ArHi SS: How do I love thee, last ch-p8

"What are you talking about? It hasn't been cold here in, well, as long as I've been here." She replied.

"Then why are you shivering?" He shot her an exasperated look, "And your finger tips are blue!" He draped a shawl across her shoulders, shaking his head in annoyance. She let him, because he liked doing it. They'd been having the same conversation for years, and they both knew it was a pretty worthless argument, but they still did it. For kicks. It kept the spark alive, so to speak. Not that Arnav and Khushi needed the spark to be kept alive. They had always had enough spark to power up a small town.

She smiled at him. Her smooth, beautiful, unlined, luminous face lit up with joy. He smiled back at her. "What?" he asked, the twinkle in his eye as bright as the day he'd truly married her.

"Nothing. Just, you know, I love you!" she said laughing gaily.

"Aww! Me too honey," he draped an arm around her shoulder. They sat on the bench looking at the beautiful scene in front of them. A lush green meadow lay ahead of them. In the centre of it was a beautiful pond, its water so crystal clear they could see to its rock-lined bottom. A lone white goat grazed on the grass.

"Its so nice to have Laxmi with us, isn't it?" she asked.

"Yeah. I wouldn't have known what to do without her!" said Arnav drily.

"Dear me, I feel it coming," said, clutching her tummy suddenly. He looked at her, and smiled, leaning back a little. A few seconds later she let loose a large burp. They both laughed at how loud she'd been. Arnav always teased her that her burps sounded like a cow mooing.

"Who was it?" he asked.

"Marina," she said.

"That child remembers you almost every other day!" he said fondly.

"She is our youngest daughter's youngest daughter. We spoilt her quite a bit," said Khushi, remembered sewing tiny little doll's dresses to match Marina's own, and even covering up undone homework to protect her from her mother's wrath.

"It's because she's pregnant. She's just hormonal. It'll pass," said Khushi.

"Is she?" asked Arnav, eyes lighting up.

Khushi nodded. "It's a boy. She doesn't know yet, of course. Its barely a month."

"That makes it our..what is it7^th great grand-child?" asked Arnav frowning.

"Hmm. Let me think, yes, 7 is right!" said Khushi, doing the arithmetic in her head.

They were just making sure they had all the birthdays straight, so they didn't forget to go, when a voice called.

"OK lovebirds. Lunch time, let's go." Said a high, shrill male voice.

"What's for lunch?" asked Arnav.

"Same as every day. Daal chawal. They made karela today and a raita," said the little man in front of him.

"The only thing I dislike about this place is the food. It is so bland. And they never serve dessert. I miss dessert," said Arnav feelingly.

"You miss dessert? I'm the one with the jalebi fetish, and you miss dessert? Think of me!" sighed Khushi. Then she opened her eyes wide. "Actually, the only thing I dislike about this place is the clothes. Why do they make us wear white all the time? I feel like an Ad for Tide or Surf!" she complained. "Besides, it makes Arnav look like Jeetendra, down to the shiny white shoes," she whined.

"I don't mind you in white. You look hot in white!" Arnav grinned toothily.

"You think I look hot in a sack of potatoes!" she said huffily, secretly pleased.

"OhmiGod!" said Arnav suddenly. "I feel one coming," he said worriedly. Khushi and the little man whipped out handkerchiefs and covered their noses. They also moved a little away from him. A loud cracking noise emanated from Arnav, followed by a smell that could only be described as well, "Cabbage in Sauerkraut form".

"Yours are always so smelly!" complained the little man. "I feel like I have to disinfect after you've farted. Nobody else I know has gaseous emissions like yours!"

"I'm sorry Beckwith!" said Khushi reassuringly. "You know how he was back then!"

Beckwith merely nodded. He didn't look happy.

"Who was it?" asked Khushi. "Aman again?" she smiled.

"Aman's wife," sighed Arnav.

"It's been 21 years since he worked for me. You'd think they'd have let it go by now," he complained.

"Let go of 45 years of daily harassment for sparing him the last 20 years of his life? I think not," a dimple peeked out in Khushi's cheek as she spoke.

"How old is he anyway?" she asked.

"Well, he was 2 years younger than I when he joined. I guess, around 23. And it's been what, 6 Earth years, now? So, I'd say he's about 89," said Arnav. "I think his wife resents me more. Her farts are always smellier than his!" he said.

"Yes, well you know. The female of the species likes to protect her man," said Khushi, shrugging.

