HAPPY DIWALI!
Arnav reached Laxmi Nagar before Khushi returned home from
her office.
With trepidation in his heart, he knocked on the door.
“Kaun he, Nandkisore?” Madhumati Gupta asked as she abandoned
the newspaper she was reading, removed her glasses, set them aside and waddled
to the door.
She unlatched the door and pulled the panels apart to see
Arnav standing there, a nervous look on his face.
“Arnav bitwaa!” Buaji could not control her joy in seeing her
favourite male. She barged out of the door and caught hold of his arm. “Come
in, come in, Nandkisore! Why are you standing outside like a stranger?”
Arnav felt his heart sink to his shoes at his reception. This
was the lady he had maligned, the family he had insulted.
“Buaji, I am the goonda,” he confessed.
“I know, Nandkisore,” Buaji said. “Come in.”
“I am so sorry, Buaji,” he murmured, his heart filled with regret.
Buaji pulled him by the arm and pushed him down on a chair.
“Tum baitto, Nandkisore,” she said. “What are you apologising for?”
“I..I insulted Khushi,” he muttered shamefacedly.
“Haan, that you did,” Buaji concurred. Then she asked,
“Bitwaa, don’t you have eyes in your head?”
“Ji?” Arnav asked.
Buaji pursed her lips. “How could you look at that Pagaliyya
and think that she was out to lure and trap Shyamji? Does she look as though
she knows how to lure and captivate men?”
Arnav flushed. He shook his head in the negative. Khushi’s
innocence shone through her eyes. He had been blinded by his prejudice and his
attraction to her to see the truth.
“If you give her a man and ask her to charm him, she will
most likely tie a rakhi around his wrist, Nandkisore!” Buaji grimaced.
Arnav lowered his head in shame. “I am more sorry than I can
say, Buaji,” he said.
“Koi baat nahi, Nandkisore. You will be well-served for your
bad judgement if Khushi decides to marry you,” Buaji chuckled in anticipation.
Arnav frowned in confusion.
“You will have to live with Sanka Devi all your life. That is
punishment enough,” Buaji teased him.
Arnav smiled.
“Payaliyya always used to say that only a Pagal will marry my
Titliyya. So you are that Pagal, aren’t you, bitwaa?” Buaji asked.
“If she agrees,” Arnav said shyly.
“What about your family? Did you tell them, bitwaa?” Buai
asked.
“Yes, Buaji. They are waiting for Khushi’s response. They
will visit you with a formal request as soon as she agrees,” Arnav reassured
Buaji.
“Tab to theek he, Nandkisore,” she said. Then she heaved a
long sigh. “It is a pity her parents are not alive today. How happy they would
have been to meet you!”
“How old was Khushi when they died, Buaji?” Arnav asked.
“Ten. I raised Payaliyya and Khussi, sheltering them in my
wings like a chicken with two chicks. How could you think Madhumati Gupta would
raise a loose girl?” Buaji raised her brows in question.
“I am sorry, Buaji,” Arnav felt miserable.
“Don’t you deserve to be punished for your bad judgement?” Buaji
asked.
Arnav nodded. “Khushi said that you are ready with your
belan,” he admitted.
Buaji smiled. “Yes, my belan is ready, Nandkisore, but that’s
not your punishment. It is something worse.”
Arnav looked at her.
“Marry Titliyya fast and take her off my hands,” Buaji gave
away her niece. “Then I will look for a good boy for Payaliyya and marry her
off. Once I am free, I will go to an ashram in Lucknow and live there in peace
with my Nandkisore.”
“Buaji, don’t go,” Arnav found himself stopping her as though
both marriages were fixed and she were packing to leave that very moment.
Buaji smiled and pinched his chin. “So, did Titliyya agree to marry you?” she asked.
“She wants 2 months,” he explained.
“For what, Nandkisore?” Buaji frowned.
“To know me,” he said.
Buaji chuckled. “Marriages are made in heaven and then fought
out on earth. What is the use of knowing your enemy for 2 months?”
Arnav smiled. “To fight better?” he asked.
Buaji slapped him playfully on his thigh as she dissolved in
to giggles.
