Arhi FF |Mohabat Door Jaane Na De| *Complete!* #1 - Page 53

Aww he put up xtars for her.. and confessed - in true arnav still - i love you dammit!

i just read all 18 chapters and they were amazing!

OMG!! Girl can you write or what??! I'm hooked! Just read all the chapters and wow is all I can say! Keep at it girly ... Looking forward to the next part =)

super cute FF! excited to read on!

Sorry for the late response! I finally got a chance to catch up on your latest update.

That was such a great declaration scene - so true to who they are. Khushi pushing Arnav to the brink, and Arnav in a moment of anger/frustration/rage brings his feelings to light. I have to admit, this is just the way I imagined things would unfold - very similar to the first time Arnav apologizes.

Haha - that's the most dialogue you've had in an update, yet. I enjoyed reading it!

I know, I know I said I'd update on tuesday. But post-mock depression and a huge writer's bloc made me sleep most of tuesday and mope yesterday. So it took me a while to come up with this.

And after the stormy events of last update, I thought maybe a little calm would do. This chapter ties up some loose ends from Chapter 17 you might wanna look out for. And I am already typing up the next update- coz I couldn't wait to get playful:P

Chapter Nineteen

Khushi was gone in the blink of an eye.

Arnav caught a brief glimpse of Hari Prakash with one fist still raised in the air, caught in the motion of knocking on the door as a flash of turquoise swished past him, before the door swung to. Sighing, Arnav's eyes found their way back to the ceiling. The stars twinkled silently down at him. As though urging him on, shining their approval and their encouragement.

This had really not turned out the way he had planned.

But, as he picked his own way out of the door and strode towards the stairs in the direction of the living room, he had to admit to himself that he was not altogether certain what he had been expecting. Now, in the absence of the pulsating, nerve-wracking uncertainty which had seized him before, which had caused him to lash out at Khushi's adamanat refusal to speak to him, Arnav was compelled to acknowledge the gamble he had thrown. There had been no guarantee of what the outcome of his little gesture was to be.

But he was glad that it had been this.

Every word, every accusation of Khushi's resounded in his mind ten times louder, raucous and mocking, but Arnav's heartbeat did not falter. The edges of the slashes her words had dealt him were fresh, but he could feel them healing. It was a wondrous, inexplicable feeling- much like setting a bird, cooped in a small, airless cage, free. Hope spread its wings wide, flapped them enthusiastically, luxuriating in the feel of soaring in the limitless skies with limitless abandon.

He reached the foot of the stairs in time to see a flurry of blue and catch the delicate music of bangles and anklets disappear into one of the passageways. Khushi hurrying away while on the phone with her mother. Arnav's heart sang at how endearing each and every one of her antics could be.

As he seated himself opposite his Nani, Arnav realised that he was smiling. Not smugly, not arrogantly, not mockingly, not reservedly. But genuinely smiling. The muscles around his jaw seemed to have seized arbitrary control, and lifted up the corners of his lips in a way Arnav did not remember experiencing since he had been fifteen. It was so natural, so easy, it was quite odd that he did not smile more often. But then again, he had never, in those past thirteen years, felt so alive. Never before had his heart drummed its solo with such confidence. Never before had his lungs soaked in such crystal clear, pure, rejuvenating air. Never before had his mind seen things with such stark clarity. Never had his vision been so flawless.

A few words spoken, and Arnav felt an almost tangible connection between himself and the only woman in the world he loved. It was no longer those transient threads, like fine cobwebs spun by an insufferable spider, that linked them together whenever their hearts beat as when, and broke with ease whenever the rhythms tripped out of synchrony, with the tireless spider setting to work and weaving its web again. It was an invigorating feel, making each atom of Arnav's body bristle with electricity. The threads which had joined him with Khushi crystallised into cords of wrought metal, supple, but unbreakable.

Those words gave his relationship with Khushi a name. They gave him a right over her, not only because he was her husband, but because now, he was a contender for her heart. And now, with a surety that was too phenomenal to elucidate, Arnav felt closer to Khushi than he ever had before.

