Chapter 15

Wow it's been almost a week since the last update...can't believe it. OK, since most people favoured waiting for the whole update, here you go:p Oh, and romance is not my forte, but I hope this doesn't disappoint:) 

Chapter Fifteen

'I've never been a big fan of Bollywood music...'

Arnav was vaguely surprised by how calm he sounded. How serene. How strangely like the calm after a storm. How apt. And how completely at odds with the commotion of senses, emotions, nerve-wracking reflections that made his heart hammer uncontrollably, battering the air out of his lungs.

'But I don't think I could put in words how much this song means to me'.

There. That was it.

Arnav registered with faint astonishment how easily the words escaped his lips. And how lightly they floated around in the silence, hovering around in the car like trapped butterflies. He watched his hand reach up and turn the radio off.

Is it always this easy, he inquired, seeking out the small, all-knowing voice in his head, to speak the truth?

No, the voice replied. But it's easier once the truth is out of the way.

Arnav could not help but agree. A few moments before he would hardly have believed that just a handful of words could relieve him of every single harrowing feeling that was tearing him to shreds from within. That just a few words, a few simple words, could express exactly what had been going through his mind while that song, that song that seemed to play the tune of his soul, serenaded him and the only person he wanted to share the rest of his life with.

He could feel Khushi turn her head suddenly at his words. He could understand why. He himself was surprised by the disarming frankness with which he had just disclosed his innermost feelings. He had never been able to do that before. He seemed to have a knack for always contorting the most heartfelt of words into cutting remarks that he did not mean, and more than half the time when he was speaking to Khushi. He never bothered to let people on to how he was feeling; that part of himself he had learned to control with clinical precision. With Di, he did not have to bother, because she knew him well enough to know what he was saying even though the words he would utter would indicate otherwise. A twinge of longing coiled within him; how he craved to be able to share that such a bond with Khushi, stripped of misunderstanding and doubt.

He turned slowly to meet her gaze. He had felt her go stiff beside him as their song assaulted them out of the blue, felt the air around her still, immovable. Now, his eyes raised themselves to watch her stare stonily back at him. Her face was thoroughly devoid of any expression. The voice in his head wondered at the irony of the situation; she had now mastered the art of impassivity he had spent years to cultivate, while he had stepped into the spontaneity that used to characterise her. He could almost see the cogs of her mind straining to spring into motion, to allow what he had just said to sail through her mind and into her heart, while she obstinately held the wheels in place, staunchly refusing to let them move. They needed some encouragement.

'It's probably the only song in the world I can relate to so well', he continued conversationally, looking straight into her eyes. Those big, black, doe eyes which were at this moment revealing nothing.

'But I suppose', he murmured, his voice dropping down a few decibels as though he were afraid of being overheard, 'it's special more because-'

He couldn't help himself. He leaned in closer, feeling parched, thirsty for the sweet scent of jasmine he had come to associate with his wife.

'-it was the first song we ever danced to together'.

Arnav infused his voice with as much promise as he could possibly muster, willing her to believe that he was eager, he was desperate, to share every single dance with her that life brought their way. That he was dying to match her step for step, for the rhythm of their hearts to fuse and converge into one, to move alongside her at every moment of their lives together.

It did not even occur to him that whatever he was saying was thoroughly uncharacteristic of him. That if his staff at AR heard him they would probably end up in a coma. And if it did occur to him, Arnav had gone past caring. There were things more important than his ego, and if attaining them meant he had to finally expose his true self, discard his mask completely, then he was willing to do it.

He watched Khushi blink rapidly, her lovely long lashes fluttering tantalisingly, as the tinge of rose began to burn beneath the cream of her skin. His sudden proximity made her jerk backwards, bumping into the back of her seat as she did so. He almost had to fight down a smile as he watched her fight with herself, not to let her hand fist and spring up to her chest. Where he was sure her heart was giving her as much trouble as his was giving him at that enthralling sight.