Arnav’s eyes watered at the sting of her loving pat.
Khushi walked home on quick feet. Had Balma Singh Raizada
reached Laxmi Nagar? Had Buaji flattened him with her rolling pin?
She dipped her hand in her bag and brought out her phone to
check the time. Her feet moved faster till she was almost running. Bechara
Singh Raizada, Khushi thought. What a risk he was taking just to give her the
prem patra!
“Khussi!” came a call.
She turned her head in the direction of the summons.
Kamla Chachi. Why couldn’t Kamla Chachi run after her son,
Pappu who was giving love letters to all and sundry? Khushi thought. Why did she
have to pick on one Khushi Kumari Gupta living near her house, a poor girl who
was going to get her first love letter in a few minutes?
Khushi quickly waved and continued walking.
“Khussi, why are you running?” Kamla shouted after her.
“Woh..woh..I am hungry, very hungry,” Khushi answered as she
ran in to her house, past the pots of plants he had gifted.
She stood transfixed.
Buaji and Carefree Singh Raizada were guffawing away merrily.
Khushi’s mouth fell open.
Buaji lifted her head and saw Khushi.
“Lo, aa gayi tumhri Titliyyaa,” Buaji informed Arnav. She
frowned at Khushi. “Why are you panting? Did some pagal kutta chase you?”
“Kuch nahi, Buaji,” Khushi muttered. She looked at the smirk
on Hotshot Singh Raizada’s face with livid eyes. He was sitting here smiling
while she had been worrying about the condition of his pichwada?
“I will get you tea, Nandkisore,” Buaji got up.
Khushi firmed her lips.
“Will you have pakore, bitwaa?” Buaji asked him lovingly.
“Ji, Buaji,” he said smiling.
Buaji turned to look at Khushi. “Sanka Devi, your paremi has
come to your house so that you can know him better. Sit with him and ask him
all the questions you want answers to. Phir mat kehna that you didn’t know him,
Nandkisore!” She left for the kitchen.
Khushi threw her cloth bag on the table and sat down on a
chair across from him.
“Buaji didn’t use the belan on you?” she asked with
heart-felt regret. Cheeky Singh Raizada could use a couple of blows.
“No,” Arnav smirked. “How can Buaji hurt her favourite
bitwaa?”
“Don’t put on airs,” Khushi warned. “Don’t fly away in to the
clouds. Keep your feet on the ground. You are the only bitwaa she knows other
than Shyamji.”
Arnav smiled.
“Is my prem patra ready?” Khushi asked.
“Err...yes,” he swallowed hard.
Khushi held out her hand for the letter.
Buaji placed a cup of tea in her hand.
Khushi jumped.
“Drink it, Titliyya. You must be tired driving Shyamji and
Sharmaji crazy all day,” Buaji smiled as she placed the tray on the table. She
stuffed Arnav with tea and pakore.
Khushi pouted.
Arnav silently thanked Buaji from the bottom of his heart for
saving him from having to expose his meagre poetic skills that very moment.
Long moments later, Buaji said, “Bitwaa, I have to go to the
market to buy pooja essentials, lights, flowers and a few other things for
Diwali. Payaliyya will join me there. Will you stay with Khussi for thirty
minutes? We will be back soon, Nandkisore.”
“I will take good care of her, Buaji,” Arnav promised.
“I can take better care of myself, Buaji,” Khushi muttered.
Why was Buaji giving the key to her house to Chor Singh Raizada, the very thief
who was hankering to get in?
“Jeeyath raho, babua,” Buaji nodded at Arnav in unspoken
understanding. Both of them were equally determined to keep Khushi’s reputation
untarnished and whiter than snow.
Buaji picked up a bag and walked out of the house, giving
Khushi many last minute instructions about the dal in the cooker and the dry clothes
on the clothesline.
Arnav smiled.
Khushi folded her hands before her Buaji. “Madhumati Gupta,
no body is going to steal your dal. The clothes are not going to fly away in
the few minutes you will be away from the house. Even I can’t destroy this house
in thirty minutes. Aap nishchinth hoke shopping keejiye,” she teased.
