Chapter 22

Khushi stared at Shantivaan, lost deep in thought. Never in her dreams did she imagine that the house she stumbled upon by random chance, would be the one to give her both boundless joy and unforgettable pain. How is that she could hate and love this house, which never held anything that made it a home?

 

While it definitely had all the comforts one needed, it failed to have warmth that comes with a loving family, even the small bit of which is constantly driven away by the jet of air conditioning. It lacked the personal touch every home gets with its furniture, which despite being from the country's best designer, wasn't the same as hand-sewn blankets. It missed the concept of togetherness, as people become lost within its vast walls that they don't even realize the suffering of another.

 

And yet with all these conflicting emotions, how and when did she fall in love with this house, or as it rightfully should be called, mansion? How did she manage to find a home in it?

 

 

And there it was again. The biggest question of her life. How had she fallen in love with this complicated being called Arnav Singh Raizada?

 

"Let's go?"

 

Khushi jumped upon hearing the quiet voice. Arnav was almost amused to see her panicky condition.

 

"Are you actually nervous about meeting your own family?"

 

Khushi pressed her lips in answer.

 

"Fine," he said with a shrug. "Don't answer… but can we please go inside? I need a shower!"

 

"We have to wait for Ayesha."

 

"You guys go ahead," came Ayesha's voice from the other side of the car. "I have to make an important call."

 

And they set off towards Shantivaan in silence. Khushi felt her heart race as they neared the door and much too soon Arnav was ringing the doorbell.

 

"Khushiji?" said a disbelieving Hari Prakash, who came to open the door.

 

"Hello Hari Prakashji," Khushi replied, her face splitting into a wide smile. "How are you?"

 

"I am fine, but how are you?!"

 

"HP?" Arnav interrupted, his eyes widening in the slightest of ways.

 

Hari Prakash's response was instant. "Sorry Bhaiyya! Please come in. I will get tea for you both!"

 

And the faithful servant was off running towards the kitchen.

 

Khushi sighed but decided against reprimanding Arnav for the rather rude interruption. She knew how he treated his employees and there really was no room for change. So, without another thought, she stepped inside and was momentarily stunned to see the sight that followed.

 

Everything was the same… the furniture was arranged the same, the paintings seemed to have never left the walls, the carpet appeared to be maintained but not replaced and the list continued. It was as if Khushi left the house only yesterday, and not two years ago.

 

As she hungrily looked around, she found various servants hanging up streamers and balloons in the hall.

 

"MAMU!!"

 

Before Khushi could locate the sudden source of the voice, she saw Arnav bend forward to pick up a small boy no older than two and spin him around.

 

"Again!" the boy commanded, when Arnav stopped.

 

"You will get dizzy," he warned.

 

The boy pouted and to Khushi's utter disbelief Arnav spun him once again as his giggles echoed throughout the house.

 

"Happy?" Arnav asked, as he watched the boy clap in joy.

 

But even before the question was complete, the boy stretched out his hand, clearly asking for something.

 

"I know," Arnav replied in answer to the unspoken question. "I have your chocolate as promised, but to get it, you have to answer to one question, okay?"

 

The boy nodded.

 

And still holding him in his arms, Arnav turned to face Khushi. "Who is this?"

 

Khushi watched in shock, as the boy curiously looked her, analyzing her every feature. What caught her off guard was not his adorable face, but his striking eyes, which were an exact replica of his mother's and her brother's. They were the same muddy brown eyes that haunted her.

 

"You know her," Arnav said.  "Maa told you right?"

 

The boy looked away in answer. He was clearly shy of the stranger.

 

"Come on," Arnav said, a look of mock disappointment colouring his face. "Big boys are not shy. Tell me, who is this?"

 

"Mami."

 

It was very quiet, but it was undeniable. Varun Singh Raizada had indefinitely recognized his Mamu's wife

 

"That's my boy!" Arnav cheered, the smile back on his face. "Give me a five!"

 

And he did – he reached up to hit his Uncle's hand as a high-five and once again stretched it out demanding for his prize. It seemed that even the mighty Arnav Singh Raizada couldn't turn down his nephew for he pulled out a big bar of Dairy Milk and handed it to a smirking Varun.

