139. OS 5: A Playful Love (Chapter 10-)

Section 10

(Heer & Ranjha dialogues have been taken from Heer-Raanjha movie starring Raaj Kumar & Priya Rajvansh)

“Chotey, Khushiji, Heer was a beautiful Jat girl from a village called Jhang. She met Ranjha, a boy from the Takht Hazara village. She gave him the job of looking after her father’s cattle. He used to play the flute and she fell in love with him,” Anjali explained the epic love story as simply as she could.

“Lo, ho gaya pyaar! Aisen hi howath he. This ijj what happens bhen handsome boys are employed at home. I always tell my sister not to give jobs to good-looking boys. The girls at home will feel their hearts fluttering at their sight. Phir kya he, running marrijj, parents running afer the ladka-ladki...” Mami said, shaking her head.

“Your sister has only one son, NK. Are you scared he will run away with a handsome boy if his mother employs one?” Nani asked to tease Manorama.

Mami huffed in annoyance.

“Finally they were caught by Heer’s parents and her evil uncle, Kaido. They married off Heer to another man and Ranjha left the village, heart-broken,” Anjali explained.

“Poor guy!” NK sighed.

“Poor Heer too!” Nani said.

“Ranjha wandered about till he met Baba Gorakhnath and became a jogi, an ascetic. On his travels he met Heer again. This time her parents agreed to their marriage. On the wedding day, Heer’s uncle poisoned her food. She ate a poison-filled laddoo and dropped dead. On realising this, Ranjha ate a piece of the same sweet and fell dead by her side,” Anjali said.

“HP!” Mami screamed.

HP dropped the vessel he was holding and came running. “Kya hua, Mamiji?” he asked.

“Don’t make any more laddoos in this house. They are poison!” Mami said.

“What?” HP asked.

Nani hid her laughter.

“Mami, aap bhi na!” Anjali said.

“All laddoos don’t have poison, Maasi,” NK tried to explain.

“I can’t take the risk. I habe to see Arnav bitwaa’s marrijj, Akass bitwaa’s children...So no more laddoos, HP,” Mami fanned herself.

“As you say, Mamiji,” poor HP said before leaving.

Khushi looked at ASR. If she had a poisoned laddoo, she would stuff it in to his mouth and make sure that he ate it, she thought grumpily. ASR as Ranjha! Her fate! She mentally hit her head with her hand.

Arnav looked through the scenes.

“Why don’t you try out the dialogues, Chotey, Khushiji?” Anjali asked.

They nodded.

“Aap donon baith jaayiye. Sit down facing each other so that you can hear and see each other well,” Nani suggested.

They sat down on chairs.

ASR looked at Khushi and said in a low murmur, “Ek umeed kahi rang se lehrai hai ... dil mein aayi hai toh duniya mein bahaar aayi hai.”

Khushi swallowed hard at the look in his eyes and looked down at the papers in her hands.

“Why don’t you try this scene?” Anjali suggested, pointing out the para to Arnav and Khushi.

“Ab mukkadar se na koi gila

Gawala ban gaya, acha hua,” Arnav-Ranjha said.

I have no complaints against fate. It is good that I became a shepherd.

Khushi-Heer made to serve food to Arnav-Ranjha.

“Rehne do,” A-R said.

“Kyon?” K-H asked.

“Tu jab aa jaati he paas, bhook mar jaati he, jaag udhti he pyaas,” his voice was a mere murmur, a seductive whisper.

When you come close to me, hunger dies, a thirst awakens.

“To lassi piyo, lassi bhi he,” K-H said innocently.

Then drink lassi. I have brought lassi too.

“Tujh mein bholapan bhi he, shouki bhi he, dekh sakti kaash apna husn meri aanh se,” A-R breathed, his eyes tracing every feature of K-H’s face to linger on her parted, trembling lips.

“Tune sab paya he, aashiq ki nazar paayi nahi,” he made love to the words, his bedroom eyes resting on her captivated, mesmerised gaze.

You have everything, except the eyes of a lover.

