189. OS: 9 The Diabetic and the Halwai (Part 9)

Darlings,

I finally published my romantic novel, A HOME FOR MEENAKSHI on a self-publishing site. It is an e-book. You can purchase it and read it at your leisure. Here's the link. Enjoy!

Link to e-book

http://pothi.com/pothi/book/ebook-smita-ramachandran-home-meenakshi

Part 9

Arnav moved away from her and said reluctantly, “Time for you to go to your room. Looks like someone is awake.”

Khushi blinked.

“Khushi,” he called softly, loving the dazed look in her eyes.

She stared at him silently.

“Khushi, you have to leave now. Koi dekh lega,” he said, a smile on his lips. He held out his hand to help her up from the recliner.

She ignored his hand. Khushi was not bothered about being found in his bedroom at midnight. She had higher things on her mind.

“How come your lips are sweet?” she asked, her voice husky, her senses befuddled.

His eyes flew open.

“You are a diabetic. You can’t take sweets. Then how can you taste so sweet?” she asked directly.

His eyes twinkled in merriment.

“You should taste like karela, but...” Her brain grappled with this vexing problem. “Do I taste bitter?” she asked, worried.

He choked. “No, no. You taste,” he paused. How could he describe her addictive flavour? “Like sugar and spice,” he finally said.

Khushi smiled, happy.

“Khushi, if someone finds you here,” he warned her.

Khushi frowned.

“Both families will fix our marriage at the earliest. We will find ourselves married tomorrow..no, tonight,” he said, looking at the old clock in the room.

Khushi said scoffingly, “No way. They won’t fix my marriage. They know I don’t want to marry.”

Arnav crossed his arms and sighed, a small smile on his lips. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Aapki veg pijja ki kasam,” Khushi replied.

“What will your reply be when they ask you why you came to my bedroom at midnight?” he asked, his head cocked to hear the gems of wisdom falling from her lips.

“I will tell them that I came to scare you,” she replied, quickly picking up the blanket and torch as proof.

“And if they ask why you kissed me?” he asked, enjoying the argument.

“I didn’t kiss you. You kissed me,” she protested, standing up.

“Acha?” he asked. “Why didn’t you push me away?” One eyebrow touched his hairline.

“That..woh...” she floundered. “You are stronger than me. How could I push you away when you were lying over me?” she asked in righteous indignation.

“Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t want to kiss me when I told you I was going to kiss you?” he asked, a smile playing on his lips.

Khushi deflated like a pricked balloon but tried to counter him.

“I was too surprised, too shocked...” she replied. Taking the fight to his corner, she attacked him. “What kind of man are you? Kissing strangers? Chi!” she pretended disgust.

Arnav choked back laughter at her drama.

“Do you do this often?” she asked, one supercilious eyebrow raised in imitation of his.

“No, only when beautiful girls creep into my bedroom at midnight,” he teased.

Her mouth fell open.

He stood waiting for her next attack but was surprised.

“I am a beautiful girl?” she asked, her voice full of doubt, her eyes unsure.

Arnav swallowed. How did she disarm him every single time?

He replied seriously, his eyes directly on hers. “I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.”

She looked at him unblinkingly.

“Lush, silky hair smelling of jasmine...” he began.

“That is the chameli tel I use,” Khushi explained earnestly.

He continued as though she had said nothing, “Skin like ripening wheat, a neck that would put swans to shame, eyes that shine brighter than stars and most seductive of all, your zest for living. Khushi, you are a namuna, a unique piece,” he made love to her with words, with his voice, with his molten eyes.

Her mouth fell open.

“And lips like the petals of a rose,” he said softly.

Her lips trembled. Then she asked, “A red rose?”

“A red rose,” he confirmed, hs voice shaking slightly in mirth.

“Oh,” she thought aloud. “So I am beautiful.”

“Very,” he reassured her, trying to hold back his amusement.

“So you kiss all beautiful girls who visit your bedroom at midnight?” she asked, not wanting to be considered special yet wanting to be special for him.

