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

186. OS 9: The Diabetic and the Halwai (Part 5)

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!

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

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

Link to e-book

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

Part 5

She went to his room a couple of hours later to fight. She paused before pushing open the door.

What if he was still unclothed? Last time he had been just shirtless. What if he didn’t have the pants too this time? She gulped and knocked gently on the door like a good girl with impeccable manners.

There was no response.

Khushi frowned and tried again. Why was he not playing fair when she had mended her behaviour?

He didn’t open the door.

A horrible thought flashed through her mind. What if he was lying unconscious in the room? What if her pijja had made him ill? Abandoning her newfound manners by the wayside, she pushed open the door.

He was lying on the green diwan near the window, thankfully fully dressed.

Khushi tiptoed to him and looked at the easy rise and fall of his chest. He was asleep. She heaved a sigh of relief.

He was asleep. Khushi frowned.

He was asleep? After driving her crazy with his pijja and his lack of response, he was asleep? She placed her hands on her hips and looked at his face with cross eyes.

“Haiyye! Look at him!” Khushi exclaimed. “He looks like a nice, innocent baccha when asleep. It is only when he wakes up that he plots to fool me. His pijja and his challenge! The devil! Let him wake up. I will show him who Khushi Kumari Gupta is!”

She turned and walked out of the room.

Arnav opened his eyes and smiled. He better rest and conserve his energy to face the next pijja-like bomb she was going to throw at him, he mused.

His smile widened. His life was changing for the better.

Khushi walked up to Arnav’s room in the evening with a tray in her hands. It held a cup of tea. She looked anxiously at the dark liquid. Should she have added more milk to it? Would the colour give away the fact that she had spiced it up with pepper, lots of pepper?

“Khushiji?” Akash called, leaving his brother’s room.

“Err..I..I brought tea,” she stammered.

Akash looked at the single cup on the tray.

“Err..your tea is downstairs,” Khushi explained quickly. “All are waiting for you in the dining room.”

Akash pushed his specs up the bridge of his nose. “Shall I take it in for bhai?” Akash looked at the tray.

“Ji, ji,” Khushi smiled, relieved. She pushed the tray into Akash’s hands and ran down.

“Bhai, tea,” Akash called as he placed the tray by a reclining Arnav.

Arnav stretched after a restful nap filled with pleasant dreams of a smiling Khushi.

He looked at the single cup on the tray. A warning tingled down his spine, his instincts working overtime.

“Where is yours?” he asked.

“In the dining room,” Akash replied.

"Who brought this?” Arnav asked, knowing the answer.

“Khushiji,” Akash replied.

A smile quirked Arnav’s lips. “Go and have your tea, Akash. I will come down for dinner,” he said.

After Akash left him, Arnav carefully dipped a finger in the steaming liquid and tasted it.

His eyes watered, his tongue burned. He quickly disposed off the tea and drank glass after glass of cool water from the earthern pot in the room.

Khushi looked up eagerly at the stairs. Would he shout for help? Drop the cup? Thrilled at her own inventiveness, she hugged herself. The tea would do its job.

“Arnav Singh Raizada and his veg pijja! Hmmmpppffff,” she snorted. He would think twice before he even looked at her!

She chuckled at her own smartness.

“Khushi, why are you laughing?” Payal asked, a look of suspicion on her face.

Khushi wiped off her smile with great difficulty. “Nothing, Jiji,” she replied, batting her eyelids to establish her innocence.

Payal’s frown intensified.

“Kaa he, Nandkisore?” Buaji asked.

“Khushi is up to something,” Payal passed judgement.

“Hai Re Nandkisore!” Buaji exclaimed. “What have you done now?”

Khushi put her hands on her hips. “Why do you always assume that I am up to no good?” she asked, her lips pursed.

“Because you often are?” Payal asked.

Before Khushi could retaliate, Mamiji, Nani and Anjali joined them.

“Buaji, I was thinking of going to the temple,” Anjali smiled.

“Acha he, acha he, Nandkisore. Jao, jao. Take Payaliyya with you. Khussi, will you go with them?” Buaji asked.

“I have to go to the shop, Buaji,” Khushi replied, gulping down her tea. She had wasted too much time on the pijja, the pijja man and his gut-burning tea.

“She and her shop,” Buaji muttered. “They were born together from her mother’s womb.”

All laughed.

Khushi narrowed her eyes at Buaji.

“Don’t growl at me, you Sanka Devi,” Buaji retorted. “Other girls will marry boys and start their lives. You will sit here hugging this shop to your heart.”

Before Khushi could reiterate her love for her shop, Mamiji stepped in. “Bhere are the shops phor shopping?” she asked. “I have to buy kajal, bindi, rouge, jhumka...” Her list was never-ending.

“Manorama!” Nani chided her. What would the Guptas think of Manorama?

But Mami had no such worries. “Saasumma, I am Manorama Raijjada. I have to be tip-taap.”

As the ladies discussed the best shops, Khushi went to her Satwik Mishtaan Bhandar where her boys were waiting for her. She spared a worried look in the direction of Arnav's room as she left.

Why hadn't he called out? Had he drunk the tea? Had he dropped in a dead faint, overpowered by the goodness of her pepper tea?

185. OS 9: The Diabetic and the Halwai (Part 4)

Wishing all of you a wonderful New Year!

Part 4

ASR took a leisurely shower, having all the time in the world to enjoy it. He had no office to go to. He was far from the mad bustle of Delhi. And he was getting a veg pijja from a feisty Lucknow goddess for lunch. A smile played on his lips as he towelled himself dry.