“Jab se dekha tujhko, duniya ki taraf dekha nahi,

Since I saw you, I haven’t looked at the world.

Jabse chaha tujhko, apni yaad bhi aayi nahi,” he vowed.

Since I longed for you, I haven’t thought about myself.

Khushi-Heer swallowed hard.

“Tujhko paana zindagi he, tujhko khona maut he,

Winning you is life, losing you is death.

Aur kuch iske siwa, meri fasaane mein nahi,” he admitted.

There is nothing more to my story than this.

K-H’s eyes filled with tears. It was difficult listening to him mouthing words she badly wanted to hear from him when he didn’t mean them.

“Maang loonga mein khuda se ya chura loonga tujhe,

Tujhsa moti dusra, uske khazaane mein nahi...” he ended.

I will beg you from God or steal you away,

There is no other pearl like you in his treasure chest.

Khushi stared at his sincere-looking eyes with moist ones and then looked away.

Mami observed Arnav & Khushi and then clapped her hands loudly to disrupt the moment. If Khushi broke down, there was every chance that she would walk out of the show. That eventuality had to be avoided at all cost. The others joined in.

“I bas thinking, Saasumma,” Mami began.

“What, Manorama?” Nani asked.

“Hamre Arnav bitwaa and Khussi bitiyaa are moving forbard (forward) in the right direction...I mean, doing well. Acting acha kar rahe hein, bilkul Hrithik Roshan-Aishwarya ki tarah,” Mami said.

All nodded in full appreciation of Arnav and Khushi.

“They can manijj on their own, hamri zaroorat naahi he. We should focus on getting the set ready,” she looked meaningfully at Anjali.

“Mami, you are so right. We should leave them alone...I mean, alone to practice,” Anjali caught on.

“We have to get the stage ready, arrange chairs and refreshment...” NK added.

All stood up to leave.

“Chotey, you don’t need us to keep an eye on you, do you?” Anjali asked, a teasing glint in her eyes.

“We will be fine, Di,” ASR stated.

Thye left Arnav and Khushi alone.

Arnav walked closer to her and began, “Tere dil par haq mera he ya nahi,

Have I any right over your heart or not?

Dil dhadakne bhi laga he ya nahi,

Has your heart begun beating for me or not?

Pyar dhadkan mein chupa he ya nahi...”

Is love hidden within your heart beat or not?

Khushi jumped up from her seat.

“Kya hua, Khushi?’ he asked softly, his eyes on her heaving bosom and flustered expression.

“I..I will learn the lines at home,” she croaked.

“We can learn together,” the husky drawl added meanings to the words.

“Humein chalna chahiye,” Khushi muttered as she snatched her bag and ran out of the room.

“Kal milte hein, Khushi,” Arnav called after her, hope awakening in his heart.

Section 11

ASR walked in to the room set aside for him and Khushi to rehearse their lines.

Khushi was sitting on the bed, memorising her lines, a box of pakoras by her. She was munching and saying, “Ranjha, let this night never end, take me in to your arms, hold me tight.”

ASR smiled.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

Khushi almost fell off the bed. She had been worrying how to say these lines before hundreds of guests. She should have worried about saying them to one man.

She looked at his determined face with anxious eyes.

“Kuch nahi,” she whispered.

“If you say so,” ASR drawled. “Shall we begin?”

Khushi shook her head feeling very much like an animal led to the slaughter house.

ASR began,

“Usse kehna ke tum mera ek khwab ho, joh chamakta hai dil mein woh mahatab ho ... usse kehna ke gehuyon ke kheton ka rang, tilmilati hui titliyon ki umang ... usse kehna ke jharnon ka chanchal shabaab, ghat ki taazgi, aabroo-e-Chenab ... usse kehna ke jhoolon ki angdaiyan aur udhte dupatton ki shenaiyan ... usse kehna ki chakki ke geeton ki aag, ladkhadati jawaani, machalta suhaag ... usse kehna ke dulhanon ke kajal ki pyaas, pehle bhose ki garm aur thandi mithaas ... itni ranginiyon ko jab ikhja kiya, Heer kudrat ne tab tujhko pehda kiya...”