“Well, yes,” he smiled. “You are the only one who has dared to do so,” he admitted.

She frowned. “Why? Why don’t other girls visit you at night? You kiss well..I mean,” she looked around helplessly. “I have no experience of kissing but you seem OK, nice, good...” Her voice trailed away.

He wiped the smile off his face. “They are scared of me,” he replied.

“Scared? Of you? Why should they be scared of you?” Khushi asked. “What is wrong with the girls of Delhi?”

“I have a bad temper, you see,” he explained.

“So?” she asked, confused.

“I shout,” he admitted.

Khushi laughed. “If you shout at them, they can shout back, can’t they? Devi Maiyya has given them mouths and voices, hasn’t she? Are the girls of Delhi wimps?”

He burst out laughing.

“Ssshhh,” she tried to calm him. “Koi sun lega.”

He took a step towards her. She stepped back. He began to walk towards her, his face filled with amusement and determination and some naughty intention.

She hit the door and stopped.

He came to stand very close to her.

“Why don’t you want to marry, Khushi?” he asked.

Khushi tried to find an answer in her scrambled brain. “Woh...my balushahi,” she began.

“What?” he asked, his lips curving in delight.

“My jalebi and other sweets...I can’t leave them. I won’t leave my Satwik Mishtan Bhandar,” she replied.

“Unbelievable,” he murmured.

“You don’t believe me?” Khushi asked, all injured dignity.

“I believe you,” he said. His breath fell against her face. “I just want you to know...”

“Kya?” she whispered.

“I won’t let any balushahi have you,” he whispered as his lips captured hers once more.

She trembled in his arms.

188. OS 9: The Diabetic and the Halwai (Part 8)

Darlings,

I finally published my romantic novel, A HOME FOR MEENAKSHI on a self-publishing site. It is an e-book. You can purchase it and read it at your leisure. Here's the link. Enjoy!

Link to e-book

http://pothi.com/pothi/book/ebook-smita-ramachandran-home-meenakshi

Part 8

“Devi Maiyya won’t come to save you,” Arnav whispered, his hot breath against her lips.

Khushi gulped. Why were the pijja man’s eyes burning?

Light from the street lamp fell on his face through the open window. The brown gulab jamun-coloured eyes looked as though someone had lit a lamp in them.

“She won’t?” Khushi asked uncertainly.

“No one can save you from me,” he growled playfully.

Khushi tried to squirm but her lower body was fully weighed down by his long limbs.

“Chodiye hamein,” she demanded as she tried to push him away, her hands on his shoulders.

“No way,” he said, his tone reeking of satisfaction. He tightened his hold on her.

The muscles of his arms and chest rippled and Khushi felt the movement through his white shirt. His shoulders under her fingers were warm, hard, solid...male. Her hands automatically tightened their hold on his shoulders as though she were kneading dough for roti.

“You have no right...” she began.

“I do,” he replied.

“You do?” Khushi breathed, her eyes on his face and lips that were very close to hers. “You are besharam, behaya.”

“Why did you sneak into my bedroom at midnight?” he asked softly, his wicked suji ki katli eyes roaming all over her face, especially her lips.

Her lips fell open in shock. She began to defend herself before she realised that she couldn’t. She had sneaked into his room at midnight.

“Did you want to meet me so bad?” he teased with a straight face.

Indignation loosened her tongue. “Meet you? Who wanted to meet you? I just wanted to scare you. Who do you think you are? Salman Khanji?”

He chuckled quietly, his chest moving against hers, crushing her softness.

Uncomfortable, Khushi tried to free herself from his hold in vain.

“You wanted to scare me?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied, her head bobbing in emphasis.

“Why?” he asked. “Do you scare off all the guests to your house?”

“No, only you,” Khushi replied heatedly. Her fingers bit into his shoulder as she said, “You and your veg pijja! You hate pijja, don’t you?”

“I do,” he admitted freely, no look of embarrassment on his face.

Khushi was stumped at his open admission.

“Then why did you ask me to make it?” she asked.

