259. OS 13. Laad Governor and Afghan Jalebi (Part 33)

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 33

They drove to Agra at night, reaching there at dawn.

Khushi yawned as they were shown to their rooms in the exclusive resort by the Taj Mahal.

“When do you have your meeting, Arnavji?” she asked as they crawled thankfully into bed.

“Ten,” he answered, stretching out in bed, fatigued. “Let’s get some sleep.”

“Ji.”

“Khushi, I haven’t forgotten your golgappe or the place you want to visit,” he murmured sleepily.

“So jaayiye,” she answered in a soft voice. “There’s time enough for all that.”

Arnav woke up in the morning, blinking as sunlight fell on his face. He turned his head to look at Khushi. She was asleep, her long lashes shielding her eyes, her beautiful form covered by the blanket.

He smiled. Seven days and nights of love and peace. He could almost dance in joy.

He looked at the clock on the wall. ‘Get up and finish the meeting, ASR,’ he told himself. ‘Then you can get on with your life with Khushi.’

Khushi stirred when she felt her husband kiss her gently on her cheek and forehead. She opened her eyes to see him sitting on the bed by her, all dressed and ready to leave.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his eyes tender and molten.

“Good morning. You are leaving, Arnavji?” she asked, sitting up.

“I will be back for lunch, Khushi. Then I will take you wherever you want to go and buy you as many golgappe as you can eat,” he said with a smile. “Breakfast is here,” he said, nodding towards the trays on the table. “Eat and rest. I will be back before you know it.”

Khushi nodded.

“Call me or Aman if you need help, Khushi. I will keep my phone close to me and warn Aman too,” he said.

“Ji.”

He stood up reluctantly. Khushi left the bed, saw him off and locked the door after him.

She smiled as she looked at the pieces of luggage. She had refused to let the attendants unpack. Their clothes were still in the bags with only necessary stuff taken out.

She grabbed an anarkali and went to have a shower and freshen up.

                                                           ***

Arnav returned at one to find that Khushi had ordered lunch.

“Khushi, we could have gone to one of the four restaurants here,”  he began, sorry that she had been cooped up for half a day.

“I don’t want to go to a restaurant. Let’s eat, Arnavji. After lunch, I want you to take me to a special place,” she said softly, serving him.

“Kahan?” he asked. Did she want to visit a temple or go sightseeing?

“Back to Delhi,” she said softly.

He stared at her speechless.

“You took one week off for our honeymoon, didn’t you?” she asked, a faint tinge of red on her cheeks.

“Yes,” he admitted.

“I would like to spend that one week at your nanaji’s cottage in your mama’s garden,” she said quietly.

He was speechless, surprised and moved.

His silence flustered her. She remembered Lavanya’s words about him not sharing his girlfriends’ space. Maybe he didn’t want her in his sacred place, intruding into his special zone. “If you don’t want that, it is alright, Arnavji. We can return home or stay here. I...”

He stopped her. “I want to,” he said softly. “I can’t think of anything I want more than that.”

Khushi beamed.

He leaned forward and kissed her cheek gently. “Thank you, Khushi,” he said softly.

She smiled at him and leaned forward to brush her lips against his hard, stubbled cheek.

He swallowed hard at the first, tentative act of affection she had bestowed on him out of the one night they had spent together.

“Khushi, I promise. Tum aur mein, hamesha,” he whispered.

“I know,” she said softly.

                                                   ***

They reached Delhi late in the evening, having taken a short visit to the Taj Mahal before leaving. He parked the car in the car shed adjacent to the cottage.

“I called Ram Lal and asked him to stock the cottage with essentials,” Arnav explained. “If we need anything else, we can go shopping.”

“Ji.”

He unlocked the cottage and led her in, holding her hand in a firm grip till he switched on the light and dispelled the darkness that scared her.

Khushi smiled at him in gratitude and looked around. Antique furniture, framed paintings and sketches done by children, simple furnishings...It was cozy, perfect for a honeymoon.