The sound of car horns suddenly regaled them, unceremoniously dumping them back into real life, in the middle of a jam-packed road, surrounded by people. The traffic had finally started to move, and Arnav felt himself release the smallest of sighs as he turned back to the steering wheel.

'Why?'

It was so quiet he could easily have missed it. But then again, how could he miss anything spoken by that voice? He had starved himself of it long enough.

'Why what?' he asked gently, his eyes still on the road. Suddenly on edge, he felt the drumbeats in his chest ring out discordantly. It was an odd mixture of anticipation and reluctance; part of him could not contain itself at the thought that this was probably an opportunity for him to actually talk to Khushi about what had happened- what had been happening- to make up for his own mistakes and make her see that he was prepared to do whatever it took. But the other part was fearful, hiding behind a corner, sneaking looks into the shadows but not venturing into the dark.

An irrepressible hush followed, and Arnav immediately berated himself for not pushing himself to keep the conversation going. Khushi needed to open up to him if he was going to get close enough to her to break down her inhibitions and show her the extent to which he had been lying to her- and himself- over the past month. But before he could ponder over ways to get her to start talking again, Khushi broke the stalemate.

'Why did you dance with me that night?'

Her voice was very slow, very deliberate and very, very calm. Nothing like the calm after a storm, but foreboding like the calm that foreshadowed the coming it. There was just a hint of coldness in her words which nipped at the air, suddenly giving him gooseflesh.

He did not answer.

How could he possibly explain to her that he had danced with her because he could not see her in distress, could not see her tears, could not see her alone and helpless, when ever since they had been married he had done everything conceivable to bestow upon her exactly that? He had given her endless distress, driven her to endless tears, abandoned her, alone and helpless.

Self-deprecation toed the line he had drawn to keep his cool, control his tempestuous emotions which nowadays always threatened to get the better of him, while the part of his self hidden in the corner retreated further into the comforting crevice, hidden from having to face reality.

'Why?' she repeated again. Arnav's hand clutched the steering wheel tightly as he heard her voice shake, very minimally, but enough to break his heart all over again. 'Why did you dance with me when you wanted to win so badly?'

Her questions were quickly adopting the tone of aggression, each word becoming heavier with something that was not quite accusation but was not far off. There was an undertone of frustration, of impatience, almost of rage. She demanded an answer, and Arnav knew he had owed her an answer ever since he had stepped onto the dance floor that night with her.

On that night he could not answer her because part of him did not want to answer the question himself. Part of him veered right around to avoid the facts staring him in the face, yelling at him that the priorities of his life had tipped over quite drastically.

And he could not answer now, because now that he knew the truth, and had embraced it wholeheartedly, there was no reason in the word she would believe him.

'Because,' this time he did not care that his voice broke, cracking under the weight of his sincerity, not daring to look at her for fear of what he would see there , 'some things are more important than winning or losing'.

He knew that was a hopeless answer, but it was the truth. She had to know, she had to believe that he did not for one moment regret his decision to dance with her. She had to know that the experience had been one of the most beautiful moments of his life, which had left a permanent imprint on him that no amount of time could fade. With swift resolution, he decided he might as well fire every shot in his artillery while his target was still in sight.

'You know until that night I had not danced for almost fifteen years?' he slipped in the question casually, while within him, hope combated hope praying that she would see what he was implying. He shot a cursory glance at Khushi. She had turned away from him. She was looking out the window, the wayward strands of her hair blocking his view.

He was almost sure, without entirely knowing how, that she trying not to cry.

The drumbeats within him succumbed to an erratic rhythm with no sense of harmony. The din made it difficult for him to focus on the road.

'And I wouldn't say I didn't win that night. In fact, I probably won far more than I would have if we had won the dance-off...' with bated breath he waited, and sure enough, Khushi's head jerked around, brows furrowed, as she looked at him, perplexed. Her eyes were glistening, but she wasn't crying. Even through all the commotion in his head, he felt a smile creep through; Khushi could be so predictable sometimes. He could almost imagine her getting ready to argue with him over who exactly had been the winner that night.

