"Amma!!" Arnav gazed in horror as a shot rang out. Anjali collapsed to the floor, her screams and sobs slicing through the air. His eyes fell on his mother. Her simple, white nightgown was hardly what one would expect a queen to wear, but it fit her down-to-earth personality. A bright, rust colored spot of red spread its way across her chest, and Rani Malik took in a shuddering breath.
"A-Arn-Arnav." He could hear Anjali crying in the background, her knees dragging on the ground as she desperately pulled at her husband's arm, begging him to take her instead. Aakash had his arms around Anjali's waist, trying to pull her away as Shyaam laughed at their plight. Arnav turned to face their mother, knowing Aakash would make sure Di was safe.
His breaths came in short gasps as he sprinted across the hallway towards his mother. His father's body lay next to hers, his eyes blank as he stared up at the ceiling. But his mother was still alive, and Arnav could save her. He could save her.
Suddenly, Arnav ran into a hard body. He felt rough arms digging into his upper arms, the nails piercing the skin. At sixteen, Arnav was relatively strong, but the man holding him from his mother was stronger. Arnav struggled, kicking against the man who calmly picked him up, preventing him from reaching his mother.
Anjali's piercing scream rang once again through the air, distracting Shyaam's man from holding Arnav for a minute. Arnav took advantage and pushed hard, using his nimbler body to slip out from underneath the bulky man.
He collapsed next to his mother, just in time to see her smile at him one, last time.
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Arnav shook his head, attempting to clear his brain of the painful memories that threatened to overtake his mind. After the horrific event that had made its way to the front of his brain, Arnav had taken Anjali and Aakash and run. Almost immediately, Arnav changed their name from Malik to the obscure maiden name of his maternal grandmother.
He felt the familiar sting of tears at the back of his eyes as he stared at himself in the mirror. Arnav had his mother's eyes, and every time he looked in the mirror, it was as if she was looking back at him. He clenched his fist so hard that his nails dug into the toughened skin of his palm.
He glanced down to see the moon shaped curve of his nails imprinted into his skin.
He dunked his head under the cold water, before slipping a towel on his waist and stepping out. Showers were a distant luxury, only available when the ship docked on shore. He ran his hand through his wet hair, rubbing it gently. The stickiness of the saltwater immediately rested on his skin.
As he stood there, his thoughts drifted to his wife. Khushi. She was very aptly named, he mused. Within weeks of her being on the ship, Arnav had detected a clear change among his crew. His crew was only made up of the four or five men that were once his father's bodyguards and part of his inner circle. Their trust and loyalty to the Raizadas was unquestionable. There was something about having a woman on board that automatically brightened up the area.
She was often in the kitchens, attempting to remake the bland food of the ocean, or in her room, writing to NK. Arnav made it a point to get her letters to her brother safely in NK's hands, thus keeping his promise to keep Khushi connected to NK. During mealtimes, Khushi would serve the food out to his crew. Her enthusiasm for life often had her making ridiculous jokes and puns to make the crew laugh. She would play pranks on everyone, and even succeeded in making Aman, the serious navigator with no sense of humor, crack a smile.
She reminded Arnav of another Khushi he knew long ago. His eyes darkened as he thought of his beautiful childhood friend. If only she hadn't been so beautiful, his parents would still be alive. Arnav knew deep down that it was ridiculous to blame the innocent twelve year old for something she could hardly remember. But he needed someone to put the blame on, and Khushi was the perfect scapegoat.
Arnav's breath hitched as he thought of her. He could still remember those beautiful hazel eyes, so similar to that of his wife. She was just starting to line them with kohl when they had fled, the dark lines accentuating the light golden flecks in them. In fact, those eyes were precisely why Arnav avoided his wife. They reminded him too much of her. He had found himself wondering whether his wife was his childhood friend, but immediately dismissed the thought. There was no way she could have escaped Shyaam.
Arnav brushed away the uncomfortable gnawing guilt at the pit of his stomach. He should have just taken her with him- no! It was her fault. Arnav reminded himself. What is done, is done. That Khushi is gone, and now you have this one instead. Arnav sniggered darkly at the irony. You always sow what you reap. I left her behind for revenge and got this one to remind me of her every second.
Arnav shook his head again to clear his thoughts. I don't even know why I'm feeling guilty. It was her fault, right? Her stupid beauty caused this entire mess... She would be about Khushi's age right now... Stop it, Arnav! There is no way. No, his wife just happened to have the same name and eerily similar eyes, his brain insisted. But his heart refused to agree. Arnav slammed his hand down on the table in frustration, wincing as the splinters hit his skin. Damn it Khushi, this is all your fault.
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Khushi stood in front of the tiny kitchen, glaring at the potato in her hands. She had tried everything to make the mashed potatoes and porridge-like dal that they ate more appetizing, but without spices, she was lost.
NK had always brought her spices when he went out. A fond smile took over Khushi's face as she recalled NK bringing her back her favorite spices and materials to make jalebis with. The NK's ship had a fantastic kitchen for a ship, redone especially for Khushi. He had found someone to fix certain parts of the ship, and would occasionally remodel to make the ship better. She swallowed tightly as she recalled NK, desperately missing his jokes and his presence in her life.
Arnav leaned against a pillar, hands folded across his chest as he watched his wife talk to a potato. A lopsided smirk resided on his face, taking the place of the scowl that his mouth was usually contorted into. His gaze fondly trailed over her, taking in her simple green anarkali, ridiculous pom pons hanging off the sleeves. He would have to get her some nicer suits... maybe some saris... No. I can't get any closer to her than necessary, he mused, as he watched her carefully. Despite his efforts to keep a distance from her, Arnav found himself growing fond of her. She was something different, a welcome change from the drab life of a pirate.
"You know, you stupid potato, if only you had more of your own flavor, I wouldn't be struggling with this! This is all your fault." Arnav chuckled as Khushi glared the potato down accusingly. She seemingly heard him, and whipped around to find the source of the noise. Arnav quickly schooled his face into his traditional glower and scowl, not wanting her to know that he was amused by her. Her eyes widened comically, her mouth dropping into an "O" as she took him in.
"A-aap... yahan kya kar rahe ho?" She stammered, a beautiful blush creeping up her face. Arnav clenched his fists, berating his heart for being so traitorous.
"We're docked. I'm leaving for a bit. Don't do anything stupid, Khushi." He turned sharply, not sparing her a second glance. Khushi made a face at his retreating figure.
"Bada aaya, Laad Governor. Does he even know how to smile?" Arnav bit back a smile as he walked out, shaking his head silently at her musings.
The next day, a bag of spices rested on the counter of the kitchen.
Chapter Five
Bollywood
Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi 2
Mangal Lakshmi
49