He left the bathroom in a pair of trousers, his chest bare, the towel in his hands.

Khushi pushed open the door with her foot, her hands holding the thali with her hot concoction and came to a shocked standstill.

She stared at the diabetic’s lean but muscled body and its sculpted lines with an open mouth.

“You..you...” she gasped through a dry mouth.

Arnav followed her wide, fascinated eyes to his own chest and smirked. He lifted his arms to rub his hair with the towel, giving a display of his bulging, rippling muscles and watched the muscles of her throat work to swallow.

“Kya hua, Khushi?” he asked as if he didn’t know what he was doing, his voice as innocent as his eyes were naughty.

Khushi turned away, shutting her eyes, clinging on to her veg pijja for support. “You..you..kapde pehen leejiye,” she said. Was it an order or a plea? She had no idea.

“Why, Khushi? Haven’t you seen a naked man before?” he teased, delighted by her interest in him and his bare chest.

She frowned, her eyes still shut tight. “People in Lucknow are not besharam like you. They wear kapde.” 

Why didn’t this Delhi man have hair on his body? Navin chacha did. She had seen him exercising on his terrace, lifting wooden clubs and swinging them, shouting “Jai Bajrangbali!” Even Munna and Krishna had hair sprouting on their young chests!

Arnav smiled, making no move to dress. “Even in their bathroom?” he asked.

“Ji?” Khushi opened her eyes and turned her head to look at him to ask him what exactly he meant. Her eyes fell on his nakedness again and she turned her head away from him as fast as she could.

“Do they wear clothes while they are taking bath?” he asked.

“Of course not!” she huffed. This pijja-man from Delhi had a screw or two dheela in his brain along with his sugar issues. Who wore clothes while bathing?

“I was taking  a shower. You barged into my bedroom. So who is shameless? You or me?” he asked silkily.

She gasped. “Awww,” she exclaimed as she turned around to give him a piece of her mind. The sight of his delicious chest stopped her. All her thoughts evaporated and she stood still, taking her fill of him.

“Is that my pizza?” he asked, smirking.

“Kya?” she asked.

He looked at the thali in her hands and raised an eyebrow.

“Ji, ji,” Khushi stammered. She held it out to him and tried to look away from the vast expanse of golden male skin.

Arnav looked at the colourful pizza with cautious eyes. Had she really made it? He sniffed it.

‘Are you going to eat it or inhale it?” Khushi asked crossly. After all the trouble he had put her to, all he wanted to do was sniff the pijja?

Arnav smiled and took the thali from her, his fingers touching hers. Khushi frowned at him as she quickly withdrew her hands and hid them behind her back. Why was he touching her? And his chest was too close to her eyes.

He stood looking at the pizza. Did the base look like a roti? A thick roti?

“Khayiye na,” Khushi urged him.

He studied the pizza. Did it smell of...ghee?

Khushi lost her patience. She quickly pulled a piece off the hot pijja with her fingers, the melted cheese reluctant to let go.

As Arnav opened his mouth to ask her what she was up to, she stuffed the piece into his mouth.

Arnav chewed. There was a burst of myriad flavours in his mouth. Ghee...chaat masala...garam masala...Was that chilly powder? Coriander leaves...pudina...kasuri methi? The vegetables...cheese...He swallowed the food in his mouth.

“How is it?” Khushi asked eagerly. After all she had spent half a day crafting it.

It was delicious, way better than any pizza he had ever tasted.

He looked at her eager face and said to irritate her, “OK. Just OK. It is like eating roti and sabzi.”

Her mouth fell open in consternation. Then she said, “You don’t like it? That’s a pity. Because you have to eat all of it. Nobody here eats such a stupid thing like pijja.”

In her anger, she forgot his nakedness and pushed him down to sit on the bed with her hands on his shoulders.

She stood over him. “Eat,” she dictated.

He feigned reluctance, his eyes dancing with merriment. Maybe she would feed him again, he hoped.

She pushed the next piece into his mouth. He pretended to choke.

“Hey Devi Maiyya!” Khushi exclaimed. He was already sick with low sugar and now she was choking him to death? She quickly rubbed his shirtless back, her worried eyes checking if he were breathing.

Arnav shut his eyes and savoured the back massage he was getting. His Lucknow goddess had warm, soft hands used to rolling and coaxing laddoos and pedas into shape.

“Are you alright?” her anxious voice cut into his thoughts.

“Hhmmm,” he moaned.

Khushi frowned. He didn’t sound breathless. She looked at her fingers on his muscled back and swallowed hard. His skin was so supple, so hot, so smooth, so silky...

She looked down at his bare chest. It was rising and falling rapidly. Her heartbeat picked up its pace to match his.

 She took her hands away from his back as though his skin had burned her.

“Hum..hum chalte hein,” she muttered before running away. She was better off as a halwai than a masseur! At least her peda and jalebi did not threaten to cause her heart attack!

She ran down the steps to see Akashji walk up.

“Khushiji?” he asked, surprised. “Is anything wrong? Is bhai fine?”

“Yes, yes,” she said, flustered. “I..I just went to give him his pijja.”

“Oh.” Akash said slowly, perplexed, “I don’t know why bhai insisted on a veg pizza. He hates pizza, stays hungry rather than eat it.”

Khushi gasped. She had slaved over the antique and temperamental oven to make something he hated? He had been playing with her? Having fun at her expense? She wished she had stuffed the thali in his mouth rather than pieces of the pijja!