Posted:
Ladies and some more Ladies,
Here arrives the third episode of this series. This is a long... long update, since it is my last of July. Exams are less than ten days away and next I'll update only in the third week of August.
Now, coming to the issue at hand, if I called the last update crap then this my dear friends is pure hogwash of such a degree that I dare not spell. This utter nonsensical gibberish is a product of increased exam induced idiosyncracies, wet fantasies and sadism.
I reiterate that this particular account is not to be taken as insult to true sentiment, I am a fangirl too, but here just for laughs I tend to have fun at the expense of our favorite heroes. I strictly encourage fandom wars, if you favor one over the other but again, our words should only be flowers laced with a skunks pungent fluid and not poison. We can have it all but in a friendly spirit! And I assure you, I will give both the heroes equal opportunity to make a fool of themselves, no biases from my side at all!
Warning: If you deem yourself an intellectual, please keep your brains at bay before reading this.
Episode #3
The Encounter
He still could not believe he had given in to her fit of impulsive wanderlust, to a land, he had little idea about. He had traveled almost half the world, but never had felt this sort of queasiness about a new place, more so because Google offered a paltry excuse of information on Chandangarh. For that matter it showed four Chandangarhs around the same area on Google maps. He had recognized the one on Google Earth, somebody had flagged Ratangarh Palace; Serendipity, he called it. But nothing seemed to alleviate the steadily escalating sense of foreboding he felt.
He climbed down the stairs, strapping a black dialed Rolex and let the vision of the hall and his family brood over him, he whined like a five year old and muttered profanities like a fifteen year old, to no avail. The hall members simply ignored his presence; bunched around his wife, stuffing her overstuffed bags with eatables. He stood there - a mere spectator, grimacing and grumbling that they were not going to Mars, but a land inhabited by humans and would be staying in a hotel, that incidentally happens to serve food as well, again to no avail.
"Did you keep your medicines Chotey?" said Anjali, finally relaxing her back from hunching over Khushi's suitcase and turned to face him.
"Thanks for asking." he muttered nodding curtly. Anjali did not stop to hear him out and hunched over the bags again, now placing packed fruit baskets, Arnav scowled. From the corner of his eye, he noticed NK approaching him, saying something akin to take a deep breath, he made a face and walked over to the opposite side of the gathering, putting as much distance between them as he could. NK shrugged and plonked himself on the couch, shuffling through pages of Harper's Bazaar that had Briteny Spears posing in the nude for the cover page after eight years.
Arnav Singh Raizada hated being married, what had it done to his family? They were hardly ever scared of his sullen temper now, they actually dared to ignore him! Ignore the ASR!
"Enough of this nonsense everyone." he roared, his eyes consumed in rage, "If you guys don't stop this melodrama right now, I am cancelling the trip." he bawled them over.
Manorma was the first to cower, her husband twisted his countenance in the way the rest of the family members did, he wasn't anyway sure whether he was included in 'everyone' or not. "Laagat hai, Arnav bitwa old shelf pe aayi gaye, ab angers ke hello hi karke, honeymoonsh ke bye bye karege padi." Manorma mumbled.
Devyani straightened her back, ready to lash out at Chotey, waterfalls began cascading down Anjali's cheeks as she stared at her Chotey through tearful eyes reflecting fear and accusation.
"Nannav ko phir se ghoonsa aa gaya."
"Shut up NK." he yelled. NK gulped. Anjali placed a protective arm around Khushi, and Khushi - her crestfallen face had a cute pout, with her lower lip trembling a little. Arnav's heart moaned and lunged in his chest.
"Ghoonsa nahi Nanheji, gussa." she corrected as a matter of habit. "Theek hai Arnavji, agar aapki yahi marzi hai..." she began.
Hell no, what had he done. "I... Khushi... I didn't mean to say that damn it." he looked around helplessly, f**k, he could not play ASR anymore.
"So we can resume our activities Chotey?" his sister chirped, happily wiping her tears away.