“This Parmeswari!” Buaji pulled Khushi’s ear and left.
Khushi stood up to shut the door after her.
“No, Khushi,” Arnav said. “Leave the door open.”
She frowned at him. “Why?”
“Buaji is not at home. It is not right that we remain alone with
the door closed,” Arnav said even though he would have loved to spend some
alone time with Khushi without the spying eyes of the residents of Laxmi Nagar.
“Acha? Then shall I invite all our neighbours here? They can
all read your letter,” Khushi smirked at Fastidious Singh Raizada.
“Khushi,” he murmured as he pulled out an envelope from his
coat pocket.
Her eyes brightened and she left the door to run to sit by
him.
He looked at the excitement on her face with a sinking
feeling in his heart. He should have taken a course in Creative Writing while
at Harvard. Why had he wasted his time learning business?
She held out her hand.
He placed the cover in her hand reluctantly.
Khushi bit her lower lip as she tore the flap of the envelope and pulled out a sheet of paper.
“Khushi,” he called.
She looked at him, the letter held firmly in her hand.
“Let me read it out to you,” he said quickly.
Khushi nodded happily and handed over the paper to him
without looking at it. She would get to keep it anyway.
Arnav looked down at the paper and then at her bright eyes,
shining in expectation of her first prem patra. If only he were more qualified,
more equipped to meet her demands for romance!
“Padiye, padiye,” she encouraged him, leaning forward in her chair.
Arnav cleared his throat and perused the paper.
“Khushi,” he began.
“Ji?” she responded.
He looked up. Then he
said, “My dear Khushi,”
She smiled, her fingers clasped together in her lap, her face
animated.
“I..I have never written a prem patra before...” he read.
“I haven’t received one before. So that’s alright,” Khushi
responded, all smiles.
He nodded.
“Khushi, the first moment I met you, I knew my life was going
to change,” he read and looked up at her expectantly.
She smiled her support to him.
“From being black and white, it went to colour,” he admitted.
Khushi giggled, thrilled at her own powers.
“From being silent, it became filled with sounds,” he
confessed.
“Like the sky on Diwali night,” Khushi chirped.
He smiled slightly, feeling his nervousness abate. He looked
down at the paper.
I never knew love till I met you.
Khushi smiled.
Never knew regret,
Never knew pain,
Never knew sleepless nights,
Never knew the spring of hope in my heart,
Never felt flowers bloom,
His eyes were directly on her face.
Never felt the wind against my face,
Never longed for a simple touch,
Never felt the romance of the rain,
Never knew I could smile...
I never knew love till I met you, Khushi.
She sat still, caught in the magic web of his heart-felt
words whispered in his husky voice. Her eyes filled with tears.
He set the paper aside and tried to swallow past the lump in
his throat.
The next thing he knew, Khushi had thrown her arms around him
and was hugging him with all her might.
“Khushi...” he managed to speak. “You liked it?”
She nodded vigorously, too moved to speak.
She brought her lips to his cheek and gave him a resounding
kiss, loving the feel of his stubble against her eager lips.
“Arnavji,” she whispered.
“Khushi,” he breathed against her ear, his arms tight around
her, holding her warm, soft body pressed against his.
They heard voices approaching the open door.
“Khushi is alone at home and she has left the door open?”
Payal fretted.
“Arnav babua is here with Titliyaa,” Buaji informed Payal.
Arnav released Khushi and she quickly grabbed her letter and
pushed it down the neck of her suit. She then moved to sit on her chair. Arnav
too took his seat.
Buaji and Payal entered the house.
Hours later, Khushi locked herself in her room and dipped her
hand in the suit to retrieve her prem patra.
It was in a sad shape, all crumpled and creased.
She smoothed the paper to read it, a smile on her lips.
The smile vanished.
Kavi Singh Raizada’s letter had only five lines.
Khushi, I have never written a prem patra
before.
Khushi, I love you.
Khushi, I want to marry you.
Khushi, I want to spend my whole life with
you.
Khushi, I cannot think of a life without
you.
Khushi gasped.
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