"Well, what I dislike about heaven is the silly burps and farts!" said Beckwith. "You burp when someone down there remembers you in a good way, and you fart when someone curses you. Makes it a damn noisy place to live in. Not at all what I imagined when I was back on Earth. Plus, smelly too. Though, I have to say, you Arnav Singh Raizada produce the smelliest farts ever. Sometimes I wonder how you even gained entry into heaven. I think they mistook you for someone else. You should be in, you know, 'hell'" he whispered the word, as if afraid to be caught.

"Oh come one Beckwith! He's a good man. He was a little irascible on Earth, that's all. But he was a very good man. Good husband, good father. Good everything once he got his shit straight," said Khushi.

"Got his shit straight? What do you mean Khushi?" asked Beckwith interestedly.

"Well, you know. A long time ago when we were both really young and had just fallen in love, he was quite the dick. He sham-married me because he thought I was a gold-digger who wanted to wreck his sister's marriage. He was quite the brute. I hated him for a time," said Khushi.

"Sham-married you? How's that?" asked Beckwith, eyes growing round.

"Do you really want to know?" asked Khushi.

"Yeah, absolutely. My story is quite boring. You know it. I was a nerdy Astrophysicist who studied Black Holes and won a Nobel Prize on Earth. Now, in heaven, because of my background in proposing time travel on Earth (though I never proved it existed!) I'm the gofer. They thought I'd find it easier to adjust to being in multiple places simultaneously. Which, I have. Very well, indeed," Beckwith looked smug as he spoke.

"Yeah. You get to go fetch everyone to lunch by going to every corner of Heaven at the same time. What a thrilling job!" said Arnav crushingly.

"Be quiet Arnav. At least Beckwith has a job. You and I, we do nothing. We just laze around all day," said Khushi sternly. "And it's all your fault too. For being an Atheist on Earth." She said crossly.

"You should be thanking me! Because of me, we get to sit around doing nothing in the best place that ever existed. Instead, you're complaining. You haven't changed a bit since you were alive!" said Arnav. "beckwith, how come you were such a God-fearing Astrophycist?" asked Arnav curiously. "I thought scientists were mostly Godless hellions!"

"Born Greek Orthodox!" nodded Beckwith sagely as if that explained everything.

"HE's a strange one," said Beckwith nodding his head up. "HE'll put you to work if you believed in HIM down there. And HE'll let you sit round doing nothing if you didn't. How is that fair?"

"Well, it's HIS Ego. My Di, Anjali. She's 94 years old and still down there. You know why? She does 26 poojas a day for him. HE likes it. All the attention. Makes HIM feel important." Said Arnav.

"Arnav, you are incorrigible! Don't talk like that!" said Khushi.

"Beckwith, do you want to hear the story of our lives or not?" she asked quickly.

"Sure. After lunch, though." Said Beckwith.

"And Arnav, try not to fart during lunch. It puts everyone off the food. Please!" said Beckwith. Arnav nodded resignedly. He was always embarrassed by the profusion of farts he produced. No one ever commented that he produced quite a lot of burps as well. "There it is for you!" he said to Khushi wryly. "That evil than men do lives after them, the good is oft interred with their bones," he quipped invoking Marc Anthony.

"Not quite Arnav," said Khushi. "We weren't interred, we were cremated, remember?" she said, being thick on purpose.

"Shut up Khushi! If this were Earth I'd back you into a wall for saying that. Damn heaven for not having any walls. So much for freedom of expression!" he said frustratedly.

"One would've thought you had hadenough of backing me into walls down there. You want to do it here too?" asked Khushi.

"I could never have enough of anything where you're concerned, my love. Not even backing you into walls so I could breathe fiery insults at you. Or, sometimes, just make you uncomfortable and feel your heart go dhak-dhak. Also, that close, I could see your pupils dilate. Gave me a high, it did!" he crowed triumphantly.

"God. Grow up Arnav. You've been dead for 6 Earth years. And you're still hung up on the juvenile things you did when you were young and stupid." She scolded.

"Young and stupid and in love, my love!" he smiled. "Let's go to lunch!" he gave her his arm. She took it.

Arnav nudged Khushi as they walked to the dining table. "I'm sorry I embarrass you with all my smelly farts," he said apologetically.

"I don't really care. Besides, Beckwith gave me a new perfume to spray on my hanky. When I hold that to my nose, I can barely smell it at all," she said laughingly.

Arnav smiled at her teasing. "Khushi, I'm also sorry I never believed in HIM down there. I didn't mean to make it so boring for you for all eternity."

"I'm not bored. When you're with me, I could never be bored. Besides, remember Milton? 'They also serve who only stand and wait.'" She said quietly.

