253. Laad Governor and Afghan Jalebi (Part 20-21)

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 20

Khushi entered her room, shut and locked the room and burst into tears. Sitting on the floor with her back against the door, she sobbed and wailed, her head buried in her hands.

ASR stood in the kitchen, his fists and jaw clenched. Her tear. That single, lone tear. It had corroded his—his...He looked down at where his heart was supposed to be...his heart. It had corroded his heart like acid.

The vision of some other man hugging Khushi rushed into his mind. His heartbeat picked up, his BP shot up. He stared ahead, his fists and jaw clenched, the muscles of his neck corded, his whole body tense and ready to attack, prepared to mow down that imaginary man. He saw Khushi walking with, leaning against another man as he had led Lavanya out. No, no, his mind chanted.

Now he understood what Khushi had seen and how much it had hurt her. His eyes moistened, his throat closed up.

He heard voices of his family and the Guptas in the courtyard. They were back from their walk.

He blinked away the tears and went to sit in the living room.

Mami ran to him. “Arnav bitwa, did you talk to Khussi?”

“Yes, mami,” he replied.

“And?” she asked.

“Maybe she needs time to think,” Arnav suggested, not willing to let Khushi abandon him to his fate.

“Think? Aur Titliya?” buaji asked, laughing.

Sasi frowned. Khushi liked Arnav, had turned away a good proposal out of love for him, wanted to marry a boy like him, had described him as her ideal husband. He had guessed they had unresolved issues, but...Why on earth did she need time? What was wrong?

Mami turned worried eyes to nani. “If she thinks too much, she may refuse him, saasumma,” she whispered.

Anjali took her Chotey to her room and asked him, “Kya hua?”

“She refused,” he admitted.

Anjali paled. “Why?”

“Lisa and Lavanya,” he admitted.

Anjali smiled wryly. “You told me once that your girlfriends need not concern me or our familly, that they have nothing to do with us. Ab kya khayal he, Chotey? Do they matter? Do they affect us and your life?”

He swallowed hard and turned away to stand facing the shut door.

“It is not really possible to compartmentalise life, Chotey. Work in one big box, girlfriends in another small box, your family in another box,” Anjali said softly.

He looked down. What could he tell her? That he hadn’t lived for thirty years and that he was just beginning to live? That he had felt nothing except anger and pain for thirty years and was starting to feel more only now?

“It has been years since our parents died, Chotey,  but we haven’t managed to leave them behind. We still feel the pain, the helplessness, the loss as acutely as we did when it happened. You may want to leave your girlfriends in your past and move on, but is running away from your past really possible?” she asked.

He looked at her, his eyes sharp.

“Waise, what if your regret marrying Khushiji, want to return to a bachelor life?” Anjali asked softly, fearing an angry outburst.

“Never,” Arnav said. His voice was low but his conviction was cent percent. “Lavanya, Lisa, they don’t matter to me. Never did. But Khushi matters. A lot.”

“How will you convince her that you will be a good husband to her?” Anjali asked, happy that he had finally determined what and who mattered to him.

“I don’t know, di,” he admitted  slowly, sighing. “I can never find the words I need—or the time.”

“Let’s give up and return to Delhi,” Anjali suggested, wanting to know his reaction.

“What the,” he exclaimed, horrified. “No way.”

“Khushiji doesn’t want you, is not willing to listen to you, can’t digest your past littered with girlfriends. I think we should give up on this lost cause and get back to Delhi. What about your work, Chotey?” Anjali asked, wanting to know the depth of his commitment.

“No,” he replied. “I will return to Delhi with Khushi. Not before.”

“What if she never gives you a chance? How long are you planning to stay here?” Anjali asked, a smile lurking in her eyes.

“As long as it takes. Di, you take the rest of them and return to Delhi. I will stay in touch with Aman. I can work from here,” Arnav said.

“Let’s hang on for a couple of days. After that, dekhte hein,” Anjali said, hugging him tightly before leaving.

                                              ***

Khushi emerged from her room a few minutes after the families returned from their walk, her face pale, her eyes bruised and pink after her bout of crying.

The Raizadas and her family must be waiting for her response to the proposal, she thought. But she didn’t want to speak to them. She painted a smile on her face and went into the kitchen, quickly making many delectable dishes for lunch.

Buaji and amma tried to talk to her, but she brushed them aside pleading having to make lunch.

Arnav looked at the strain on her face as they sat down to eat and felt his heart sink. How could he make her feel better? How and when could he tell her he was dead serious about marriage? That he had no desire to chase other girls. How could he show her what she meant to him?

After lunch, babuji called Khushi to his room.

She walked in reluctantly, knowing that he wanted to talk about Laad Governor.

“Khussi, shut the door,” babuji instructed softly.

She obeyed him and sat down on a stool by his feet.

“Did Arnav ask you to marry him?” babuji asked bluntly.

“Yes, babuji,” she replied, her voice low, subdued.

“Did you agree?” he asked.

“No, babuji,” Khushi replied, her chest aching.

Sasi’s eyes sharpened. “Why not? Don’t you like him, bitiya?”

“No, babuji,” she whispered, crying rivers inside.

