Collab FF: IPK 2.0-Doing it right#3, Ch23, p144 - Page 47

"Akash! Bhaat iz this?" asked Manorama Raizada, her eyebrows flying up her forehead. This made Hari Prakash and Anjali stagger back a little, what with her neon green and hot pink eye shadow coming into prominence. The vituperative shades were enough to blind any perfectly normal human being. Anjali, Akash and Hari Prakash, much like Pavlov's dogs, were somewhat conditioned to the occasional flashes of blinding color, and only needed shade their eyes to prevent permanent damage. But poor Payal almost fainted into Akash's arms, much like she'd done on their first meeting at Sheesh Mahal. Only, now they were married, the romance had died down somewhat, so neither did Payal faint, nor did Akash look at her with tender worry. Instead he shot her an irritated glance and turned to his mother.

"We're married Maathey! It should seem fairly obvious," he said, with the appearance of ease.

"Bhaat! Bhut bhy? We were going to ghet you mharried within a few months anyways!" wailed Manorama.

"We couldn't wait for her parents to accept the shagun next month and the pandit to match our kundalis and find there's no date for the next 6 months. We just decided to make life easier for everyone by getting married Maathey," said Akash, swallowing a little. He wasn't afraid of his mother. But he was afraid of her most deadly weapon. Her eye shadow. He didn't think his eyes could take the strain.

"But Akash! No wedding? No pheras? You know how crazy Nani is about pheras! Ohmigod! Dadi! What will happen when Dadi finds out. She's nutty about pheras. Absolutely obsessed with them!" said Anjali, clasping her hands to her mouth in shock.

"Di! Aap bhi na! Luckily, your Nani IS my Dadi. And your crazy ashram waali-Dadi is not related to me. So, I'm saved," said Akash, smiling at his Di. He heard a small gasp next to him and turned to Payal.

"What happened Payal?" he asked, smiling benignly at her.

"Pheras! Aakash, we forgot the pheras. Ohmigod! We forgot the Roka, kul devi ki puja, mehendi, sangeet, jai mala and pheras!" said Payal, almost in tears.

Akash bent to whisper into her ears, "Don't worry Payal, we'll start backwards. Suhaag Raat first! Baki sab baad mein!" he grinned wolfishly. Payal blushed, turned red, giggled and decided he had a point. Unfortunately her MIL didn't agree.

Manorama Baand had exactly one characteristic imperative for good detecting. Superior hearing. She picked up the words Suhaag Raat uttered by her son. "No pheras means no suhaag raat! Manorama Raizada ne bol diya, toh bol diya," she said.

"But Maathey! We're legally married. I have the marriage certificate right here," said poor Akash, fishing in his pockets for the piece of paper that had solemnized his wedding with Payal.

"Lhee-gal? Bhaat Lhee-gal? I AM the law in this house. And I say no pheras, no suhaag raat!" said Manorama sternly.

"Mamiji, for once I agree with you. Kitne armaan the mere, apne Akash ki shaadi ko lekar. Payal, you will sleep in my room from tonight, until we figure out the wedding arrangements," said Anjali semi-sternly.

"But, but, what about Jijaji?" stammered Akash.

"What about him?" Anjali cocked an eyebrow.

"Where will he sleep?" asked Akash weakly.

"Since he's already done his bit, how does it matter?" asked Anjali patting her tummy, with satisfaction. "But I'm sure he'll be happy to bunk with you Akash," she grinned mischievously. Akash knew for a fact that Shyam would definitely not enjoy leaving his wife's bed to bunk with his brother-in-law. His palms turned slightly clammy at the thought of facing an irate Shyam. Whenever Jijaji got mad, he hummed that annoying tune till everyone in the house went berserk. Daiyya Ho! Daiyya Ho! Akash cursed his bad luck. His mother's eye shadow, Di's threats, Jijaji's singing habits and the prospect of no Suhaag Raat. This was not turning out to be a good wedding day.

He thought he'd married Payal out of hand to bypass all these formalities. He hadn't anticipated his family would turn out to be so consumed with pheras. He stared at his Di and mother, both looking at him angrily. Even Hari Prakash didn't seem amused. Payal was focused on her feet. "Now what!" thought Akash exasperatedly.

"Nothing. Prepare for Hum aapke hain koun part deux, the Raizada version," replied Akash's inner voice.

"Shut up inner voice," said Akash silently.

"OK. I'll shut up. And you'll NEVER get laid. Deal?" said his inner voice.

"No deal," thought Akash, shoulders slumping. "OK, Di, Maathey! Main Payal ke saath, saare vidhi purvak, phirse shaadi karne ke liye taiyyaar hoon!" said Akash quietly.

"As if you had a chaaice. Come Anjali. Ab shaadi ki planning kareka padi. And you, maang bhari haddi, go back into your kebab and don't come out until the pheras, OK?

"Ji Mummyji!" said Payal, still looking at her feet.

Meanwhile, while one sister got hitched and found out she had to get re-hitched in order to fulfill technical formalities, the other sister had painstakingly plotted her escape to Delhi. Khushi Kumari Gupta was nothing if not resourceful. So, Mohammad had beckoned the mountain to him. So, what? Had not Lord Krishna lifted an entire mountain with his little finger? If he could do that, then surely Khushi Kumari Gupta could move her somewhat expansive Buaji to Delhi post-haste. All that was required was some unprincipled planning. And having very few scruples when it came to mountains, Mohammads, Buajis and Arnavjis, Khushi Kumari Gupta had already come up with an ingenious plan. She called her good friend Kumud and held a somewhat furtive, whispered conversation with her. At the end of it, she put the phone down, rubbed her hands together with glee, and said, "Ab Dilli door nahin Arnavji."