He brought in their luggage and led her to the master bedroom.

“There are three bedrooms, Khushi,” he told her.

“Ji.”

He dumped the bags and took her on a tour of the house that ended with the kitchen.

“I will serve dinner,” Khushi said.

He stayed close by as she transferred the food into dishes, stealing a kiss when they were setting the table.

Finally they sat down to eat in a small kitchen bathed in a mellow light, caught in a strange kind of silence that held anticipation and tension.

As the meal ended, Khushi sat back and asked casually, “When did you realise you love me?”

He looked at her, startled, his eyes revealing, unguarded.

Khushi didn’t wait for an answer. With her fingers fiddling with her mangalsutra she said softly, “Waise, I am not totally guiltless in this debacle.”

He swallowed hard.

“Woh—woh,” she murmured, her eyes falling to the soiled plate before her.

He felt time stand still.

She slowly lifted her eyes to look at him.

“Woh—at jiji’s wedding, I—I didn’t come to you to give you a jalebi,” she confessed. “Woh—I told Preetho that—that you looked handsome, bilkul like Salman Khanji.”

His eyes widened.

She continued bravely, “I thought you must be a friend of jiju’s from Delhi. I had no idea you were his brother. Preetho challenged me to approach you if I was so interested. I—I was scared, but I wanted to prove to her that I wasn’t a coward...and I wanted to meet you. Isliye I...”

“I—I was talking to Aman about business,” he murmured.

She nodded.

“Woh—I didn’t know you were involved with Lavanya. I never thought—matlab, you could have been married. I never stopped to think.” She looked down at the table. “It was a stupid thing to do.”

He said through a dry throat, “You knocked me off my feet. I didn’t like that at all. I didn’t want to be like my father, a prey to a pretty face. That’s why I—I am sorry, Khushi. I was rude. I was angry with myself for being attracted to you. That’s why I...”

She nodded.

“It had been a hectic two months. I had just returned to Delhi from a month in Paris when I was asked to come to Lucknow for Akash’s wedding. Lavanya had been irritating me over the phone while I was in Paris and I had too much work on my hands. And I didn’t want to visit Lucknow, the place where our lives had fallen apart. I was at the end of my tether, seriously freaking out when you approached me. I am sorry,” he said softly.

She nodded.

“I couldn’t take my eyes off you. I watched you cry at the wedding and wondered if you were upset at my rudeness. It was only when you approached me with the thali and Akash introduced us that...” his voice trailed away.

She nodded. “It was a shock to find out that you were jiji’s jetji.”

“And then that pest NK turned up,” he muttered.

Khushi gasped. “Don’t say such things about my Nanheji.”

He said, “He deserves it. He was all over you and you were smiling away. I wanted to kill him.”

“Jealous?” she asked directly.

“Very,” he admitted easily.

“You had no reason to be,” she said.

“I know, but,” he paused. “I wanted to apologise to you before we left for Delhi, but.”

“I didn’t want to hear it,” Khushi admitted. “I was very angry with you. Waise, why does Nanheji call you Nannav?”

Arnav looked out of the window. “That idiot couldn’t pronounce my name properly when he was a kid. He used to lisp and call me Nannav. I thought he would grow out of it, but.” He shook his head.

Khushi smiled. “It is very cute,’ she said.

Arnav rolled his eyes.

They sat in silence for a long moment. Then he said, the words drawn out of him, “I saw you everywhere.”

“Ji?” she asked in bewilderment.

“After I got back to Delhi, it was you everywhere--in the file, on the laptop screen, in my dreams.” He shook his head in incomprehension. “I began to sketch clothes for you. I designed clothes after eight years, just for you. I filled notepads with drawings like a mad man on the loose. I drew till I dropped, till my shoulder and arm ached. I could see you in the lehengas and sarees and anarkalis I drew.” He smiled. “My firm has never produced ethnic clothes before. I started a line just for you, calling it diversification.”

She smiled.

“What kind of madness is this, Khushi?” he asked softly.

