Chapter 156

Chapter 235: Her Hazy History

When Garima heard that Lord Arnav was not coming for dinner, she was worried but Madhuamti nudged her and directed her attention to Kushi's slightly glowing face as she sat conversing with her father at the dining table.

Both women shared a secret smile for they knew no hard feelings remained between the young couple.

"But I cannot understand why he must remain from his meal," said Garima concernedly, "He has had nothing to eat since the few appetizers he had at the picnic..."

The concerned mother needed no incentive to make a decision.

And Kushi didn't impede either when she saw her Amma walk up the stairs with a glass of milk in her hand.

After helping her aunt wash the dishes, Kushi remained with her father in the living room, by the fireplace, resorting to go up to her room only after her mother returned.

On getting a mumbled response from within after she had knocked upon his bedroom door, Garima opened the door and peered at the darkness, "Babua? Are you ill in health or in mind that you keep yourself in the dark?"

The sound of sheets shuffling in a startle was heard and Lord Arnav's voice asked, "Madam, is that you?"

"It is I, babua," said Garima, taking the liberty to step into the room.

As she shut the door, Lord Arnav reached towards the bedside table and lit the candle.

Garima stepped closer to the bed and in the light of the candle that shone on his face, she could see that his face was wrought with tire and sleep.

"Were you sleeping, babua?" asked Garima worriedly, "I didn't want to wake you up but I-"

"No, I had just woken in time to hear your knock," assured Lord Arnav with a pleasing smile, "Please seat yourself, madam, you mustn't keep standing."

Instead of taking the chair Lord Arnav's hand had directed to, Mistress Garima sat herself at the edge of the bed, "You worry me by absenting yourself from dinner."

"Pardon me, madam," said Lord Arnav, "Though my spirit is willing, my flesh was not."

"Ah, a qouter, are you?" Garima seemed delighted, "I admire avid readers. My husband was one when I first met him but I suppose marriage changes people."

Lord Arnav smiled in concurrence but Garima continued, "He barely touched a book after I begot my Payalia."

Lord Arnav's eyes fell on the glass in Garima's hand and she was suddenly reminded of why she'd come, "Forgive my tardiness, but I didn't want you to sleep on an empty stomach. This warm milk should do you good."

Lord Arnav took the offered glass of milk and sipped it. He greatly distasted plain milk but he was too gallant to refuse the one offered by his wife's kind mother.

A difficult endeavour it would be to drain the entire glass but he was determined he could accomplish it in little sips at intervals.

Garima watched him sip the milk with a gratified smile, "I brought it freshly milked from Deviki's farm just for you, babua. Do you like it?"

Lord Arnav nodded, struggling to swallow the mouthful of milk in his mouth. He was also struggling to not let his inventive mind imagine the mentioned Deviki in the act of "milking" from the finger-like things under the dung-backed cow.

"Has Kushi finished her dinner?" asked Lord Arnav, wanting to take his mind off the image that had almost appeared in his mind and also in the hope that, if Kushi was done with her dinner and would join him soon, he could bribe her into drinking the damned milk for him.

"Yes, she was doing the dishes when I came up the stairs," nodded Garima, remembering also of the slight glow in Kushi's cheeks, "I hope all is well between you two."

Lord Arnav looked at her, "Why wouldn't they be?"

"Well," Garima looked contrite, "You did come into the house in a sour disposition and so did Kushi."

"We have our little tiffs," shrugged Lord Arnav, "But we wouldn't be "us" if it weren't for them."

"Ofcourse, you wouldn't be," Garima laughed, "I still remember the days when Kushi used to have nothing but spite and complaints regarding your treatment of her. I must confess, I was astounded when you showed up at the Temple that night with her wedded to you. I couldn't for the rightness of my senses understand how it was possible. There had never been a trace of the possibility of such a union from either one of you."

Lord Arnav chuckled, "Things did turn out in a most unexpected way."

"Most certainly, babua," said Garima distractedly.

For a moment, she sat silent, removed in her thoughts of the past. How grieved she was that her youngest had been married off without prior warning or guided ritual. All the things the mother had planned to do for the future wedding of the youngest, the wedding gown she wanted to design herself...all dreams dashed to the ground of helplessness. Those were days she had silently accused Lord Arnav of having STOLEN her little child. But things had changed now...

Lord Arnav was concerned when he saw the lost look in Garima's face, "Madam? Are you alright?"

Startled from her train of thoughts, Garima's eyes fell on his glass, "You are too slow. I hope it is not because you dislike it."

"Oh no," said Lord Arnav hastily, "Milk is good." He obliged a sip. And how I hate it.

