s ear, “Nannav, you have to learn how to dance. Jhumka lagana seekh hi lo.”

“Hamre Arnav bitwaa and dance?” mami whispered in Anjali’s ear. “Hello Hi se bye bye ho jaayega if he dances.”

“We will hire a dance teacher for him, mami,” Anjali hissed.

“Chotey has to dance,” nani declared softly in mami’s ear.

In the silence that followed, Sasi said quietly, “Bitwaa, talk to Khussi directly. That will be better.”

“Yes, babuji,” Arnav said.

Khushi returned with Preetho.

“Naniji, Anjaliji, mamiji, this is Preetho, my friend,” she introduced her.

The cup slipped from NK’s hand and hot tea splashed all over his t-shirt.

                                                 ***

After breakfast, the Raizadas except Arnav and the Guptas except Khushi vanished without a trace.

Khushi looked around and there was no one at home.

“Yeh kya ho raha he?” she asked aloud, only to fall silent as she saw Laad Governor sitting in the living room, his chocolate eyes directly on her.

“He Devi Maiyya,” she whispered. She looked at the back door. She could slip away to Preetho’s house and stay there till the others returned.

Her phone rang. Loudly.

Chal maiyya ke bhavan, bhavan, bhavan....it sang.

“He Devi Maiyya,” Khushi muttered, answering it.

“Khussi,” her babuji spoke.

“Haan, babuji?” she asked. “Where are you?”

“We are taking a walk,” Sasi said.

“Why didn’t you take me with you? Katti, babuji. I am katti with you,” Khushi said.

“Khussi, bitiya, sunn. Arnav bitwaa wants to speak to you in private. You talk to him. We will be back soon,” Sasi said.

Khushi hyperventilated. “How could you—alone—me here—babuji?”

“Sunn, bitiya, remember that he is your jiji’s jetji. Don’t lose control over your anger,” Sasi warned before cutting the call, praying desperately that Arnav would still be in one piece by the time they returned.

Khushi placed the phone on the kitchen counter and glared at the Laad Governor in the living room. What was he doing here? What did he have to tell her?

As she watched, he stood up and walked towards her, his eyes on hers.

Khushi looked away.

“Khushi,” he called in his husky, authoritative voice.

She drew in a deep breath, hoping the air contained at least traces of courage. She lifted her eyes to his for a second and then looked away. Those chocolate eyes! They were too tempting for words.

“Kya he?” she asked, needing to shake off the enchantment of his eyes and voice.

He stepped closer. His sandalwood fragrance kept her locked in place. She breathed in deep, filling her lungs with it.

“Look at me,” he requested.

“No,” Khushi said. That way lay danger. “Babuji said you have something to tell me. Aap kahiye. I have to go to Preetho’s house.”

“Preetho has gone with our families on their walk,” Arnav informed her.

Khushi pursed her lips. That khatmal had to trick her by leaving her alone here with this sweet-smelling Rakshas? Dekhthi hoon usko, she promised herself.

“Aap kahiye,” she pressed. “I have to start on lunch soon.”

“Marry me, Khushi.” Nervous, he blurted it out.

Khushi’s wide eyes came to rest on him. “Marry whom?” she asked, her voice thin.

“Me,” he repeated. “Marry me, Khushi.”

Khushi drew in a deep breath. “Are you asking me or telling me?” she asked, her eyes trained on his face, a latent fire burning in them.

“Asking you,” he confirmed.

“Acha? It sounded like an order,” she made it clear to him.

“So will you?” he asked.

“Why should I?” she asked.

“Khushi likes me, Khushi likes me,” he chanted under his breath.

 He cleared his throat.

 What could he say? He hadn’t thought that far ahead. He had imagined that nani would suggest the marriage to babuji, he would agree and they could be married and home free in a day or two.

“We belong to two families that are already linked by marriage,” he said. Arnav looked around for practical sounding reasons. His dreams and red dresses wouldn’t cut ice with her. “Your family knows that we will look after you.”

“I am not a baby to be looked after,” Khushi said. “I can look after myself, thank you.”

“Khushi, we are related. We know each other...”

“We don’t. You don’t know anything about me. If you did, you would have never insulted me the day we met,” Khushi warmed up for the fight.

