Posted:
Ok, here's my first attempt at Arhi fiction. Sort of uses some elements in the current story.
The background is: Shyam kidnaps Arnav, Khushi is somehow instrumental in saving him but the rescue turns messy and Khushi is wounded.
Also I must tell you in advance, it ends abruptly because I didn't want to tackle the big scenes in a one-shot.
Please leave your comments. This forum moves so fast my occasional threads reach page 10 even before 50 people have seen it, so please... leave a comment! 😳
Bubble
One-Shot
The background is: Shyam kidnaps Arnav, Khushi is somehow instrumental in saving him but the rescue turns messy and Khushi is wounded.
Also I must tell you in advance, it ends abruptly because I didn't want to tackle the big scenes in a one-shot.
Please leave your comments. This forum moves so fast my occasional threads reach page 10 even before 50 people have seen it, so please... leave a comment! 😳
Bubble
One-Shot
Sleeping Beauty
Arnav Singh Raizada stared down at the girl before him. She looked frail, she was getting thinner by the day, the smudges under her eyes had darkened over the past five days. The oxygen mask covered her face, and assortment of tubes and monitors were attached to her arm. But she stayed oblivious - of the pain, of the discomfort, of life itself. Oblivious of him. He clenched his fist.
The door opened. Anjali limped in with a small smile. Om Prakash followed her with a basket containing food, fruit and all the comforts of home that would fit into a basket.
Anjali laid a hand on his arm. "Chotey, I'll stay with Khushi. You go home now." Arnav's jaw tightened and he turned away to look broodingly out of the half opened shades. Anjali sighed. "Chotey, just look at yourself. Your eyes are bloodshot, you haven't bathed in days, you haven't more than snoozed for a hour at a stretch, you look unkempt - what will Khushi think when she wakes up? And don't forget, she's going to need a lot more care when she does. What good will you be if you collapse?"
His head reared up at that. That remark about Khushi waking up had tightened a fist over his heart. "Di!" he whispered, anguished sigh barely repressed, "why won't she wake up? The doctors have been expecting her to regain consciousness for days now. I keep expecting her to, I wait - but she doesn't even stir!"
"Haan chotey!" Anjali managed a reassuring smile, as she laid her palm to his cheek, "but these things even doctors can't predict, right? It's just a matter of time. Please tum ghar jao. Freshen up, sleep for a while and I'm sure Khushi will regain consciousness. I'll be here, Payal will be here soon. She'll be fine."
Arnav nodded. "Di, aap theek ho?" he asked her. His gaze was penetrating, his eyes anxious. She summoned yet another smile - small but so brave it took his breath away. "Haan, hum theek hai. I've decided to postpone my breakdown till this crisis is over." The witticism won her a wry smile from her brother. He nodded at her and then, he was gone.
The truth was Anjali Manohar Jha nee Singh Raizada - prone to anxiety attacks and nervous fits on the smallest of matters - was coping. Magnificently. Fractured images from that series of nightmarish events haunted her, of course. Of how Shyam's gun aimed for Arnav. Of how Khushi rushed in with a feral scream and took the bullet in her abdomen. Of a wounded Arnav standing there, with bleeding Khushi in his arms, ashen-faced, as though turned to stone. Of Shyam keening over Khushi's prostrate body with theatrical cries of 'Khushiji, Khushiji! Hum aapse bohut pyaar karte hain Khushiji!'
That remorse hadn't lasted very long, thought Anjali, with a bitter twist to her lips - as Khushi was being rushed to the hospital, Shyam Manohar Jha had taken the opportunity to abscond. The Raizadas would hunt him down, they would make him pay -- she would see to it personally but he was gone for now.
Wiping away her tears, she sat down by the hospital bed and took Khushi's hand in her own.
***
"Khushi!"
Arnav woke with a start. That seemed to be the one word he woke up on these days. He flung the sheet aside, got out of bed and checked the time on his phone. He'd slept three hours and... no, there was no message or call from Di. Which meant, no change in Khushi's condition.
He went into the bathroom, snagging a white shirt and tan slacks that hung in the wardrobe. Half an hour later, he was striding down the hospital corridor... to see if he could talk Khushi into waking up.
He pulled up short. Most of the family was here. Payal had buttonholed Dr Awasthi, pleading with him earnestly. "Doctor, what do you mean you can't explain it? Khushi always recuperates quickly. She bounces back from everything. Why is it taking so long for this to heal?"
