IPKKND FF:Perfection Th.3 (Chap 40 Pg 130)Upd:8/12 - Page 6

Congratulations on thread # 3! 👏👏👏

update, bhi kardo yaar. We are waiting ...

pls pls update-missing it very badly

Congratulations on your new thread! Perfection def deserves it!


And now that the congratulations are taken care of :-) where is the next update :-))

CHAPTER 32

Almost all women who are mothers of sons hide a little secret. It is not something too alarming---it is just a small, private "something extra" that they do when they first hold their sons that they don't do with their daughters. The moment a baby boy is placed into her loving arms, the moment that tiny little face takes his first giant lungful of air to explode into the angry screams of the newborn, a silent vow is made. Mothers expand their hearts in love, and vow to themselves one thing, one promise, that is just between them and their personal deity. Praying to Allah, to God, to Devi Maiyya, to Jesus Christ, or to Buddha, the mothers of all little boys pray...

May my son be strong, healthy, smart.
May he be a good man, a decent man.
-and-
May I teach him to love and respect the women who will be in his life.
May he learn their value, cherish their roles, respect their bodies.
May he be their protector and never bring sorrow, pain or fear to any woman. Ever.

It is a prayer that only the loving mother of a newborn boy can understand, the depth of hope, the determination to see this done well. A responsibility is instilled when he first arrives in her life' a duty that she must discharge to her daughters, and to his imagined wife, in fact, to all the women who will enter her son's future. And the mother who has taught her son that lesson, fulfilled that promise and lived up to that vow is a blessed creature indeed.

Shaila Mallik was one such blessed creature. Arnav Mallik was in every way, a good son. His nature combined the animal spirits of manhood with the gentle regard for his mother and sister that spoke of true goodness.

He would come home bloodied and dirty from fighting with the other kids at his elite prep school, only to reveal his anger had been stirred by some classmates' rudeness or crass words about someone's mother or sister or friend.

He would roll his eyes as Anjali chased him around Sheesh Mahal during mealtimes, but he would submit laughingly to his didi when she caught him and force fed him his medicines.

He would tease his loud, garish Mami unmercifully, but he would also buy her the latest fashion magazines with no shame about being seen buying such girly things. He would grumble, but also tolerate his grandmother's autocratic ways with a twinkle and a shrug.

And--for his entire life, he would worship his mother, Shaila.

When Shaila Mallik first put together sets and sets of jewellery for her future bahu, as all doting mothers of handsome sixteen year old boys are wont to do just a bit too early, she knew that though Chote was hot tempered, he was also the kindest and warmest man she could have raised. Her daughter acted like her lieutenant, and together, in the essentials of where it mattered, they had shaped a good man, a man who would be good to the women of his world. Even after the tragedy that had ripped apart their family, the women of Arnav Singh Raizada's house, both his elders and his sister knew in their bones the sensation of security, peace, protection. Shaila, and, learning from her example, Anjali- had done their jobs well.

Until seven days ago.

Arnav Singh Raizada now sat in the expensive lounge he had paid for, among his anxious family. He had been listening to Khushi and Payal for ten minutes now, and his face looked like it was carved out of stone, his completely frozen expression compelling Khushi to falter and hesitate as she told him everything. His lack of reaction even caused Payal to pause now and then as she narrated all that had happened---Khushi's fears about Arnav from the night of her marriage, Payal's plan to get him drunk so Khushi could get a reprieve from her terror. Khushi's conversation with Shyam, the suddenness of Shyam's attack, Sarita's narrow escape, Happyji's warning about Khushi being in danger of being Shyam's next victim.

Arnav Singh Raizada sat and heard the words, his mind accepting each fact, damaging detail and tormenting revelation. And Arnav Singh Raizada learnt, through the hesitant words and the unemotional recital of the two newest women of his family, all about how he had failed his mother's teachings and brought shame upon her years of wasted effort on him. How he had, through his actions, his ego, his blind rage, managed to rip apart his wife's peace of mind, how that in turn had threatened her life, how his rage, his attacks had torn away her sense of security. And how, under his own roof, he had failed to prevent a cunning, evil maniac from attacking and almost murdering the only woman for whom his heart continued to beat.

He had failed.

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Khushi kept glancing at her husband, trying to catch his eye as he mechanically placed his shirts into the new wardrobe in their room. Hari Prakash had just brought in the guest room's wardrobe for their use, and Khushi had been glad for the tasks that followed. Now, the two of them were currently setting Arnav's room to rights, both working in total silence. Khushi sighed and gave up her attempts as Arnav quietly gathered some linens and left the room, without glancing at her once. She had been anxiously doing her best to get through to him for almost half an hour, and all he had done was...avoid her eyes.

Their discussion on Shyam had to be postponed right after Payal and Khushi finished filling Arnav in on Shyam's actions, and Happy and Sarita's incident of the previous night. They were going to talk about what to do next, but just then Anjali had come into their lounge, with loud and tearful exclamations for Khushi and Arnav, and they had had to stop.

The little group had broken up after that'Payal Aakash and NK making a hasty escape while Anjali cried over Khushi, cried over Arnav, cried over the destroyed plants at the poolside and just cried in general. Fortunately, she had not seen her Chote's room before the servants had had a chance to clean, or she would have cried over that too. Hari Prakash and his helpers had already cleared out a lot of the debris from their bedroom, and moved in some temporary furniture items for their use.

After soothing Anjali, Nani and Mamiji, who, it turned out had believed Dr. Shetty's official report that stated Khushi had accidentally cut herself while cleaning out her room, Khushi had returned to her bedroom. She had been immediately followed by Arnav, who had then proceeded to silently help her as she tried to undo the damage he had wrought. If the circumstances had been less grim, Khushi would have erupted into giggles at the sight of Arnav Singh Raizada doing some light housework, but given how expressionless and remote he had looked for the past hour, Khushi had held her tongue, thinking desperately over what to to next.

Khushi now sat down, exhausted, on her bed, and gave herself over to deep thought. Her husband had emotionally retreated from her. She could not get through the walls, the barrier of guilt, of self hatred that had gone up within that formidable man. Knowing him, he had clearly decided that he would punish himself for his actions, for having allowed her to be unprotected, for even being the one she had initially needed protection from. In spite of the news that she had not tried to kill herself, her Arnav-ji had decided to add the corollary of deciding that Shyam getting to hurt her, and trying to kill her must also be his fault.

One had to bow down before such determined self-flagellation, to almost respect a man who so relentlessly tried his best to find fault with himself. The problem was, of course, that this process of silently bearing all pain, of opening himself to undeserved anguish wounded him deeply, this tortured his soul and made him hate himself-- and that was something Khushi simply could not, and would not, tolerate.

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Many people did not like Madhumati, Khushi's Bua-ji, but no one denied that she was in many ways an excellent judge of character. While it was true she had been deceived by Shyam Jha, she had always been spot on about others. In particular, she had always been totally accurate when she told everyone she knew that her niece Khushi was completely crazy. Bua-ji would therefore have been deeply scandalized, but not actually surprised, by what Arnav Singh Raizada found in his bedroom that afternoon. Walking into his room after having given some clothes to Hari Prakash to launder, Arnav found his wife sitting casually on his bed, folding some of his tee-shirts.

Naked.

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Good to see you emerge from hibernation :-) was beginning to worry that you were not well or something. Take care

Waiting dear , waiting. Been worrying, u have been MIA for o long.😊😊😊😊

congrats for the new thread waiting for chpater