Chapter 11

Chapter 10- Age 15+

Khushi blamed herself for Arnavji’s current state. 

Dipping her hand into the bowl of neem oil, leftover from the champi Di had given her, she applied it carefully on her husband’s hair. 

He sat on the floor in front of her in their bedroom and had needed some convincing that doing champi for someone was not contraindicated for a pregnant woman.

He closed his eyes and let out a lusty ‘Mmm’ as her fingers worked their magic, and she could see some of the tension leaving his taut neck and shoulders. 

She knew that she hadn’t caused it, but she had certainly triggered the recent exacerbation of it, whatever ‘it’ was. 

It had all started on the day after their wedding at the temple. On a whim, they had decided to go on the honeymoon that Jiji and Jijaji had gifted them. Arvanji had been able to arrange for them to travel on the very same afternoon. They had both felt a need to put some distance between the turmoil they had faced and the relief they now felt.

However, as they were being driven to the airport, Khushi’s nerves had started failing her. 

Quite apart from her fear of flying for the first time, the thought of the airport triggered difficult memories for her. She had frozen at the threshold remembering the last time she had stood there. 

She had begged him to stay, her heart breaking as he had refused to believe her and then walked away from her. The pain was so intense that even now, as he held her hand and lead her inside, her heart sank, burdened by the weight of the echoes from the past.

She had gripped his arm tightly and had been most reluctant to let him go when he asked her to wait as he walked up to their airline counter to check them in. 

Looking around the airport, another memory had resurfaced, of Arnavji being led away by a strange group of black-clad men. 

She had started a little when he touched her elbow and led her to the First- Class waiting lounge. Noticing either her grip on his arm or her unusual silence, he guessed, in part, the reason for her reticence. 

In his usual endearing but rather unhelpful way, he had launched into the statistics of flight safety. 

“In fact, ek study ke hisaab se, its riskier to drive to the airport than fly in an airplane.”

Khushi had given him a pained smile. When he asked her if she wanted any refreshments, she had requested chai to help soothe her nerves. 

It was only as he had walked back to her with her chai and his black coffee in hand that he scrutinized her face and realised just how rattled she was. 

“Kya hua Khushi?” he had asked, handing her the cup and sitting down beside her. “Kuch aur baat hai kya?”

Shaking her head, she had said, “Nahi Arnavji, hume airport… matlab, flight se thoda darr…”

She had watched his face as the penny finally dropped. 

He turned away, looking aghast. Reaching for her free hand with his, he had stammered,

“Khushi, main… woh main…I’m sorry.”

She had squeezed his hand to convey that he didn’t owe her any explanations or apologies. They had moved past all those gile-shikve, hadn’t they?

But when he looked into her eyes, she had seen a flash of darkness, a shadow lurking in the depths of his brown eyes that had made her instantly regret opening her mouth. She cursed her foolish fears that had made Arnavji look like that. 

Through the journey, she had told herself that she was chattering to cheer Arnavji up. Not because her heart had started beating very fast went the plane began to taxi or because it had skipped several beats when the plane took off, leaving her somewhat lightheaded. 

Eyes screwed shut and a death grip on his hand, she had kept up a litany of “Devi Maiya Raksha karna”.  

When he had tapped her cheeks and asked her to open her eyes when they were up in the air, she had said, “Oopar chad to gaye hai Arnavji, neeche utharna abhi baaki hai”

He had cracked half a smile at that. 

When they arrived at the resort in Bali late that evening, they had both been utterly exhausted. But Khushi, for whom a luxury suite of rooms had been a novelty, went around looking at everything in awe, stopping short at the deck overlooking the ocean. 

Arnavji had tipped the concierge, who shut the door behind him and immediately reached for her. 

There was a muted desperation in his eyes as he led her back into the room. He didn’t seem to have words to say although his mouth opened and closed several times before he stopped trying and kissed her. 

The restraint he had shown on the night before when he had treated her like a china doll, was gone. His lovemaking had not been about pleasure that night but about possession.  

Khushi had held tight, allowing him to exorcise his demons. 

But they seemed to be many in number and tenacious in their hold of him, for he had awoken abruptly a little later.

“Khushi!” he cried out, sitting up.

She rose at once and turned on the nightlight. 

“Khushi” he said, his hands reaching up to her face and tears pooling in the corner of his eyes. 

"Kya hua, Arnavji?" she asked, "Aap theek toh hai?"

“I was going to come back. Main wapas aa raha tha tumhare paas. I…I couldn’t leave you. Believe me Khushi, I was going to come back.”

It took her a moment to understand. She took his tremorous hands in her own and leaned into it. 

“Hum jaanthe hai”

He looked at her in surprise. 

She explained about the time Mamiji and she had hunted down the security tapes from the airport when they were searching for him.

“Humne dekha ki aap chale jaa rahe the aur achanak se ruk gaye” she said, remembering how she had felt while watching it on the tape. 

