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I had to cut this in half again, but only because I think the effect is better if this part ends where it does :) The second and last half should also be up soon because I'm really eager to finish this
A very big huge massive ginormous THANK YOU to all you sweethearts who've read and liked and commented- you guys are my muse, and without you I would definitely not be where I am :)
NOTE!!!! :::: Please make sure you take note of the dates and the times in the subheadings, because the story skips back and forth through time. E.g. there is a gap of several days between some of the events in this chapter.
OK, here we go...hope this was OK!
*Part 12 A*
"The distance is nothing when one has a motive." - Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen
23rd January, 2012, 4.54 p.m. (evening)
Khushi was beginning to go paranoid.
She eyed the glass full of water before her with a cross between perplexity and suspicion, her discussion with Nanheji broken off mid-sentence as her stare skated between the tumbler, and the rest of the occupants sitting around the table.
And then, without warning, without any reason, nothing but the abrupt crack of her heart against her ribs, with the finality of a judge's gavel, her eyes locked on him.
And she could not tell why, even though her heart, and that tiny little voice in her head, grown smug and self-assured over the past weeks, appeared to know.
After all, any of the other members sitting at that table might have seen her choke a little on her samosa- anyone else might have caught her fumbling to stifle her coughs behind her hand.
It could have been Anjaliji, sitting right beside her; or it could have been Jiji, directly in front of her and placed beside Akash Jeeju. It could have been Naniji, just a little further along from where her sister sat.
And yet...and yet...
His eyes met hers for a split second, and Khushi hunted for any sign of complicity, anything at all- but there was nothing there except the captivating rings of copper encircling caramel, and the flecks of gold scattered through them.
Enigmatically beautiful, but in the end as mysterious as ever.
A sigh was building up quickly in her chest- a sigh heavy with her frustration and the befuddlement that had hounded her every step of the way for so many days now, getting closer to its prey as each sunset speeded toward the next sunrise. I'm overreacting, she told herself, sternly, stubborn enough to try once again to block out the know-it-all voice trying to tell her otherwise, even though a part of her knew this was a futile exercise- I am overthinking it. It was just one glass of water- and anyone at that table might have pushed it in front of her if they had seen her splutter for those brief seconds, when a too-large chunk of samosa had slipped into her throat while she tried to multitask, chatting animatedly with Nanheji and satiating her appetite.
Yes, she insisted, headstrong and determined, there is no reason to think too deeply into it. It's just a glass of water. Why on earth would you think it was him?
Unfortunately, in her quest to persuade herself she had pushed too hard, and had now tripped too far- because her question toppled straight into a veritable tower of others- a tower she had been building with infinite care, trying to confine the madness and havoc sure to ensue if she let herself dwell on the possible answers in that tightly held, cordoned off segment of her mind...
...but now, she had made a mistake, and she had wound up asking herself the wrong question, which had in turn set free a handful of bolted-off memories that were sure to give her grief with their elusive meanings, and even more elusive consequences.
Such as the fact that he had taken to driving them to Shantivan every day, and dropping them off, and it had grown into such a thing of routine that Khushi had been shocked to realise she had stopped questioning it.
Such as the fact that he never ignored her now, never turned his nose up at her and let his eyes sweep over her as though she was not even there, or worse, that she was no better than a piece of trash lying around that did not deserve his attention; when she was there, he would hold her gaze- when he saw her first, he would greet her, when she scarpered out of his car, he always said goodbye.
Such as the fact that whenever he spoke to her now, little mundane snippets of conversation that proved far more enduring and longer-lasting in her memories than the hour-long discourses she held with her sister or parents or any of the other Raizadas, he always stood a little more than an arm's length away.
At what, Khushi had no choice but to concede now, was a respectable distance.
This series of beguiling changes might have been minor- might even have been too subtle or too inconspicuous for one to notice. But it was as though a trinket that had always seemed a permanent fixture in show-case had been moved, and its entire appearance had changed- and the differences struck Khushi with the jarring washes of surprise and something else...something which was a little like her inherent curiosity, but much less frivolous.
And perhaps, it was because of these changes- changes that she could not deny had made an impression on her, blotting out the clean lines separating fact from conjecture- perhaps it was these changes that prompted her benign, sanguine heart to attribute every other anomaly that happened around her to him.
Like those jalebis that turned up at the table every single day, even though the rest of the menu altered itself daily, whether it was for early lunch or light tea- always unaccountably fresh, and never the leftovers gone stale from the previous day.
Like all those extravagant wedding catalogues that Mami used to flaunt, loudly, (and, Khushi suspected, incorrectly) pronouncing the brand names embellishing what she and her friends would be wearing to the wedding, that had appeared to have vanished into thin air- and taken in tow Mami's pointed barbs at their financial inferiority.
And like that movie she had been wanting to watch for so long, but had resolved to put off because of more pressing priorities...
Without summons, a projector appeared to flick on inside her head, and across the screen of her eyelids, the intricate sequences of details that had fit together to create that experience flashed bright and bold for her to revisit.