(Tell her that she is a dream of mine, she is the moonlight shining in my heart ... tell her that the colour in the wheat fields, the impulse in the butterflies flying around ... tell her that the nimble youth of the waterfalls, the freshness of the mountains, the honour of River Chenab ... tell her that stretching of the swings and the tune of the flying scarves ... tell her that the fire from the music of the mill, wavering youth, playful wedding ... tell her that the thirst of the kohl of the bride, the hot and cold sweetness of the first rain ... when all of these colourful things were collected, then God made you Heer)

Khushi sat down on the bed. His husky voice was detrimental to the health of her heart. ‘This is Ranjha speaking to Heer, Khushi, not ASR praising Khushi. Sambhalo apne aap ko,’ she told herself.

“Kya hua, Khushi?” the wicked voice asked.

“Nothing,” she croaked. “Nothing,” she repeated just to be sure.

“Then say your lines,” he propmpted her.

“My lines?” she asked.

ASR hid his smile. “You are Heer, aren’t you?”

“Heer? Yes, yes, I am Heer,” Khushi whispered.

“Shall I help you?” ASR asked, walking closer to her.

She jumped up from the bed.

“No,. No, I will manage,” she said in a panic.

“Let’s do another scene,” ASR suggested.

Khushi nodded.

ASR walked closer to her, his predatory eyes on her doe-like ones.

“Sharmati hai kyun aaj meri baahon mein aake? Le jaonga ek din tujhe doli mein bithake.”

Why are you feeling shy today in my arms? One day I will take you away in a palanquin

Khushi jumped two steps back.

ASR hid his laughter. “How can Ranjha hug Heer if she keeps on running away from him?”

“Why should he hug Heer? Why can’t he say whatever he has to say standing at a distance?” Khushi asked. “Jab dekho paas aate rehte hein!”

ASR lowered his eyes to hide his amusement.

“Why can’t Ranjha understand that Heer can’t remember her lines if he comes too close to her? How will she speak if her heart is beating louder than her voice?” Khushi asked reasonably.

Hot, burning eyes trained on her face and figure.

“Because that is what Ranjha wants. To unravel Heer with his words till she is senseless with love for him, till she can’t remember anything other than his love, till her heart beats as one with his, till she forgives him all his transgressions and his hurtful words, till she makes him hers...” His voice drew her in to another world.

They stood staring at each other.

“How is the rehearsal going?” NK poked his head in to the room.

Khushi smiled palely at him.

 Arnav said, “Well.”

“Do you need my help, Nannav?” NK asked.

“I will try to manage without it,” Arnav said wryly.

“The set is as good as ready, all green like the fields of Punjab. Ranjha’s shed is cosy and romantic,” NK informed them.

Khushi looked down at her jootis. ‘He Devi Maiyya, what am I going to do? How can I speak such dialogues and listen to ASR mouthing such sweet words without fainting?’ she asked inwardly. ‘He was bad enough while shouting at me. Now when he is being so sweet, so tender, so amorous, so poetic...He Devi Maiyya! Raksha karna!’

Section 12

“Hey Devi Maiyya, raksha karna,” Khushi whispered as she walked towards the room set aside for practice the next day. Maybe Anjaliji and the others would be there, she thought hopefully.

She pushed open the door to see ASR waiting for her, alone.

“The others?” she asked, her voice small.

“They have other things to do to get the show on the road,” he said impersonally, hoping to get her to shed her qualms. “Why are you late?” he asked, hoping to go back to their former easy way of conversing.

Khushi was in no mood to argue with him. Horrible pictures of having to share air with him for hours on end while listening to him mouthing romantic dialogues rushed through her mind. They were enough to send her running all the way home to Lucknow without waiting for the train.

“We...we are alone?” she asked.

ASR frowned. “We are the ones who need to learn the dialogues, aren’t we?” he asked as though irritated at her unreasonable hesitation.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Then sit down,” he pointed to a chair.