****
Aman Mathur ran helter-skelter, looking for the hundred boxes of tissues he had bought for Anjali for this special seeing off occasion, his heart thudded in his chest, he looked at Anjali's face, frantically searching for some semblance of normalcy, finding none his shoulder's slumped. Anytime now, the deluge of tears would arrive, her Chotey was going away for five days after all, the crisis merited her wet drama.
When he asked Hari Prakash about them, the answer couldn't have astounded him more. "Woh, Arnav Bhaiya ne mangaye the, bahar woh bada pankha aaya hai na."
Aman hurried outside the doors of Shantivan towards the opulent garden, where the borrowed chopper stood, three men with ladders were busy hiding "Deccan" by pasting tissue wipes on metal body with fevi stick. The wind was strong, one of the harried hirelings came huffing towards Arnav, he swung a tissue in one hand and fevi stick in the other,"What sort of a multi millionaire are you? At least you could give us fevicol, iss se toh bacchon ke crafts bhi nahi chupakte." he grizzled waving the tissue.
Arnav felt like crying, What sort of a multi millionaire was he anyway? And a fashion tycoon at that with two suits, six shirts and one pair of formal shoes. He understood that the previous production house were having some budget crisis but what about this lunatic author, she could at least afford him a helicopter of his own?
"Everything happens for a reason my dear." the author snorts.
"Whatever." Arnav grumbles.
"But you are the wealthiest man of Delhi you know, one who can buy the entire Lakshmi Nagar to harass his wife in order to woo her." the author assures.
"Shut the f**k up." he grunts taking the sarcasm well.
"You are the wealthiest anyway."
"Thank you." he bits out, "now shut up."
The man stared on at Raizada sahib, still expecting an explanation. Arnav folded his arms across his chest and cocked up an eye brow, his jaw hardened as he gritted his teeth and eyes glowered, he gave the little man, his trademark ASR look in response.
The hireling cowered under fright, on shaky legs he dashed back towards the helicopter with tissue paper and fevi stick. Arnav patted his back mentally, the ASR charm wasn't all a lost cause after all, he snickered. He wondered whether simply hiding 'Deccan' would be enough, he could as well give the hirelings sketch pens to write 'Amezing' over the tissue papers.
"That's the wrong spelling of the word you know." the author objects, poking her tiny head again.
"I don't give a damn." he says rolling his eyes.
"You should, you are from Harvard after all."
"What makes you think I wanted it to be Amazing? Such an ordinary word, sheesh!"
"mahal." the author goofily adds not knowing how else to counter that.
****
The melodrama of dizzying heights unleashed, hugs and wishes were exchanged, Aman had been able to sneak out two boxes of tissues, drawing one after the other from which, he handed them to a hysterical Anjali. Good byes were said, along with 'apna khayal rakhnas', Laxmi bleated like never before, Manorma wanted to keep Babaji's churans in Arnav's Laptop bag, "Oo Rajasthani people, apan food ma bhar bhar ke red chillies daalat hain, hamar dearesht Arnav bitwa digesht naahi kar sakat, hello hi bye bye." she reasoned, wiping her moist eye lashes.
"Manorama, Chotey ka khayal rakhe khatir Khushi bitiya hain." Devyani snapped.
Manorma made a face.
"All right, see you guys, hopefully soon." were his final words before embarking the whirlybird. It was going to be a long day.
****
Five hours later...
At Ratangarh, local women in elaborate ghaghras stood waiting for the elite couple from Delhi for their pompous welcome, a local orchestra had been playing "Kesariya Balam" from past half an hour, the Shehnai player was already experiencing shortness in breath but the expected chopper was no where in sight. They gazed at the sky and clapped zealously even upon spotting a natural bird and then fell again, forlorn.
Colonel BK Singh stood in surveillance with his senses on hyper alert, his team had taken it's position, that is his team minus the Major, who was no where to be seen. BK Singh mused, Ranawat still thought he was the 90s action hero.