“Why not, bitiya?” he asked. “He is everything you asked for.”

Khushi said nothing, just looked away. How could she sully her father’s ears with what the Laad Governor was?

“The height, the features, the clothes, the fragrance, the voice, the looks. He has everything you asked for. In fact,” Sasi looked at her with amusement in his eyes, “it was like you were describing him as your dream dulha.”

Khushi looked down at the fringe of her dupatta.

“You were very vocal while dismissing Abhishek. Why are you silent while refusing Arnav?” Sasi asked.

Khushi said nothing.

“Give me a reason, bitiya. The Raizadas will want to know kya kami he Arnav mein.”

‘Kami nahi, zyada he,’ Khushi thought. ‘Too many girls kaating chakkar around him as though he were a piece of gud (jaggery) and they flies.’

“Khussi,” Sasi called her from her thoughts. “Bitiya, if you want to refuse him, I will never force you to marry him. But I need a reason to give the Raizadas. We can’t fob them off with something silly, bitiya. They are Payaliya’s family. We have to see them forever.”

Khushi nodded.

“Tum hi socho. After you refuse him, the Raizadas will definitely look for another girl and get him married off. We have to attend his wedding,” Sasi said, watching Khushi’s nails bite into her palms with interest. “We will marry you off to another man and he and his bride will attend your wedding.”

Khushi could cry. In fact, she was on the verge of tears.

“That is why I said, if we are refusing them, we need a solid reason. Rishte are meant forever,” Sasi said softly.

Khushi nodded.

“So tell me, why are you refusing him when he fits your idea of a dream dulha?” Sasi asked.

Khushi gulped and tried. “I don’t want to leave Lucknow,” she muttered.

“What if the next proposal is from Delhi? And the next from Bangalore? And the next from the US?” Sasi asked.

“I don’t like Delhi,” Khushi muttered.

Sasi refused to respond to this. He asked, “Do you dislike his family?”

Her wide eyes flew to his. “No, they are very nice, babuji,” she  said.

“And your jiji is there. You can live with her in the same house all your life. You won’t have to limit yourself to seeing her once a year or maybe once in three years if you are based elsewhere.”

Khushi looked down at her jooti. But the price she would have to pay for this convenience was too terrible, she thought.

Sasi coughed.

“Kya hua, babuji?” she asked anxiously, jumping up to pat his back.

“Kuch nahi bitiya,” he said slowly. “Pata nahi kyon, my head and the back of my neck hurt a bit today.”

“I will heat some oil and massage your head and neck for you, babuji,” she told him.

Sasi nodded.

Khushi ran to the kitchen and returned with warm oil. She rubbed it on her father’s head and nape and pressed the muscles with her fingers.

“I am blessed to have two wonderful daughters,” Sasi said softly, his eyes shut.

Khushi smiled slightly as she continued to massage him.

“Khussi, when we adopted you,” he began.

Khushi looked at him.

“Many relations said that we were making a mistake. Lekin, listen to me carefully, Khussi, that was the best decision I took in my entire life,” he said slowly.

Tears filled her eyes.

Sasi said softly, “I am not worried about Payaliya. The Raizadas will look after her. But if something happens to me, who will look after you?”

Khushi swallowed her tears and said, “Your shop will look after me. Your sweets will look after me. And nothing will happen to you. I have made a deal with Devi Maiyya.”

Sasi smiled. “If you don’t want to marry Arnav, don’t. But don’t refuse him outright. Think about it. Take a few days to decide. I don’t want you to regret your decision later. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, babuji,” Khushi said.

“I will call Maniramji, the broker and ask him to bring more proposals for you. I want to send you to your sasuraal as soon as possible,” Sasi said.

“You are in a hurry to throw me out, babuji?” Khushi asked, pouting.

“How can a father die in peace when his daughter is unmarried?” he asked, a smile on his face. “Enough, Khussi. Your arms must be aching now. Go, take rest. Let me sleep a while.”

“Yes, babuji,” Khushi said. She left him and returned to the kitchen.

Buaji and Garima caught her in the kitchen.

“What have you decided, Khussi?” Garima asked.

“Let me think about it,” Khushi said as her father wanted her to.

“Isme sochne wali kaa baat he, Nandkisore?” buaji asked. “Handsome ladka he, from Payaliya’s family, so sanskaari, hard working, doesn’t smile too much. He fits all your demands. Now what is wrong, Sanka Devi?”

Khushi bit her cheek to avoid telling them exactly how sanskaari he was!

Garima nodded. “You will never get so good a boy again, Khussi.”

If this was the best she could get, then she was doomed, Khushi thought.

“So polite, so mature, so responsible at such a young age, Nandkisore,” buaji continued with her paean.

Khushi nodded. Only his girlfriends knew how polite and sanskaari he was. If she wasn’t so averse to having her family know what kind of character-dheela man he was, she would have dhoond dhoondke invited all those chote kapdewali girls to Gomti Sadan and introduced them to her family. Then what would buaji have said?

“You can be with Payaliya all your life, Khussi. You will never be alone, even after our death,” Garima tried to sway her decision.