She almost certainly would have, if the circumstances had been different. It dawned on Arnav with a pang how much he missed their harmless, meaningless fights, their cat-and-mouse game of always trying to get one over the other. The void in him, which had significantly shrunk in size, gaped somewhat wider as he realised how much he had enjoyed their rejoinders; at the time they seemed the only way they could speak to each other, find an excuse to be with each other, no matter how much he had tried to tell himself otherwise.

Her eyes continued to bore into him quizzically, her lips set firmly shut, waiting for him to continue.

And he did. With honesty that was so effortless his voice seemed to flutter out of his mouth on its own accord, 'Because I got to dance with you that night'.

***

The car had barely reached the front drive before Khushi had managed, with remarkable dexterity, to unclasp her seatbelt, fling the door open and flit out as though running for her life. Arnav, unable to help it, chuckled. It had taken them five minutes after getting out of the traffic to get back home, but those five minutes were laden with so much awareness hanging between them that he was almost sure he could to touch it.

Not to mention the fact that Khushi had resolutely refused to look his way during those five minutes. But he could tell, from the splashes of pink that he could spy through her hair, that she was blushing furiously. And Arnav felt an alien excitement thrill him to the core.

He knew it was too early to be trumpeting success. As he pulled up in the drive, and descended himself, he realised that it was time to man the big guns. He knew his physical closeness to her affected her strongly. Very strongly. Often making her forget the kind of circumstances they had been thrown together in. And also that, whenever he abandoned the pretence of being a man perfectly in control of his life, when he was just himself, it disconcerted her even further.

Arnav nearly bounced up the steps, two at a time. He already had one trick in the bag, his surprise, which he had so arduously laid in place. But there was still time for that. Right now he was determined to press whatever advantage he could. And if that meant he would have to keep getting closer to her, had to keep showing her the man behind the mask, then he did not mind in the least.

***

An hour later, he spotted Khushi in the living room, sitting beside his Di. Nani was sitting close by at an armchair, watching compassionately Di chatter away busily with Khushi, who was just smiling and nodding at intervals, making a contribution now and then which only served to excite the already excitable Anjali. As he neared them, he saw a pile of colourful garments heaped on the centre table. They appeared to be sarees; if he was not wrong, they were probably those special Lucknowi sarees ordered by Nani for her granddaughter and her two new bahus.

Di was busily rifling through the pile in front of her while deep in conversation with Khushi. Something about that sight of them, sitting side by side, laughing and talking like they were the oldest of friends, garnered a sense of warmth in him, which diffused slowly from his head down to his toes. The two women who made his life worth it all. The picture was so perfect that it took a while for Arnav to comprehend what they were saying.

'...and I think I'll take this pink one too, I love this shade', Anjali picked out one saree in a shade of wild rose and held it up to Khushi as though for approval.

Khushi took the saree from her and examined it, 'Yes, I think this would suit you beautifully...but I think this one goes better with your complexion', and she picked out another from the pile, shook it open, and draped it around Di's shoulder. Then, like a sudden blast of cool air on a hot day, a mischievous grin flashed across Khushi's face.

'Hai, kisi ki nazar na lage...' she dabbed a finger at a corner of her eye before to touching Di just behind the ear with the kajal on her fingertip.

'Badmash', Di swatted at Khushi's upper arm playfully, and the two of them dissolved into a peal of laughter. Nani continued to look on, smiling widely, completely oblivious of the fact that her Chote as more or less gawking at the sight with a huge grin stretching across his face.

Nani interrupted their fit of giggles to inquire, 'Why aren't you looking at some too, Khushi bitiya? I had these sent for especially for the three young ladies of this house'.

Anjali smiled broadly. However, Arnav, eagle eyed, noticed that Nani's suggestion immediately took an edge off the joviality that had been evident in Khushi moments before. She seemed to be stalling, he noted. Abruptly grim, he retreated further away from where they were sitting so he had a better point of vantage. Propping himself against as pillar at a distance, he observed as events unfolded.