^^^
The GPS said Ratangarh Palace helipad was now 2 km away, Google maps nodded in agreement. It was time to land was the unanimous understanding. Unanimous understanding among the crew and their devices, minus the helicopter. The Deccan Charger expressed its disapprobation by throwing a technical tantrum while they were hovering over a vast expanse of sand dunes interspersed with camels doing their morning business.
"What the f**k is going on." demanded an irritated ASR when the whirlybird's metallic body began shuddering without warning. The pilot shrugged pensively and then jerked apprehensively.
"Don't know Sir, I guess, I am afraid, there'll be an emergency landing." he fumbled with the words, fearing ASR's temper more than the impending predicament.
"What the... how the..."
"Crash crash, hum marna nahi chahte Arnavji." Khushi shrieked, panick stricken, clutching at her husband's shoulders tightly.
"Hey Devi Maiyya raksha karna, hey devi maiyya raksha karna, hey devi maiyya raksha karna, hey devi maiyya raksha karna..." she commenced chanting in an infinite loop.
The pilot turned to look at Arnav apologetically.
"Calm down, Khushi, nothing will happen to you." Arnav whispered in her ear, gently caressing her back.
"Jab hawai jahanj hi down ho jayega toh hum calm down kaise ho jaayen Arnavji, hume itni jaldi Devi Maiyya ke pas up nahi jana... Iss se behetar to hum rail gadi se aa jate, kiraye ke hawai jahanj se laakh guna zyada surakshit, sasti aur tikau. Lekin aap kabhi humari sunte hain, dan danate hue apni chalate hain bus."
"Shut up Khushi Kumari Gupta."
"Singh Raizada."
"Have you lost it? I, Arnav Singh Raizada, would travel in some stupid train?"
"Arre jab jaan hi nahi rahegi toh sab lost hi ho jayega Arnavji. Ab baithe kyun hain, Amanji ko phone lagaiye na." she cried.
"If only you let my hands be free damn it."
"Ji Nahi, hum aapko nahi chodenge, aap aise hi phone lagaiye."
****
Fifteen minutes later...
Wind howled against the glass panes of the windows, blowing tons of swirling sand in it's wake. The stranded eggbeater was a white speck in the golden vastness that encompassed them.
"Arnavji..."
"Hmm."
"Please open the window."
"No Khushi."
"Why no?"
"I am allergic to silica."
"Ab yeh Silica kaun hai, hey devi maiyya aapki koi purani saheli hai kya?" she asked devastated at the notion.
He stared at her, flabbergasted. He opened his mouth to clear the misunderstanding when his phone beeped, "Yeah Aman, anything..., the Colonel is sending help... how long would they take... okay...okay, great thanks, bye." he ended the call.
"Help is on its way Khushi, so stop fretting now. It's going to be alright." he reassured, albeit nervously. Khushi sighed deeply and got up from her seat towards the window, and began struggling with it.
"What do you think you are doing?" Arnav growled trying to sound menacing and failing at the same.
"Hume taazi hawa chahiye Arnavji, aur hum Silicaji se keh denge, apko tang na karen." after a few minutes of futile travail, she walked to the door and pulled it open. With the bellowing desert wind's deafening siren came the mummy made of silica. Alarmed, Arnav huddled his body lower in his seat in horror and covered his nose with his handkerchief.
Piercing through the vociferous winds, whooping against the dying drones of the chopper blades, were heard the grunts of a shallow engine... towards them it came... Phat - phat -phat - phat - phat.
From his crouched position under his seat, his nose enclosed in a cutaneous cover of light cotton fabric, his lungs struggling to call a truce with the intrusive particles of dust,... fell over his ears the words that eerily sounded like his wife's and that plunged his heart in recesses of despair.
"Yeh toh bilkul humare Major Saab jaise dikhte hain." the daft excitement was not lost on his ears.
Khushi saw him from the door- the Moonchiya in uniform from a distance, his hair flapping over his forehead just as rhythmically as the sand being eroded by the tires of his Phatphatiya, this was the help sent - the one man army.
