256. OS 13: Laad Governor and Afghan Jalebi (Part 26-27)

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 26

After dinner, Arnav told Khushi, “Go to bed, Khushi. I need to work for a few more hours.”

She looked at the clock. It was ten already. She frowned. He normally slept early. Why was he delaying it today?

She went to change into comfortable clothes. When she returned, he was still staring at the laptop like mamiji stared at the TV screen when her favourite saas bahu serial aired.

Khushi said nothing.

She flipped through a magazine, dreamed a bit, folded clothes that were already folded, arranged her dupattas according to colour, dreamed some more and then looked at the clock.

Thirty minutes past eleven. How much longer would he be? she wondered.

Khushi frowned. ‘Laad Governor has to go to office tomorrow. Why isn’t he getting ready to sleep?’ she thought, hiding a yawn behind one hand.

“Go to bed, Khushi,” he murmured, acutely aware of every movement of hers.

“Aap soyenge nahi?” she asked.

“Not now. I still have some work left,” he said, his eyes still on the laptop screen.

Khushi stood up, fed up. She marched to him and stood at his knee.

He was forced to look up.

“Come to bed,” she ordered.

He opened his mouth to protest but she didn’t let him speak.

“It is alright if you have a nightmare and wake up,” she said.

He stared at her in silence.

“Your past is your past. You can’t leave it behind, can’t forget it. Better learn to live with it, Arnavji,” she said.

He swallowed hard.

“You can’t change what happened, Arnavji,” she said softly, reading the devastation on his face correctly. “You were a child. You couldn’t stop her or him. It was not your responsibility to keep them alive, to stop them from killing themselves. You were a child. They were adults.”

“Khushi,” he murmured, his voice huskier than normal.

“If I could have given my life and saved my parents, I would have. I would have died in their stead. If I had known they would die that night, I would have never let them go out to attend a relation’s wedding. I would have locked them in the house and thrown away the key. But I didn’t know.”

He listened keenly to her words.

“I didn’t know, Arnavji. There was no way I could have known or stopped the accident from happening. Because I am not Devi Maiyya. I am just Khushi Kumari Gupta, just as you are just Arnav Singh Raizada.” She looked directly at him. “Rest now or your head will ache tomorrow. Don’t worry about the nightmares. If you get them and wake up, it is fine.”

He stood up suddenly and hugged her as tight as he could.

Khushi stood in his embrace, her eyes shut. Slowly her arms went around his shoulders.

 They stood hugging for long.

“Let’s get some sleep,” he said finally in a choked voice.

She nodded.

He scooped her up in his arms and moved to the bed.

He lowered her carefully on her side of the bed, but lost his balance and stumbled.

His cheek brushed against hers.

As he tried to move back, she turned her face towards him.

His lips brushed against hers.

They stared at each other, shocked.

His head spun. What had happened? What was that jolt of something like electricity that had passed through his spine? That rush of warmth? Why was he shaking? Why couldn’t he look away?

Almost without his volition, his lips sought hers.

Khushi parted her lips, lost in wonder at the strange sensation that had burned her brains to cinders. Would she feel the same thrill if his lips touched hers again? And who knew lips could be so hazardous to one’s body and mind?

His lips covered her, tasting the plump curves.

Her hands lifted from his shoulders to travel up his neck, cup his face and then fist in his hair. His lips tasted her lower and upper lips at leisure, almost reverently, savouring them as though they were the choicest desserts forbidden to him.

He lifted his lips from hers.

She moaned at the loss, her eyes feverish as she looked into his molten ones.

A kiss. One simple kiss. A touching of lips. How could it be so mind-blowing, so addictive, so wonderful, so so overwhelming?

Was this lust?

No, it couldn’t be. He knew lust. It was tepid, no sooner satisfied than the object of it looked revolting, a mild rush that lost its pull as soon as it was catered to.

What the hell was this?

A feeling so staggering, so mind-boggling, so powerful that he was swept away in it?

A need that left him no ability to think, to plan, to process, to execute?

A passion that made nonsense of morality, decency, space and time?

Her hands slipped from his hair to his cheeks. Gentle fingers played with his stubble.

“Arnavji,” she whispered, shaken by what had just occured.

He was glad, desperately glad he had kissed no other girl, that he had saved that experience to be shared with Khushi.

He lowered his lips to hers.

                                           ***

Khushi woke up in the morning, feeling exhausted in a pleasant way. She stretched her arms, a languid smile on her face.

She looked at her arms. The smile vanished.

Why were her arms bare? She looked at her shoulders. They were bare too.

He Devi Maiyya!

She sat up. The blanket slid down her upper body to pool at her waist. Her eyes widened in horror.

She was naked.

She clutched the blanket to her chest and turned to look at her partner in crime who had caressed the clothes away from her body with the tenderest touches, chanting her name as though it were a mantra, kissing her as though he couldn’t get enough, holding her close as though he would never let her go.