'Erm...Nani, I don't...I mean...' her hands had strayed immediately to the hem of her pallu and started fiddling with it.

Nani smiled indulgently at her, reaching across to pat her affectionately on the head and saying, 'You shouldn't feel shy, bitiya...after all, this is your home now. And it is my right to buy things for my daughters. And more than my right it is my source of contentment. Won't you accept a gift from your grandmother?'

The softness in the voice of his Nani, who at times could be as much of a cynic as him, with an entire tutelage of snide remarks to back her up, jangled Arnav's nerves. The affection she felt for this young girl was unmistakable, had always been, but he had simply chosen to ignore it before. Yet now that he saw such blatant displays of how Khushi had become part and parcel of his family, making his Di smile more than he had ever seen her smile for days combined by just being a companion to her, made him feel the strangest of urges to punch the air in victory. Somehow, his family, which had always had a gap somewhere in the picture, a perpetual emptiness, seemed finally complete.

He was brought back to earth by Khushi's hesitant 'But Jiji isn't...'

'Payal bitiya will choose for herself when she gets back...now hurry up and pick some, or else I'll have to tell you off!' Nani put on a mock stern expression, and Arnav felt himself smirk.

But the smirk soon faded when he returned his attention to Khushi. Although her hand reached out to the sarees, and she began to leaf through them with the enthusiastic accompaniment of Di's suggestions, Arnav could tell that her heart was not really in it. It was evident, even at the distance at which he was standing, that her mind was somewhere else. There was an odd reluctance that was emanating from her movements, as though she would much rather not be where she was right now.

And Arnav knew why. Just like that.

After all, hadn't he, continuously and mercilessly, drilled in the fact to her that her only incentive to be close to his family was their money? Hadn't he humiliated her time and again, telling her that when the time comes he'd just pay her for her trouble and kick her out of the house? Wasn't it in this very room, in fact, that he had picked out her choice of necklace and deliberately presented it to Lavanya?

Arnav closed his eyes as a particularly vehement spasm of painful regret shot through him. He had been exceptionally, horrifically vindictive then. He had played with Lavanya's feelings, put the reputation of his entire family on the line, to do everything he could to get Khushi to admit that his being engaged to someone else made a difference to her. While staunchly denying that her being engaged to someone else threatened to tilt his world out of its axis.

His eyes flew open again, and he watched, not quite seeing, his Di lift up a light blue saree and hold it against Khushi, consulting Nani about how she would look in it. He had done a lot of damage; but now was not the time to wallow in regret. If anything now was the time to act, before circumstances slipped irrevocably out of his control again.

Arnav squinted to get a better look at the saree Anjali had selected for Khushi. As soon as he saw the pasty shade of the colour, his inner voice began a chorus of rejection, snubbing it as too bland to possibly do any justice to her. A similar protest kick-started when Nani picked up a very pale shade of yellow. Arnav thought, with distaste, that it looked like a weak, watery spell of sunshine trying and failing to light up a room on a rainy day. Khushi needed vibrant colours, colours which reflected her own liveliness, like that turquoise saree sitting right on top, with the little stones embedded into it glittering like tiny little stars against a dark velvet sky...

Annoyed, he wondered what had gotten into the ladies of his family. Why were they so hell bent on getting Khushi to wear such faded colours? His frustration did not die down as he speculated that there was no way he could just march up to Khushi and simply tell her which saree to pick. Not only was it likely that she would refuse outright and choose something else in spite of him, he had sufficient remembrance of ASR to recoil at the thought of his Nani and Di's ribbing if he just interrupted them in the midst of an activity he had steered clear of in the past, expressing his contempt in no uncertain terms.

And then Khushi looked up and saw him. Their eyes met. And he instantly knew what to do.

Khushi visibly flushed as she quickly looked away, returning her attention to the task at hand. She picked up the saree Nani was passing to her, but, unable to help it, her eyes flickered back to Arnav.