Khushi sidled up to it and sat gingerly on it as if it would bite her if she sat fully on it.

ASR took a red dupatta lying among the props and draped it over her head to frame her face. He kneeled before her to look at her face.

“Meri nazar ne husn ka jaadoo jagaa diya,

Tujhko sajaake aur bhi katil bana diya,” he whispered, his eyes lingering lovingly on her alarmed hazel eyes and parted lips.

My eyes have awakened the magic of your beauty

They have adorned you and made your beauty more potent.

He cupped her face in his hands. Her startled eyes grew wider.

“Sharmati he kyon aaj, meri baahon mein aake,

Why are you bashful today, nestling in my arms?

Le jaaonga ek din tujhe doli mein bittake,” he whispered. She could feel his warm breath scorching her face.

I will sit you in a palanquin and take you away one day.

 “Chodiye hamein,” Khushi whispered back.

ASR did not let go of her face. “That is not in the script,” he said softly, a slight smile teasing his lips.

Khushi panted, her eyes lowered.

“Look at me, Khushi,” he breathed.

Her lashes lifted.

“What is your line?” His voice was seductive to say the least.

“Doli se jab utaroongi to h..hairan na hona

When I alight from the palanquin, don’t be astounded,

Mar jaaon khushi se to p..pareshan na hona,” she stammered.

If I die, overcome with happiness, don’t be worried.

“Does Heer stammer?” he asked, his voice lower than a whisper, his fingers caressing the silky skin of her cheeks.

“P..pata nahi,” she stuttered.

“Doori kabhi pal bhar ko gawaara na karenge

I will not tolerate a moment of separation

Agar jee na sake saath to hum saath marenge,” he murmured.

If we can’t live together, we will die together.

Heer placed her finger against Ranjha’s warm, hard lips to silence him. Her hand trembled.

He caught hold of her hand and buried his face in her palm, kissing her hand.

“A..arnavji...” Khushi whispered, reeling on unsteady limbs.

“Ranjha,” Arnav reminded her, his lips moving against her hand.

Khushi’s eyes filled with tears. She collapsed against his chest. His arms gathered her close to him. She lay weeping against him.

“Khushi, I am so sorry, so sorry I hurt you. Pata nahi kyon, sometimes... I lose my temper...I say things I don’t mean. I should have never said such terrible things to you,” he whispered against her ear.

With tears pouring down her cheeks, Khushi dragged herself out of his arms and ran out of the room,  too overcome to remember her bag lying unnoticed on a chair.

ASR stood where he was, watching her helplessly.

Section 12

It was August 9th, the day before Rakshabandhan.

Arnav stood looking in to Khushi’s eyes.

“Jo he teri mushkil, wohi meri mushkil

Your trouble and mine are the same

Ho ek hi teer se donon khayal,”

We have been wounded by one and the same arrow.

Khushi looked away.

He walked towards her and kneeled down at her feet.

“Tere zakhm mere tadap se harre hein,

Your wound is festering due to my anguish

Meri aankh mein teri aansoon bhare hein.

My eyes are filled with your tears.”

Khushi stared at him with wet eyes.

“Tujhe kya pata kiski japta hoon mala,

You are unaware whose name I chant

Ussi ka hoon jogi, tha jis ka gawala,”

I am her worshipper, whose shepherd I once was.

Khushi was lost for words.

“Forgive me, Khushi,” he said hoarsely.

Tears trailed down her cheeks. “How could you...?’ she said indistinctly.

He stood up, took her hand and brought it to cup his cheek.

“Hit me again,” he offered.

She looked at him with wet, wide eyes.

“I deserve it,” he confessed.

“I thought...” she sobbed. “I thought you were my family, but you...” she paused.

“I am. I am your family,” he reiterated, holding her hand to his cheek tightly.

“No, no, you are not,” she wept. “If you thought I were your family, you would have never said such, such...” she tried to let him know how much he hurt her, but couldn’t find words to express the extent of her pain.