The place where the black-hole in his heart had been thrummed an ardent beat, and Arnav's smile widened further. The road behind him was swallowed up by the dark, and what lay ahead was a road that was stringently undeviating, heading for only one destination.

***

Nani smiled fondly at her grandson, smiling like he had not smiled for so many years. Her heart melted with motherly tenderness and affection for her Chote, who had been shaped, by every tragedy thrown his way, into such a rigid, cold spectacle that her heart often shuddered as she peered short-sightedly into his uncertain future. Her own salt-scattered words, biting and accusing, had simply been a pall for her fear. The chilling fear that Chote would live out the rest of his days without finding sunshine ever again. Or rather, allowing sunshine to creep into his sordid world and light up brighter avenues. Watching him wear out his days, watching precious minutes slipping away from his life, had caused her aging soul endless dismay. But Devi Maiyya finally heard her prayers and like a burst of sunshine, Khushi had cannon-balled into their lives and made the implausible happen right in front of her eyes.

She heaved a welcome sigh as she watched, with an uncharacteristically tender smile alighting upon her face, her Chote smile away distractedly, his every feature radiating a joy of living that would before have been occupied by stony silence.

'Chote', she called, unable to keep the cheekiness in her voice under check. A part of her laughed as she watched him start and as his gaze focused on her, clearly fazed. 'I was thinking that since Damaadji hasn't returned yet, and Anjali bitiya shouldn't be alone in her condition...maybe Khushi should sleep in her room tonight, to make sure that nothing happens.'

She couldn't help a chuckle escape her as she watched the usually well disciplined features of her oldest grandson fall ludicrously to look completely crestfallen. And although he caught himself in time and schooled his expression back to impassivity, Nani did not miss how his mouth formed the words 'What the-' with every indication of pure distress resonating in them.

***

Khushi fought the temptation, the overpowering temptation, to fly to the kitchen immediately, round up as much sugar as could possibly salvage, and launch into making a mountain-load of jalebis. The frantic tension that had each of her muscles stretched to breaking point begged for release, and she was itching to plant herself in front of the biggest saucepan she could find, ferociously swinging a pound bag of batter into the hot oil, working off the building restlessness within her. She craved the melting warmth, the succulent sweetness of her crisp, vermillion delights, seeking refuge, seeking to blot out thought and reasoning as she buried herself under their comforting embrace.

But, as she lay beside Anjaliji, staring at the dark ceiling without a trace of sleep in her eyes, the covers flung aside carelessly, Khushi was too busy fathoming the singular state of affairs that was transpiring within her.

She had expected chaos. She had expected pandemonium as the trains of her thought overlapped and hurtled off of their tracks and into each other. She had expected her heartbeats to either enervate, or to gather speed that it would meander out of her control.

But most of all she had expected a war of unfathomable proportions between the two greatest adversaries, her heart, and her mind.

And yet, in the true fashion of anticlimax, nothing like that happened. Heart and mind shook hands cordially, and parted ways, each uncovering a different path in the ruins of her former self to tread. Leaving Khushi somewhere in the middle, not completely comprehending the situation she had found herself in.

It was unusual. It reminded her, oddly, of tilting the contents of a flour tin into a sieve, only to have it spill down the sides into the platter below. Unrefined and unsorted. Muddled. That was exactly what was happening now. Every thought that her mind dropped for her to examine tipped over the side and lay there, redundant. Every feeling that she was supposed to feel tumbled over into the periphery of her senses, superfluous and interwoven. Confusion had reached a new definition.

I love you...

They drifted from nowhere towards her, eerily through the darkness, like a disembodied spirit that threatened to possess her. But like flies against a windscreen, try as they might, they could not penetrate the fuzz shrouding Khushi. It was not that she had gone numb. If she had been numb, then she would not be feeling this prickly feeling, this feeling of great discomfort, disgust almost, at having to sleep in the same bed that that slimeball would occupy on other nights. She had, somehow, managed to manoeuvre Anjaliji to the other side, the side he slept on, while she had taken her place, but despite the reorganisation, Khushi could feel her skin itch, aggravating her overwrought senses further.

