Chapter 6

Khushi hummed to herself as her hands danced across the sketchpad, a pencil in their hold. It was very early in the morning, the sun only a few minutes old in the day and yet, she was wide awake sitting in the middle of the quiet boutique, trying to find the solace designing usually offered.

 

She heard her phone buzz announcing a text from Ayesha, panicked about not finding Khushi in the apartment upon waking up.

I'm in the boutique, don't worry!, Khushi replied, before picking up the pencil once again.

 

It was in Ayesha's nature to be protective, and perhaps it was in her nature to be comforted. Maybe that's why they clicked like a pair of magnets.

 

It was well into the morning, after Khushi dealt with a couple of customers that Ayesha finally made her appearance.

 

"I hate getting up in the morning!" she grumbled, taking a seat on the sofa.

 

"It's a 11 in the morning Ayesh," Khushi replied with a smile. "Its not the morning."

 

Ayesha rolled her eyes. "Well, this beauty needs time to get ready. Sheesh!" She then looked at the sketch Khushi was working on and said, "Me liking it. Is it for AR Designs?"

 

Khushi grimaced. "I don't know," she said. "It could be. You decide everything right?"

 

"It won't be, if you don't want it to be," Ayesha said. "But I think it will fit well with the collection we are preparing."

 

Khushi nodded. Frankly, she didn't want to give anything to AR Designs, for it would mean she was helping the very man she detested. But she also knew how silly her thinking was; She had to be professional!

 

"Speaking of AR Designs," Ayesha said looking around the boutique. "Where is he today?"

 

Khushi didn't reply.

 

"He is always here before the boutique opens, how come he is late today?"

 

Khushi snorted and said sarcastically, "Probably still working on a random excuse."  

 

And just on the cue,  Arnav walked into the boutique, much to girls' chargin.

 

"Good morning," he said with a smile.

 

Khushi didn't answer, determinedly keeping her eyes on the sketchpad infront of her.

 

"Oh lord," Ayesha said, rolling her eyes. "Do you seriously have nothing better to do other than to bother us?"

 

Arnav ignored her. He spent a lot of time pondering over Khushi's words in their last encounter and understood what was it that she wanted. The answer, he found, was very simple indeed.

 

"Oh," Ayesha said, upon not getting an answer. "So we are on silent treatment today? Good! Can you keep it like that for the rest of eternity?"

 

Arnav merely walked up to Khushi, seated on the sofa and held out a gift-wrapped box.

 

She ignored it.

 

Expecting her response, he moved the package so that it was right infront of her eyes, completely blocking her view of the paper she was sketching on.

 

"What?" she finally asked, irritated.

 

"This is for you."

 

"I don't want it," she replied getting up.

 

He blocked her way once again. "Atleast see what it is. Then you can decide if you want it or not!"

 

But she was in no mood to listen. She tried to step around him, but he seemed to read her thoughts. Every step she took, he followed, blocking her escape.

 

Khushi glared at him.

 

"What the hell is your problem?" came Ayesha's voice, who was watching the entire exchange.

 

Arnav didn't turn. "Your friend has a mouth too," he informed her. "If she wants, she can use it herself."

 

"Excuse me Mr. Raizada, but-"

 

"Not excused," he said. And then in a softer voice he said, "Khushi, just open it once."

 

Seeing that Arnav wasn't going to budge, Khushi took the box from him and opened it grudgingly. She was very surprised to see what it contained.

 

"Your favourite," Arnav whispered, when she continued to gaze at the box in silence. It contained a jalebi.

 

But what startled Khushi was not the sweet, but the shape it was made in. Instead of the usual spirals it resembled, the jalebi very clearly spelled out 'sorry'!

 

"You made it?" The question slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it.

 

Arnav shrugged. "Well… I had help," he said truthfully. "I didn't know how to make the batter…"

 

Khushi didn't know what to say. She somehow couldn't imagine Arnav in the kitchen, standing infront of the stove, trying to spell out the perfect 'sorry' she now held. She vaguely wondered how many hours it took him.

 

"Do you like it?" he asked quietly.

 

Khushi didn't answer. She just put the box on the table infront of her and began to leave.

 

"Khushi!" Arnav called. "Say something! Don't just walk away!"

 

She stopped in her tracks and said very calmly, "So what should I do?"

 

"Atleast eat the jalebi," he suggested. "I mean, I made it… I didn't tell anyone else to do it. It was completely my idea!"

 

"And that's precisely why I don't want to eat it," she said simply.

 

Arnav was frozen. Her response hurt him; they pierced his already broken heart. But he couldn't afford to loose his calm. There was too much at stake!

 

"If you think," she continued, watching his guarded expression. She could tell he was trying very hard not to let the hurt she caused show on his face. "That with one jalebi, I am going to run into your arms, then you are very much wrong. In fact, I don't even know why you are wasting your time."

 

"I am not wasting anything," he said quietly.

 

"Yes you are," she continued in a very calm manner. "Because you can make a hundred of these jalebis, and it won't change anything. I can't forgive you."

 

"Can't, or won't?" he asked.

 

"It doesn't matter which way you take it."

 

* * *

 

"Ayesh?" Khushi asked, looking up from the embroidery she was doing. "Do you smell that?"

 

"Hmmm…" Ayesha replied absent mindedly looking at the mannequin she was dressing. "Do you think we should cut this a bit more?"