“Khushi, don’t cry. Please, don’t cry. Punish me, Khushi, don’t punish yourself,” he whispered against her hand.

 “It is because I am an orphan, isn’t it? You don’t like me. You don’t think I belong to Jiji’s family. You think I have been brought up badly,” she said, her sound muffled by her tears.

“No, no, Khushi,” he whispered, horrified at the result of his handiwork.

“Yes,” Khushi averred.

“No, never,” he asserted. “I was jealous, Khushi,” he admitted the truth, her tears and insecurity unlocking his heart and freeing him from his inhibitions.

“Jealous?” Khushi asked, sniffing delicately, pulling away her hand from his hold.

He handed over his kerchief. “Jealous of you and NK. I was scared that you cared more for him than for me,” he said softly.

“I do,” Khushi affirmed. “He is my brother,” Khushi claimed the lovable goofball as her own.

“And I, Khushi?” he asked, his tender eyes on hers. “What am I to you?”

Khushi’s hands dropped the kerchief she had been clutching. Her shocked eyes looked in to his intent ones.

“Don’t tell me I am your Jiji’s jetji or your boss, Khushi,” he pleaded.

Khushi stared at him.

“Chotey, Khushiji, the tailor has come with the costumes. Will you try them out?” Anjali asked apologetically, peeking in to the room. “You have to go on stage tomorrow evening.”

Khushi turned to look at ASR many times as Anjali led her out of the room. His eyes remained on hers as they urged her to look in to her heart and put him out of his misery.

Section 13

Sun Mere Chann Mahiya (Harbhajan Singh Mann & Neeru Bajwa in Heer)

138. OS 5: A Playful Love (Part 6-)

Section 6

Arnav quickly called Khushi on her phone.

Khushi looked at her phone. The fingers plaiting her hair stilled. ASR. She stared at the display till the call ended.

Arnav clutched the phone in his fingers. Khushi was not picking up the phone. He had hurt her badly, calling her honour in to question even when he knew that he was being unreasonable and was uttering accusations he didn’t believe she was capable of. Her integrity was as bright as the shining sun on a summer day. How could he have voiced such insults? How could he have hurt her so when she meant so much to him? He cursed himself and his anger that could eat in to his good sense. His temper had finally cost him what he most longed for...Khushi. What if she never talked to him? If she never forgave him? What would he do if she left Delhi?

He called her again.

Khushi cut the call, switched off the phone and crawled in to bed.

 How could he say such terrible things to her? How could he think she was capable of such low behavior? He knew her family, he knew her Jiji. Then how could he think that she would go with any man who called her?

Her eyes filled with tears.

It was because she was an orphan that he thought he could abuse her as he wished without fearing retaliation. If only she had an army of brothers! They would have beaten him to pulp and shown him what he could do with his anger. Khushi wiped her tears and sniffed. At least she had managed to slap him once.

She looked down at her hand. Had she really slapped him? Her Jiji’s jetji? She should not have done so. After all, he was her relation. But how could she not have hit him? He had been rude, too rude. And if he had any sense of family, if he counted her as a part of his family, would he have humiliated her so? No, he would have never done so. He treated Jiji and Di with respect. He was very respectful of Amma and Buaji. Then why had he been so rude with her? It was clearly because he looked on her as an outsider, an interloper.

Tears poured down her cheeks.

How could he...? And she...she had looked up to him, thought him her own blood, her own family, her friend, her own... Even when she had argued with him, she had done it out of a feeling of right, of haq over him...a right she didn’t have.

‘Khushi, Arnav Singh Raizada is not yours. He never was,’ she told herself, her heart aching. She buried her face in the pillow and sobbed her heart out.

Section 7

“Khushiji, please say you will. You won’t break my heart, will you?” Anjali begged nicely.

“Anjaliji...” she tried to protest.

“Please don’t say no, Khushiji. NK bhai will be doing the role of Ranjha,” Anjali, the queen of emotional blackmail, tried to tempt her.