Arnav grit his teeth. Much as HE wanted her to wake up and smile at him, it annoyed him when Khushi's family kept expecting her to perform the 'happy act' for their sakes. Khushi the always-happy girl, Sanka Devi the madcap eccentric! Talk of giving a dog a name! Wasn't Khushi entitled to her moments of pain, the satisfaction of leaning on others for her comfort? Then he closed his eyes in frustration. He was being unreasonable - Payal was very, very worried for her sister.
The doctor sighed. "Mrs Raizada, the body is healing. Your sister is young, healthy and the injury has healed well. Even the head wound was superficial and she should be ok by now. As for not regaining consciousness, frankly, I must say the patient isn't trying. For some reason, she doesn't want to wake up. I know that distresses all of you but this is what I can offer."
The words sliced Arnav's heart. Khushi wasn't trying. She didn't want to live. That was what he had done. Not killed her with a bullet like Shyam had done but cut her with a thousand small cuts. He hadn't bled her to death but all the same, he had leached out her will to live. By wilfully misunderstanding her, by cruelly accusing her, by refusing to listen... He had a thousand apologies for her, a million sorrys... if only she would hear them.
Late that night, Arnav stood by Khushi's bed, looking down at her again. The hospital was quiet, on minimal midnight duty. In the dimly lit room, the machines blipped and beeped, making incessant observations about the state of her body. Moonlight threw dappled shadows on the floor. On the bed, Khushi sighed. Arnav froze.
"Khushi!" he whispered, bending over her, "Khushi?"
She lay still again. The oxygen mask was off now - she was breathing on her own but she still didn't want to open her eyes. Arnav looked grim. This was purely psychological. Khushi's defence mechanisms had kicked in. She had an arsenal of them, he had realised over these last few months. She was mostly resilient, he knew, her essentially sunny nature never let her be too depressed for long. But when that didn't work, she used forced smiles, comedy, work distractions, stories, fantasies, delusions... anything that would help her escape the thoughts in her own head. So here she lay - not fighting for her life. Arnav clenched his teeth. Well, she was not going to have it that easy. If that meant he would have to do the fighting, then he would.
He slipped off his sandals, pulled the white hospital sheet aside and slipped in next to her. The AC was comfortably cool, which he made sure of every time he walked in or out... he hadn't wanted his Khushi shivering and cold. "Khushi..." he took her hand in an enveloping clasp, "open your eyes, Khushi... sweetheart, talk to me, dammit!"
Sighing, he raised himself on one elbow and looked at her intently. Tendrils of hair had escaped the plait Payal made so lovingly a few hours ago and fluttered at her cheeks. He brushed them off her face gently, tucking the strands behind her ear. The pulse beat strongly as his fingers lingered at her jaw. Her lips, pink, soft... he leaned over to caress a thumb over her lower lip, tugging her lips apart. He ran his thumb again over the rose softness and felt... what was that?... a frisson of something had passed through Khushi. Arnav's eyes narrowed.
The hospital gown lay loosely around her shoulders. Her skin, so pale and bloodless when they brought her here, was looking healthy again.
"Jaago, Sundari!" Arnav muttered.
He moved over her and bent his head, his lips drawing a line of flutter kisses from her ear down her jaw before he took a generous open-mouthed bite of her neck. Khushi's eyes fluttered. His eyes glinted with satisfaction. His gaze moved to her lips. Half-opened now and the breath a shade faster. He bent again and took her lips. Soft, at first. A small nibble, a tentative probe of the tongue, then another nip... teasing, cajoling her lips, before he finally succumbed and ravaged her mouth.
A cackle of beeps, blips and sounds went up at the monitors. And in his arms, Khushi, hovering on the threshold of consciousness, tried weakly to return his kiss. With a huge sigh of relief, Arnav Singh Raizada buried his face in his beloved's hair.
***
The next morning as the hospital staff milled about, Khushi surfaced again dimly. Her bed had been raised and she found herself half sitting. There was bustle about... what was happening?
"A- Ar-...?" Her voice was hoarse with disuse.
"Khushi! Tum theek ho na?" Khushi turned her head with a little effort. Payal's eyes were swimming with tears. Nani, Di, Jijaji, Amma, Buaji... they were all here crammed into the room, faces wreathed in smiles. A nurse was fixing the drips and checking on the monitors.