“I don’t know, Arnavji. But whatever it is, we are both caught in it. That’s enough for me,” she said softly.

He nodded slowly.

“I never thought something like this existed. I never believed—I didn’t know that my whole mind, body, soul—everything I am—would be focused on another person. That your happiness would mean more to me than mine. I didn’t know, Khushi,” he admitted.

She nodded.

“Di talked to me of marriage and I blew up. I never intended to marry. Never. After what happened in my past, I had absolutely no plans to marry. That’s why I went in for girlfriends who knew the score, girlfriends I didn’t care about and who didn’t give a damn about me. If I knew I would meet you some day, Khushi, I would never have...”

She looked down at her plate. She got up and began collecting the used utensils, not looking at his face. She placed them in the sink and opened the tap, making certain that her back was facing him and her face was hidden from him.

His hand came to shut the tap.

Khushi stiffened.

His hands cupped her shoulders. He gently tugged her back against him.

She lowered her head hoping to hide her tear-stained face.

He turned her to face him, his heart stopping at the sight of her wet face.

“Khushi,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms and hugging her as tightly as he could.

Khushi sobbed hard, her arms around his back, her fingers clutching his shoulders. All her sorrow and her insecurities poured out as hot tears, wetting his jacket and shattering his heart into a thousand pieces.

“Khushi, please don’t cry,” he whispered, his voice shaky.

Her body shook under the force of her anguish.

He rubbed her back, showered kisses on her hair and rubbed her scalp to calm and soothe her, but to no avail.

She continued to weep soundlessly, her slim body unable to withstand the pangs of misery.

He bent to lift her in his arms. She hid her face in the crook of his neck. Holding her securely in his arms, he carried her to their bedroom and set her down.

He got in with her and lay hugging her, not letting an inch of space between them.

“I met Lavanya at the restaurant yesterday,” she admitted against his heart, her voice tear-filled.

His breath stopped.

Fresh hot tears wet his chest.

He shut his moist eyes in acute grief. He didn’t ask her what Lavanya had said.

“That’s why I said I don’t want to stay in a hotel,” she admitted.

He nodded, feeling terrible.

"I didn't want our honeymoon to be like...be like..." she wept.

“Do you think I will confuse you with another lady, Khushi?” he asked gently.

She said nothing.

“I won’t, ever. They don’t exist, not in my head, not in my heart, not in my life. They never did, not even when I was seeing them.”

Tears flowed silently down her cheeks. He tried to dry her cheeks with his fingers.

When her tears subsided, he asked softly, “Don’t you trust me, Khushi?”

She nodded.

“Do you think I loved any of my girlfriends?” he asked.

She had no hesitation in shaking her head.

“Then please don’t cry, Khushi. I can’t change the past. Not what happened to my and your parents, not our childhoods, not my girlfriends. Give me a chance to make a new present and a future for us,” he pleaded.

Khushi nodded, trying to dry her wet face.

“I promise to spend the rest of my life loving you and only you, Khushi,” he said seriously.

She nodded, sniffing.

“I love you, Khushi,” he said softly, feeling liberated, free as the words slipped out.

“I know,” she countered.

“Then believe it,” he whispered, his lips brushing against hers.

Her lips parted.

“You may not believe it, but this is new for me, Khushi, as much as it is to you,” he whispered before kissing her as though he had been starving for her.

She clutched his shoulders; her fingers raked his hair.

They rolled over, Khushi lying on him, their lips still locked.

He relieved her of the weight of her dupatta. Her fingers attacked his jacket. He unzipped her and slid the anarkali down her arms and body, his fingers trailing gently over the exposed skin.

Khushi moaned loudly.

 She unbuttoned his shirt and ran an eager hand over the vast expanse of his chest.

He turned to let her lie on her back, his legs coiling with hers.

“Khushi, I love you...so much,” he groaned.

Khushi answered by throwing his shirt away and attacking him with kisses to every available surface. In between she murmured, “Hum bhi aapse bahut prem karte hein.”

Her hand moved down his torso.