Perhaps that was where it had all began. Perhaps that had been the trigger that had whetted her intuition and tuned her radar to pick up the minuscule transformations occurring all around her, just beyond the scope of her sight.
Because, just as Khushi had hoisted herself out of her bean-bag as the film rolled to a close, and she had stretched a little and hugged herself, as if trying to hold in the sense of fulfilment dousing down her worries of everyday life, sedating her enough to leave a goofy little smile on her face, she had turned about a little, and caught his eye.
And she had gasped, and had felt her heart quiet its beat for a long second before it had started thundering harder than the impact of Salmanji's punches, because there he stood, the Laad Governor-
-and he was smiling at her.
It had not been a wide smile, and perhaps, for those who did not know him, not even a noticeable one. But Khushi was well acquainted with that stern, inexpressive face of his, and she spotted the upward tilt of his mouth, the relaxed set of his jaw, the near-invisible crinkles at the edges of his eyes, as though they were smears of paint on a plain white wall.
And she had not been able to breathe, because even though she had witnessed the rare phenomenon of him laughing before, and had seen for herself the capricious and sporadic bursts of his humour, quick to fire and quick to flicker out-
-she could never recall seeing him this...content.
This happy.
The moment lasted perhaps three seconds at most, but they had felt like the most captivating, meaningful three seconds of her life. He had just stood there, watching her and smiling, a smile utterly devoid of haughtiness or self-satisfaction or condescension, just pure and simple-
And then, as though suddenly coming to himself, realising what he was doing, he had broken eye-contact, and shaking his head almost imperceptibly, he had slid his hands into his pockets and nonchalantly walked away without a word.
And Khushi, her defence-systems defused, and too enthralled by what she had just seen, had followed him with her gaze, up the stairs and along the passage leading towards his room.
The silhouette of his smile had remained about his lips.
And Khushi had not been able to evade the questions she had succeeded in staving off as she indulged in the action-packed antics of her favourite hero- the fledgling doubts that had been born when Anjaliji had brandished that DVD case before them and brightly declared a movie date, and which, while she had been preoccupied, had matured into fully-grown suspicions.
Suspicions that she could neither justify nor prove, but which her heart was loathe to let go of nevertheless.
Suspicions which, ultimately, had compelled her to approach him, by herself, at her own initiative, for the first time since she had pledged her new year's resolutions.
7th January, 2012, 5.30 p.m. (evening)
Arnav may have accepted that there were dimensions to Khushi that ran farther and deeper than anything she let on, but the unveiling of these hidden shades that merged together to make Khushi would perhaps never fail to take him aback.
Just as they did when he found her, with a degree of shock that almost sent him headfirst into the plants he dutifully pruned and watered every day (well, since his second trip of the year to the Gupta household, anyway), cautiously edging around the poolside to where he hovered with the hose-pipe in hand.
It was too unexpected, and it was then that he realised he had resigned himself to the belief that Khushi would never come up to him, reach out to him, on her own- at least, not just yet. Her reservations, her retreating into reticence and wariness over the past few days were sufficient evidence of that. And despite the heat wave that engulfed him from his head down to his loafer-encased feet and the chaotic breakdown of his heartbeats, Arnav attempted to soberly remind himself that she might just be here at Di's behest, or anyone else's- sent to fetch him, or relay some message.
And just as Arnav was busy trampling down the evils of wishful thinking, if only to save himself the disappointment later, Khushi proved her talent in surprising him yet again.
"I thought you don't like Bollywood movies."
Were it not for the sudden splash of water, cold and soaking through the material of his shoe to uncomfortably stick to his toes, the hose-pipe had almost slipping out of his slackening hold, Arnav would have been left gawking dumbstruck at her.
Twisting the mouth of the pipe shut, Arnav attempted clumsily to compose himself. Attempted to process the situation with a clear head. Khushi was just there, several feet away still- but she was there, and if he really were not misinterpreting the whole situation (or hallucinating), she had come of her own free will.
To talk to me?
Don't get carried away, he reproached himself, willing the reckless twanging of his heart to steady, and he studied her as discreetly as he could.
She was self-conscious, that much was obvious- she seemed to be resisting the urge to curl up into herself, and the result was that she kept shifting her weight uneasily from one foot to the other, while her fingers attacked her dupatta or her hair- which, to his displeasure, had been done up into a neat, sensible plait, the luxurious abandon of the curls from earlier in the morning smoothed out.
Does she suspect that I...
"I was intrigued," he admitted noncommittally- he was not going to take credit for the idea that had given her so much joy, no matter how much it helped reassure him that there was hope for him after all. The pure glee with which Khushi had watched that movie would probably not last were she to find out that he had been behind it, and he did not want her to ruin her own happiness by breaking apart that fragile emotion in search of his motives. "I wanted to see what you and NK were getting so excited about."
A look passed over Khushi's face- a sort of shadow, a dark tinge that was somehow melancholy.
