Chapter 3

The slow descent of the helicopter made him look outside at the crowded, vibrant city below. He could see the sprawling city with a rich history that had seen many rises and falls through the journey of India, both before and after independence. It had known glory and despair, peace and turmoil. But this city, blessed by the Gomti River, had not just witnessed cycle of life for the masses but also seen private storms in a family. It had seen a young man betray his wife, had seen a small boy watch his parents fight, and a woman reject the child her husband had fathered with another. It had then seen that same woman open her heart to the child and accept it as the third child in that family. In the end, the city had seen those children left without parents.

This was the city he had once called home. Lucknow.

And now she was living in the same city. With Dhruv Malik, the same person who had once been the reason that family broke apart. The same child Arnav’s mother had taken in as her husband’s illegitimate son. Ironic, wasn’t it?

.

Growing up, Arnav had tried to be cordial with Dhruv. Mostly because his Di and Nani made him do so. Although he could never quite understand how they found it in themselves to open their hearts to a boy who had been the reason behind his parents’ endless fights. Nor could he understand why his mother’s family had agreed to raise Dhruv along with Anjali and him, after the car accident that claimed his parents’ lives. Perhaps it had something to do with his late mother’s final wish, one that she expressed lying on that hospital bed, while him, Anjali, Dhruv and his mother’s family surrounded them. She had asked them to take care of all 3 children!

But Arnav had always found it difficult to accept Dhruv as a brother. Always struggled to call him family or trust him with anything. It didn’t help that Dhruv seemed to be similar to him in so many ways. They had the same taste in books, the same fascination for cricket, and often listened to same music! Dhruv also excelled in studies, just like him, at times scoring higher marks. Arnav would later stay up through the night, solving equations again and again, trying to reclaim the position he believed was rightfully his.

Yet, while Arnav carried this bitter-complex feelings for him, Dhruv never seemed to hold any resentment. If anything, he went out of his way to be kind to Arnav. He would stand up for Arnav whenever bullies mocked his aloof nature. Once, when Arnav’s science project caught fire in the school lab, it was Dhruv who rushed in to help, burning his hand in the process. Another time, Arnav came home late after losing his temper and storming off during a family dinner and Dhruv silently left a plate of food outside his room never mentioning it later.

Sometimes Arnav felt Dhruv was trying to compensate for his mother’s mistakes. Especially the way he behaved in the Raizada house, offering to fetch water for guests, helping Hariprakash with errands, pressing nani’s feet at night without being asked. Even when no one ever treated him like a servant, he somehow always behaved as if he had to earn his place under that roof.

In fact, Dhruv continued to carry the tainted Malik name, while Arnav and Anjali had taken their mother’s maiden name, Raizada, after their parents’ deaths. Not that Arnav would have liked it if Dhruv had called himself Raizada. He had no right to it; enough favors had been done already.

Still, Dhruv bore the weight of the Malik name bravely. He faced the taunts that came his way, the whispered remarks from their so-called elite society, the stares that followed him at every social gathering. And he faced them all without bitterness.

Soon, Arnav founded his own company and although, he never offered Dhruv any formal position or role, AR Designs would not have taken off the way it did without Dhruv Mailk’s efforts in the initial days…

.

But just when, just when Arnav thought he was finally ready to accept Dhruv as his brother wholeheartedly, just when he believed he could finally let go of the old bitterness, Dhruv reminded him of where he came from. He proved himself to be that woman’s son, a homewrecker’s son.

Well, not just him, Khushi was equally to be blamed if not more, for breaking his heart, breaking his faith in love for life.

--*--

‘The Lucknow times Fashion Utsav’ - first of its kind fashion show arranged by national Handlooms of India was being celebrated for the first time this year. It was supposed to bring all small and big fashion designers, local artists to showcase their talent. The week-long event had already caught the attention of the media, and several well-known celebrities were expected to walk the ramp for the country’s leading fashion houses.

Khushi took a deep breath as she set her phone aside after reading yet another article about the show that was set to begin today.

She and Dhruv ji had poured their hearts into preparing for this day. Their company might not have been among the biggest names yet, but in just five years since its start, they had managed to make ‘Kahani’ a brand people recognized and respected. Khushi, who had once designed every piece herself, now had a small team of young designers working under her guidance. Dhruv on the other hand managed all business deals, supplier calls and marketing.

Khushi ran the fingers of her left hand over the garment she held in the tray in her right, satisfied with her work yet a bit nervous for today.

“Khushi, where is the showstopper piece? You were still adding some touches to it last night, right?” Dhruv’s voice reached her ears, and she turned around, holding the tray that carried the showstopper piece.