Her eyes shifted around the room. Standing a little apart, silhouetted against the window's light, was her husband. She couldn't see his face, but the lines of his frame were relaxed but alert in that pantherish way he had about him. But more she couldn't make out. As always, waves of intensity emanated from him... but what did they mean?! What was he thinking? A frown marred her forehead... she turned to her sister..."Jiji.. kya hua...?"
The specialist, Dr Awasthi, came in, followed by two earnest looking interns, clutching with pads and files.
"Mr Raizada, I'd like a word, please."
Arnav straightened from the window pane he was lounging against. "Doctor? Is everything ok?" He moved to stand in front of the doctor. Khushi saw his face now, looking intently at the doctor. She looked at him with stricken eyes, but he wouldn't look at her. She took in everything about him: the slightly crumpled shirt, hair looking like he had run his hand through them a few times... he seemed tired but also... somehow elated!
The doctor was responding. "Ji haan, Mr Raizada, for the most part. But I'd like to ask you a few questions. Kal raat patient ke saath aap hi the, is that right?"
Arnav nodded. The family looked concerned and exchanged glances. Khushi frowned again in puzzlement.
"Kya aap bata sakte hain ke kal raat ko exactly kya hua?"
Arnav raised an eyebrow.
Anjaji rushed into the silence. "Kya matlab hai, doctor? Khushi ko hosh aa gaya, aur kya?"
"Anjaliji, we have here readings of the patient's vital stats from last night," the surgeon took a file from the junior doctor and opened it. "At about 11.40 pm, suddenly everything spikes. Her pulse goes up... basically her system was galvanised. And then of course, the patient surfaced. I just want to know what happened. There had to have been some... stimulus." He turned to Arnav again. "Mr Raizada?"
There was an infinitesimal pause, ASR cleared his throat and raised his chin arrogantly. "Yah, of course. I kissed her."
There was complete silence. The nurse at the drip stopped pretending to work, the interns had their mouths agape and even Dr Awasthi looked a little goggle-eyed. Akash examined his shoes, while the Raizada ladies glanced at each other, suppressing smiles.
Oh! Khushi sank back into the mattress.
Arnav was still managing to look forbidding. "I see!" said Dr Awasthi finally, "I see. Yes, that should do it. Erm... glad to have an explanation." He turned to the interns and said, "So have you made a note of that? Documentation is an important aspect of your duties." They gulped and nodded; the female intern looked particularly envious.
The phalanx of hospital staff left and the Raizadas stood grinning at each other. Anjali turned to her brother with mischief in her eyes. "Chotey, hum log abhi chalte hain. It's best if you stay with Khushi right now. You know... in case you feel she's about to have a relapse or something? Nani and Garimaji will come in the evening."
They trooped out, leaving Arnav Singh Raizada standing in the middle of the room, facing his wife.
Arnav Singh Raizada stared down at the girl before him. She looked frail, she was getting thinner by the day, the smudges under her eyes had darkened over the past five days. The oxygen mask covered her face, and assortment of tubes and monitors were attached to her arm. But she stayed oblivious - of the pain, of the discomfort, of life itself. Oblivious of him. He clenched his fist.
The door opened. Anjali limped in with a small smile. Om Prakash followed her with a basket containing food, fruit and all the comforts of home that would fit into a basket.
Anjali laid a hand on his arm. "Chotey, I'll stay with Khushi. You go home now." Arnav's jaw tightened and he turned away to look broodingly out of the half opened shades. Anjali sighed. "Chotey, just look at yourself. Your eyes are bloodshot, you haven't bathed in days, you haven't more than snoozed for a hour at a stretch, you look unkempt - what will Khushi think when she wakes up? And don't forget, she's going to need a lot more care when she does. What good will you be if you collapse?"
His head reared up at that. That remark about Khushi waking up had tightened a fist over his heart. "Di!" he whispered, anguished sigh barely repressed, "why won't she wake up? The doctors have been expecting her to regain consciousness for days now. I keep expecting her to, I wait - but she doesn't even stir!"
"Haan chotey!" Anjali managed a reassuring smile, as she laid her palm to his cheek, "but these things even doctors can't predict, right? It's just a matter of time. Please tum ghar jao. Freshen up, sleep for a while and I'm sure Khushi will regain consciousness. I'll be here, Payal will be here soon. She'll be fine."
Arnav nodded. "Di, aap theek ho?" he asked her. His gaze was penetrating, his eyes anxious. She summoned yet another smile - small but so brave it took his breath away. "Haan, hum theek hai. I've decided to postpone my breakdown till this crisis is over." The witticism won her a wry smile from her brother. He nodded at her and then, he was gone.