 

"Lets play!" Varun said, jumping down from Arnav's arms.

 

"Football?"

 

And they were off; Hari Prakash obediently delivered the ball and Varun began running, trying his best to kick the ball that was clearly too big for him.

 

"Come on," Arnav cheered. "You can do it… you beat Mamu before!"

 

But it appeared that Varun wasn't listening. His eyes were only on the ball as he tried with his tiny feet to kick it further than a meter.

 

"Khushi Betiya?!"

 

The incredulous voice of Devyani Singh Raizada seemed to somewhat break Khushi's trance at watching Arnav easily mingle with a toddler. When and how had he become so caring? How did she fail to notice this compassion for the past one month?

 

As her mind whizzed away with questions, she saw Devyani rush towards her, followed by a stunned Manorama.

 

"You are here?!" Devyani asked. "How come no one told me?!"  

 

Khushi blinked trying to brush away the astonishment filling her veins. She could deal with this new Arnav later – right now, she had a whole family awaiting her arrival.

 

"I just got here," she said, clearing her throat. And as she was taught for a very young age, she bent forward to take the elderly lady's blessings.

 

"Always be happy. Now tell me, how are you? Chote was telling me you have boutique now?"

 

"I am fine Naniji," Khushi answered. "And yes, I run a small business with a friend."

 

"Thanks to Devi Maiyya! I always knew you would do something big. I knew it the day you walked in-"

 

Khushi nodded, not really listening to the praises being pushed her way. She knew that these were just words… words to cover the frustration, grief and most of all regret that appeared to have never left even for a second in the past two years. It wasn't everyday that Devyani ran out of words, but today it seemed that she was far from expressing the feelings that were engulfing her.

 

It was then that Khushi got a chance to see Manorama, who was still dressed in an odd assortment of colours, with heavy jewellery and make-up dominating her rather beautiful features.

 

 

"Hello hi bye bye," said Manorama, catching her eye. "Why you stares at me Phatti Sari?"

 

Khushi shook her head. "Nothing… how are you Mamiji?"

 

"As if you care. I sees everything…no salwar kameej, no braid… did you finally hit a lottery?"

 

Khushi didn't know what to say. While she knew the comment was meant to be hurtful, she couldn't help but not care. What Manorama Raizada said or did anymore was completely pointless, for there were much more pressing matters in her life.

 

Thankfully, the three women were interrupted by the arrival of Akash.

 

"Dadi did you se– Khushiji?!"

 

Khushi smiled at her shy brother-in-law, who appeared to have changed dramatically in the past two years. The glasses were gone, a slight beard was materializing on his usually clean-shaven face and his eyes appeared weary, as if he hadn't had a good night's sleep in days.

 

However, before she could register any of these changes, Akash covered the distance between the two and pulled her into a tight hug.

 

"Thank god Khushiji," he breathed. "Thank god you are okay. Payal was worried out of her mind… we looked everywhere for you, Bhai just went-"

 

"Calm down Jeejaji," she interrupted. "It's all fine… I am here. Breath in and breath out!"

 

Akash couldn't help but smile. "Looks like my Saali is a lot tougher now."

 

"But looks like my Jeejaji is not sleeping enough. A lot of stress at work?"

 

"The usual," he replied. "Wait – does Payal know you're here?"

 

The mention of her sister brought Khushi back to reality; Reality of the torn relationships that drove her out of the house. And suddenly she felt distant. The faces, which appeared familiar two minutes ago, were now cold and she couldn't help but wish that Ayesha were present at that moment with her.

 

"OP!" Akash called. "Tell Payal that Khushiji is here."

 

"Hello hi bye bye," Manorama said, shaking her head. "Sisters reunion equalz time to leave!"

 

And she departed the hall, muttering to herself.

 

Devyani looked apologetically at Khushi. "Do you want something to eat Betiya? You must be hungry after the travel. Wait, I will get Hari Prakash to make something."

 

And without paying heed to Khushi's protests, she strode out of the hall, leaving the latter completely alone.