 

Khushi didn't reply and stood up. It was almost nightfall and the two girls were busy working away on their collection in the designing room, when a waft of freshly made jalebis suddenly hit Khushi.

 

"Khushi?" Ayesha said, when she found the former sniffing the room. "What happened?"

 

"Don't you smell that?" Khushi asked following her nose to the door, which led out into the boutique, now closed for the day.

 

Ayesha scrunched her eyebrows in concentration, but caught the aroma as well. "It… it smells like... something sweet?"

 

"Like jalebis!" Khushi said, a wide smile on her face. "And not just any jalebis," she continued like a small girl who was given chocolate. "They are my babuji's jalebis!"

 

Ayesha let out a sigh. Here we go again, she thought, turning back to the dress she was creating. Khushi's madness begins again!

 

"Ayesh!" Khushi said. "I am serious! It is my babuji's jalebis. I can recognize the smell from a mile away!"

 

"Khushi," Ayesha replied. "Get a grip on yourself! I agree it could be jalebis, but how the hell are you sure its your babuji's? I mean, all jalebis smell the same, right?"

 

"No they don't," Khushi answered adamantly. "I have practically grown up smelling this. I know its his jalebis!"

 

Ayesha shook her head in exasperation.

 

Khushi, however, wasn't disheartened by her best friend's lack of response. Her mouth was watering just from the thought that her father's jalebis were somewhere nearby. And without another thought in mind, she followed the smell all the way into the main room, where she found a box full of jalebis on the coffee table.

 

She was beyond ecstatic. She picked up the box and took a deep breath, taking in not only the delicious aroma of freshly made jalebis, but all the sweet memories of her childhood spent in their family's halwai shop.

 

"Yummm!" she said, picking one up.

 

"Khushi?" Ayesha had followed Khushi out into the boutique and was staring at the box of jalebis. "Where did these come from?"

 

Khushi, who was about to take a bite, stopped short as realization suddenly dawned upon her. She placed the jalebi back in the box, her eyes taut.

 

"Where are you going?" Ayesha asked, watching Khushi going towards the door, looking from side to side. "What are you looking for?"

 

Khushi didn't reply and continued to search every corner of the boutique. Upon not finding anything, she said out loud, "I know you are here. Come out! Now!"

 

And to Ayesha's utter astonishment, Arnav Singh Raizada stepped out from behind the curtains.

 

"Mr. Raizada?" Ayesha said, regaining her voice. "What are you doing here? H-how did you get in? The door was locked!"

 

It was Khushi who answered instead. "Oh please," she said sarcastically. "Don't insult his intelligence. Its not a big deal for him to get a duplicate key."

 

Ayesha was still confused. "But… but why?"

 

Khushi glared at Arnav in answer. "What did you think?" she asked. "Getting me babuji's jalebis will make everything alright?"

 

"No," he answered truthfully. "I just thought it will make you happy!"

 

She snorted. "Yeah right!"

 

"I am serious," he continued. "You didn't want to eat what I made. So, I thought you would eat if your babuji made them!"

 

"And once again," she said sarcastically. "You missed the whole point. I don't want anything to do with you."

 

"But this is nothing about me," he argued, when she turned around and began walking back to the designing room. "This is completely for you. Your babuji made them for you!"

 

Khushi stopped as the gravity of what Arnav was saying hit her. She whipped around and asked, "What did you say?!"

 

"Your babuji made them for you," he repeated slowly, glad that she got the point he was making. "He made them with his own hands."

 

Khushi froze as the meaning of his words slowly washed over her.

 

"Yes," Arnav said, walking towards her. "He is completely alright. He can walk… talk… he is completely normal. When he found out you were here… he was beyond happy. It was he, who sent these for you!"

 

Tears welled up in Khushi's eyes. Her heart ached to see her father, the man who accepted her with no questions asked. The man who she looked up to every second of the day, and most importantly the man who still loved her despite everything that has come to pass.

 

Ayesha was quiet as she finally caught on to the conversation. She heard enough of Khushi's babuji in the last two years to know his importance. And if there was anyone who Khushi thought of everyday without a miss, it was him. And so, she didn't stop Arnav when he daringly went to towards Khushi, stopping only couple of inches from her.

 

"He thinks about you everyday you know," Arnav said quietly, watching the tears roll down her face. "He worries a little too."

 

"When did he get better?" she asked.

 

"A couple months after you left," he answered. "It was then that he told us Shyam was responsible-"

 

Khushi held up her hand at the mention of Shyam. The few tears which managed to escape her control stopped as she glared at Arnav. "Don't," she said, her tone angry once more. "I don't care what you found about that man."

 

"But this is important! He-"

 

She cut him off again. "No," she said, her mind set. "I don't want to ever hear his name under my roof again."

 

"I know you are mad Khushi," he said. "but Shyam is the reason-"

 

"No, he isn't," she replied vehemently. "You are the reason why everything is wrong. You are the reason I haven't seen my babuji for two years and you are definetly the reason why I can never go back. So telling me what Shyam did or did not do will not change that because neither can it make me hate him more nor can it make me hate you less."

 

Arnav stared at Khushi in disbelief, before she picked up the box of jalebis and thrust it back into his hands.

 

"Take this back," she ordered. "I don't need them anymore."