“Yes, Khushiji. I will be the hero,” NK said, swinging an imaginary sword. “Will I have a pagar, Di?”

“Pagar?” Anjali frowned.

“A turban?” NK asked.

“Pagdi? No,” Anjali laughed. “This is Ranjha, not Akbar.”

All laughed.

Khushi looked at Nanheji’s face full of boyish enthusiasm. ‘You wanted a brother, didn’t you? Well, you have got one. Ab nibhao rishta,’ she thought, ‘I have to hang on till Rakshabandan. I can’t disappoint Nanheji. But doing a play...will ASR be there?’

“Khushiji,” Anjali set out to settle the doubts she could see on Khushi’s face. “We will be practicing at home. Chotey, Mamaji and Akash will be at the office. It will be just us ladies and NK bhai.”

“Titliyyaa, you are so fond of drama, on and off stage. Then why are you hesitating, Nandkisore?” Buaji teased.

“We will arrange for a stage to be built at home, Khushiji. The audience will be made up of our friends. And we will all be there with you,” Anjali wheedled.

“Khushi,” Amma warned. “How can you disappoint Anjali bitiyya?”

“Nani and Mami too are looking forward to seeing Khushiji on stage,” Anjali added.

“Khushiji, please agree. It will be so much fun!” NK added his mite.

Khushi nodded unwillingly. How could she refuse Jiji’s family? And it was only a matter of seven days, a week. She could tie rakhi on Nanheji’s wrist on the morning of August 10^th, get on the stage that evening and leave for Kanpur the next morning.

 And ASR would be at the office.

Section 8

Khushi’s phone rang. ASR.

She cut the call, placed the phone on the dining table and carried the plate of diced vegetables in to the kitchen for Amma to cook.

Her phone rang again. She grit her teeth. It must be him... again. She rushed to the table, checked the identity of the caller and cut it. She returned to the kitchen.

The phone rang again.

“Who is calling you so many times in the morning, Sanka Devi? And why are you cutting the calls? Is it some ganda boy, some lafanga who is trying to harass you? Let me talk to him. Uski nani yaad naahi dilaayi to hum Madhumati naahi,” Buaji threatened, getting up to walk to the phone.

Khushi quickly answered the call.

“Hello,” she said in a stiff voice.

“Khushi,” his husky murmur pulled at her heart strings.

 She swallowed.

“Who is it, Nandkisore?” Buaji asked.

“Jiji’s jetji,” Khushi answered.

“Arnav bitwaa?” Buaji’s face relaxed in to a smile. “Kaisen he babua?”

“Didn’t you see how babua was when he dropped you off last night, Buaji? Nothing much will have happened during the night to change him,” Khushi said mildly.

“Is it Arnav bitwa?” Amma asked eagerly. “Tell him I will make makai ki soup if he comes to lunch.”

 Khushi cupped her hand over the phone. “He is not starving in Shantivan. I am sure his family can make corn soup for him. You are my Amma, not his.”

“Khussi, tum bhi na!” Amma remonstrated.

“Khushi,” he called again.

“Yes?” Khushi spoke in to the phone.

“Khushi, I am sorry,” he whispered.

Khushi swallowed and looked down. She wanted to tear him in to bits, shred him in to pieces for hurting her. But she was helpless. There was a limit beyond which she could not retaliate without damaging Jiji’s marriage and shaking the foundations of her life. Anyway it was just for seven days, she thought. She could leave at the end of the week.

“Khushi, say something,” he whispered. Her silence was killing him.

“It is OK,” she said coldly.

He looked at the clear table and empty chair in her office through the wall of glass.

“It is not OK,” he replied. “Khushi, I...I was angry...” he began.

“Tell him that you are going to act in the play, Nandkisore,” Buaji encouraged her.

Khushi drew in air, hoping for some patience.

“Your sister came here in the morning. She asked me to act in Heer-Ranjha play to be staged on Rakshabandhan evening. I am acting in it,” she said tonelessly. She turned to look at Buaji. “Is there anything else I should tell your babua?”