No, she was not numb. It was just that, as heart and mind called a ceasefire, signed an armistice and drew the battleline, she no longer knew what to feel. She just did not understand. Her brain tried to catch random drafts of what could be perception, but they fluttered out of its grasp, eluding its clutching fingers gracefully. Meanwhile, the usually overactive compartments of her heart failed to wrap themselves around the delegation of emotions it usually played host to. Bewilderment, rage, anxiety, fear, hope, dread, defied her completely tonight. Instead, a complete lack of understanding sat staring blankly into space.

It did not make sense. It just did not make any sense.

The only other emotion of which Khushi was more conscious was gratitude. There was, somewhere in the no-man's land within her, a keen gratitude to Nani for setting up this sleeping arrangement. The idea of having to share a room with...him- tonight threatened to set off another round of explosives Khushi was not sure she was prepared to handle.

So why, as she continued to look at the empty, blank, starless ceiling above her, did it feel as though a cavity had certainly materialised in her stomach, and the sleeping butterflies where cautiously testing the new winds?

***

After one final toss under the covers, Arnav grunted in annoyance and climbed out of bed.

He could not sleep. Of course.

It did not surprise him any longer that in the short span of just two nights he had grown so used to the warm aroma of Khushi's skin, the refreshing fragrance of jasmine of her hair. Without her soft, pliant body complimenting his own hard contours, wrapped in the snug folds of her presence, sleep meandered around him, ignoring him pointedly.

He found his way to poolside.

Now, as he lay staring at the replica of his own bedroom ceiling, Arnav reluctantly admitted to himself that it was possibly best that Khushi was spending the night away from him. He could still hear the incredulity, or more precisely the incomprehension that had highlighted her voice, her face, her eyes before she had been freed from his clutches by the perfect timing of his assorted family members. She needed time to let what he had revealed to her, in the heat of the moment, to sink through her and take root. As far as causing those seeds of trust and belief to germinate, Arnav was ever ready to hone them to sprout with far more attention than his own garden had ever witnessed, or could hope to.

Sighing, he closed his eyes briefly, sprawled along a deckchair with one arm flung behind his head, the other resting next to his content heart. Alive and beating.

Hearing Khushi's tearful indictments had not been easy. If anything he had suffered more from those blows than when she began to assault him physically. Unlike in the guesthouse, when he had the smallest of consolations, although cleanly laminated with guilt, from the fact that he would never have sent Khushi there had he known of its decrepit state, in this case he could do nothing but take each strike silently. Because he had hurt her knowingly. Deliberately. And there was nothing he could say to redeem himself.

But the louder part of him, which was still jubilant, albeit calmer, was more reassuring. It was glad that all those morsels of anguish which Khushi had cultivated and sealed away had finally come pouring out. The emptiness that they left behind, now, was open to him to walk into and stack with every ounce of affection, tenderness, adoration that she made him feel. He had already stamped his claim. All that remained was to reach out and take it.

Arnav raised his hand and looked at it. The sconces of light illuminating the aquamarine of the pool glinted on his palm. Specks of blue glittered back at him. He suddenly hoped, devoutly, that he had not hurt Khushi when he had caught hold of those delicate wrists, adorned with those blue bangles which had aggravated him no end. The manic need to entrap her, to show her that she belonged to his realm, within the confines of his arms, had blurred his better judgement. He now regretted, the fuddled knots within his clenching tighter, having practically manhandled her as he compelled her to listen to him. His possessiveness of Khushi seemed always to get the better of him. He was sure, wryly, that he could not count the times he had simply grabbed hold of her and reeled her back to him, without a moment's thought to how she felt, being hauled about as though she meant nothing.

His attention returned to the glitter remaining from the bangles on his palm, and he frowned. He grudgingly thanked Akash, mentally, for not just buying his wife any old set of jewellery that broke at the slightest suggestion of force. The thought of glass piercing into Khushi's flesh one more time, and this time because of his own brusqueness, made him sit bolt upright, an uncomfortable churning replacing the contentment that had settled there before, twisting in pain at the mere thought of hurting her.

He vowed to himself, vehemently, every particle of him pounding with fortitude never to hurt her again. To handle her with the utmost delicacy, to cherish her fragile simplicity.