30 minutes later Buaji came knocking on Khushi's door. "Khushi bitiya, we need your help. It's urgent!" said Madhumati.

"What happened Buaji?" asked Khushi, doing a creditable job of looking surprised when she wasn't surprised in the least.

"Woh, you know Vidyachatur's daughter Kumudsundari na?" asked Buaji.

"Yes of course I know Kumud Buaji. I didn't know her name was Kumudsundari though! She never mentioned it. Poor thing. I don't know why our parents need to make our kaalities so obvious through our names in India. I'm always happy so I'm named Khushi. Kumud is pretty, so she's named Kumudsundari!"

"Very true. Which is why I named you Sanka Devi," said Buaji, slapping Khushi's head. "Now shut up and listen. Kumud ke liye rishta aaya hai. The boy is from a very rich family and they are very maadern. And you know how Kumud is so simple and from a small town. Vidyachatur wants her to wear some smart and more maadern Indian clothes for the wedding ceremonies. And Kumud wants your gotas on her dresses. She insists that you design her trousseau. So, we're leaving for Delhi tonight and you will design some lovely, gota filled clothes for Kumud, OK?" said Buaji.

"OK Buaji," said Khushi happily. Suddenly she turned, as if she's just realized something of great importance. "Buaji, why Delhi? Doesn't Kumud live in some small village in Gujarat?" she asked. "Shouldn't we be going there to see her?"

"Kumud lives in Ratnagiri. It's on the Konkan coast of Maharashtra which migrated to Gujarat and floated up to the deserts of Rajasthan during the last Monsoon. It's currently stationed at Delhi near Chandi Chowk. Aur koi sawaal Sanka Devi?"

"Nahi Buaji," said Khushi looking puzzled. She didn't know cities could change states and terrain with so much ease. "Neither does Sanjay Leela Bhansali", sighed Kumud, stuck in poor, old mobile Ratnagiri, once famed for Alphonso mangoes, now an arid desert with nary a working internet caf, forget Broadband. It was like her backless cholis. Minimum coverage, maximum mileage. She hoped Khushi's gotas would add some spice to her wardrobe. God knows she needed the help to entice Mr.Goddess of Wisdom Moon Man.

Khushi Kumari Gupta picked up her phone and dialed her favorite number. He picked up on the first ring.

"Hum Dilli kal aa rahein hain. Aap humaare swaagat ke liye chai pakore taiyaar rakhiyega Arnavji," she said before he could even say hello.

"Who's this?" said a voice straight from the deep freezer and definitely not male.

"Khushi Kumari Gupta speaking. Aap kaun? Aur Arnavji kahaan hain?" she asked, slightly miffed that a woman had picked up his phone.

"Arnav, some girl asking for chai pakoras. Do you even eat pakoras?" asked the voice, as if pakoras were made from cow poop. Arnav took the phone from her.

"Khushi, tum Delhi aa rahi ho na?" he asked confidently.

"Haan, hum aa rahein hain. Aapko pakore pasand nahin? Ye larki kaun hai jisne phone uthaaya? Aap kya kar rahein the? Aapne phone kyun nahin uthaaya?" asked Khushi breathlessly.

Arnav smiled widely. She was jealous. "I'll answer all your questions provided you answer one of mine, OK Khushi?"

"Boliye," said Khushi, not very happy, but giving in all the same.

"Tum mujhse itne saare sawaal karne waali hoti kaun ho? In other words, Hum aapke, hain koun?" asked Arnav confidently. What happened next was completely unanticipated.

Khushi Kumari Gupta giggled. Well, it started out as a giggle, and ended up as belly-shaking laughter. Arnav Singh Raizada got angrier and angrier with every passing second. When she didn't stop giggling he snapped. "What's so funny? Tum hans kyun rahi ho?" he spat out.

"Aapko flirt karna hi nahin aata! Hum aapke hain koun! Ye baat Mujhe Jiji ko bataana hi padega!" laughed Khushi.

"Kaunsi baat?" Arnav fumed.

"Ki Jiji tere Jethji deewane, kya karein, yeh flirt karna bhi na jaane!" Khushi laughed even harder, till tears streamed out of her eyes.

"Achcha Khushi Kumari Gupta. You get your ass to Delhi and we'll see kisko kitna flirt karna aata hai. Lagi sharth?" said Arnav Singh Raizada in that low, sexy, gravelly tone that turned grown women into puddles of gooey, molten wanting.

Khushi didn't reply. In fact, she put the phone down in a hurry, but not before she missed his low rumble of laughter. Had he heard her heart go dhak-dhak? 'Cos that's what it was doing now. Beating like a choo-choo train. Dhak-dhak. Dhak-dhak. Dhak-dhak. Laad Governer had his A game on. Khushi needed to bring hers on too, else it was game, set, and match Arnav Singh Raizada.

"Raksha karna Devi Maiyya, raksha karna!" muttered poor Khushi Kumari Gupta as she heard her phone ring. "Haan Jiji! Kya? You did what?" she yelled, mouth open in a perfect "O". Suddenly Delhi looked a thousand miles away again.

Ok, that's it. And uh, Author's note:

Many thanks to Rasgulla, Emma and Dee for helpful reviews. Hope you all haffun reading. Bring on the comments!