He shivered. “Khushi...”

She caught hold of his belt and tugged.

“Khushi,” he whispered hoarsely.

He managed to free her of her clothes and traced her figure with trembling fingers.

 “Arnavji,” she squealed.

“Hhmmm?” he asked, setting his lips to work.

Her nails marked his back, unable to bear the sweet torture of his touch.

“You are a shaitan,” she whispered against his lips.

“Only yours, Khushi,” he promised, moving his lips down to the base of her throat where her pulse throbbed.

“Rakshas,” she whimpered.

“Only yours, Khushi,” he said kissing her lower.

“Laad Governor kahin ka,” she groaned.

“Only yours, Khushi,” he sealed the promise against her navel. “Hamesha, hamesha, my sweet Afghan jalebi.”

The End

Darlings,

Will be back next week with a new story. I need the time to finish the last few chapters of my novel, Waiting For You, edit and publish it.

Keep safe,

Bye!


Rash's Interpretation:

Part 32

Just a simple request from Khushi to spend their honeymoon at the cottage of his Mama’s garden left Arnav Singh Raizada bereft of words… When he had given Khushi the hotel room with the best view of Taj Mahal, the queen of his heart, opted for his mother’s humble abode… The loving husband’s reaction of stunned silence had doubts creep into her mind… But his happy agreement sealed away those doubts for forever…

Once in the cottage after having something suited to their  palate, Khushi took him by surprise with her query… when did he realize that he loved her?… She admitted that she too had her guilt part in their first meet… She told him she had made the advance taking up the challenge from her friend, without even bothering to find out whether he was already taken… This confession of hers opened to his outpour… He was at the end of his tether with his work and Lavanya’s irritating ways… With her step to converse with him, she Khushi, became the butt of his anger without realizing who it could be as he had been away when Akash’s wedding was fixed.

After meeting her, she became the source of his inspiration, his happiness…. She clouded his thoughts, and he lived in its haze which was akin to madness… He spoke at length about his thoughts on love, marriage and his girl friends’… They knew the score all along and were happy to go along… His way of life was fine by him until he met her… His only regret was if only he knew that he was to meet a girl named Khushi, who lived up to her given name and more, he would have waited for her to appear… On the canvas of life… we often go off color… but as long as there are special people to add the right shades…. Life goes on to be a rainbow… If only he knew… After hearing his version, Khushi was filled with tears…

Seeing her in tears shattered his heart to smithereens… The most important thing in communication is hearing what is not said… He could see, she, a simple person, who hid a thousand feelings behind the happiest smile, had lowered her happy mask and gave vent to her feelings… With tears streaming down her cheeks she told him of her meeting Lavanya and that was the root cause for her to uproot them from the hotel… She didn’t want her life with him to be a repeat of how it was with his girlfriends… Arnav asked her to trust him and he would never ever confuse her with them as they meant nothing to him emotionally… If he could give her one thing… he would give her the ability to see herself through his eyes… Then she would realize how special she was… The best thing in life was finding her… knowing all his mistakes and weakness… and still thinks that he is complete and special…

He realized after he met Khushi that anyone can come into your life and say how much they love you… but it takes someone really special to stay in your life and show how much they love you…

This was the story of the Laad Governor and his Afghan Jalebi… the delectable looking man who had his nose high up in the air, was brought down from his high horses by a deceptive looking simple small town girl, who became his wife… She, Khushi was a person with positive outlook, with her own set of ideas and responsibilities… Her charisma and strength of character were quite unconventional in her surroundings… Yet with her unique identity she held harmony in the family as of utmost importance… Be it with her adopted family or the family she was married to or her relation with her husband with her soft look held on to her beliefs and adjusted her sails whenever necessary without compromising her dignity…  The secret of happiness is letting every situation be what it is, instead of what you think it should be…. That’s why she is an Afghan Jalebi, the deceptive beloved of her Lord Governor…

A beautiful story has come to an end…  Smita… it was a delight to go through and was hooked to it… Loved every twist of it…