Beckwith shook his head at them. They had won Heaven's "Most Romantic Couple" contest 2 years running now, beating out the long time winners "Shah Jahan and Mumtaz Mahal."

"You built a monument to her love. I built a trust to match her love," Arnav had said when Shah Jahan had expressed his displeasure at being thus beaten. "It's no contest, really!" he'd grinned while accepting the trophy from HIM.

Beckwith wondered what their story was. He really wanted to know.

Chapter 2:

I love thee with the breath,

Smiles, tears, of all my life.

"That was a good lunch!" said Beckwith. "The karela was exceptional and Arnav farted only once. And it wasn't particularly pungent either."

"Who was that Arnav? I forgot to ask?" asked Khushi seriously.

"I dunno!" said Arnav apologetically.

"Of course you know. We always know who it is." Said Beckwith scornfully.

"Well, I know his name. It's Chirag Rao Bhondwe. But I don't remember who he is!" said Arnav ruefully.

"You don't even know who it is who's cursing you on Earth? And you fart like you live on Broccoli! Man, you SHOULD be in hell. Who let you into heaven?" asked Beckwith exasperatedly. Arnav looked embarrassed but said nothing.

"Do you want to know why he's in heaven?" asked Khushi, a martial light kindling in her eyes at this criticism of the man only she was allowed to diss.

"Yes, pray tell. From what I can see, or rather hear and smell, it seems like he doesn't belong!" said Beckwith.

"He belongs because he made the greatest sacrifice of them all." Said Khushi.

"Eh?" asked Beckwith.

"You know that saying about "Darkness not being able to drive out darkness?" she asked.

"No. I was an astrophysicist, not a sap collector. For recreation, I read Nietzsche!" said Beckwith.

"Nietzsche! Phooey!" said Khushi. "Much Nietzsche knew about true love!"

Is Nietzsche in heaven?" asked Arnav interestedly. "Since he famously declared that God was dead on Earth, I am wondering if HE took him into heaven?" he said tilting his head upward.

"Yeah. He's here. In the playpen section," said Beckwith, wiping his brow and shaking his head. "All the philosophers, they choose the playpen for their eternal journey. I think it's because they led such tortured lives and had so little fun on Earth that they want to remain children forever in Heaven. So yeah, Nietzsche, Kafka and Spinoza are all together playing hide and seek in the Playpen," Beckwith said, as if the thought caused him pain.

"Back to what I was saying. Kafka is all very well if you want to understand why men turn into insects, but if you want to know why Arnav is in Heaven you must understand the saying," Khushi said impatiently. The afterlife had not impacted her practical streak.

"What is the saying Khushi and why must I know it?" Beckwith sighed.

"Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that. Martin Luther King Jr. said that," she said. "You know, HIS right hand man, THE Jr. KING," she whispered under her breath reverently.

"Oh! That chap! Impressive fellow, even on Earth," said Arnav casually.

"Arnav!" said Khushi and Beckwith together in shocked tones. He always did his best to speak disrespectfully of the hierarchy in Heaven and never missed an opportunity to belittle HIS assistants and handymen and personal aides, and as HE had a plethora of them, it was easy pickings for Arnav.

"Back to Arnav," said Beckwith, trying to defuse the situation as he saw Khushi glare at Arnav angrily. So Arnav drove out hate with love?" asked Beckwith curiously.

"He did!" said Khushi, smiling crookedly at Arnav. She took his hand and sat down next to him on their bench. Beckwith sat next to her. They looked on to that lush green meadow where Laxmi grazed, and that crystal clear rock-lined pond. The sky was a freshly laundered blue. Khushi began talking of days long gone. Of times of passion, despair, hatred, and the immeasurable strength of a love she had never given up on.

September 2012:

She'd waited and waited. The guests had left. Even family had given up. Dadiji had watched gleefully as the fire in the havan kund had burnt itself out. Even Naniji and Anjali Di had given up and asked her to get up from the wedding mandap where she sat. But she knew he would come. Her faith was touching to see, though it seemed deluded even to those who loved him most. The only time she'd risen was when she'd felt he was in pain. She'd been frantic with fear for about 5 minutes.

