OS : Teasing Khushi : Part 3 : Updated on Page 43 - Page 15

Part 2

Khushi sighed as she looked at the orange colored hillock in front of her. Everyone in the family, including Laxmi, was refusing to eat jalebis these days; making one excuse after another as soon as they saw her approaching them with a sweet laden dish and she had to end up eating all of them. They did not understand that she was frustrated beyond imagination; her devil of a husband making her climb the walls. His extreme politeness was unbearable. They did not even fight these days! He would comply with her demands; no matter how outrageous they seemed, even to herself. He would talk to her only when she started a conversation; he would not complaint when she wore dozens of glass bangles and created a din while he worked on his laptop. She had shifted her clothes so that they now interspersed with his sedate suits and jackets, but even that did not elicit any reaction. She had even dared to upend a bottle of his favourite, hideously expensive perfume on a hapless Laxmi, and he had only commented that the goat smelled nice.

But he watched her, especially when he thought she was not looking at him. He watched every movement of hers, whether she was in their room, or at the dining table or in the hall practicing her dance moves. Every evening he would park himself on one of the sofas in the hall to watch her rehearse with the rest of the family; with a narrowed-eyed concentration that made her stammer, fumble, forget the dance steps and all but reduce her to a babbling fool. A half-smile would play on his lips as she got more and more flustered as if he knew something that she didn't.

With the depressing thought that no one could advise her on the ways of solving a puzzle like Arnav Singh Raizada, she turned to her only source of comfort. She tiptoed to their room, the huge plate of the fried golden coils hidden rather unsuccessfully under the sheer folds of her dupatta.

His wife involved in a rather animated conversation with their after—gruhapravesh portrait was the sight that greeted Arnav Singh Raizada after the usual unproductive but tiring day at work. Khushi was sitting on their bed, legs folded, a huge silver plate holding a few crumbs of jalebi in front of her. Her mouth was smeared with the sugary syrup and he licked his lips instinctively, craving her taste. Closing the door gently, he leaned against it, folded his arms and settled down to observe Mrs. Raizada in action.

'I know that you have said no to any dancing in mam-mami's anniversary even yesterday, but I thought you might have changed your mind. Puchhne mein kya harz hai?'

He could not recollect any such conversation with his wife taking place the day before. Yeah, she had asked him if he would join her for a performance but he had flatly refused to participate. And that was a week ago. Apparently everyday she tried to convince his image caught in that heavy ornate frame that he should change his mind.

'Aap itna bhi bura nahin naachtey…You are not such a bad dancer, you know. Not as good as Salmanji of course', she blushed while coyly stealing a glance at the bare-chested poster of her favourite star. 'But I am sure you can be much better with practice', she hastily added, imagining a frown forming on the portrait.

'If you watch Jiji and Jijaji dancing, you will know what I am talking about, Jijaji has improved so much…aur aapko pata hai…', to his utter amazement, Khushi launched into a convoluted description of her day's major events, pausing in-between and nodding in agreement while his image said something that only she could hear.

'And then when I wake up in the morning, I find myself in your arms….but how?' With her nose scrunched up in confusion, she looked adorable and Arnav strained to hear her next words as she lay down on the bed, placed the photo frame on her chest and spoke in a hushed tone. He was instantly jealous of his own photo.

Every day, he thanked his lucky stars for her presence in his life. And every night, once she fell asleep, he shoved aside the wall of pillows between them and hauled her in his arms, grateful for her sound sleep; that woman could sleep through a bomb blast. And only in the dark of the night, he allowed himself to hold her, listen to their hearts beating in tandem, not falling asleep till he felt her arms wrap themselves around his neck, her breasts pressing against his chest. Khushi Kumari Gupta Singh Raizada was a cuddler, and apparently so was her grumpy, touch-shy husband.

But he had no idea how long he would be able to walk away from her warm, sleepy form every morning. The innumerable icy showers were not helping much.

He pushed away from the doorframe, his eyes widening in shock as Khushi placed a rather loud and wet kiss on his unsmiling mouth. 'You don't take sweets, then how can you taste so sweet?' she giggled and wiped the sticky jalebi stains from the photo.

Everyone, you have been extremely kind with your comments and likes. This is much much appreciated.

I meant this to be an OS, to be finished in one go. But, I have learned that I suck at OS. My stories seem to drag themselves, having a mind of their own and they would end when they wish to. Having said this, I promise that I would definitely try to finish by the next chapter.

Please let me know if you think that I should just stop here.