If he had not known better, he might even have called it disappointment.
Don't get carried away.
"Oh," Khushi nodded slowly, appearing to accept the answer; she was not looking him in the eye, and it bothered him, made him conscious of the rough, wavering fluctuations that were interfering with their communication- disturbances that had never been there before.
Because before, she had never hesitated from saying what she wanted to say- never hesitated to stare him in the eye as she did.
He did not like seeing her like this- no matter how many times he saw her like this there was no getting used to how demure and introverted she had become around him, a timidity that did not suit at all the outspoken nature that embodied Khushi.
He felt compelled to do something about it, to break her out of a shell she had enclosed herself in because of him- and so he reverted to his tried and tested method of getting a reaction out of her.
He teased her.
"I honestly do not understand the merit of films like that," he told her flatly, trying to accommodate distaste into his voice and wondering whether he just sounded breathless, "The whole thing was completely improbable- what kind of man calls himself a bodyguard and then falls for a girl he has never seen before and then does not manage to recognise that the girl he gets married to is not the same person he was talking on the phone with? Unrealistic."
He kept his eye on Khushi as he rattled off his criticisms, gleaned from what little he had managed to infer considering his attention had been directed elsewhere, and he caught the beginnings of a frown beginning to furrow her brow.
A little more...
"And," he continued glibly, willing her to retaliate, even shout at him in rage as she defended her likes and dislikes as she always used to, "The laws of physics apparently don't apply to this hero of yours, because half those stunts are not only impossible, they'd probably also leave him dead."
The frown had broken into a full-blown glare, and Arnav internally cheered.
Just a little more...
"I can't understand why you or NK or anyone would watch that stuff, let alone like it- everything is either overdramatic, improbable or damn unrealistic."
And Khushi exhibited, yet again, that she had a penchant for surprising him.
That she would probably never fail to surprise him, and that perhaps even the concept of eternity, which he had never had occasion to picture before, might not be enough to uncover every way she could.
It was a different matter that that did not really trouble him.
And all she did was shrug a little, the glare that had been mushrooming into something close to that challenging spark she carried in her eyes whisked away, and say quietly,
"Perhaps that's why we like it...because sometimes, it's nice to believe that things will definitely work out by the end, no matter how big the problem...," a smile, a small, resigned smile, graced her lips and there was that ache again in his chest, "It's...nice to get away from reality sometimes."
23rd January, 2012, 5.46 p.m. (evening)
Why?
That had been her question.
And he had not flinched from giving her an answer.
Because I am sorry...
I am so sorry...for everything...
Had he then, answered the rest of her questions too, before she had thought to ask him?
The questions that she had been striving to keep a secret, even from herself, as each out-of-place incident carved out a little nook for itself inside her, and climbed in?
I said I was sorry. I meant it. But I'm not here because of a show of apology- I'm here because...because I...I wanted to.
Did that explain what was happening? To her? Around her? Was this why every discrepancy she came across, every tiny little improvement in a situation she had already accepted between herself, her family and the Raizadas, somehow drew her back to him?
Khushi stared at the back of the seat she had spent another car-ride, not many days ago, glowering at, but this time there was no wrath there. The confusion, though, had remained. They zoomed along the streets they had travelled so frequently back and forth along, since he had decided for himself that he wanted to ferry them from home and back- and since he had given her the choice of letting him.
It was no use. She could not rid herself of these...these theories, these notions, these products of her intuition, whatever on earth it was, that claimed that all these things, all these unanticipated little alterations, were happening, in one way or the other, because of him. Sure, Anjaliji, Naniji, Mamiji, they were all involved in a concerted, and yet at the same time undercover, effort to make things better, easier, or maybe just nicer but...
...but, her unruly heart had taken advantage of her mind's flummoxed state, and taken it upon itself to persuade her that somehow, all these things centred around her.
The jalebis, the car rides where he solicitously opened doors to let her in or help her out, always leaving the decision in her hands, and never once stopping the car in the middle of nowhere and leaving her stranded, the quiet respect with which he had started to treat her, neither advertised nor displayed in the grand ways of Arnav Singh Raizada but still there...
I said I was sorry. I meant it. But I'm not here because of a show of apology- I'm here because...because I...I wanted to.
Those weren't shows of apology, those were not the words "I am sorry" that people carelessly and freely used everyday...those were gestures that said that he was, and Khushi...
...Khushi did not know where that left her, or him, or them.
Did not know what he hoped to achieve from all this, if he hoped to achieve anything at all.
Did not know what she felt about it, thought about- did not know if this would change things between them, and how.
All she knew was that suddenly, she did not mind her dhak dhak too much, and her acidity was not all that troublesome.
The grand finale, I suppose we can call it, will be in the next update- and by that I mean the point this story has been leading toward since the very beginning. I REALLY don't want to mess this up.
Please leave your thoughts? I'd love to hear what you guys thought of these developments!
I reserve all rights over this work of fiction and request readers do not reproduce/copy/modify it elsewhere and/or claim credit.
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