But he'd set her mind to rest by showing up like the wannabe Bollywood Hero he was. Late to his own wedding. And with a gash on his forehead that added to his rakish handsomeness. She'd completed the formalities by fainting in his arms and he'd reciprocated by allowing one single perfectly shaped drop of his blood to fall strategically on her forehead. Symbolically, he filled her maang with his khoon. They were married in about 7 different ways then. Properly, improperly by the Gandharvas, according to the Vedas, pheras et al, with family as witness, and a priest to speak the words that joined them in matrimony. Blessed by the elders, loved by their brothers and sisters, they felt one moment of perfect happiness as he placed the mangalsutra (for the second and final time) around her neck. She because she needed the formality and he because it made her happy. They flouted a few societal conventions by hugging right after the pheras, but since there wasn't a dry eye in the house no one grudged them that hug. They'd earned it.

"OK, ok. Hold the sentimental details. Why did Arnav show up late for the wedding?" asked Beckwith expectantly.

"Aaah. The 64 million dollar question," said Arnav easily. "The question my dear Beckwith, is not why I was late for my own wedding, but how I even showed up at all."

"What do you mean? What does he mean Khushi ?," asked Beckwith looking exasperatedly at Arnav who was smirking but saying nothing.

"Tell him Arnav," ordered Khushi imperiously.

"OK. If you insist. Khushi's mother had an affair with my father. When my mother found out about the affair she committed suicide. I didn't know this until the evening of my wedding with Khushi. My Dadi didn't like Khushi anyway, and when she found this out, she decided to use this to break our wedding," Arnav said airily.

"What? Khushi's mom slept with your Dad? So, technically, you two could be step-siblings? Yikes!" said Beckwith, crinkling his nose.

"Shut up Beckwith. My mom was my adopted mother. I was an orphan. So even if there had been a child born out of wedlock, it wasn't me. Not that there was a child," she hastened to add, as Beckwith raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Arnav, why can't you explain everything properly? Do you always have to complicate things quite so much!" she railed.

"Khushi, watch it. Don't lose your temper," Arnav warned. The warning came too late. 2 beautiful white doves came flying up to Khushi and circled her head, cooing prettily. She closed her eyes and pulled a face that looked like she was eating something unappetizing. Beckwith and Arnav stepped back to be out of the danger zone. The doves let some dove droppings fall daintily on Khushi's hair as she squealed silently. Then they flew away, wings fluttering prettily. Never would anyone have guessed they had just shat on someone's head on purpose.

"Daa--- OK, OK, I won't say it," said Khushi, shutting her mouth with her hands as she sought to restrain herself from saying something about Dung Discipline- the comeuppance in Heaven for losing one's temper. The greater the offense, the larger the bird. And if it was too much to bear, on occasion, even an Elephant had been pressed into service. Though the last time that had happened, a rapper with a pure soul but a foul mouth had been killed in a gang war and had still been in orientation.

"Arnav is no storyteller, let ME tell you what really happened," said Khushi, uncovering her mouth. Arnav grinned. He'd known it would end like this. He just enjoyed winding her up. Besides, while he'd been the one with the hair trigger temper on Earth, she got into trouble far more often than he did in Heaven. Partly because she'd taught him patience, but he'd never curbed her enthusiasm. He liked her the way she was. Loud, funny, mad. And when she occasionally lost her temper at him, he rather enjoyed it. His crazy wife made him happy. Heaven and Earth notwithstanding.

"So Beckwith, are you ready to take a trip down memory lane?" asked Khushi enthusiastically.

"Khushi! Memory Lane! Do we have to? You know it makes me wheeze with all the dust that never settles there," Arnav whined.

"You don't wheeze in Memory Lane. No one wheezes in heaven. You just don't like revisiting memories that make you uncomfortable Arnav," said Khushi, hitting the nail on the head unerringly.

"Whatever, let's get this over with," said Arnav clutching Khushi's wrist with one hand and Beckwith's with the other.

They stepped into a wedding hall, bedecked with flowers, refulgent with the scent of roses and itr and overflowing with the tender hopes and dreams of a young Khushi who sat at the altar, resplendent in pink and green. Two tears rolled down her cheeks as she watched the embers in the fire die out slowly. Naniji, Anjali di, NK, Akash and Payal all looked on helplessly as the fire burnt out and Dadiji grinned evilly.

"Why is the old woman cackling like a hyena?" asked Beckwith. Khushi swept them away to a narrow alley of Memory Lane. A dark, damp poorly-lit alley that smelled of rotting garbage. They crinkled their noses as they saw a younger version of Dadiji browbeating a young woman who stood weeping before her. Beckwith recognized her as one of the women from the wedding hall. Dadiji screamed at the woman for ruining her Son and Daughter-in=law's life, while the woman protested her innocence in vain. She hadn't known he was married. He had led her on. Promised to make her his wife. He was the one at fault not her. Dadiji wouldn't accept her explanations. She held her solely responsible for the death of 2 people beloved to her and the destruction of an entire family. Khushi's mother fled.