The sarcasm went right over Buaji’s pallu-covered head. “Tell him Nandkisore is Ranjha,” she added.

“Buaji asked me to tell you that Nandkisore is Ranjha,” she recited in to the phone.

“Khushi,” he said softly. He could hear her pain and her anger.

“Hum phoone rakhte hein,” she said before cutting the call.

ASR stood with his head bent, the phone held tight within pale fingers.

“Sir, the HR Manager is waiting in the mini conference room,” Aman reminded him.

ASR pocketed his phone. “Aman, clear my day of appointments. I am going home after this meeting,” he said.

“Sir!” Aman exclaimed.

“Aman, where can I buy flowers?” he asked.

“Sir...” Aman gasped. “I will order them for you. We normally use Pink Petals or Roses are Red.”

“Where are they located?” ASR asked.

Aman gave him the directions, wondering what had happened to his boss.

ASR knocked on Buaji’s door.

“Kaun he, Nandkisore?” she asked, waddling to the door to open it. “Arnav bitwaa!” Her face was one big smile. “Come in, come in,”

Arnav stepped in to the house.

“What is this in your hand, Nandkisore?” she asked.

“Err...Khushi he, Buaji?” he stammered.

Buaji burst out laughing. “You are like that dog and cat on TV. Jab dekho ladte rehte hein. Usse manane aaye ho, babua?”

Arnav nodded shamefaced.

“Titliyyaa,” Buaji bellowed, taking ASR’s eardrums with her.

“Kya he, Buaji?” Khushi came in to the room to stand still in shock at the sight of her ex-boss.

“Arnav babua aaye rahe,” Buaji said unnecessarily, leaving them to fight it out.

ASR looked at Khushi. Her face was pale and grim.

He held out the bouquet of multi-hued flowers.

She looked at the bouquet and then she looked at him.

“Khushi, I got them for you,” he said, hoping that she would accept his gift.

“Arnav babua, aap kab aaye? You bought flowers for Khussi?” Amma’s face was a picture of joy.

Khushi drew in  a deep breath.

When she was determined to avoid him, poori kayanat was determined to shove him down her throat. Such was destiny! 

She had no choice. She extended her dough-covered hands to receive the bouquet. He handed it over.

“Do you like it, Khushi?” he asked.

“Ji. Shukriya,” she said politely. She had been raised to be a good girl, although she forgot it sometimes.

“Stay for lunch, bitwaa,” Amma invited.

“Ji,” he agreed, relieved. It would give him more time with Khushi.

He watched as Khushi returned to the kitchen, removed the wrapping of the flowers and thrust them in to a vase with some water in it. She placed the arrangement on the dining table and moved to the kitchen to finish making rotis.

Buaji wheeled Babuji in to the room and the four of them sat talking as Khushi rolled out the dough and made gol gol rotis, trying not to listen to the others talking.

 A while later, Amma wheeled Babuji to the table and went to help Khushi in the kitchen.

Buaji looked at ASR who was stealing glances at the kitchen. She asked, “Did Titliyya accept your apology, Nandkisore?”

“Yes, Buaji,” ASR said helplessly. “But I don’t think she has forgiven me.”

Buaji sighed. “She is normally a cheerful person. But if she is hurt, if someone reminds her of her past and her parents, she distances herself from the world, bitwaa. Then it takes a long time for her to thaw.”

ASR paled.

Buaji consoled him. “Tum chinta mat karo, babua. Ek screw dheela he in her bheja. Just give her some time. She will become our old Khussi, Nandkisore.”

“Lunch is served,” Khushi announced.

ASR hoped Khushi would sit by him, but she chose the seat farthest from him. He hoped to exchange pleasantries with her as they ate, but she remained silent. In fact, she finished her meagre lunch at record speed and excused herself from the table. She went to her room and shut the door, leaving Arnav with the rest of the family.

Section 9

Khushi looked at the script of the play. The language was simple but poetic as it traced the tragic love story of Heer, a beautiful maiden and Ranjha who became an ascetic in love of his Heer.