He lay sprawled across the bed, his face and body relaxed.

Khushi looked at the said body, at least what she could see above the blanket.

Two bare arms. A bare chest tapering to a bare, muscled waist.

She swallowed hard.

Who knew he had such a tempting body under those jackets and coats?

He stirred.

Khushi jumped out of bed and scrambled to get her clothes and dive into the safety of the bathroom before he opened his eyes.

She managed it.

Standing under the steady stream of warm water falling over her, she thought of the night that had passed.

She had never imagined that...

She blushed.

It was all so new, so strange, so tempting that...

The blush faded.

It was nothing new to Laad Governor. Lisa, Lavanya and Devi Maiyya jaane how many other girls had spent a night with him and stood blushing in the morning while he rested after strenuous nocturnal activities.

Hot tears mingled with warm water.

She shut her eyes and leaned against the glass wall, sobbing. 

What had she done? How would she keep a distance between them now? How would she bear it when he went back to his old ways and old girlfriends?

He would, she was sure. His father had shown him the way to be and gifted him the genes. Now what could stop him?

Nothing.

Not his family.

Not her.

Not her family.

Nothing and nobody.

She left the stall and wrapped a big, white towel around herself. She stopped abruptly, catching her image in the mirror.

There was a red mark on her neck.

She touched it lightly. What was it? How had she gotten it?

She blushed. His stubble must have....

She would have to cover it from other eyes with her dupatta.

Her face fell.

Lisa and Lavanya and other girls must have worn high neck dresses to hide such tokens of his affection.

She swallowed her tears. 'Chin up,' she told herself. 'You knew what he was when you agreed to marry him. Then what are you whining about now?'

She dried her cheeks.

‘You have lost more in life than a husband who was never yours to start with. You never broke then. You gathered your courage and lived on. You can do it again,’ she engaged in positive self-talk. ‘Dry yourself, go out and start breakfast. Time and kitchen duties wait for none.’

But her husband, a deliciously rumpled Laad Governor was waiting for her near the bathroom door, his hair unkempt, his stubble dark, his eyes pools of molten chocolate, his body bare except for a white towel hugging his waist.

Khushi gulped.

                                                ***

Rash's Interpretation:

Part 26

Intuition is the intelligence of the heart and the knowledge of the soul... It knows instantly and constantly what can take decades of experience for the mind to logically sort out and understand...

When Arnav told Khushi that he needed to work and she better go to bed… she was surprised… Arnav Singh Raizada was a man of habit… His life revolved around precision and clockwork… For a person who was used to going to bed early was now hell bent on working into late hours… It was a queer behavior… Totally unASR… She could see he was looking at his laptop screen but his mind was occupied elsewhere… Khushi could feel he was totally lost… The little voice in Khushi wouldn't let her rest... She knew he needed his rest… So with determination to make him toe the line she ordered him that it is time to be in bed… His protests were swept down… Backing her intuition, she told him he need not feel awkward and fear of the recurrence of nightmare… It was quite alright… If it happens the solution to get out of it was to wake up… Khushi’s intuition was correct… Intuition is knowing without knowing... It never lies... Arnav is struck by her accuracy and this knowledge strips him of his façade… She tells him he needs to take the bull by its horns and overcome it… Fate is something that is beyond the control of the mere mortal… Only the immortal have the power to steer it the way they want… Being Arnav Singh Raizada and Khushi Kumari Gupta, mere mortals, how could they expect themselves to keep their parents from harm’s way, both from themselves or the outside forces… It was an impossible task and fretting over the failure to do so was an unnecessary chore… The pearls of wisdom uttered by Khushi were listened attentively by Arnav and once he made sense out of it he hugged her tight… He realized he has married a very strong woman… Strong enough not to put him down but lift him up… She was strong but not rude… kind but not weak… bold but not pushy… humble but not timid… proud but not arrogant… lonely but always with a bright smile… damaged but wise… She didn’t wish to see anyone suffer the way she did and that included Arnav who had tormented her like a demented, for no fault of hers but to suppress his conscious that was pricking him by saying that he had been wrong all along in his thoughts on certain matters on which he was dogmatic about what he believed… She had the rare eyes that see things and not the common eyes that look at things… Her words that recollecting the past is not the way to go forward… But was by looking into the future, taking its responsibility without letting the shadow of the past cast its shadow… We are able to do so because the past has made us what we are now with enough strength to mould our future the way it needs to be…