He swallowed down the milk, wanting to gag, but sufficed in smiling for Garima.

"I hope Master Gupta won't worry of your whereabouts," said Lord Arnav, hoping that, if Garima left, he could leap for the window and drain the rest of the milk out the window. He was not sure he could bear the torture of enduring the three-fourths remaining in the glass.

"He won't be expecting me for an hour," said Garima and Lord Arnav smiled painfully, "You see, babua, he has this habit of drinking coffee by the fireplace and idling in his armchair for almost an hour before coming to bed."

"A healthy habit," Lord Arnav nodded, not really sure if it WAS a healthy habit. You see, his mind was too preoccupied with the predicament of his glass of milk that his own words were not making sense in his head.

"A habit he acquired only after his daughters had matured into young ladies," pointed out Garima, "He used to have no time to himself when they were little ones, especially not with Kushi rushing about wreaking havoc with the neighbourhood kids and turning furores wherever she presented herself."

Suddenly interested, Lord Arnav leaned his back against the head board, "She hasn't changed a bit."

"Not a bit, I confess," said Garima remorsefully, "I worry if she'll ever make a mother."

At this, Lord Arnav took a huge swig of the milk and drained almost half the glass.

The aftertaste lingered in his mouth and he wanted to spit out what he had consumed. But he forced his mind to think of the barrels of rich wines kept in the cellar of the Castle kitchen.

Garima had watched him empty half the glass with a pleased expression on her face, "I will get you some every night if you like it so much!"

Lord Arnav paled, "NO!"

Garima was taken aback by his reaction but Lord Arnav was quick to plaster a polite smile upon his anguished visage, "I meant, I don't want you to bother with the milk."

"Nonsense, it is no bother for me, babua," Garima smiled in relief, "Payalia used to like having a glass of milk every night when she was little. But Kushi..." Here, Garima puckered her eyebrows, "That girl never liked milk. She was always hateful of it and if I forced her to drink any, she would go and add spoons of her chocolate liquor into it so she could hide the taste of the milk! How can anyone not like milk, right, babua?"

Lord Arnav blinked at the glass in his hand. Kushi hated it too? There thwarted his hopes of making her drink Mistress Garima's daily dose of promised milk for the next two nights of his stay in the Village.

In dismay, Lord Arnav took another sip of the milk, when something of profound interest crossed his mind and he looked at Garima, "I've..." he paused, unsure of how to word his question.

"There is something I've wanted to know for a long time. I happen to know Kushi is not your real-" He paused again, seeing Garima's smile fall, "Is she yours by blood?"

He regretted the question and wished he could have known a kinder manner to find the answer.

Garima sighed, "She is not begotten of me, babua. I have no inhibitions in admitting it but I am too used to seeing her as mine."

"I understand," he nodded, and then he dared to tread on the darker waters of her past, "Possibly, just out of curiosity, do you know...who her real parents are?"

Garima looked at him worriedly, "Babua, if the stature of her birth is what worries you then I assure you she need be seen only as our child, sourced from the respectable line of Guptas-"

"It is no such worry that provokes this inquiry, madam," guaranteed Lord Arnav, "I am merely curious to know more about my wife."

Garima was slightly relieved to hear this and ventured to tell him the tale of how Master Shashi had chanced upon an accident and rescued the survivor, a shivering little girl of seven.

"I named her Kushi," said Garima, "Because that is who she is. We do not know what her real name was nor does she remember. She remembers very little of what happened before the accident."

Lord Arnav was distrait, "Was she in pain? After the..."

"Accident?" Garima nodded sadly, "Greatly at heart. When she began to have dreams, she would stay awake many a night crying and when she grew older, she admonished herself as the reason why

her parents had died. Stupid presumptions, of course, but excruciatingly hurting for the one uttering them and the ones hearing..."

A longing arose in Lord Arnav's mind and he wanted most desperately to see his wife. He knew a person who had lost their parents could never heal... he knew she was still hurting inside. Like him.

"I have stayed too long," said Garima, rising up, for her heart ached after reliving the painful past of her dear daughter, "I hope you are feeling better, babua."

Lord Arnav smiled, "Thank you. For being here..."

"Anything for you, babua," smiled Garima, "After all, by marrying my daughter, you have become my son."

The impact of those words was so strong that Lord Arnav stopped breathing.

Garima had already left the room but her voice and her motherly scent still lingered: You have become my son...

Lord Arnav closed his eyes and painfully fisted his hand.

An image crossed. The familiar image of a woman in sari.

Chotey...her singing echo called out, smiling, her arms stretched out towards him.

Amma, a tear rolled down his cold cheek, My Amma.