Khushi clapped her hands and then to Arnav's utter disgust whistled loudly at the major. Her husband cringed in response.
"Khushi come back here." he ordered gruffly.
"Why?" she asked petulantly.
"Because I am telling you to"
"Who are you to tell me that..."
"I am your husband damn it." he shrieked. "And close the door, I can't breath."
The pilot disembarked before Khushi closed the door and joined her husband at the back, longingly watching the drama unfold from the glass window.
Rudra stopped the Phatphatiya bike, spoke something to the pilot, and then began circling the injured whirlybird in inspection, he twirled his jhabrili moonch every now and then, Khushi noticed; the butt of a long range rifle poked out of his trouser's rear pocket, Arnav noticed.
"You get back into your bird." Rudra told the pilot gruffly.
"Umm, well Major, not unless I am able to figure out the problem here..."
"You have your whole life to figure that out nincompoop, we cannot make the guests be stranded in the desert for so long, especially when they are so elite", he jeered at 'elite'.
The pilot staggered in indignation at being referred to as 'nincompoop', he puffed his chest and began, "And how do you think you and your Phatphatiya will be of any help to my passengers, do you think ASR Sir and Ma'am can be bundled over this Phatphatiya and carried to the palace? What a cockamamie solution." the pilot wailed, hurtling insults at the major's two-wheeler.
The major's hands reached for his pocket and brandished his rifle at the pilot's head. The flyer cowered, inside the capsule, Khushi clutched her husband's shoulders, "Arnavji, Michaelji pareshani me hain, yeh Major saab unhe maarna kyun chahte hai, aap unki madad kijyi na." she implored.
Was she insane? Here was a man armed lethally, and his wife wanted him to face that? "I would have but I cannot Khushi, the sand is bad for my air sacks." he reasoned impishly. And then ordered Michael over the microphone to comply with the Army man. A pale scared Pilot re-entered the cockpit, "Sir the dude down there is insane, I don't know what sort of an aid is..."
He could never finish the sentence, three heads stared outside from the glass panes incredulously, as the Moonchiya flourished long ropes, he lifted the end of one rope and whirled it rapidly in the air forming a loop and then flung it over the distance, the rope's end caught the chopper's rotor mast and secured itself around it.
He similarly whirled ropes, and two other caught the landing skids, and another secured itself around the tail boom. He then lifted the other ends of the rope, tied them together with Rajnikanth speed and fastened them at the rear of his Phatphatiya.
Khushi could not stop herself, she lurched towards the cockpit, "Je baat." she cried in her native tongue, clapped her hands in ecstasy at her savior and whistled relentlessly like a street goon. Arnav stared on listless, the pilot patted his arm in sympathy.
Rudra did a mental jig, part one of plan successful, he sniggered. He started the ignition, phat-phat-phat resounded in air...
Somewhere in Chennai...
Rajnikanth sat in his studio analyzing the Moonchiya's swift moves with the rope and his Phatphatiya towing the giant helicopter. "Enna Rascala, Mind it, Mai bhi karega, agla filam me." he exclaimed pressing the record button.
Somewhere in some recording studio in Mumbai...
Music composers Any Mallik and Priyatam stared at each other sourly. All their life they had stolen the already stolen tunes from each other's bags of chart-crashers. But now this lunatic author had decidedly roped in both of them to compose the background music for her series. They had implored, beseeched, entreated, why couldn't she retain Raju Singh and Lalit/Jatin Pandit?
Wily, wily girl! They had clawed at each other's throats, pulled each other's hair or wigs, damaged each other's instruments and what not in order to come with an 'original' tune!
And then it struck them both as epiphany, "Priyatam..."
"Any Mallik..."
"We can 'get inspired' from the originals, no?" they both cried at the same time.
The background tune for this major scene of WABMM was finalized, after lot of deliberation over Sonu Nigam and Mika Singh, finally Sukhwinder was called to the studio.