“Khushi, I am sorry...”

“Sorry kehne se kya hoga? What is the use? Do you remember what you said that day? That you don’t want my jalebi or me. Kaha tha na aapne? Kaha tha na?”

“Yes. I did. I am sorry, Khushi. I didn’t know you then.”

“So you insult all strangers?” she asked. “He Devi Maiyya! And you said don’t think a billionaire will fall for you if you flaunt your assets and accost him. Did I ask you to fall? Did I? And what did I flaunt? My lehenga choli was modest, so modest that even air couldn’t touch my skin. And you found it obscene?” Khushi was on a roll.

“Khushi.”

“Keep your middle class tricks to yourself,” Khushi imitated his tone. “What tricks did I try on you? And if you are so irritated with middle class people, then why did your brother marry into our family? Did babuji chase you begging you to make jiji your brother’s bride? Nahi na?”

“No, Khushi. I am so...”

“Apni aukat mein raho, sunna tumne,” she spoke his words with the contempt he had shown. “What is my aukat? How did I cross it? I just talked to a guest in my house on my jiji’s shaadi. That’s all,” she smoothed over the fact that she had found him attractive.

“I am sorry, Khushi.”

“You should be,” Khushi declared. “And now the billionaire is standing in my middle class kitchen asking me to marry him? Kya hua?”

“Khushi,” he tried to calm her down. “Forget the past.”

“Acha? What all should I forget?” Khushi asked, here eyes burning dangerously.

“Forget our first meeting. I apologised when you were in Delhi, didn’t I?” he asked.

“You did,” Khushi admitted.

“I didn’t know you were Payal’s sister. I was irked because a stranger disturbed me while I was on the phone with Aman on business,” he explained lightly, leaving out his ambivalent feelings, strong attraction for her and his fear he was behaving like his father.

Khushi turned her head away, biting on her tongue. Jiji’s jetji, jiji’s jetji, she reminded herself.

“Alright,” she gave in. “You are jiji’s jetji. I have to see you all my life. So we won’t fight over our first meeting again.”

He heaved a sigh of relief. She was more generous than he deserved.

“Marry me,” he insisted. He didn’t have much time. The families would be back soon.

“I am asking you what I asked earlier. Why? Why should I marry you?” she asked.

He could recite her demands and prove that she had been describing him when she picturised her dulha, but he didn’t want to use underhand means unless absolutely necessary.

He decided to treat it like a business negotiation. He asked, “Why shouldn’t you marry me? You need to marry. I need to marry. We know each other. Our families know each other. It is a perfect match.”

“Really?” Khushi asked, raising one brow like he did.

“Really,” he replied, feeling a smidgen of amusement at her imitation skills.

“Let me tell you why we wouldn’t suit,” she introduced the topic calmly.

“Go ahead.”

“You are thirty. I am twenty-one.”

“Not an impossible or insurmountable age gap, surely?” he asked.

She ignored his interruption.

“You like Delhi. I love Lucknow.”

“I don’t mind Lucknow,” he managed to drawl, pushing away the bad memories. “And I am sure Delhi will grow on you once you start living there.”

“I don’t want Delhi to grow on me as though it were a creeper and I a post, samjhe aap?” Khushi asked.

“Khushi,” he tried to be very reasonable, very adult about this even as his heart was beating very fast, very loudly.

“You are a billionaire. I work in my father’s halwai shop.”

“That’s irrelevant, Khushi. A business is a business.”

“These objections are not irrelevant to me. They are very relevant. I don’t want to marry you,” she stated firmly, silencing the protest in her heart.

“Khushi, sleep on it. Think about the advantages,” he insisted.

“Aap se ek baat poochein?” she asked, her eyes steady on his.

He nodded.

“Why do you want to get married?” she asked. “I was wondering after jiji’s wedding why your family married off the younger son when the elder was still a bachelor.”

‘I—I never thought of marriage,” he admitted, unable to put into words what he had thought and felt then. If she knew his earlier views on love and marriage, she would most likely kick him out of her house.

“So you were happy to remain unmarried. What happened now?” she asked.

He looked around for inspiration. What could he say? After a long moment, he said, “Payal and Akash are happy. So I thought we have a chance to make it work.”

