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

Darlings,

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

Link to e-book

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

Part 8

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

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

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

“She won’t?” Khushi asked uncertainly.

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

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

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

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

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

“You have no right...” she began.

“I do,” he replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You wanted to scare me?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

Khushi was stumped at his open admission.

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

“To tease you,” he admitted.

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” she squealed.

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

Khushi stared at him, her brain in deep freeze.

“Kkkkkiiissssss?” she gasped.

“Hhmmm,” he said.

She stared at him open-mouthed.

His wicked sooji halwa eyes twinkled at her.

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

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

She jerked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes looked like honey.

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

How could a diabetic be so sweet? Khushi wondered.

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

Darlings,

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

Link to e-book

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

Part 6

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

Khushi was conspicuous by her absence. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Arnav lifted a brow to irritate her further.

All sat down for their meal.

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

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

All stared at Arnav with wide eyes.

“Tea? Now?” Amma asked in wonder.

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

Khushi grit her teeth.

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

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

Madhumati, Garima and Sasi sighed.

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

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

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

Payal blushed at her father’s teasing.

Khushi grimaced at the jibe.

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

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

All looked at the two girls.

Payal flushed and looked at the poori on her plate.

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

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

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

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

Talk of marriage went right over her head.

Part 7

It was midnight.

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

He smiled softly.

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

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

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

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

He tried to hide his smile.

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

Arnav had to struggle not to laugh.

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

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

He remained still.

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

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

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

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

“Hey Devi Maiyya!” Khushi whispered.

Part 8

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?