He smiled wider and walked to her, taking the tray from her hand and removing the cloth covering it. There lay a 3-piece apparel, lehenga-choli-dupatta, in a soft rosemary shade. But instead of popular choices of stones or diamonds, it had handwoven chikankari work on it, and pearls for highlights. Dhruv took the dupatta and unfolded it.

And his breath stuck.

Khushi had outdone herself this time. He had always known her to be a gifted designer, but this was more than design. This was emotions turned into art. The embroidery was not just patterns and motifs; it was a story, a kahani.

The delicate threads traced the journey of a woman, from her carefree childhood running behind butterflies to the grace of adulthood adorning a payal(anklet). Then towards the center of the dupatta, a small doli carried a bride whose face peeked from behind the curtain. And finally, near the edge of the dupatta, stood a palace, with a prince waiting for her arrival. The path between them was long and beautifully detailed, lined with flowers and lamps that seemed to guide her forward.

But in the next pattern, the story shifted. The bride was shown stepping down from the doli, her foot just touching the ground, her face turned away from the palace. And that was where the embroidery ended.

Dhruv turned the dupatta around, searching for more. He expected another sequence, something showing the marriage, the happy ending that should have followed. But there was nothing more. The thread stopped there, unfinished.

He frowned slightly. “Khushi, I love the story you are trying to tell here, but is it incomplete? Where is the marriage scene? Or is it on the lehenga?”

Khushi smiled as she took the dupatta back, folding it carefully. “There is no continuation of it, Dhruv ji.”

“What? But why?”

“Because I couldn’t decide. This is a story where the woman wearing it can choose her own happy ending. She could step away from the doli, follow her dreams, or give up everything for her duty as the prince’s wife.”

Dhruv finally understood. The meaning behind her art, the intention woven into every thread, became clear. And he could guess that perhaps the inspiration had come from her own life.

“I think the girl would choose the prince, Khushi. She would step down from the doli but walk towards him only. Her dreams would lead her to him, because the prince loves her, and she loves him in her heart.”

Khushi looked up, studying his face, searching his eyes for the feelings he never hid from her.

“Is love really worth it?” she asked softly.

“It always is.” he said.

Taking the tray away from her hands, he kept it on the table beside them. And then gently extended his arms, “Need a hug?” he asked.

Khushi, overwhelmed by everything that was going on in her mind and heart, nodded and went towards him. She felt him wrap his arms around her and she kept her head on his chest.

For a moment, the noise of the world, the worries of the show, and the memories of the past all fell away.

Was this her happy ending?

“I know what you’re thinking, Khushi. You had to make a decision, a tough decision 5 years ago. You were imagining a happy future with Arnav, but he never truly understood you. When has he ever tried to understand anyone anyway? Today, you’ll have to face him after all these years. But don’t worry, you won’t be alone. I’ve got you.” Dhruv said in his mind.

--*--

Shyam helped Anjali walk inside the fashion show venue while she looked around, clearly searching for someone.

“Looking for Dhruv? Or Khushi?” Shyam asked making her miss a step and stumble.

He steadied her and gave her a small smile.

“We’ve been married for seven years, Rani Saheba. Give me some credit, I can read your mind now. You’re eager to meet Dhruv, aren’t you?”

Anjali got defensive, “So what if I am? I have nothing to hide, Shyam ji. Dhruv is my brother too.”

“Sure. A brother who happened to be in love with the same girl your other brother loved.”

“What are you trying to imply, Shyam ji?”

Shyam sighed. “Anjali, I know you feel guilty about what happened back then. Arnav’s sudden closeness with Khushi, his breakup with Lavanya, Dhruv’s close friendship with Khushi… we were both aware of it, if no one else was. You weren’t exactly happy about it, were you? You didn’t seem thrilled when Arnav announced his engagement to Khushi. And then the way things ended between Arnav and Khushi, and Khushi leaving with Dhruv… none of us expected that. I know you feel responsible for some of it.”

“I was just trying to look out for my brother, Shyam ji.”

“And I thought Dhruv was your brother too.”

“HE IS!. And I care for him too!” Anjali said in an irate tone. A few faces turned hearing her sudden loud voice. She sighed and said, “Shyam ji, please… can we not discuss this right now?”

Shyam nodded. “Sorry, Rani Saheba. I only meant to say don’t let old emotions interfere with their lives now. Khushi and Dhruv are married. We need to help Arnav move on as well.”

Anjali felt a prick of tears in her eyes. She blinked them back, forcing herself to nod. Why had things turned out this way? Why had her choices, however well-meaning, led to pain she could not undo? She felt her heart sink at the thought of her brother’s loneliness, and she wished that somehow in the midst of all the mistakes and heartbreak, life could still find its way back to happiness.

--*--

A/N- The past will be revealed slowly but please let me know if you find the pace slow. Thanks