Khushi smiled sadly. “You are not Akash jiju and I am not Payal jiji.”

“No, we aren’t. But we can make this happen, Khushi,” he insisted.

“No, we can’t.” She stood firm. “You were happy to be a bachelor. You didn’t want to marry. Now your family is nagging you to get married, right?” she asked.

“No, Khushi,” he tried to correct her.

But she wasn’t in the mood to listen to him. “Waise, how come you didn’t look for a bride in Delhi?” she asked.

“I don’t want a bride from Delhi,” he tried to explain.

“Kyon? Because no respectable family will give you a girl?” Khushi asked quietly, her heart filled with grief.

“What?” he asked, his voice huskier than usual.

“My parents think you are the epitome of decency, of goodness. Your nani thinks you are God. My jiji thinks you hung the moon. Let them continue to think so. I have no problem with that. But I know what you are. I know why you came all the way to Lucknow to find a bride. You can’t approach any family in Delhi with a proposal, can you? Because the whole of Delhi knows your reputation. So you decided to trap me, thinking that a middle class girl from a small town wouldn’t know what you got up to, wouldn’t ask questions. And even if I found out, I wouldn’t make any waves for fear of disturbing my jiji’s marriage with your brother. No way, Mr. Raizada. Go away,” she said politely, trying very hard to keep her tears at bay.

“Khushi,” his voice was a mere whisper. His heart sounded like a drum. He could barely breathe. Lisa, Lavanya. This was all about them. “What are you talking of?” he asked, scared of the answer, but knowing it had to be asked.

Khushi smiled mirthlessly. “Your girlfriends, Mr. Arnav Singh Raizada.” Her tone was mild, her voice quiet. There wasn't a hint of her bleeding heart.

“Khushi,” he began, shaking his head. “They have nothing to do with you.” He meant that his past was over, done with. That he no longer wanted to be a bachelor with the freedom to have girlfriends. That he wanted a new life with her, only her.

“They don’t,” Khushi agreed, each breath laboured. “Because I will never marry a man like you.”

“Khushi, that’s not what I meant,” he tried to explain.

She asked, her voice low, “How would you like to marry a girl who has boyfriends all over the place?” Her hurt eyes looked at him.

“Khushi,” he breathed.

“You go out to dinner and see her cuddling with another man in the dark. How would you feel?” she asked directly, her anguish plain to see in her eyes.

His mouth fell open in shock. Cuddling? When had he cuddled Lavanya? Heck, when had he cuddled anyone? He had been dragging her along.

“You go out with her and see her boyfriend hugging her in public. How would you feel?” she asked, the picture of Lisa hugging him clear in her head.

“Khushi,” he gasped. Lisa had been inviting him to her wedding, dammit!

“Nothing, right?” she asked quietly, defeated, blinking away her tears. “But I am not made that way. These things matter to me. That’s my middle class upbringing speaking." A tear made its solitary way down her pale cheek.

"Khushi," he murmured, his hand lifting to comfort her, wipe away the tear.

"Aap jaayiye. Find someone who lives like you, thinks like you.” She turned and walked away, leaving him alone and helpless.

rulama22 November 2015 at 00:33

“Kiissss baare mein?” she asked, flustered. Of course it can't be anything other than the obvious Buddhu...

Very interesting! its like buy one take one for Raizadas... They came to get Akash married and saw Khushi.... They came to get Arnav married and saw Preetho! Looks like nuclear fission....;)


Why is it that you can tell when someone likes someone else, but you can't tell when someone likes you?

ASR has met his match in Khushi...

Looks like she has two rules...
First, I am never wrong...
Second, If I am wrong, back to the rule one...

Arnav has his work cut out... Convincing Khushi is a Herculean task indeed....
With the L's in his life in the past as well has the present... his world is shaken... He has realized... the past L's (Liza and Lavanya) were insignificant in his future but without the the present L (Love) his world will just become a word...A life without his Happiness in it was an unpalatable thought...

Gals, just wanted to tell you something. Please don't use abusive language in the comments. You can disagree or agree with the storyline, like it or dislike it, criticise it or praise it, read it or condemn it to the dustbin. I don't mind. But kindly avoid using foul language. This is a place for friends, for fun, a place to escape to when real life gets difficult. Let's keep it clean.