Chapter 61
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[MEMBERSONLY]
[NOCOPY]
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Part 14
Arnav parked his car in front of the main building of Mangaldas Memorial School, and looked around.
It was a huge campus. Huge. Acres and acres of land lay spread around them, with building dotting the landscape. He turned to look at Khushi. She was sitting in her seat, petrified, her bloodless fingers clutching the ends of her dupatta.
He covered her fingers with his warm ones. "It is OK. They will love you, like I do." he comforted her.
Khushi looked anxiously at him.
"Like your Laxmiji does." Arnav tried to make her smile.
Khushi smiled slightly.
"It is time to meet your Girija Deviji." Arnav reminded her.
Khushi nodded nervously. She was starting the next phase of her life, a next phase that would see her alone in the midst of strangers... without Arnavji...
"Khushi, remember this, whatever happens. I am just a phone call away." he reminded her, dropping a warm kiss on her cold cheek.
She nodded.
"And whether you want them or not, you have an Amma, a Babuji, a Buaji, a Jiji, a Nani, a Mami, a Mama, a Di, two brothers, a HP, and a goat who love you."
She nodded her head vigorously.
"Not to mention your husband who loves you more than his own life." Arnav whispered.
Khushi looked in to his eyes, and nodded slowly.
"Chalein?" he asked.
She nodded.
Girija Devi looked at the odd pair sitting in front of her. The cook's new help was dressed in an expensive traditional outfit, mangalsutra and sindoor intact, her face wan & nervous... Her husband was dressed in formal black coat & suit. He had driven his wife and her belongings to Varanasi from Delhi in an imported luxury vehicle...
To take the job of a cook's help? Girija Devi wanted to scratch her head in confusion.
She looked down at the card the husband had given her.
What was wrong with Arnav Singh Raizada, the owner of AR Designs, some international company that made skimpy clothes for underweight, malnourished models? Why was his wife desperate to leave him? And why was he so desperate to get rid of his wife that he had come all the way to Varanasi to drop her off?
She cleared her throat. "Mrs. Raizada, you have no experience at this job. So I suggest we have a trial period of one month. If your work is satisfactory and you are happy here, we can think of making this permanent."
Khushi looked at the middle aged, matronly, comfortably plump lady and then at her husband. She nodded.
"Now, I suggest you both go with Nandini. She will show you the campus, the kitchen, & your room." Girija Devi said.
"Ji." Khushi whispered.
The minute the pair exited the room, Girija Devi booted up her computer and checked everything she could find on Arnav Singh Raizada.
Harvard-educated. Belonging to the ancient Raizada family of Lucknow. Numerous best businessman of the year awards. Images of various fashion shows, in which a stern, cold Arnav Singh Raizada stood surrounded by models in the clothes designed by his firm... Why had he married such an ordinary girl from such an ordinary, middle-class family? Had his family forced him in to it? Was he ashamed of her? Had he brought her to Varanasi to get rid of her? Or was his family against this marriage? So many questions! And no answers!
She stood looking out through the glass window of her room, pondering on the puzzle that was before her.
Arnav & Khushi saw the school in which 3,000 girls studied, the hostel in which they and their teachers lived, the huge kitchen and the humongous dining hall, the room in which Khushi was to live...
It was small, but had a private balcony. It was on the second floor, and had a single bed, a table & a chair, and a cabinet for clothes, built in to the wall. It was clean and airy.
Arnav placed her bags in the room, and looked around.
"Is it OK, Khushi?" he asked softly.
"Ji." Khushi whispered.
He unlatched her suitcase and began to help her unpack.
Khushi placed her Devi Maiyya's idol on the table. He arranged her clothes in her new wardrobe. Khushi covered the bed with the new sheets Arnavji had bought for her, and placed her new pillow at the head. Both of them worked silently, and soon the room was filled with Khushi's things.
"Khushi, keep the phone with you at all times?" Arnav asked her.
"Ji...i..."
"Take care." He hugged her tight. Khushi ran her hands over his back, trying to pull him closer in to her hold, caressing him, breathing in the scent of his after shave...
"It is time for me to leave." Arnav whispered.
Khushi nodded, not wanting to let go of him.
He rubbed away the tears wetting her cheeks. "Khushi, promise me two things."
"OK." Khushi whispered.
"Call me if you need me. I will fly over." He cupped her cheeks.
Khushi nodded. "I promise."
"Two, promise me that you will try to be happy." he whispered.
She looked in to his eyes with eyes flooded with tears. And nodded.
Girija Devi watched as Arnav Singh Raizada and his wife, Khushi walked down together to his car.
Arnav turned to look at Khushi. He smiled. "Bye."
Khushi struggled hard to smile. "Bye."
Girija Devi watched as Arnav turned away to walk to his car. Now that Khushi couldn't see his face, he lost his smile and his face became drawn and tortured.
Girija Devi stared at him in wonder. So the great Arnav Singh Raizada was in love with his simple, middle-class wife and didn't want to leave her here. Curiously, she looked at Khushi's face. And felt her breath hitch. The girl's face was a picture of misery.
What the hell was going on here? Girija Devi wondered.
She watched Khushi wave goodbye to her husband as he drove away, her arm in the air, a smile on her wet face till the vehicle vanished from her sight.
Girija Devi hit her head with her hand. Why did she feel like a cruel King Akbar who had killed Anarkali for falling in love with Salim? She looked at her own reflection in the glass of the window. A very rotund King Akbar. She imagined herself with a turban and a rose in her hand. And shuddered. She would have to do something about this sad Arnav Singh Raizada and his weepy wife, Khushi.
Part 13: 91114115 Part 15: 91181218
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