Arnav Singh Raizada was not known as someone who believed in stupid little sayings. The hundreds of thousands of superstitions that lined daily life in India were frankly, a hassle, and he had no desire to embrace them.
As a young boy, his mother had often chided him for stepping on books. Saraswati kitabon mein rehti hai. Maafi maango! Arnav would grudgingly bend down and touch his hand to the book, bringing it back up to his eyes irritatedly before stalking off to sulk in his room.
After Ma passed away, Nani was the one to inform him of the important superstitions. Upon seeing him cutting his nails after returning from a long day at work, during which he managed to unravel a valuable piece of fabric with his untrimmed fingers, she quickly snatched the clippers out of his hands. Raat ko koi nakhoon kaat ta hai?! It's bad luck! Arnav rolled his eyes and put the clippers away, repeatedly reassuring his grandmother that he would not resume his cutting when she left the area.
As for his Di, she was always doing some puja or another. Before Arnav left for work, she would religiously circle her arm around him, forcing him to stand in the doorway, underneath the string of green chillies and sour lemons hanging above him. She would reach out and dot kajal behind his ears, so kisi ki nazar na lag jaye. Arnav bit his tongue and endured the torturous sessions, telling himself that if it would keep Di happy, anything was worth it.
Despite his acquiesce, Arnav Singh Raizada never believed in superstitions. He would reluctantly participate in them, but only to appease his family. All of the pujas and the nazar meant nothing to him. They were just silly things elderly people came up with when they had nothing better to do. They served double purpose, simultaneously preventing children from performing naughty deeds while also regaling them with the stories behind the superstitions. But being the great ASR, he had no time for such madness.
One day, however, as all men must someday, Arnav was forced to reassess his beliefs.
He had just finished helping Khushi serve her neighborhood lunch, enduring the calls of "waiter" and sweating in the sweltering summer heat to see the smile on- to help with Aakash and Payal's wedding. After all, he wouldn't want his family's name to be thrown in the mud by her inefficiency. He had to help to prevent that.
Exhausted, Arnav plopped himself down next to Khushi, who was busily chomping down on the left over pooris from lunch. He observed the flush in her cheeks from the overwhelming humidity, a single droplet of sweat dripping down her exposed neck and slipping underneath the hem of her orange kurta.
He swallowed thickly, reminding himself that he had only done this for his family. His task was made harder when she lifted a single finger to her delicious mouth and sucked, relishing the scrumptious food as she closed her eyes in pleasure. Arnav found himself wondering if she would close her eyes that way when she was- he cursed himself once more, forcing his eyes away from her mouth and down to her plate.
Half of a poori and some spicy aloo subji sat on the plate, unfinished. The loud grumbling of his stomach and the familiar lightheaded feeling reminded him that he was completely famished, and that his blood sugar level was, in all likelihood, dangerously low.
Not giving it a second thought, Arnav reached out and tore a piece off of the poori, dipping it into the accompanying subji before slipping it inside his mouth. He allowed the flavors to immerse, savoring the taste. He had to give it to her- Khushi was nothing if not a fantastic cook. She would make a man very happy someday.
Unconsciously, he reached over and tore another piece off, and then another. He continued eating off of her plate, both of them failing to realize that he was doing so. That is, until a kindly elderly woman brought them out of their reverie.
"Jhoota khane se pyaar badthi hai. Hamesha ke liye tum dono bohot khush rahenge." She reached out and gently patted their cheeks before ambling off, her sari wrapped neatly tucked into her waist.
She failed to notice the frozen look on the girl's face, a deep red blush making its way up her neck and filling her cheeks with beautiful color. She didn't notice the man beside the woman, a soft yet naughty smile on his face as he observed the girl beside him with reserved adoration in his eyes. She didn't notice when the girl turned towards him, their eyes locking and slipping them away into a world where their hearts beat in unison.
That day, Arnav Singh Raizada was forced to reassess his stance on superstitions. Perhaps not all of them were silly old wives tales after all.
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