The truth was Anjali Manohar Jha nee Singh Raizada - prone to anxiety attacks and nervous fits on the smallest of matters - was coping. Magnificently. Fractured images from that series of nightmarish events haunted her, of course. Of how Shyam's gun aimed for Arnav. Of how Khushi rushed in with a feral scream and took the bullet in her abdomen. Of a wounded Arnav standing there, with bleeding Khushi in his arms, ashen-faced, as though turned to stone. Of Shyam keening over Khushi's prostrate body with theatrical cries of 'Khushiji, Khushiji! Hum aapse bohut pyaar karte hain Khushiji!'
That remorse hadn't lasted very long, thought Anjali, with a bitter twist to her lips - as Khushi was being rushed to the hospital, Shyam Manohar Jha had taken the opportunity to abscond. The Raizadas would hunt him down, they would make him pay -- she would see to it personally but he was gone for now.
Wiping away her tears, she sat down by the hospital bed and took Khushi's hand in her own.
***
"Khushi!"
Arnav woke with a start. That seemed to be the one word he woke up on these days. He flung the sheet aside, got out of bed and checked the time on his phone. He'd slept three hours and... no, there was no message or call from Di. Which meant, no change in Khushi's condition.
He went into the bathroom, snagging a white shirt and tan slacks that hung in the wardrobe. Half an hour later, he was striding down the hospital corridor... to see if he could talk Khushi into waking up.
He pulled up short. Most of the family was here. Payal had buttonholed Dr Awasthi, pleading with him earnestly. "Doctor, what do you mean you can't explain it? Khushi always recuperates quickly. She bounces back from everything. Why is it taking so long for this to heal?"
Arnav grit his teeth. Much as HE wanted her to wake up and smile at him, it annoyed him when Khushi's family kept expecting her to perform the 'happy act' for their sakes. Khushi the always-happy girl, Sanka Devi the madcap eccentric! Talk of giving a dog a name! Wasn't Khushi entitled to her moments of pain, the satisfaction of leaning on others for her comfort? Then he closed his eyes in frustration. He was being unreasonable - Payal was very, very worried for her sister.
The doctor sighed. "Mrs Raizada, the body is healing. Your sister is young, healthy and the injury has healed well. Even the head wound was superficial and she should be ok by now. As for not regaining consciousness, frankly, I must say the patient isn't trying. For some reason, she doesn't want to wake up. I know that distresses all of you but this is what I can offer."
The words sliced Arnav's heart. Khushi wasn't trying. She didn't want to live. That was what he had done. Not killed her with a bullet like Shyam had done but cut her with a thousand small cuts. He hadn't bled her to death but all the same, he had leached out her will to live. By wilfully misunderstanding her, by cruelly accusing her, by refusing to listen... He had a thousand apologies for her, a million sorrys... if only she would hear them.
Late that night, Arnav stood by Khushi's bed, looking down at her again. The hospital was quiet, on minimal midnight duty. In the dimly lit room, the machines blipped and beeped, making incessant observations about the state of her body. Moonlight threw dappled shadows on the floor. On the bed, Khushi sighed. Arnav froze.
"Khushi!" he whispered, bending over her, "Khushi?"
She lay still again. The oxygen mask was off now - she was breathing on her own but she still didn't want to open her eyes. Arnav looked grim. This was purely psychological. Khushi's defence mechanisms had kicked in. She had an arsenal of them, he had realised over these last few months. She was mostly resilient, he knew, her essentially sunny nature never let her be too depressed for long. But when that didn't work, she used forced smiles, comedy, work distractions, stories, fantasies, delusions... anything that would help her escape the thoughts in her own head. So here she lay - not fighting for her life. Arnav clenched his teeth. Well, she was not going to have it that easy. If that meant he would have to do the fighting, then he would.
He slipped off his sandals, pulled the white hospital sheet aside and slipped in next to her. The AC was comfortably cool, which he made sure of every time he walked in or out... he hadn't wanted his Khushi shivering and cold. "Khushi..." he took her hand in an enveloping clasp, "open your eyes, Khushi... sweetheart, talk to me, dammit!"