“I will think about it,” Khushi conceded.

“Poor Sasi babua. He will be so happy if you agree, Khussi,” buaji said.

Khushi said, “I will get the clothes from the line, buaji. It looks like rain.” She ran away and up the steps to the terrace.

Nani caught her on the steps.

“Khussi bitiya, where are you going?” she asked.

“Ji, to the terrace to collect dry clothes. Did you want something, naniji?” Khushi asked.

“I want to talk to you. I will come up with you,” nani said and walked up with her.

Nani watched Khushi as she gathered the clothes one by one and folded them in a neat pile.

“Khussi bitiya, Chotey asked you to marry him, didn’t he?”

“Ji.”

“Chotey said you are thinking about his proposal, considering it.”

‘Had he said that to his family?’ Khushi thought. She had refused to marry him. Bluntly. Unequivocally. Why had he told his family that she was thinking about it? The liar, the immoral, girlfriend-hugging liar! Poor naniji. She had no idea what kind of a lecher her grandson was. Out of pity for the elderly lady, Khushi decided to agree with her.

“Ji,” she replied.

“Khussi bitiya, please say yes,” nani requested. “Itne saal ho gaye, bitiyaa, but I have never seen Chotey show any interest in any girl.”

‘Naniji,’ Khushi asked in her mind. ‘Why should he show interest in one girl when he has a legion of girlfriends?’

“He will look after you well, bitiya,” nani promised. “He is a good boy except for his anger.”

‘And his girlfriends and his sharp tongue and his paranoia about me,’ Khushi added silently.

“He works hard, Khussi bitiya and forgets to take care of his health,” Nani said. “I hope you will stop him from killing himself with work and make sure he eats healthy.”

Khushi smiled and nodded, thinking, ‘Why should I do that, naniji? The girlfriend he has dinner with on a particular day should see that he eats healthy. And who knows if he is working at the office? He might be gallivanting around town with the flavour of the moment while you think he is killing himself with work.’

Nani hugged Khushi. “All our hopes rest with you, Khussi bitiya,” she said.

Khushi looked skyward. Poor nani! She had no idea she was asking Khushi to destroy her life and peace by marrying the Romeo of Delhi.

She and nani descended the steps. As nani moved away, mami caught hold of her. ‘Here we go again,’ Khushi thought.

“Khussi, I bant to talk to you,” mami said.

“Yes, mamiji?” Khushi asked.

“Bhat have you decided about hamre Arnav bitwaa?” mami asked.

“Nothing, mamiji,” Khushi said.

“Bhy not?” mami asked. “Yes keh dio, Khussi. You won’t get another boy like him anytime now.”

“You are right, mamiji,” Khushi said. “I will never get a groom like him. Lekin ek doubt he, mamiji.”

“Kaa doubtwaa he?” mami asked. “Pooch lio. I bill answer.”

“Who were the girls we saw with him in Delhi?” Khushi asked innocently.

“Girlswaa?” mami asked, her painted eyes wide in shock at such a frontal attack.

“Ji, girlswaa,” Khushi confirmed.

“Must be his office wali workers,” mami tried to squirm out of the situation.

“Acha?” Khushi asked doubtfully. “But will they wear chote kapde and then cling to him and hug him in public?”

Mami gulped. “Hum abhi aavat he, Hello Hi Bye Bye,” she muttered before running away.

“Khushiji,” came Anjali’s call.

‘Oh no, the next one’ she thought. Khushi wanted to hit her own head against the nearest wall.

“Chotey said that you don’t want to marry him,” Anjali tackled the issue directly.

“Ji,” Khushi replied equally bluntly.

“Is it because of Lisa and Lavanya, Khushiji?” Anjali asked.

“Ji,” Khushi replied after a moment’s shock.

Anjali lowered her eyes. She said softly, “I don’t blame you. Lekin if you would listen to Chotey, then maybe you wouldn’t be so averse to marrying him.”

Khushi said nothing. ‘How can talking about his girlfriends make them vanish?’ she thought.

“He is my brother, my blood. But that doesn’t make me blind to his faults, Khushiji. I can’t fault you for not wanting to marry a man who looks like an unprincipled rogue.”

Khushi looked down at the clothes in her hand.

“But he is not what he appears to be. He is not perfect, Khushiji. Nor is he a womaniser. He is a very lonely boy trapped in a man’s body, a boy who hasn’t slept in peace for years.”

Khushi said nothing, just stared at Anjaliji’s face.

“Please take the time to understand him, Khushiji. That’s all I want you to do. Will you do it for me?” Anjali asked.

Khushi was spared having to reply to this plea when buaji called her.

                                                  ***

NK hailed Khushi when she was making rotis for dinner.

“Yes, Nanheji?” she asked in resignation.

“Khushiji, don’t marry Nannav if you don’t want to,” he advised.

“Ji?” Khushi asked, astonished.

“Come with me to Sydney. I will find you a hundred boys,” NK promised.

Khushi looked away. Here she was struggling with one man and Nanheji wanted to fill her life with hundreds?

“But,” NK paused.

“Ji?” she asked.

“But I can’t guarantee that they will all smell of sandalwood or musk.”