When he took her in his arms… and lay her on the bed… the tug that pushed him off balance made his lips send out a silent query … Your lips look so lonely… Would they like to meet mine?... her silent response that meant I want to trace the outline of your lips with mine… made him kiss her soul with his… It was like a heady wine… when words failed lips talked… It was a moment of realization for him what he was feeling was nothing akin to lust, but something mind-blowing, addictive, wonderful and overwhelming… Lust looked tepid when compared to what he felt now… The thought of lust was like thorn but what he was experiencing was like rose that he wanted now and forever to be in bloom… her lips made him wonder what the rest of her would be like and looked into her eyes… Seeing the same wonder in her eyes, what began as just a kiss on her lips on the moonlit bed, brought in a fire burning bright… with pleasures and delightful happiness… the earth below melted away…

When the morning-after blues set in, Khushi started to think of the ways he must have had with his numerous ones… She thought she too had become one of the strings in his lute for him to strum whichever way he pleases and the tears of helplessness flowed freely… Her mind recalled the black sheep of the family who had given her husband his Y-chromosomes that defined him… Would not the gene that had the unfaithful trait be passed on to him too from his father??? Though these thoughts were pulling her down, her effervescent nature pulled her up and reminded her of her duties as a daughter-in-law… With determination to face the family despite the visible hickeys… she got ready… When she came out of the bathroom, like a knight in shining armor, her husband Arnav Singh Raizada, was waiting for her at the door, for this distressed damsel… His bare torso was agleam with only a white towel hung loose on his hips looking at her with a toe tingling lopsided smile, his pools of molten chocolate eyes all set to take in the appearance of his own heavenly nymph… Khushi being Khushi, just gulped and stood looking at him…

Lovely update Smita…

Part 27

“Khushi,” he called in his husky voice as he stepped closer.

Khushi looked down to compose herself. “Ji?” she whispered.

He cupped her pale face. “Tum theek ho?”

She nodded shakily, still avoiding his eyes.

He pulled her into his arms, holding her close to his bare chest.

‘Please Devi Maiyya, don’t let that towel fall. I don’t know what I will do if it does. It won't look good if I attack him,’ she sent up an urgent prayer.

He ran a gentle hand over her back, his fingers touching the dori of the anarkali.

“You smell so nice,” he murmured, his nose buried in her neck. “Like a garden of flowers.”

“Pooja,” she murmured frantically. “Naniji will be waiting.”

He released her reluctantly and watched her scurry away. When she reached the door, he called, “Khushi?”

“Ji?” she turned around.

“Thank you,” he said.

Khushi blinked.

“You saved me from the nightmares,” he murmured, his eyes smoking hot, lost in recalling last night.

Khushi blushed before escaping his den.

                                    ***

Arnav Singh Raizada had a leisurely shower and came down to join his wife for the pooja.

Nani nudged mami who nudged Anjali. NK stared at him slack-jawed. Payal and Akash hid their smiles.

“Nannav, this is a pooja,” NK reminded him.

“I know,” ASR grunted.

“You are really here?” NK asked, unable to believe his eyes. “Let me choo you to find out if you are real.” He poked Arnav in the arm and squealed, “He is really here. Khushiji, you are a jaagidaarni. You brought Nannav down for the pooja!”

“Jaadugarni (magician), NK,” Arnav was the first to correct NK. “Yes, Khushi is a jaadugarni.”

All gasped.

Khushi blushed.

“Khushi, I have to get to office in one hour. Bring my breakfast up?” he asked calmly.

Khushi nodded, looking at the floor.

About twenty minutes later she carried a tray of food up to his room, no, their room.

Khushi looked around. He wasn’t in the bedroom.

 ‘Chalo, acha he. Place the tray on the table and run, Khussi,’ she told herself.

She bent to place the silver tray on the table and Arnav entered the bedroom from the garden.

Khushi turned her head away, pretending she hadn’t seen him. As she straightened, he scooped her up in his arms.

“Arnavji,” she gasped.

“Hhmmm?” he asked, carrying her to his recliner, sitting down and placing her on his lap.

She stared at him, her hazel eyes wide in astonishment.

He kept her close to him with his left arm and broke off a piece of paratha with his right hand. He brought it to her mouth and held it there till her lips parted.

As she chewed, he ate a morsel.

She swallowed. “Why?”

“Why not?” he asked, smirking, holding his mug of sugarless tea to her lips.

She sipped and grimaced.

“Bitter?” he asked.

She nodded.

He leaned forward and kissed her lips.

Dazed, she looked at him as he lifted his lips from hers.

“Better now?’ he asked, his voice huskier than normal.

She nodded weakly.

He drank from the same mug.

“Arnav bhaiyya,” HP called as he reached the door and stood stupefied at the sight of Khushi bhabi on Arnav bhaiyya’s lap.

Khushi made to jump up, almost knocking down the tray, but her husband’s hold on her waist was firm and sure.

“Yes, HP?” Arnav asked, his face expressionless, acting as though he didn’t have his wife on his lap or as though this were a daily occurrence.

HP gulped, unable to find words.

Arnav helped him out. “Di wants us down?” he asked.