"Make it fast Sukhi, we cannot let the Moonchiya wait for longer, he's already grunting and reaching out for his gun." cried Priyatam.
****
As Rudra began towing the dead whirlybird, skies parted and Sukhwinder Singh's voice resounded ...
Ooo Phatiya..hun... Phatiya...hun
Phatphatiya...
****
At Kailash Parvat...
Lord Shiva was jubilant, Devi Maiyya was in doldrums, round one had clearly gone in Moonchiya's favor. The score board maintained by Lord Ganesha said -
Arnav Bhaiya = -10. Moonchiya = 0.
"Son, why should Rudra not get a positive 1 up?" asked Lord Shiva disappointed with his son's marking scheme.
"I apologize father, but marking any of these imps in positive would be an insult to my wisdom. I can at best let them maintain their standard which is zero anyway." explained Lord Ganesh.
"Mother, please don't take Round One so seriously." said Lord Ganesh finding Devi Maiyya in much sadness.
"I cannot believe this, poor Arnav not only lost the round, but also some of his wife's respect." said Devi Maiyya slowly, walking towards the panel of multiple screens, The View, they called it, had around one hundred and fifty state of art slim flat screens that would make the earthly High Definition LED TVs look like Kinder Garten toys. Devi Maiyya's eyes ran fervently over the many screens that replayed the events with lightening speed. One particular screen caught her attention. "Cheater cock", She gasped. How had they missed this?
"Lord Ganesh, Lord Shiva, take a look at this." she called.
The three Gods with their eyes trained, watched in shock, the whirlybird was flying but not too high. Next they saw shadow of a man in ambush, he twirled his mustache and flourished a long range rifle from his pocket, took an aim and shot the large man-made bird. On the adjacent screen, they saw the trajectory of the bullet, it ricocheted through the air and hit the power plant of the chopper, it got stuck in the main gear and dismantled it, rendering the engine defunct.
"That was one hell of an aim." exclaimed Lord Shiva.
"What? You are impressed with that deceitful man!" cried Devi Maiyya angrily, "Lord Ganesha now what should your score board say?" she asked with bated breath.
The automatic score board screen disappeared behind a haze of dark clouds and reappeared with fresh scores the next second. To avoid having to address each and every query made by the elder Lords, Lord Ganesh had programmed the board to come with reasons for the marking.
It now said -
Moonchiya = -5 (for cheating) Arnav Bhaiya = -5 (for being a coward)
****
The lead vocalist of the orchestra yawned on the mike and downed a glass of whisky. The tabla-vadak imitated and helped himself with pauwa(desi daaru). The shehnai player took the fifth puff from his inhalers, still coughing.
Bored eyes of eager women with welcome Thals of roses and marigolds gazed agog, for a sighting of the elusive millionaire's air borne chariot.
Every man's ears perked at the distant sound of an engine, hundred pair of eyes flew feverishly towards the sky.
The lead vocalist dispensed with his peg with some difficulty, the tabla player cracked his knuckles, the shehnai player coughed the last time and together with four other band members, they began the well practiced gig...
"Kesariyaaa Balam, aavooo re... Phadharo ni Mhaareee Des..."
Only to be interrupted by,
Phat-phat-phat-phat-phat-phat
The eyes accordingly left the sky and returned to the kuccha-pukka road ahead. He appeared, he- the fearsome Major of the fearmongering BSD, riding his Phatphatiya and pulling along the chariot with ropes for over 2 km, through dust and grime.
He pressed the breaks only when the bird turned reptile was aligned with the helipad.
An armed attendant rushed to escort the guests out. He held the door open, ASR disembarked, pulling a glorious act after the chopper blooper with perfection. Clad in classic black three piece suit, donning Ray-Ban aviators he cast a haughty glance at the gathering waiting for him.
Women swooned over the debonairly handsome looking tall man, the roses and marigolds forgotten as they simpered and batted their eye lashes at him instead, not that he was looking in their direction. He turned towards the open door, and with all the charm of a Prince, extended his hand courteously for someone; married women flushed and girls blushed. Slender feminine fingers clasped his long manly ones, as he gently pulled his wife down.