Khushi looked away. How did he know?

“They may not be able to dance to Badtameez Dil, Khushiji,” NK said thoughtfully. “But no problem. I will make them dance to Rude Boy.”

“Ji nahi, shukriya,” Khushi muttered. “But how did you know of my—my demands?” she asked him directly.

“Buaji and your amma told us while were having breakfast, Khushiji,” NK revealed.

Khushi wanted to burn the world. He knew! That lady-killer knew! How would she face him?

“Khushiji, can I have Preetho’s number?” NK asked bashfully, his cheeks pink.

Khushi heard nothing as she saw herself hitting Arnav Singh Raizada on his head with a huge hammer.

                                            ***

Khushi avoided Arnav, only to find him sitting with her babuji in the courtyard in the dark after dinner.

“Yes, bitiya?” Sasi asked, gasping for breath.

“Shall I serve your glass of badam milk here, babuji?” she asked. He hadn’t eaten anything at dinner.

“No, bitiya. I don’t want anything. Serve Arnav bitwaa here,” Sasi instructed.

Khushi nodded, turned and walked away.

“Khushi,” came the soft call.

She stopped as if shot. Was he calling her? Why? To request her to marry him in the presence of her father?

“Babuji,” he called urgently.

Khushi turned around to find her father slumped in his chair, unconscious.

                                              ***

Khushi stood outside the Casualty, watching over her father admitted there with eyes wet with tears.

The doctor joined them.

The Guptas and Raizadas crowded around him.

“He is better,” the doctor said. “His BP had shot up.”

Buaji and Garima wept soundlessly. Nani, mami and Anjali held them close. Payal was near Akash, their hands clasped. Khushi, NK and Arnav stood like islands.

“How?” Khushi asked, forlon, desolate. “How can his BP shoot up? Babuji always takes such good care of his health.”

The doctor said, “Stress could have triggered it. He is under medication now. Let him sleep. When he wakes up, we will run more tests.”

Khushi paled.

“Why don’t you go home and get some sleep?” the doctor asked them. “Leave one person here.”

“Ji,” nani replied.

The doctor left.

“I will stay,” Khushi volunteered.

“Naa, Khussi. Go home. Garima and I will stay, Nandkisore,” buaji said.

Garima nodded.

“Akash and I will stay, buaji,” Arnav said softly but authoritatively, taking charge. “They may ask us to get medicines for babuji. You can’t go out at night. It is not safe.”

“Yes,” nani agreed. “Madhumatiji, Garimaji, Payaliya, Khussi bitiya, please, let’s go home.”

“NK, drive them home,” Arnav ordered.

“Yes, Nannav.”

“Yes, chaliye buaji, amma,” Anjali insisted.

“But,” Khushi protested.

“You can’t sit here all night, Khushiji,” Anjali said softly. “Let the boys wait. We can return in the morning.”

“I can’t leave babuji alone. I will wait here,” Khushi said.

“Khushi, go home,” Arnav said.

She shook her head.

“If babuji finds out that you were sitting here all night when he wakes up tomorrow morning, his stress levels will go up,” Arnav said simply. “Do you want that?”

“No,” Khushi had to say.

“Give me your phone number. I will call you every hour to report,” Arnav said.

Khushi quickly gave him her number.

“”Every hour,” she reminded him.

“Every hour,” he promised.

He called every hour on the dot.

Khushi answered every time on the second ring.

“How is he?” would be her first question.

“Sleeping,” was his answer.

Once he said, “Khushi, sleep. Or you will fall sick.”

“I can’t,” she said.

“Nothing will happen to him just because you slept, Khushi,” he comforted her.

“I have to watch over him. He is all I have,” Khushi admitted.

“Khushi, he is fine. They may discharge him tomorrow,” Arnav tried to soothe her.

“You don’t understand,” she wept. “When the whole world stood against me, only he stood for me.”

Arnav frowned. “What?” he asked.

“When my parents died, I had no one,” she confessed, tears running down her cheeks.

“What the,” he breathed. “Your amma, babuji, buaji—Khushi?”

“I was eight when my parents died in an accident,” she said hoarsely.

He sat staring at the dull wall of the hospital corridor, unable to believe what he was hearing.

“Amma is actually my mother’s sister. Babuji decided to adopt me. His family told him not to, that I would be additional expense to him. He fought with them and brought me to their house, Gomti Sadan. Jiji is my cousin,” she said in a tear-soaked voice.

He was speechless.

“But they love me a lot,” she added.

He nodded. He had seen it in Payal’s eyes, in buaji’s teasing, in amma’s concern, in babuji’s voice.

“Babuji means everything to me, everything,” Khushi whispered. “if something happens to him...”

“Nothing will happen, Khushi,” Arnav promised.

“How do you know?” she asked.

“I know. Trust me,” Arnav said.

“What if you are wrong?” she asked.

“You can punish me as you deem fit,” he said rashly.

She thought for a moment. “I will cut off your hair,” she threatened.

“Fine,” he agreed.

“Make you bald.”

“Done.” He sacrificed his mane. “Now go to sleep. I will call you at eight.”