 

"Khushi?!"

 

It was Payal.

 

Khushi could recognize that voice anywhere, and yet she found that she couldn't answer. Her feet remained frozen on the floor as she kept her back to her only sister.

 

"You won't even turn around?"

 

Payal's voice was edging closer and despite the years of gap, Khushi could clearly detect the silent tears flooding her eyes, the hope for forgiveness and most importantly the feelings of guilt and regret that follow a misunderstanding.

 

"I know you don't want to look at me after everything that I did… but can't I see my little sister?"

 

Khushi closed her eyes. Where the hell is Ayesha?!

 

"You know… you were always the smarter one out of the both of us. You knew exactly how to make everyone smile and you would go to any lengths to make it stay. But I never thought in my wildest dreams that you would ruin your life to keep mine."

 

Khushi didn't reply.

 

"I never thought my younger sister would teach me what it means to love, to smile… to be happy. But you did Khushi… you taught me what it means to have a family. What it means to trust even though I didn't trust you or give you a chance to explain."

 

Silence.

 

"It's pretty stupid right?" Payal asked, snorting to herself. "I couldn't trust the girl who once put her life at risk to save my marriage. And she did it all over again a second time without hesitating even for once!"

 

Payal paused, no doubt waiting for a response. But nothing came for Khushi remained rooted to the spot.

 

"But enough is enough," Payal said. "I am not going let my baby sister do anything stupid again. I am not going to let her throw away her life for people who don't deserve it. For once in my life, I want to be the older one. Can you give me that chance?

 

Can you give me the chance to take care of you? The chance to prove that I am still worthy of being your sister? If not for you, can you atleast do it for me? I know it's selfish, but I want to be happy again Khushi. I want to get up in the morning and not miss my sister. I want to spend my day smiling, not cursing myself for letting you go. And most important of all, I want to go to bed, knowing that when I wake up, you will still be here with me. Can you give me that?"

 

Khushi could now openly hear the quiet sobs breaking out from her sister and suddenly, she felt childish; Childish for not even looking at her sister after two long years, childish for still holding on to things that were of no importance.

 

Sure, Payal made a mistake.

 

But who doesn't? Even the best of people have the worst of times. And holding them responsible for that is not only cruel, but just plain unfair, because the truth is no matter how much we get mad at our family, we still need them. The same way a tree needs its roots even after it rises so high, that they become almost invisible.

 

And so, she whipped around, determined to grab the relation, which seemed so lost minutes ago, only she was stunned into a momentary silence.

 

"You're pregnant?!"

 

Payal looked down at her bulging stomach blankly, caught off guard by the irrelevant question.

 

"I'm going to be a Massi?" Khushi shrieked.

 

However, before Payal could answer, a loud crash echoed through the house, pushing all sound into oblivion.

 

"VARRUUUN?!"

 

Khushi turned back to see Varun look fearfully up at a silent Arnav. It seemed that he broke a vase while trying to kick the ball.

 

"How many times did I tell you not to play football in the house?!" came Anjali's voice, who strode into the hall fuming.

 

Varun hid behind Arnav, trying to shield himself from his mother's wrath.

 

"I know you broke the vase," Anjali continued in her dangerous voice. "Don-"

 

"I did it," Arnav interrupted. "I broke the vase while playing football. It's not Varun's fault."

 

"Don't you dare take his side," Anjali warned.

 

"I am not! Seriously, I broke it. So yell at me!"

 

Anjali let out a frustrated groan. "I am tired of this Chote. He is two and already he feels he can get away with anything."

 

"He is a kid-"

 

"And he needs to learn! You pampering him is not helping things!"

 

"It's his birthday… and come on Di, it's just a vase. We can buy another one. A better one!"

 

"It's not the point of the vase. It's the point of manners!"

 

"Diii! Can you please pause the lecture for today?!"

 

Anjali glared at Arnav, before sighing exasperatedly. "It's pointless talking to you."

 

And shaking her head, she turned around to leave when- "Oh, Khushiji – you're here already!"

 

Khushi stared hard at Anjali Singh Raizada, completely at a loss of words.