“To tease you,” he admitted.

“Awww,” her mouth fell open. “Who am I to you that you can tease me? Am I your sister or your cousin?” she asked, forgetting that he was lying in his arms on his recliner in his room, that too at midnight.

“You will know soon who you are to me,” he said softly.

“Hein?” Khushi frowned. What was wrong with this man with chocolate burfi eyes? Lost in her musings, she did not see his face descending further. The first she knew of it was when his nose touched hers.

Khushi jumped. “What are you doing?” she asked in surprise.

“Trying to kiss you.” He was brazen in his admission.

“What?” she squealed.

“Sshhh,” he hushed her. “You will wake up the house. If your family and my family come to this room to find out why you are shouting, how can we kiss?” he asked reasonably.

Khushi stared at him, her brain in deep freeze.

“Kkkkkiiissssss?” she gasped.

“Hhmmm,” he said.

She stared at him open-mouthed.

His wicked sooji halwa eyes twinkled at her.

She watched his face come closer, saw him angle his head, witnessed his lips coming closer...all in still silence.

She felt his warm, hard lips touch hers like the brush of a butterfly’s wings.

She jerked.

“Kya hua, Khushi?” he murmured against her lips.

Bahut kuch hua, she thought. How could she tell him kuch kuch hua? Her wide, mesmerised eyes looked into his evil eyes. His roguish smile turned her into mush, sent her limbs trembling, set her heart thudding, made her pant for breath.

He too was breathing hard. Khushi looked at him in wonder.

His lips settled on hers more surely, his lips capturing her top lip and tasting it with relish.

Someone moaned. Maybe it was her; maybe it was him. They were lost to everything except each other.

The glass fell from a sleepy Buaji’s hand as she tried to get a drink of water in the kitchen.

The sound alerted Arnav to the possibility of discovery. He lifted his head, his mouth leaving Khushi’s reluctantly. They stared at each other.

His eyes looked like honey.

Khushi swallowed, her mouth dry, her pulse throbbing. She could taste his sweetness on her tongue.

How could a diabetic be so sweet? Khushi wondered.

187. OS 9: The Diabetic and the Halwai (Parts 6-7)

Darlings,

I finally published my romantic novel, A HOME FOR MEENAKSHI on a self-publishing site. It is an e-book. You can purchase it and read it at your leisure. Here's the link. Enjoy!

Link to e-book

http://pothi.com/pothi/book/ebook-smita-ramachandran-home-meenakshi

Part 6

Arnav came down for dinner, dressed in a white shirt and a pair of dark slacks. All were in the dining room and the kitchen, chatting and laughing.

Khushi was conspicuous by her absence. 

Anjali was regaling both families with her experiences at the temple and Mami was showing them the trinkets she had bought from shops and wayside vendors.

"Amma, Manno has not left any stock in any shop in Lucknow," Mamaji teased his wife.

"Aap to shutappiya hi karlo ji," Mami retorted.

When the laughter died down, Arnav asked, “Buaji, where is Khushi?”

The jhumka in Mami’s hand fell to the ground. Mama stared at Arnav.

Nani who had been sipping a glass of water, choked.

Anjali stared at her Chotey with an open mouth. Had low sugar brought about a personality change in Arnav?

Akash looked at his brother. Why was bhai asking for Khushiji? Did he want one more pizza?

Buaji looked at poor sick bitwaa for a moment in silence. Why was he asking for Khussi? “Woh...bitwaa, she went to her shop,” Buaji explained. “There is a lot of last-minute cleaning and packing every night, Nandkisore.”

Payal placed a huge dish with potato curry on the table. Steam rose from it, filling the room with the fragrance of spices.

“Titliyya will come now,” Buaji chuckled. “She will fly here for her Jiji’s aloo sabji.”

As if she had been called, Khushi walked in. “Jiji, you made aloo...” Her exclamation remained incomplete as she spied the devil in white looking at her and smirking.

He was still alive? And smirking? Khushi grit her teeth. She should have added some dishwashing liquid too to his tea!