“No, at six,” she asked. “I have to start breakfast and pack food to bring to the hospital.”

“Don’t. We will return home when you get here.”

“Do you want me to bring anything for you?” she asked.

“No. Go to sleep.”

“Alright.”

“How are amma and buaji?”

“Must be crying. Jiji fell asleep crying.”

After a long silence, he said, “Good night.”

“Shubh ratri.”

Khushi made to lie down by Payal but thought better of it. Maybe she should see if buaji and amma had slept before sleeping, she thought.

She walked to buaji’s room on silent feet.

Amma was sitting up. Buaji was lying down, a red cloth tied around her forehead.

“He was so worried, jiji,” Garima said in a choked voice.

Buaji sighed. “What can we do, Garima? Only Nandkisore can make Khussi agree to this marriage. We can’t force her to accept Arnav bitwaa.”

“Payaliya’s babuji knew something was wrong when he felt dizzy last month. He went to Sharma doctor in the next lane. Doctor saheb said he had to do many tests, that something was wrong with his heart,” Garima said. “I told him to go for a full check up, but he said he would do it after Khushi’s shaadi. He thought it would be something serious and if he was sick, then he wouldn’t be able to arrange Khushi’s wedding.”

“The expense of a marriage, gold, gifts, Nandkisore. And dowry, if they ask for it. Sasi babua must have worried about it, wanted to do his duty before falling sick or being admitted.”

“Yes, jiji. But when she turned down Abhishek, he became worried if she would ever like anyone. Phir Arnav babua aaye. He thought Khussi would agree. Lekin,” Garima wiped a tear from her cheek.

“How can he not worry, Garima? He fought with all our relations for Khussi. Tomorrow if something happens to him, no one will take the effort to get her married or see that she is well-settled. Hai Re Nandkisore! What will happen to Sasi babua? What will happen to Titliya?”

Khushi turned and walked away, her eyes filled with tears, her heart aching. She couldn’t burden babuji, buaji and amma with her whims and fancies. Her future happiness was nothing compared to her babuji’s health and her family’s peace of mind.

She walked up the steps slowly to stand before nani’s room. 

She lifted a hand to knock on the door and paused.

‘Do you know what you are doing, Khussi?’ she asked herself.

‘Yes.’

‘You are setting yourself up for pain and disillusionment.’

‘Disillusionment happens to people with illusions. I have no illusions about Laad Governor.’

‘How will you manage if he runs after his girlfriends after your marriage?’

‘I have to. I can’t let babuji worry.’

‘Think before you choose. You are making your own life hell.’

‘There is no choice. There is only one way out.’

She knocked on the door, hoping that naniji wasn’t asleep.

“Come in,” nani called.

Khushi entered the room.

“Khussi bitiya?” nani asked anxiously. “Kaa hua? Did Chotey call from the hospital. How is Sasiji?”

“He is fine, naniji. I came to tell you something else,” Khushi said softly.

Nani tugged her arm and made her sit by her on the bed.

“Kaa he, bitiya?” nani asked, her eyes kind.

“Woh—I am ready to marry Arnavji,” she said in a rush. If she stopped, paused, she wouldn’t be able to say it.

Nani stared at her in shock for a moment. Then she hugged Khushi. “I am so happy, Khussi bitiya, so happy. Tum chinta mat karo. Chotey will be a son to your babuji.”

“I was thinking, naniji, maybe we can have the wedding soon,” Khushi said. Why delay the inevitable?

“Haan, haan, kyon nahi?” nani asked.

“I will let you sleep now, naniji,” Khushi said.

“Dream sweet dreams of your future, bitiya. Chotey will never let go of your hand,” nani promised her.

Khushi nodded and left the room.

A few minutes later her phone rang.

“Hello?” she asked.

“Khushi, nani said that,” Arnav was unsure he had heard correctly.

“I am ready to marry you,” Khushi said softly.

A long moment later, he asked, “Why?”

“Does it matter, Arnavji?” she asked. “You want to marry me. I am willing.”

“Khushi, yesterday you said,” he began.

“Forget yesterday. I was being foolish,” she replied. “Do you want dowry?”

“No, of course not!” he exclaimed.

“Fine. There are a few things I want you to do, Arnavji.”

“Yes?” he asked.

“I want the wedding as soon as  possible, as soon as babuji returns home.”

“Sure.” Laddoos phooted in his heart.

“I want a quiet, small wedding. No sagai, mehendi, sangeet nonsense. Babuji won’t be able to take it. Just the wedding. And that too at home. Is that alright with you?” she asked.

“That’s fine.” He wouldn’t have to clamber on a horse, thank God!

Khushi explained lightly, “Babuji is worried about my shaadi. I don’t want to aggravate his illness.”

He wanted to marry her that moment, that very second, make her kind heart his. But he had to ask, “Khushi, you are sure, aren’t you?”

“Very sure,” she whispered, her mind full of her babuji’s kind face. “There is no other way out.”

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.