He made a face at it, shaking his head slightly. Khushi's eyes widened, and they dropped back to the saree before looking back at him. Arnav flashed her a look dripping with revulsion. Khushi gazed back down at the saree in her hands, but this time, Arnav could tell that she was scrutinising it properly. He almost sniggered as he saw a decisive expression cross her face as she replaced the saree back on the heap, obviously not too pleased with it. Di then thrust her choice on her, and Khushi picked it up, running her eye over it once. And almost before it happened, Arnav was certain that she could not help but look at him again.

And he was right.

Khushi blushed a deeper red as she caught him looking straight at her, leaning against a pillar with half a smirk on his face. The latter seemed to cause some consternation, quickly followed by irritation, on her part, and she sharply looked away, unravelling the saree for further inspection. But Arnav knew that she would not be able to resist sneaking a peek again, and sure enough, her eyes flickered in his direction.

This time, his expression spelled mild dissatisfaction. It's ok, it seemed to say, nothing special.

Arnav could almost feel the steam that must have been rising from Khushi out of anger at this point, anger at him daring to impose his choice on her, but even more annoying, anger at the fact that she agreed with him. He could tell that she was not too thrilled about that saree either.

And then, with a surety that Arnav could have set the time by, Khushi's hand rose ever so slowly towards the turquoise saree sitting invitingly on the heap, waiting for her to claim it. As soon as she touched it, Arnav felt triumph so potent it nearly sent him jogging into the living-room to claim his prize. But he had to hold his peace, and with great difficulty, remained standing where he was.

Khushi's eyes lingered over the saree, this time with a new expression. No longer perfunctory, or critical, or speculative. Arnav could see the admiration for the fabric in her hands grow in her eyes, a brightness, a glow seeming to replace her otherwise pallid countenance.

Arnav did not give Khushi a chance to look up this time. With his Blackberry clutched tightly in one hand, he held it against his ear and marched straight into the living room. Before anyone could say anything, he curtly told his phone, 'Yes, that one. That's perfect'. And he dropped himself down on the armchair next to Nani with a look of complete concentration on his face, his eyes fixed in the direction of the front door.

'Do you like that one, Khushi?' Di questioned. Arnav watched from the corner of his eyes Khushi dart an involuntary, uncertain look at him. Into his phone, he said, very firmly, 'Yes, that one'.

Khushi started, staring at him for a second. He smirked inwardly. Yes, he had used this tactic once before. But this time, it would work even better.

'Khushi bitiya, your choice is remarkable', Nani lifted up the saree to admire the intricate embroidery on it, in fine gold thread, 'beautiful'.

'Hmm', Arnav shot at his phone again, this time turning to catch Khushi's glance dart back at him once more, almost suspiciously. Obviously, she was caught in a quandary. There was no doubt that she genuinely liked that saree. But she would never choose it over her pride if she knew that that saree would be Arnav's choice as well. Arnav knew she could not be blamed, he was painfully aware of the numerous times he had cheapened her existence; but he also knew that dressing in pale colours just did not suit the colourful personality of his wife.

Yet, more crucial to him was a certain distinct memory which had pounced at him from nowhere, of her in a similar shade on another evening, where he had felt his blood boil with fury as he watched her frolicking with someone else, laughing with someone else, while he stood fuming in the sidelines. The mere thought sent his blood pressure rocketing up. Fierce joy possessed him at the fact that NK had had to return to Australia.

Khushi could only look as good as she had that evening for him, and no one else. She was going to wear that saree for him. And if he had to confuse the hell out of her to get that to happen, he would.

***

Arnav paced about impatiently.

When Di had suggested Khushi try on the saree and show them how she looked in it, Arnav could have kissed her for her timing. The urge to see her in that colour, with the deep shade of inky blue perfectly complementing her milky skin, was so strong that Arnav had even momentarily forgotten to pretend he was texting when Khushi had tried to refuse. But then Nani had joined the bandwagon, and between the two of them, they convinced Khushi not only to accept it, but also to wear it.

Arnav thanked his stars for the capacity of emotional blackmail in the women of his family.