Sighing, he raised himself on one elbow and looked at her intently. Tendrils of hair had escaped the plait Payal made so lovingly a few hours ago and fluttered at her cheeks. He brushed them off her face gently, tucking the strands behind her ear. The pulse beat strongly as his fingers lingered at her jaw. Her lips, pink, soft... he leaned over to caress a thumb over her lower lip, tugging her lips apart. He ran his thumb again over the rose softness and felt... what was that?... a frisson of something had passed through Khushi. Arnav's eyes narrowed.
The hospital gown lay loosely around her shoulders. Her skin, so pale and bloodless when they brought her here, was looking healthy again.
"Jaago, Sundari!" Arnav muttered.
He moved over her and bent his head, his lips drawing a line of flutter kisses from her ear down her jaw before he took a generous open-mouthed bite of her neck. Khushi's eyes fluttered. His eyes glinted with satisfaction. His gaze moved to her lips. Half-opened now and the breath a shade faster. He bent again and took her lips. Soft, at first. A small nibble, a tentative probe of the tongue, then another nip... teasing, cajoling her lips, before he finally succumbed and ravaged her mouth.
A cackle of beeps, blips and sounds went up at the monitors. And in his arms, Khushi, hovering on the threshold of consciousness, tried weakly to return his kiss. With a huge sigh of relief, Arnav Singh Raizada buried his face in his beloved's hair.
***
The next morning as the hospital staff milled about, Khushi surfaced again dimly. Her bed had been raised and she found herself half sitting. There was bustle about... what was happening?
"A- Ar-...?" Her voice was hoarse with disuse.
"Khushi! Tum theek ho na?" Khushi turned her head with a little effort. Payal's eyes were swimming with tears. Nani, Di, Jijaji, Amma, Buaji... they were all here crammed into the room, faces wreathed in smiles. A nurse was fixing the drips and checking on the monitors.
Her eyes shifted around the room. Standing a little apart, silhouetted against the window's light, was her husband. She couldn't see his face, but the lines of his frame were relaxed but alert in that pantherish way he had about him. But more she couldn't make out. As always, waves of intensity emanated from him... but what did they mean?! What was he thinking? A frown marred her forehead... she turned to her sister..."Jiji.. kya hua...?"
The specialist, Dr Awasthi, came in, followed by two earnest looking interns, clutching with pads and files.
"Mr Raizada, I'd like a word, please."
Arnav straightened from the window pane he was lounging against. "Doctor? Is everything ok?" He moved to stand in front of the doctor. Khushi saw his face now, looking intently at the doctor. She looked at him with stricken eyes, but he wouldn't look at her. She took in everything about him: the slightly crumpled shirt, hair looking like he had run his hand through them a few times... he seemed tired but also... somehow elated!
The doctor was responding. "Ji haan, Mr Raizada, for the most part. But I'd like to ask you a few questions. Kal raat patient ke saath aap hi the, is that right?"
Arnav nodded. The family looked concerned and exchanged glances. Khushi frowned again in puzzlement.
"Kya aap bata sakte hain ke kal raat ko exactly kya hua?"
Arnav raised an eyebrow.
Anjaji rushed into the silence. "Kya matlab hai, doctor? Khushi ko hosh aa gaya, aur kya?"
"Anjaliji, we have here readings of the patient's vital stats from last night," the surgeon took a file from the junior doctor and opened it. "At about 11.40 pm, suddenly everything spikes. Her pulse goes up... basically her system was galvanised. And then of course, the patient surfaced. I just want to know what happened. There had to have been some... stimulus." He turned to Arnav again. "Mr Raizada?"
There was an infinitesimal pause, ASR cleared his throat and raised his chin arrogantly. "Yah, of course. I kissed her."
There was complete silence. The nurse at the drip stopped pretending to work, the interns had their mouths agape and even Dr Awasthi looked a little goggle-eyed. Akash examined his shoes, while the Raizada ladies glanced at each other, suppressing smiles.
Oh! Khushi sank back into the mattress.
Arnav was still managing to look forbidding. "I see!" said Dr Awasthi finally, "I see. Yes, that should do it. Erm... glad to have an explanation." He turned to the interns and said, "So have you made a note of that? Documentation is an important aspect of your duties." They gulped and nodded; the female intern looked particularly envious.
The phalanx of hospital staff left and the Raizadas stood grinning at each other. Anjali turned to her brother with mischief in her eyes. "Chotey, hum log abhi chalte hain. It's best if you stay with Khushi right now. You know... in case you feel she's about to have a relapse or something? Nani and Garimaji will come in the evening."
They trooped out, leaving Arnav Singh Raizada standing in the middle of the room, facing his wife.
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