Rash's interpretation:

Part 20

Lonely is not a feeling you get when you are alone... Lonely is a feeling you get when no one cares, or the person you care doesn’t care about you.... When Khushi rejected his proposal Arnav Singh Raizada never felt lonelier than he was at that very second… But his never say die attitude was his savior…

When someone comes into your life, crosses it as guardian angels and changes everything, raises your standards, makes you laugh, makes you feel at home... even though you are not biologically linked, you feel like you never want to let them go... connections can't be explained off words alone... It's a soul thing... a feel... It is the energy that exists when they feel seen, heard and valued... when they can give and receive without judgement... when they derive sustenance and strength from it... This is the connection Khushi and Shashi have... This is the connection Khushi has with her family…

Khushi has a heart to heart conversation with Arnav that gave him a glimpse of her vulnerability... her love for her family, her Babuji… Vulnerability attracts honesty which Arnav gave in the form of assurances of not letting anything untoward happen to her Babuji… and honesty attracts soul connections...  The most basic and powerful way to connect to another is to listen... Arnav did so and listened to Khushi giving her his full attention. His acceptance of her pain in silence is more powerful towards healing and connecting than the words that he could ever utter...

Over hearing the state of her father who is her guide, her mentor, Khushi realized… her life and the path she treads is hers and hers alone... Others may walk it with her, but no one can walk it for her... Decisions are the hardest moves to make, especially when it is a choice between what you want and what is right... The choices before her was to marry Arnav and not add stress to her Babuji or to reject Arnav and feel that she had done the right thing by her but seeing her Babuji falter in his health… Her values were clear to her and thus making decision became easier even after knowing her decision has certain repercussion that has to be borne by her… for she cannot change once she has opted for a certain path…

But her only way to deal with it is to be strong... because one lives in the hope…that the things will get better... It maybe stormy now but it never rains forever... are the thoughts to seek solace from…

Loved the long update Smita... Appreciate you writing it amidst cooking a banquet for 40!

Part 21

“Chotey, you know the rasms in our family,” Anjali said, a big smile on her face.

“Ujj the muscles you made in the akhada, Arnav bitwaa. Udha lio,” mami exhorted him.

Akash and Payal beamed at him.

NK said laughing, “One, two, three, shuru ho jao, Nannav. Let me see if you have the bum.”

ASR raised one brow.

"Dum, NK bhai," Akash said with a sigh.

Arnav bent to lift Khushi in his arms. She jumped in shock.

“Put your arm around my shoulder, Khushi,” he whispered in her ear.

She obeyed reluctantly, only to be swept up. She found herself horizontal in his strong arms, her head against his heart, her body sheltered by his.

It felt...odd.

She looked at his face, her eyes wide, perturbed.

He carried her into the house amidst the cheering of his family and walked up the steps, his feet sure, his hold secure.

“Don’t worry. I won’t let you fall,” he whispered as she looked down from a height with fear. Loudly he said, “Good night.”

“Not so phast, bitwaa,” mami laughed as nani, Payal and Anjali followed them.

Akash and NK, out of pity for Arnav, stayed in the living room.

The ladies caught Arnav and Khushi at the entrance to his room.

“Set her down on the bed, Chotey,” nani instructed him.

Arnav obligingly strode in and lowered Khushi carefully on sit on his bed.

“Ab jao, dulhe raaja, hamre natkhat broom,” mami said. “Let’s decorate the room.”

Arnav nodded and left, only to be followed out by Anjali.

“Chotey?”

He turned around to face her.

“It happened so fast, sab kuch. Chotey, why did Khushiji change her mind? I tried asking her, but she just smiled. Tumhe pata he?” Anjali asked softly.

“For her babuji,” he replied simply.

“Kya?” Anjali asked in disbelief.

“I think babuji was worried about her shaadi. He fell sick and Khushi associated his illness with her refusal to accept me. She married me out of guilt,” he explained.

“Chotey, yeh sab kya he?” Anjali asked, flabbergasted.

“There is one more thing you need to know, di. Khushi is adopted. Her parents died when she was young and babuji adopted her against the wishes of his family. Her mother was amma’s sister. Payal is her cousin,” he said casually.

Anjali’s mouth remained open.

“Khushi didn’t want to vex the family that sheltered her, didn’t want to trouble them. She wanted babuji to recover. That’s why she decided to marry me,” he said.

"Tumhe ye sab pata tha?” Anjali asked. “Before you married her?”

“Of course. Why should she suddenly decide to marry a man she couldn’t stand the sight of?” he asked directly.

“Chotey, how will you manage? Matlab, Khushiji hates you and,” Anjali shook her head in bewilderment.

“She doesn't hate me. She doesn't know me. I wanted a chance to win her, some time, some space. I got it. I am going to use it. And Khushi will help me,” he said confidently.

“What?” Anjali asked. “She will help you? Khushiji?”

“Yes. Di, Khushi takes marriage seriously. Family means everything to her. She values everything I used to despise. She will stick to the promises she made today before God whatever happens. She will give her hundred percent to make this marriage happen. I will just have to give my two hundred,” he explained. “And I am ready.”

“Chotey, this is a big risk,” Anjali warned him.