HP nodded.

“Tell her we will join her in ten minutes,” he said evenly.

HP nodded and stumbled away, hanging on to the railing for balance. Ten coconuts for Ganpati bappa today, he thought. A miracle had happened right before his eyes. Arnav bhaiyya had become human and had lost his anger somewhere on the way.

“Arnavji, chodiye,” Khushi muttered as she squirmed on his lap.

“Kyon chodoon?” he asked, nuzzling her ear. His naughty fingers slowly crept up from her waist towards her bosom.

Khushi jumped when his fingers reached their target. She fell off his lap and lay winded on the carpet.

He looked at her lying on the floor.

His lips twitched.

Her face became cross.

He burst out laughing.

She managed to sit up.

He extended his hand, still chuckling.

She turned her head away, miffed.

“Khushi, you are so cute,” he chortled.

“Hmmmpppfff,” she snorted, getting up without his help.

“Come here,” he invited in his sesky, bedroom voice. “Let’s finish our breakfast.”

“I am not hungry,” she muttered.

“I am. Very hungry,” he said, his eyes on her lips.

Khushi ran for her life.

                           ***

“Khushi bhabi, I have arranged a pooja this evening at home,” Anjali said, beaming.

“Ji,” Khushi said.

“Will you make jalebi as prasad?” Anjali asked.

“Yes, of course,” Khushi said softly.

“The rest of the food will be catered,” Anjali explained.

Khushi nodded.

“I informed Chotey of the pooja as he left for office,” nani informed them.

“Saasumma, lagat he your grandson will return from ophice only aphter all the ladies have reached their homes,” mami said bluntly.

“I hope he comes home early, Khushi bhabi,” Anjali said pouting. “I kept the pooja for you and Chotey and Payal bhabi and Akash.”

‘Hey Devi Maiyya, keep him immersed in work, please,’ Khushi prayed. “What has happened to him? Why is he touching me here and there all the time? If my heart beats any faster, I will die.’ She clutched her heart.

“Kya hua, Khussi bitiya?” nani asked.

“Nothing, naniji,” Khushi stammered.

Nani smiled. “Don’t be tensed about meeting our friends, Khussi bitiya. They will love you like we do.”

Khushi nodded. Was there any way to make naniji’s grandson love her less? she wondered. If he kept on touching her, she was sure to end up in Agra pagalkhana. Would she have to share a room there with his girlfriends who had been similarly driven mad by his touch? she mused.

“Hamre Arnav bitwaa won’t come for pooja,” mami said shaking her head.

‘Aaapke muh mein ghee shakkar, mamiji,’ Khushi thought.

                                                  ***

Khushi finished making jalebis and helping in the kitchen and went up to shower and dress for the pooja.

She emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her hair and another around her body.

She slid the door of her wardrobe open. It was filled with clothes designed by him for her. Her hand lifted to touch the rich silk reverently.

The towel knotted under her arms slipped.

Khushi grabbed it with both hands and fastened it carefully.

“What should I wear?” she wondered aloud.

“This,” he murmured, his hand coming over her shoulder to select a green and gold saree.

Khushi jumped. The towel jumped with her, releasing the bounty it was supposed to conceal.

Khushi clutched the towel to her chest. “Aap?” she asked, hoping she was wrong.

“Mein,” he replied, cupping her bare shoulders with his warm hands, lowering his face to breathe in her scent.

Khushi shivered.

His fingers released her hair from the towel.

“Arnavji,” she whispered. “The pooja...naniji...”

He didn’t waste time replying. He dropped a kiss on the point where her neck met her shoulder.

Khushi shook as though she had high fever.

His lips tasted the long line of her neck, her nape, her shoulder blades, her ears, her cheeks, his body pressed against her back.

He kissed her cheek and slowly moved towards her lips.

Khushi managed to pull away from him.

“I have to go,” she panted, clutching the towel to her chest.

“Go where?” he asked hoarsely.

She had no reply.

“Come to me, Khushi,” he invited softly.

Khushi looked away from the temptation of his eyes, lips and voice. She felt like the fly and he was definitely the lascivious spider bent on eating her.

“The pooja,” she whispered.

“Wouldn’t you rather stay with me?’ he asked softly.

She gulped. An honest reply would damn her. That way lay madness.

“I have to go,” she croaked.

“Sure?”

“Yes.”

“Then get dressed,” he advised.

She nodded shakily and pulled out the green sari with a gold border. She took out all the other items of clothing she would need and laid them on the bed.

“I—I will dress,” Khushi said, hoping he would take the hint and leave her alone to do it.

He nodded, turned and walked away to the door.

She heaved a sigh of relief, but she realised she had heaved it too soon.

He shut and locked the door and returned to her.

Khushi blinked.

“Let me help you dress,” he suggested, his eyes wicked, his voice seductive.

                                  ***