The flower holding thals finally slipped from their fingers and fell on the ground with a clang sending the flowers tumbling on the cemented ground, as if expressing the women's displeasure when they saw a beautiful, slim woman clad in a silken turquoise salwaar kameez descend from the chariot. The women began to disperse, married ones remembered they had to cook lunch for their husbands at home, unmarried ones stared at the couple in awe. But Khushi's eyes were anywhere but them, her gaze travelled everywhere in search of the mystery man, that Salman Khan physique, that Sunsilk ad hair, that army uniform, that jhabrili Moonch! She blushed thinking how he had single handedly rescued them.
"Welcome Mr. and Mrs. Raizada, welcome to Chandangarh." said Colonel BK Singh warmly and then when his eyes fell on Khushi, he was stumped. The young woman looked uncannily familiar, but due to the large black goggles sitting over her nose, and the dopatta that she had draped over her head like a scarf for protection from the Sun, did not allow him to put a name to his suspicion. He then recalled reading somewhere that she had won some beauty pagaent, of course, he thought, he must have seen her on TV some time. So he returned his gaze back to ASR, it was anyway highly inappropriate to stare at another man's wife for longer than two seconds, he firmly believed.
Local press showered questions, cameras clicked furiously, Khushi tried to smile at everyone, ASR only nodded curtly when deemed necessary and ignored everyone snootily otherwise as they moved towards the Palace.
Colonel took a stroll towards the dead bird and found his able Major hunched over his Phatphatiya, unfastening the ropes.
"Good Job, Ranawat, I am proud of you." he beamed.
Major smirked, "What a poor show your Raizada put today." he spat unaware of a pair of eyes noting him from a distance.
Well he was also unaware of another pair of eyes, the ones belonging to his dear wife that were trained elsewhere.
Paro had sneaked out early in the morning and set forth for Ratangarh, she saw the proceedings from a vantage point - from the hotel's balcony, she chewed at her odhni and her cheeks flushed in excitement, the Bade Seher ka Gora Vyapaari looked even more delicious in reality. She giggled thinking about their meeting. Their meeting, yes, she would not meet him amidst such a rabble, she would rather meet him alone.
She would tell him, he reminded her of her favorite Bollywood actor, "Hirtikji, woh... Kriss wale Hirtik Rosan ji." she revised her lines... but how would she approach him? On what pretext? Maybe she would tell him, she had come to welcome him... she giggled some more.
She also noticed the woman with the Gora, she decided she would meet them both after changing her attire, the fourth time today.
****
Khushi's heart was restless, she had to meet her savior somehow, more than ever, she lay in the large bed of their suite recalling every tiny detail about him. The way he twirled his Moonch, the way his muscles pushed against the fabric of his uniform, oh how he reminded her of her Salmanji, specifically her Salmaanji in Dabangg. She got down the bed and walked over to her change room, Arnavji had left for a shower, this was a good opportunity.
She changed into a long sleeved red shirt and black denims and scribbled a note -
Dear Laad Governor,
going to take a stroll in the lobby.
-Khushi
Leaving the note on the night stand, she ambled out of the suite.
****
"Mhaara leheriya ro nau sau rupiya rokada sa, mhane layijo, layijo, layijo mharo leheriyo sa." (These are the 900 bucks for my leheriya, Oh bring me, bring me, bring me, my leheriya.) Paro sang in barely concealed delight as she wore her brand new, red ghaghra and draped it's odhni in an exultant dance. She then rushed all the way from home to Ratangarh, chirping like never before.
"Hello... Tata" she repeated the two English words, she knew, she would surely impress the Angrezi looking desi banna. She sneaked into the palace again and entered the lobby surreptitiously... at the farther end, the other, after closing the door of her suite behind, broke into a sprint.