NK looked at Khushi’s drooping lips and then at Nani, Mami and Anjali. He winked at Anjali and said, “Let me look at the dialogues, Di.”

“You will have to learn all these lines in Hindi by heart, NK bhai,” Anjali warned.

“Don’t worry, Di. This is baaye pair ka khel for me. Don’t you think I can do this, Nannav?” NK asked an Arnav who was slowly walking down the steps to the hall, his eyes on Khushi.

Khushi’s head jerked at the mention of his name. She looked up, horrified to see him. ‘What is he doing here? He should be in the office frowning at his laptop or ghooring at the girl who has replaced me,’ she thought.

Arnav manfully refrained from expressing his views on NK’s Hindi and acting abilities. He walked down to sit by his Nani and Mami.

“Arnav bitwaa, learn how to romance a girlwaa from Heer-Ranjha,” Mami whispered in his ear.

“Manorama, they died at the end of the story! I want Chotey to live happily with his wife. His life should be full of Khushi,” Nani chided Mami, her eyes on Chotey who looked at her with alert and suspicious eyes.

“His life will be full of khushi, Saasumma. We will make sure of that, Hello Hi Bye Bye!” Mami leaned against Arnav’s arm to watch NK make a botch of the dialogues as planned.

NK cleared his throat and began.

Tere zukham meri tadap se harre hai ... meri aankh mein tere aasoon bhare hai.

All looked at him, horrified.

“NK bhai, what did you read?” Anjali looked at him, her eyes wide.

Khushi peeked in to the page NK had read from and said sotto voce, “Tere zakhm (wound), Nanheji, not Tere zukham (cold).”

“Sorry!” NK pulled his ear and tried again.

Tu jab aa jaati hai paas ... bhains mar jaati hai, jaag uthti hai pyaaz.

“Bhainswaa? Why are bhainswaa dying when Heer comes close to him?” Mami asked.

“Pyaaz? Onion? What has pyaaz got to do with Heer-Ranjha love story?” Nani asked.

Khushi snatched the paper from NK and read out,

“Tu jab aa jaati hai paas ... bhook (hunger) mar jaati hai, jaag uthti hai pyaas (thirst).

When you approach me, hunger dies, thirst awakens in me. That is what it means, Nanheji,” Khushi explained.

“I see,” NK nodded thoughtfully. He began,

 “Meri nazar ne husn ka jadoo jaga diya ... tujhko sajaake aur bhi katthal bana diya.”

Mami laughed, “If Heer was like a jackfruit, would Ranjha have fallen in love with her?”

Khushi looked at the paper. “Kaathil, not katthal, Nanheji,” she sighed.

“What does it matter, Khushiji?” NK asked deliberately. “Murderess ho ya jackfruit, kya faraq padta he?”

Khushi stared at him in horror.

ASR spoke up. “NK, can’t you pay attention to the words? Are you staging a comedy show or enacting a romantic tragedy?”

“Nannav!” NK protested.

“Do you want the audience to laugh at Khushi?” His cold eyes penetrated NK’s being.

“Nannav, if you are so particular about Khushiji’s reputation and the success of the play, why don’t you do it yourself?” NK asked.

ASR looked at Khushi.

She stared at him, astonished, astounded.

He looked at the eager, anxious, expectant faces of all his family members, including NK. Only Payal seemed lost and confused at the turn of events.

Suddenly he understood how his family wanted him to have Khushi in his life. He said, “I will do it.”

Khushi opened her mouth to protest.

“That is, if Khushi is up to the challenge,” he added silkily.

Khushi glared at him.

“My Khussi bitiyya is not a coward,” Nani claimed before Khushi could decide if she was chicken or lion.

“Don’t think we Lucknow girls are iiscared of a play, Hello Hi Bye Bye!” Mami said, leaving Khushi no choice.

“Then it is fixed,” ASR declared. “Khushi is Heer. I am Ranjha.” He took the papers from a relieved and happy NK, leaving Khushi cursing Devi Maiyya.

Section 10