“There was nothing else I could do, di. I could have tried to explain to her what I was and why I was so, but I didn’t know how to. I am so bad with words that--di, I could have explained till I was blue in the face, but she needn’t have believed me. Now I don’t have to look for the words. I just have to show her how much she means to me. I have the time, I have the right. I don’t have to fear that some Abhishek is going to walk in and steal her away from me.”

“Chotey, come in. Khussi bitiya is waiting for you,” nani invited as she, Payal and mami left the room.

Arnav made to move towards his room.

Mami quickly leaned sideways and whispered, “Arnav bitwaa, sambhalke. You gots a gap and slipped into khussi's liphe. Be berry careful Khussi doesn’t throw you outs. Khussi knowjj about the girlswaa. Agar woh angriyaa gayi with you, it bill be like walking on burning angaare, woh bhi without chappal. And Payaliya won’t serve parathe to you in the morning. Samjhe, Arnav bitwaa?”

“Yes, mami.”

“All the besht, Arnav bitwaa.”

She moved away, leaving Arnav to walk into his bedroom.

The room was dark, lit only by candles. The bed was decorated with strings of fragrant flowers and Khushi sat in the centre of the bed, ghoonghat over her head.

He stood for a moment taking in the beauty, the sacredness of the scene before his eyes. His room had changed, his bed had changed, his life had changed. He and Khushi were about to embark on a journey together, a course fraught with dangers.

He walked to the bed on soft feet, parted the strings of flowers with his hands and sat down by her.

She lowered her covered head.

“Khushi,” he called, his low voice melding with the soft, night sounds of his garden and the hiss of the candle flames.

She lifted her head slightly. Her right hand clasped her left on her knees.

“Shall I lift the ghoonghat?” he asked.

She nodded. They couldn’t sit like this all night anyway.

He lifted the veil and sat staring at her, his breath caught somewhere in the vicinity of his heart.

Her eyes fell; her lips trembled.

Feeling his eyes on her face, she struggled to breathe, fought to sit there before him. She badly wanted to get up and run away.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered. “Like you were made for me.”

Her heart stopped.

How many girls had heard the same words from his practised tongue?

Her whole body trembled in a paroxysm of grief and fear. What would she do if he ran after girls after their marriage? She would be stuck in a terrible marriage with no space to manoeuvre. And she couldn’t even say that she hadn’t known he was a libertine. She had seen with her own eyes what he was, had known him to be promiscuous. She couldn’t complain to her parents, couldn’t go crying to them. Her goose was well and truly cooked—and served.

Tears filled her eyes and in spite of all her attempts to hold them in, they poured down her cheeks like the Ganga and the Yamuna combined.

“Khushi,” came his shocked cry.

Her body shook with sobs.

The next thing she knew was that his arms were around her, pulling her gently towards him. He cradled her body against his, tucked her head in the crook of his neck and cupped the back of her head.

“Cry, Khushi,” he said softly. “It has been a terrible week. Babuji’s illness and hospitalisation, the decision to marry, babuji returning home, our shaadi at home....I watched you smiling to make everyone feel better, Khushi. You never cried.”

Her body heaved under the force of her sobs.

“Cry. I will hold you,” said the Arnav Singh Raizada who had never comforted anyone in his life, let alone a girl.

Khushi took the invitation at face value and cried against his shoulder till there were no tears left in her. He held her quietly, rubbing her back, smoothing her hair, tucking her closer in his hold.

When she was done, he fished out a hanky and handed it over to her. She dried her face with trembling hands.

“I am sorry,” she whispered hoarsely.

“For what?” he asked.

Her eyes filled again.

“Chodo,” he told her. “Khushi, there is something I have been wanting to give you for some time.” He tried to distract her.

It worked.

“Kya?” she asked.

“It is a surprise. Get up and change your clothes. This stuff,” he pointed to her jewellery, “must be uncomfortable?” he asked.

She nodded vigorously.

“Let’s get you out of them,” he decided.

He watched Khushi remove her ghoonghat, her earrings, her maang tikka, her bangles and her waist band. As she struggled with the fastening of her necklace, he helped her out. Once all her jewellery was off, he said, “Khushi, change into something comfortable. It has been a long day. I will get your surprise for you.”

She nodded.

Khushi opened her suitcase, took out her white suit and moved to the bathroom with it.

When she returned minus the heavy red and green lehenga and in the simple white suit, he was standing by the window, looking out at the garden. He had switched on a bulb and the room was bathed in mellow, golden light. He had blown dead the candles to her relief.

“Khushi, sit down,” he pointed to the bed.

Khushi crawled on to the bed.

He joined her.

He looked at her ankles. Only one had an anklet.

Seeing him look at her ankles, she said, “They were my amma’s, my real amma’s. I lost one.” She sighed. “I didn’t want to remove this.”

“Close your eyes, Khushi,” he murmured.

“Kyon?” she asked.

“How can I surprise you if your eyes are open?” he asked reasonably.

“Alright,” she conceded. She shut her eyes.

She felt movement near her feet.

She said, “Waise, I am scared of the dark.”

“Acha?” he asked.

“Yes. And of speeding vehicles.”

“It is good you are not a racing driver,” he remarked, feeling a smile dancing on his lips.

Khushi frowned at his ill-timed levity.