With that promise made, Arnav found himself frowning again. It irked him no end that men, more especially men from his family, simply took the liberty of getting his wife gifts that sent her into such transports of joy. First NK, then Akash...if he was not careful Mamaji and Hari Prakash would join the crew and he would be left fuming at the sidelines. He cursed himself for his own inadequacy; each time it had taken someone else to get Khushi something special for him to realise that they were infringing on what was quite clearly his right, and moreover something he ached to do. To be the reason behind her smile. And invariably he would subject himself to endless forays into restlessness, irritation, desperation and who knew what else at his own pigheadedness. His heart, enjoying its newfound authority, chided his brain for not acting on its observations, for always delaying what he really wanted with pointless obduracy.

And finally, the elusive memory lacing the word bangles, which had been evading him all this time, descended graciously in front of him.

Maa ki kangaan...

Flints of a month-old conversation flittered into the cool night breeze.

Chote, you need to give Khushi these kangaan, Maa left them for her bahu and –

Not. Now. Di.

But Chote-

Please Di. I don't want to hear it.

Robbed of the beastly wrath that had alarmed and silenced his sister a month back, Arnav felt momentary regret sweep through his being, like pelting cold water over his head. But as his heartbeat throbbed, beating out of tune for a split second, he felt something else.

Triumph. Gratification. Pleasure.

He could give Khushi something that no one, be they his brother or the family goat, could give her. Something that merited a place of its own, unrivalled by anything anyone else could think of presenting her, except him.

He could give her a piece of his past, a token of his mother's love. An unspoken plea from his mother to his beloved, requesting her to embrace all his love and return it with due interest. A symbol of tradition he had disregarded, of the culture of marriage that Khushi was steeped in and continued to worship.

Arnav could feel his heart expand, blowing up like a balloon until it was quite miraculous he was still sitting on the deckchair and not floating sluggishly across the pool. For once, he did not feel insignificant, alone, isolated, under the stars that used to be no more than masses of rock in space, out of his reach and therefore of no consequence. The satin black of the night sky, inlaid with tiny diamonds, had never looked more beautiful. It no longer yawned infinitely above him, merely echoing the sounds of silence, reminding him of his lone stand in the universe. Tonight he did not feel lost under the starry expanses, unheard and unseen. For once, it felt as though he was surrounded by life, that he was being heard, he was being watched over.

All these years later, he felt his mother's presence in his life again, rather than the tormenting emptiness of the place she had left vacant, the chill creeping from that gap always a warning sign to keep within the walls of his life. He felt her warmth descend on him, accompanied by the calm that her presence used to invoke in him as sleep stole over his senses. He could feel, fleetingly her caress on his forehead as she soothed away his worries, just as she did when he was younger, when he had trouble going to sleep. The clink of her kangaan, the perfect lullaby serenading him to slumber. It was all so sharp, all so fresh; as though she had been here all this time, but he had failed to see her.

As he lay back down, snugly enfolded in his mother's comforting embrace, he silently pledged to thank Khushi. For digging through the stone figurine he had cast himself into, for leashing the demon he had become and taming it back to humanity again. For allowing him to once again look his mother in the eye, and know with unyielding surety that today, after so long, she was proud of him. That he no longer needed to hide his face in shame, to hide so he did not face her disappointment in him.

Khushi had brought his mother back into his life again, and for that, he could never thank her enough.

Now I hope the reason I kept drilling in the bangles in Chapter 17 again and again and again makes sense:P I just hope I've done Arnav's mother the proper justice, since its been a while since I wrote all that stuff:s And of course Khushi needs some time off. She can't be expected to just believe him like that, esp since he's done everything possible to convince her he hates her. So pleeease don't grudge the fact that she's bunking in Anjali's room tonight. That too is important, as I hope to show next update in case I don't get carried away with Arhi AGAIN *smh*

Leave your comments and likes:) Pakka promise, next update will be more---romantic, I suppose would be the word:p

Very Very nice!!

awesome update beautiful and perfectly done well written and emotion filled it was perfect fantastic update loved it asr is going to give her his mothers bangles awesome thanks for the pm

loved it...i love ur writing...its so perceptive n has a lot of depth!!!