All smiled at Khushi’s entrance. The Raizadas looked at Arnav and Khushi with great interest.

“The boys have gone to their shed to rest, Khussi?” Amma asked.

“Yes,” she replied, glaring at Arnav. Had he drunk the tea? No, he couldn’t have. He wouldn’t be alive now if he had. So he must have thrown it out. But how could she be sure? She couldn’t very well ask him!

Arnav lifted a brow to irritate her further.

All sat down for their meal.

Arnav continued to stare at Khushi, challenging her to ask him about the tea. Khushi bit on her tongue to stop herself.

“Khushi, would you like a cup of tea?” Arnav asked, a smile twisting his lips.

All stared at Arnav with wide eyes.

“Tea? Now?” Amma asked in wonder.

“She drinks tea only in the morning and evening, babua,” Buaji informed him.

Khushi grit her teeth.

Anjali looked at Nani and Mami. All three studied Arnav’s marked attentions to Khushi.

“Err...Madhumatiji,” Nani began. “Are you looking for boys for Payal and Khussi?”

Madhumati, Garima and Sasi sighed.

“What is the use of looking for boys, Nandkisore?” Buaji asked. “Payaliyya won’t leave Khussi.”

“And Khussi won’t leave Satwik Mishtaan Bhandar,” Amma concluded.

“I am thinking of packing Satwik Mishtaan Bhandar in a box and giving it to the girls as dowry,” Sasi teased his daughters. “Then they may agree to marry.”

Payal blushed at her father’s teasing.

Khushi grimaced at the jibe.

“Bhy don’t you marry brothers, Hello Hi Bye Bye?” Mami suggested, her round eyes resting on an intent Arnav and an oblivious Akash who was relishing the paneer pieces in a sabzi.

“And you can start a branch of your shop in Delhi...or any other city you move to after marriage,” Anjali suggested.

All looked at the two girls.

Payal flushed and looked at the poori on her plate.

Khushi was too busy battling Arnav with her eyes to worry about her future.

“Only God knows what is in store for them,” Sasi said.

“Let’s see, Sasiji, if we can find boys for them,” Nani said, looking hopefully at Arnav and Akash.

Khushi thought furiously. How could she take revenge for the veg pijja? This Delhiwalla Diabetic had to be taught a lesson!

Talk of marriage went right over her head.

Part 7

It was midnight.

Arnav sat reading in his comfortable room, the table lamp giving him ample light. He looked at the printed page and saw Khushi’s furious face on it.

He smiled softly.

He heard a footfall outside his door. He quickly extinguished the light, dumped the book and lay back on the recliner, his eyes mere slits.

The door opened slightly. Through it slipped a dark, cloaked figure.

His lips twitched in amusement. Khushi was up to something, he thought.

As he watched, the figure came closer to him. It was Khushi with a dark blanket over her head. Only her face was visible. One hand held a torch.

He tried to hide his smile.

Khushi looked at her sleeping adversary with a strong sense of ill-use. “Hey Devi Maiyya! He is in deep sleep at night too? Who is he, Kumbhkarna’s brother?”

Arnav had to struggle not to laugh.

“Now how can I scare him without waking him up? And how can I wake him up without bursting a bomb under his chair?” Khushi asked herself. “Look at him sleeping. Did he come all the way to Lucknow from Delhi to sleep?”

She bent, placed her hand on his shoulder and shook him lightly.

He remained still.

“Khushi Kumari Gupta, you can’t give up at this last minute. Uthao isse,” she told herself. She bent, caught hold of his shoulder and shook him with all her might.

The comatose-appearing Raizada moved with the speed of a striking serpent. Her torch fell to the floor with a clatter; her blanket dropped to the floor.

She lay on his recliner under him, staring at his eyes that were dancing with unholy glee.

She parted her lips to protest but her words remained unsaid as he moved closer still, crowding her, his arms surrounding her, his hard warmth pressing down on her.

“Hey Devi Maiyya!” Khushi whispered.

Part 8