She had run a hand on the TV screen, missing him with an intensity that had shocked her. Giving silent thanks to Devi Maiya for returning Arnavji to her unscathed, she ran her hand on his actual face. 

“Humne video me dekha ki aap humari taraf mud rahe the, shayad vapas aana chahtthe the aur fir un logon ne aapko rok liya”

“I was going to come back,” he said again, sincerity in his voice and his heart in his eyes. “I’m so sorry…”

His voice had cracked and so had her heart.

When they had returned from the honeymoon, they had spent all their time and energy on their new house, their new routines and well, each other. 

She never told him the lengths she had gone to to find him, and he never spoke of his time in captivity. But the demons of the past had only been silenced, not eliminated. Ever so often, a reminder from them would set off her fears or becloud his eyes. 

On one occasion, they had visited Buaji and run into Ankush and Preetika. Reminded of his kindness on the night of their wedding, Khushi had thanked him with a kiss. He had looked pleased enough at the time, but later that night he had startled awake again.

On that night, he had confessed to eavesdropping on her conversation with Amma. 

“You told her ki main duniya ka sabse acha pati hoon” he said, his expression tortured. “But the truth is, main sabse bura pati hoon. I’ve hurt you so much. You’ve always made me laugh but I…I’ve only ever made you cry.”

Khushi cut him off and insisted that they had both hurt each other. If he had forced her into a contract marriage for his sister’s sake, she had kept a secret and lied to him for hers. They had both wronged each other.

When he remained unconvinced, she told him that despite everything, nothing she had said to Amma had been untrue. No, not even on that night. She had only told the story that she saw in his eyes, not the one she heard in his words. 

When they found out they were expecting, it had been an emotional time for them both. While Khushi transitioned from stunned disbelief to excitement and anticipation, Arnavji seemed to regress from ecstatic to apprehensive. 

The visits to the doctor had triggered his anxiety. He was worried about her, about the baby inheriting his diabetes. And all of it was made worse by what happened with Di. 

And then there was his usual work, expediting Di’s divorce and the guilt at leaving Khushi home alone while he was away. 

Her Laad Governor’s behaviour was certainly giving her own hormonal mood swings stiff competition. 

“Khushi, yaad hai ek baar tumne mere baalon me tel lagaaya tha” he said, presently. “And, I slipped in the oil and fell down.”

She remembered only too well. 

“Woh…woh humaari galathi nahi thi” she said, “Aapne theek se dekha nahi. Aur waise bhi, aap toh baat hi mat kijiye, aapne toh ek baar hume office me first floor se gira diya tha. Poore ek hafte tak hamari kamar lachak gayi thi.”

“Maine dekh liya tha ki neeche cardboard boxes the, Ok? And, I was just remembering, Khushi” he said, with a small laugh. “Tum har baat ko competition kyun bana deti ho?”

“Hum?” she asked, “Hum muqabla karte hai? Muqable karne aur sharth lagaane me toh aap visheshagya hai”

“Vishesh what?”

“Woh kya kehthe hai?” Khushi said, “Expert”

“Toh tume sharth yaad hai?” he asked, turning back to face her.  

“Kaunsa sharth, Arnavji?” she asked, with an acerbic smile. “Jiji aur Jijaji ke Sangeeth wala? Ya chaubees ghante wala? Ya fir…”

“Sharth jo bhi ho” he said, grinning. “Punishment is the same, woh to yaad hoga?”

He got to his feet and helped her up as she wobbled slightly, still not accustomed to the extra weight she was carrying. 

“Dekha” he said, leaning close. “Giraane se zyaada maine tumhe girne se bachaaya hai”

“Haan toh? Humne bhi kitni baar aapko…”

Taking advantage of her oily hands, he shut her up with a kiss and quickly leapt out of the way as she threatened to smear it on his sweater. 

Cursing the victorious crooked smile that stilled her heart, Khushi went to wash up. She heard his phone ring and when she returned, he was still talking to Jijaji. On hanging up, he informed, her with a small smile, that Akash had booked a table for the four of them on the following night, New Year's Eve, at the same restaurant where he had first proposed to Payal. 

She immediately asked about Di but Arnavji said that she had turned down Akash's invitation to join them but the two of them were planning to convince her again the following morning.  

Her thoughts turned to the conversation she had with her that afternoon. Di had suggested that if she requested Arnavji, he would surely consider returning to Shantivan. As she climbed into bed, it occurred to her that if everyone was on good terms now, the reason to stay apart no longer existed. 

But something held her back from voicing it as he kissed her goodnight and turned off the lights. 

It had broken her to love the man who hated her, but it had broken him more to hate the woman he loved. 

Because love was always hopeful, she realised. It only dreamt of reconciliation. Whereas hate left only bitterness and regret in its wake. And in her husband's case, nightmares.  

With dampness in her eyes, she realized that even at the cost of Di’s disappointment, she couldn’t force him into a decision he was not ready for. She prayed to Devi Maiya to grant her husband peace of mind and a night of undisturbed sleep.