She half walked half jumped, thinking about Kriss and Kaho na pyaar hai... ... she felt adrenalin shoot up, musing about Dabangg and Ek tha Tiger. Both were clumsy and clumsier when day dreaming.
Khushi did not realize how and when she crashed into another willowy form, they both fell on top of the other and were sent sprawling over the ground.
"Hey Devi Maiyya."
"Re Sivji." they shrieked at the same time, and without caring to throw a glance at the other, struggled to get up and fell again.
"The dekh ke nai chaal sako kaayin, mhaaro nayo navelo ghaghro maila kari diyo." (Can't you watch out when you walk? You spoiled my brand new dress) Paro grumbled angrily, brushing her long skirt with her hands.
"Accha, toh hum nahi dekh rahe the, aap ki jaise pachaas aankhen hain na, aap hi dekh ke chal leti." she shot back indignantly, she too, checking out her black jeans and brushing it.
"Thaari galti rahi."
"Ji nahin, aap nahin dekh rahi thin."
"The jaano koni, mhane ghano jaroori kaam sun jaana tha." (You don't know, I was on a very important errand)
"Arre toh hum kaunsi mankhiyaan maar rahe the, hume bhi kissi se bahut zaroori milna tha." Khushi cried out loud.
That was it, Paro looked up angrily, Khushi too shot her head up to take her adversary head on.
Paro's jaw dropped to ground, Khushi's eyes jumped out of their sockets... both stood stoned for several minutes. Reality took it's own sweet time to register, Paro gathered her jaw and Khushi collected her eye balls.
"Re Sivji, Seesa toh thik, par iin maate mhare kapde kaiyyan badal gaye?" (Oh Shivji, I understand the mirror, but how did my clothes change in it?) Paro exclaimed in writ large incredulity.
"Hey Devi Maiyya, humara... humara double role." gasped Khushi.
"Judwa?" asked Paro
"Sita aur Gita." said Khushi recalling the Hema Malini starrer double role movie.
"Ram aur Shyam." Paro added the Dilip Kumar double role.
Khushi winced at the mention of Shyam, nevertheless, she added more, "Saccha jhoota"
"Kishen Kanhaiya" P said
"Khiladi 420" K said
"Chaalbaz" P said
"Duplicate." K said
"Humsakal." P said
Khushi could take it no longer, her eyes watered in raw emotion, she felt a surge of affection for the young woman in front of her, her look alike!
"Hum..." she placed her palm over her heart, "Hum Khushi hain..."
Paro chewed her odhni in ecstasy, her eyes too were filled with joyous tears, "Paro." she managed to say and launched herself in the arms of the other woman, her long lost sister maybe, who knew?
They both caught each other in a tight bear hug, crying, smiling, giggling, laughing at the same time. They felt truly insane today, the whirling vortex of ardour, sentiment and tenderness.
Hirtik Rosan forgotten, Salmanji forgotten, Angrezi banna a distant memory, Major Saab, whoever is he?
*****
Sneak Peek from the next...
Shantanu stared agape at the TV screen and the breaking news flash.
"Kay dekhe chora aankhen phad phad ke?" Tejawat grunted. (What do you see boy with such interest)
"Thakar sa, the sunyoge to behera jaoge."(Thakur, you won't believe, when you would know.) he said pointing his finger at the man on the screen. Tejawat noted his long hair and dark beard, the man had beady eyes with almost invisible eye lashes, he scrunched his nose menacingly.
"Gundo laage, kun hai?" he asked (looks like a goon, who is he?)
"Banna ne Dilli ri Tihaar jail sun, Jodhpur ri Central Jail maate transfer keyodi authorities. Va ne ullu banan ni bhag gayo." (The guy was being transferred to Jodhpur Central Jail from Delhi's Tihaar jail by the authorities. He fooled them and escaped.) explained Shantanu.
"Chant laage choro, par ya hai kun?" (Wicked man... but who is he?)
"Va Raizadaro jija, Syam Manohar Jha." (He's that Raizada's brother in law, Shyam Manohar Jha.)
****
comment:
p_commentcount