"OOkay! Dadiji's quite the vicious character. I take it she didn't make it in to heaven?" asked Beckwith looking queasy.

"She's in Holy Choir Heaven," said Arnav, smiling naughtily.

"Oh Man! The one that never stops singing? Where you have to eat and drink while humming a heavenly tune? I've heard that's worse than the punishments in you knowHell," Beckwith whispered the last word.

"So, I believe. See, Holy Choir Heaven is perfect for cats like my Dadi. She lived in an Ashram on Earth, where she supposedly spent all her time meditating and thinking about God. And when she came to our house, all she did was spread hate. Holy Choir Heaven is perfect for those with double standards. There, they have to keep singing songs in HIS praise, but they never get to meet him, since he doesn't cross the Line of Crock," said Arnav, smiling wickedly.

"Arnav! It's not the Line of Crock, as you well know. It's the Line of Contrivance, that we call the LoC for short," said Khushi, only contriving anger in this case.

"See, Heaven, for a place that's supposed to be all that in the afterlife, is surprisingly high on the excrement quotient. The farts, Dung Discipline and all that. It's only natural that I call the LoC the Line of Crock, considering THAT is exactly what it is," Arnav explained patiently.

"OK, OK. Let's argue Heavenly nomenclature later. Can we get on with the story please. Malevolent old granny realizes Khushi is her dead son's erstwhile mistresses' adopted daughter. So, she tells Arnav this on the day of his wedding, hoping he will call the thing off, enabling her revenge and Khushi's humiliation in full public view, right?" asked Beckwith.

"Exactly right. Except my knight had no kinks in his armor. He came for me despite all the baggage of the past. He wanted to let go of" Khushi stopped as Arnav pinched her arm.

"This is my one moment of glory in this entire story. Can we at least have it Technicolor?" asked Arnav.

"Of course my love," said Khushi. She took them back to the wedding hall, where she now lay fainted in Arnav's arms. They watched the drama unfolding in front of them in silence. The blood dripped. Arnav smiled at Khushi. He made a speech about how her love had conquered his hate and MADE him come to her. Khushi wept tears of happiness. Naniji and Di wept to see how much their hateful boy had come along. Buaji and Khushi's mom wept tears of relief.

"In short everyone wept," said Beckwith prosaically. "Good speech Arnav. Didn't know you had it in you to say all that."

"Don't interrupt. The best part is yet to come," said Arnav sounding annoyed.

And indeed the best part had yet to come. Arnav spoke words that no one had ever imagined the mighty Arnav Singh Raizada would say. He spoke of moving on and leaving the past behind and making a new life with the people he loved. Khushi's mom wept more.

"That's it? Hateful granny told you Khushi's mother was your Dad's lover and responsible for your mother's suicide and you forgave her just like that?" asked Beckwith. "I mean, it seems a trifle rushed, no?" he asked.

"I was very self-actualized in Khushi's love by then. She had changed me completely," said Arnav nonchalantly, pinching his wife's bottom as he spoke.

"Owww! Arnav, stop that," said Khushi. "I clearly haven't changed you THAT much!" she said.

"So, wait a minute. What happened to the hate marriage? I mean this granny hatred is separate from the reason for the original marriage, right? What happened to the lecherous brother-in-law and exactly how did all that play out? Why does Arnav suddenly love Khushi. I'm missing something here," said Beckwith, puzzled.

"Daa--, I mean shoot! I forgot all about the kidnapping!" said Khushi.

"What kidnapping?," asked Beckwith. "You guys suck at telling stories man. Go chronologically!" he complained.

"It's no fun that way," said Arnav and Khushi together, hands linked as they smiled at each other.

"OK, what kidnapping?" asked Beckwith again. Before anyone could respond, Beckwith squealed. "Damnation and Dadi! I'm late for tea. I gotta go round everyone up. Laters," he said as 3 large eagles came flying out of nowhere and dropped some choice pickings on his bald head. He grumbled as he wiped them away and sped off into oblivion.

"Eagles! Wow, saying Dadi must be level 3 offense," said Khushi seriously.

"As it should be my love, as it should be," said Arnav easily as they made their way to Tea, hands held loosely as always. Hamesha, as Arnav liked to say when he was feeling particularly romantic or was slightly stoned. Hamesha.

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Next chapter tomorrow. Bolo, kaisa laga? 😊