Entry #2: Khushi Ka Tukda

This is Entry #2 in the IPKKND 10th Diwali Contest

It is written by bluegrass

Yeah, the surge of energy and chahal-pahal in the house told Arnav that it was Diwali morning. Khushi was rather energetic ―well, more energetic than usual― today. He wasn't even out of the bed yet and could hear Khushi chirping about in the kitchen downstairs. Everything else could be done beforehand, but Diwali ki mithayian toh taazi aur ghar par hi banana chahiye.

She fussed about his health in these tiny ways ―  how long had it been? Ten years? What the (in a very good way, mind you)!

Slightly groggy, he made his way to the kitchen for his morning coffee. Delhi winters called for snoozed alarms, and double-shot espresso. Khushi still belched at the taste of it!

He first saw her mustard yellow dupatta, capriciously drooping off her left shoulder. Her ponytail had come loose. She was smiling absentmindedly, teaching their tiny daughter, Nadya, to roll motichoor ke ladoo. Their adorably precocious son was attempting to make― peanut-butter brownies, was it? Thank God, Di was there to keep an eye on him. These two could be a handful!

As he made his way towards the gang, he couldn't help but be enchanted by his wife. Many things had changed in the past 10 years. There were a few fine lines around her eyes now, her smeared kajal brought out her eyes even more. Of all the good things about Delhi winters, it was best that they deepened the rosy blush of cheeks. Her blush was so simply beautiful as if everything was good in the world. Gosh, how he loved her.

As she saw her husband languidly make his way to them, she choked on a small gasp. His bed-hair made him look youthful and his smile was truly lopsided.  Like the heroes of mediocre romances she nicked from the college library. On the darkest day of the year, his smile illuminated her life.' He Devi Maiyya,'  Khushi mentally shook her head, 'I really sound like a Harley Quinn romance sometimes!'

As he made himself an espresso and helped Aranya with the brownies, she couldn't help but be bemused how the absolute Laad Governor had devoted himself to baking when their son had expressed an interest in it.

"Arre, beta! Use sugarfree na. Aur Arnav ji, aap mama ji ki help kar dijiye lighting ke kaam me. Aaj no office emails please. Di, aaj lunch me kathal ki biriyani aur suran ki sabji banaye kya? Ham soch rahe the ki mirchi ka salan bhi hona chahiye. Please, Arnav ji, Di aur mere liye chai chadha dijiye, aaj bohut kaam hai. Mami ji aur naani ji NGO gayi hain. Aarav aur Lavanya ji ko bhi pick up karne jaana hai. Nanhe ji ke liye kapde bhi kharid ne hain. You know how he still struggles with Indian clothes..."

Arnav was still caught off-guard by the her instruction to their son. Ah, yes, sugarfree. His mind flew back to their first Diwali ever so swiftly. No, not to their poolside entanglement. Yes, that. How incandescent she looked in his arms―literally entangled in fairy-lights! No, not even to her red saree. Yes, definitely that, too. Not when he had made her cry. He was a b-stard, damn it. Sometimes he hated himself. No, he thought of how she had made sugarfree barfi for him, unconsciously. She didn't even know her feelings even as she couldn't hide her parvah for him. He didn't know how to show that he cared back. But if he had fallen in love with her, it was at that very moment.

As he made tea for his wife and sister,  he couldn't help but listen into their gossip. Apparently, NK was planning to propose to Lavanya. How those two could do a long-distance was beyond him. He couldn't even stay a week away from Khushi. He couldn't be happier for Lavanya, truth-be-told. He was thankful for the friendship the four of them had come to share. She was Aarav's godmother, and it was only right that she'd their family.

Were they really that old that Aarav was in the first year of college, at Cambridge, no less?  It only seemed like yesterday that he'd taken Aarav and Khushi to Ma's garden on his second Diwali.

"Hum bhi Aarav ko bahut miss karte hain. Usse barah baje lene jaana hai." "― Accha, NK bhi chalega na? Baccho ko bhi le chalo. Buaji ke yahan se Ma ke paas chalenge."

"Accha, baccho, aap udham mat machayiye, dekhiye dadi ka koi bhi plant tutna nahi chahiye. Arnav ji, hume thodi der me nikalna chahiye. Shaam hote hi log raste par patakhe phodne lagenge." As he saw the younger kids frolicking around in his mother's garden, and Aarav supervising them. Their mother wrapped in a black pashmina and powder pink saree― holding his hand and humming some old Hindi song, he realised that life couldn't be better.

So verve of the day had transformed into the happy cacophony of the night. They no longer threw large banquets on Diwali. As their family had expanded, and Akash had moved back from U.S, they found themselves celebrating festivals in small intimate ways with family and colleagues.  All the women in the house were dressing up together. Di and Buaji's laughter boomed through the house. Mami ji and Khushi, surprisingly, were thicker than thieves. NK and La were passing small no-doubt-love notes via his kids. And, the rest of the men (and Payal) were running around the other kids. Mamaji and Uncle were proud grandfathers.

He, well, he was having an awkward conversation about college and girlfriends with Aarav till thankfully the conversation moved towards peer pressure and Football. Thank God, Khushi found it easier to broach emotional topics with Aarav. He still struggled with the fact that their children had grown up so rapidly. Di and Aman― well, they were dating― joined them when―

Then she entered the room― like a sweet memory; softly― in her red saree and hydrangeas in her hair. She ran up the smaller kids, dancing with them on "Ishq tera tadpave".  He moved behind them, laughing quietly. She was suddenly in this arms. He held her tightly, bemused at his good fortune. She was still scared of crackers, and he couldn't be happier.