Khushi had fluttered straight to the guest room without thinking twice. Arnav, who after a suitable pause had followed her in the pretext of fetching his laptop, was irked by this fact, although he knew he was being irrational. No one could really expect otherwise, if they had had an inkling of what he had reduced her to in his- no, their- bedroom. As he paced up and down the corridor outside the guest room though, Arnav suddenly hoped fervently that what he had been planning since that morning would work, that it would lessen at least some of the aversion Khushi had to the bedroom.

But he could not dwell on that too long though, because the chime of anklets gently intruded in his thoughts.

The sight took his breath away.

Khushi looked...heavenly. Arnav would have bet any amount of money that she could not possibly look any more beautiful than she already was. But if he had he would probably have gone bankrupt. Awestruck, he gazed at the vision in front of him, resplendent in blue and gold. The turquoise illumined her skin in even more ethereal ways than his imagination could ever do justice, standing out like the moon against the deepening indigo of the evening sky, while her dark tresses, catching some of the light of one of the windows along the corridor, glowed in sharp contrast to the pale white of her skin. The gold that glimmered in the satiny folds of the material of the saree, which clung to her shoulder, her thin waist, in just the right way, glittered and winked at him, only serving to accentuate the radiance that sudden exuded from her. She seemed to be single-handedly lighting up the whole corridor.

Arnav felt time slow down as she hurriedly came out through the guest room door, taking a few steps into the corridor before realising that he was more or less standing rooted to the spot, staring at her unabashedly. As soon as their eyes met, all sense of time and place faded into oblivion for Arnav, who was only aware of his heart, suddenly beating all the more louder, echoing off the walls in its attempt to meet its other half. He was only aware of his slow breathing, taking in air deeply to convince himself that he was not dreaming in the middle of the day.

Her blush was his undoing. As soon as he saw the red rush its way to her cheeks, making her look even more impossibly, unbearably stunning, he felt his legs starting to move towards her. Like a moth drawn to a flame.

Vaguely, he noted that she was moving backwards, her big brown eyes widened even further; warily, shyly, tentatively backing away from him. 

'Tum humesha peeche kyu jaati ho?' he heard himself ask, his guttural whisper barely audible to himself.

'A-aap humesha a-aage aate h-hai', Khushi responded almost automatically, without thinking, her voice equally low, equally hushed, avoiding eye contact. Arnav watched her back straight into one the white columns trailing the length of the corridor, causing her to glance back at him with an expression bordering downright dismay.

***

As their eyes locked once more, Khushi gasped lightly. She felt oxygen whoosh out of her, leaving her winded and lightheaded. He was mere inches away from her.

***

'Khushi', his voice was husky from being so breathless; he was afraid he would be thoroughly inebriated if he inhaled too deeply into the intoxicating fragrance of her hair, of her skin. Only a breath of a distance remained between them; Arnav could feel the warmth emanating off of her luminescent skin. His brain shouted frantic instructions at every cell of his body, trying to rein them in before he succumbed to his desire to just pull her into his arms and keep her their...forever. It was too early for that. He needed to win her trust before he could win her heart. Grimly laughing at his own masochism, Arnav raised his hand carefully to Khushi's face, his eyes looking straight into hers, which had widened even more and reflected, clearly, every single emotion she was experiencing.

Just like looking through fine crystal.

She started slightly when she felt him touch his rough fingertip ever so slightly to the corner of her eye. Torturously slowly, not daring to breathe lest he lost the remaining vestiges of control, Arnav trailed the back of his hand across Khushi's blazing, soft cheek, before dotting her just below her ear with a spot of kajal.

Before either of them could recover, Arnav zoomed forward, his warm breath making her shudder, with strands of her hair wafting against it, and whispered into her ear.

'Kisi ki nazar na lage.'

Please leave your comments and likes, been getting fewer and fewer these days:(

... And thanks to everyone who wished me luck for the exams, it really means a lot to me:)

-doe-eyes-2012-03-07 16:13:53