“I am scared of lightning too,” she confessed.

“Aur kuch?” he asked, his lips quirking.

She frowned. “I can’t remember anything else right now.”

“Koi baat nahi. You have lots of time to think about it,” he murmured, trying to hide a smile. “Open your eyes.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him. He was looking at her ankles. She looked down and her eyes widened.

He had fastened her missing anklet while she had been blabbering.

Her mouth fell open.

“I found it in your room after you left,” he confessed. “It was on the bed.”

“You kept it?” she asked, her voice a mere breath.

He shrugged. “I thought of throwing it away. But then I thought if I ever were to become a pauper, I could pawn this and become a billionaire again,” he tried to joke, his face still serious.

She gasped.

He shrugged again, his eyes dancing.

“I—I was looking for it.” Her lips trembled as a precursor to the next bout of weeping.

He looked at her beautiful face and her creamy, silky cheeks. Without volition he leaned forward and pressed his warm lips to her cheek, gifting her with his first kiss ever.

She stared at him in shock, her hand cupping the spot.

He too stared at her, his mind lost in the wonderful sensation of feeling her warm and soft skin against his hard lips. No wonder people kissed, he thought.

He looked at her, desperately wanting to kiss her again...and again...and again.

But she looked shell shocked. It was time to give her a break.

“Shall we get some sleep?” he asked.

She nodded absently, her mind and body still stuck on that kiss.

Part 21

All roads that lead to success have to pass through hard work boulevard at some point...

For Arnav marrying a reluctant Khushi is not a punishment... It’s an unexpected reward and now his strength and his pleasure, thereby giving him the much needed window to redeem himself of his deeds, of his past and the assumed deeds too. He is taking a risk... He knows that if he doesn't take a chance, he doesn't stand one and not everyone gets another chance like he got.... So he has set himself a goal of winning over his wife... Chance is always powerful... If an angler lets his hook always be cast, in the pool least expected, there will be a fish.... Since Khushi is now bound by matrimony to him, he has all the chances to rectify his image in her eyes and show her how much he values her in his life... without the fear of someone else poaching on his territory…

Khushi had the three C's of life thrust on her at the same time... She had to make her Choices, take Chances and  make Changes in her life... The theme Nafrat paas aane na de and Mohabbat door jaane na de once again plays its part… Khushi though despises what Arnav stands for is attracted towards him… The truth of being an adopted child came from her…  For Guptas’ she is their daughter and that’s it… She is a Gupta to the hilt so they don’t have any other thought on it… Khushi’s vulnerabilities are her love for her family and her love towards Arnav though not yet acknowledged fully… Her love for her Babuji makes her tell Arnav about her not being a Gupta by birth… Though she despises Arnav and fights against the attraction she feels towards him, she acknowledges this fact of being adopted only to him…

Anjali who is apprehensive now knowing the fact Khushi is not really willing to accept Arnav as her life partner is clueless as to what made Khushi change her decision so quickly… Arnav’s input on it stuns her as he is privy to the facts which she had never even dreamed off. The knowledge that both Arnav and Khushi have entered the matrimonial bond with their eyes open and both are going to make it work, giving this their best shot and Arnav more so, was a soothing balm to her frazzled nerves..…

Now that they are married, Khushi is apprehensive about her future… Will she be able to take a hold on her life? Will Arnav go back to his philandering ways…? These thoughts made her shed copious tears… Arnav not being privy to her thought, thought that it was due to the circumstances and the stress of the past week… He has taken the first tentative steps towards his redemption in her eyes by giving his support to Khushi with a shoulder to cry on… He continues it like a gentleman to make her comfortable… He restores her payal, the link with her biological mother… He places a kiss on her cheeks to show that she is very desirable in his eyes but without taking it further gives her the space she needs yet shows that anything else it would be with her consent and participation… He gives her thoughts to ponder over… The assumptions versus the facts… His behavior before with that of present… Awakening her mind to the sensual pleasures…

Path chalked out by Arnav is that of nurturing Khushi’s vulnerability… Her love for her Babuji, her family and her unacknowledged love towards him… Knowing his past as seen by her… thinking him to be a Cassanova… still she has opted to marry him… She has been honest and transparent of her likes and dislikes… Her vulnerability is the most accurate measurement of her courage… This vulnerability is the only bridge to build connection… What has made Arnav Singh Raizada come down from the high horse he was riding? He has realized with his brilliant acumen, though vulnerability sounds like truth and feels like courage… Truth and courage aren’t always comfortable, but they are not weakness… With his talk he makes her comfortable… His senses acknowledge, being vulnerable makes her beautiful all the more… and he acknowledges it with his kiss… But he knows he needs to change, be adaptable… He needs to accommodate her likings and dislikes and cannot browbeat her into acquiescence… So his path is to shower her with love and cherish her… Tender Loving Care to woo Khushi Arnav Singh Raizada…

Arnav Singh Raizada realization that he has found a diamond… a beautiful diamond that is worth more than a mountain of stones… is trusting his intuition… for brain can play tricks, heart can be blind but gut is always right…

Lovely update Smita… Brilliant move by ASR…