Shaapit - The Cursed Sisters - Thread 1 (Re-posting)

"Yeh aapse kisne kaha?" smiled the older woman who was rubbing fragrant hibiscus oil on her scalp and in her long black tresses. (Who told you this?)

"Aabha ne! Ussko ek bhai mila hai na?" (Aabha did! She got a brother, right?)

The woman smiled. "Haan, aata hai. Iss liye raat ko bacche ke paalne ke paas dher saari mithaaiyan rakhte hain. Yeh bhi kaha jaata hai, ki agar uss bacche ka bhavishya achha hai, to subha ko ek bhi mithaayi nahin rehti!" (Yes, he comes. This is why they keep a lot of sweets in a baby's room. If his fate is good, all the sweets disappear the next morning.)

"Voh hiss liye ke raat ko naukar sab kuchh khaa jaate hain!" another child's voice commented, her voice dripping with sarcasm. (That's because servants eat them up at night!)

"Anji!" the first girl lightly tapped the hand of the one who was waiting for her turn, although it seemed like she was not looking forward to it. "Toh Madhu Ma?" the first one continued. "Humaare liye bhi aaye the? Bidhaataji?" (So, Madhu Ma? Did he come for us? The God?)

Madhumati sighed at looked at the two girls who were sitting on the floor, one between her knees, the other facing her. She smiled sadly. "Nahin, Khushi, voh nahin aaye the." (No, Khushi, he did not.)

"Kyunki voh hain hi nahin!" Anji said. (Because he does not exist!)

Khushi remained silent but she twisted her neck to look at her aunt. Her eyes were inquisitive. Madhu merely chuckled and turned her neck back to resume her task. Khushi was always full of questions. Even though she was just seven years old, she looked at everything intelligently and raised questions every now and then. There were times when no one would have a fitting answer to her. And Anjali, on the other hand, was a small ball of angry fire. She was always daring people with her witty replies. But she loved Khushi more than anything.

"Madhu Ma? Jab humaara janam hua tha, mithaaiyan gayab hogayin thi?" Khushi went on firing her questions. (Madhu Ma? When we were born, did the sweets disappear?)

Madhu sighed again. "Nahin, Khushi. Tum dono itni bhaagyashaali nahin thi."(No, Khushi. You two were not that lucky.)

"Par uss raat aapne kuchh nahin dekha?" (But that night, did you not see anything?)

"Na." (No.)

"Aapne kuchh to suna hoga?" (You must have heard something?)

The woman shook her head sorrily under Anjali's watchful gaze. "Shayad Bidhaataji ladkiyon ke liye nahin aate," she replied in her tired voice which meant that it was enough questioning. (Maybe He does not come for girls.)

But inside her head, Khushi knew why Bidhaataji had not come. She had heard it so many times from so many people, and yet, it pricked her heart when she thought of it. She did not really want to believe it.

It was because she and Anjali were unlucky enough to kill their respective fathers even before they were born.

Was that not the reason her own mother always looked at her with some sort of disdain? Was that not why her mother whispered 'Durbhaaga' under her breath if the first person she saw in the morning was her daughter?

Anjali and Khushi were orphans. Before their mothers had completed their nine months of pregnancy, their fathers had lost their lives because of the greed of an adventure which had lured them and the girls had been forever marked as unlucky.

But in another way, they had been lucky. Their fate had been like no other's. Yes, they had lost their fathers, who would have, surely, doted on them as any father would. But they also had been raised by three mothers. Who had such a fortune?

There was Madhumati, married at thirteen and widowed by fifteen. Her brother had taken her back when her in-laws had kicked her out mercilessly. She had no child. Afterall, she and her husband had been children themselves. Madhu was the one who took most care of the girls. She was in charge of their school uniform, their clothing, their food. She told them stories to lull them to sleep. She indulged them by cooking their favourite dishes.

There was Garima, Anjali's mother. She was not really beautiful with her wrinkle-creased face and the streaks of grey in her hair but her eyes, dark and unfathomable, held a lot of love and compassion gave her the aura of a queen. Garima took care of the girls' education. She helped them with their homework as soon as she got back home from the family library, her husband's legacy. Sometimes, she would bring them books to read or take them with her to the library during the holidays.

Then there was Manorama, Khushi's mother, whose skin was still as resplendent and unblemished as it had on the day she had married Khushi's father, because, despite her widowhood, she never failed to apply turmeric paste on her face every day. She was truly beautiful, without even one grey hair in her mane of long dark hair, her lips reddened by the paan she chewed after every meal. She often invited her friends home for tea and to gossip. She preached the girls about their behaviour but she rarely cared for them. Madhu and Garima were too kind to think of it, but Manorama was almost good for nothing.

When Madhu had finished rubbing the oil, she plaited Khushi and Anjali's hair neat and sent them downstairs where Rama - as they called Manorama - had again invited her friends. They ran together, hand in hand and erupted in the large living room, in front of the dozen of women who gossiped there. Garima usually kept away from such meetings; she stayed for a few minutes, then left to go pray in her room.

One of Rama's friends, Sunita cackled on seeing them together. "He Probhu!Tomra duu jone eek opor ke chara kicchu korte parro na naki? Hamesha aise saath chipke rehte ho, jaise judua!" (Oh God! Can't you two do anything without each other? You are always sticking together like twins!)

Anjali gave her a frightening scowl but Khushi smiled. "Aap jaanti nahin, Bua? Hum donon to judua hi hain!" (Don't you know aunt? We are twins!)

Sunita glowered at her girl while Rama narrowed her eyes.

"Ei ladki!" Sunita hissed. "Amake ferod uttor debar chestha korbe na. Tumi ki bhabcho amar theke beshi jano tumi? Behen to door ki baat hai, tera baap aur Anjali ka baap, voh dono bhi sage bhai nahin the." (Hey girl! How dare you answer back to me, little girl? Do you think you know better than me? Far from being sisters, even your fathers were not brothers.)

Anjali's small hands bunched into fists, ready to snap at the woman who was hurting her sister with harsh words but Khushi's calm demeanour stopped her.

"Tum dono to ek hi samay bhi payda nahin hui thi," Sunita continued triumphantly. "Hai na, Rama Di?" (The two of you were not even born at the same time, isn't it, Rama Di?)

Rama sighed dramatically. "Anjali ka janam din ke barha baje hua tha, aur Khushi ka raat ke barha baje. He Probhu! Hum to mar hi rahe the! Kitna khoon khoya tha humne. Dayi-ma to yeh bhi keh rahi thi ke haspataal jaana padega, aur sab jaante hain ke voh auraton ka payt kholkar bachhe ko nikaalta hain, aur ma mar jaati hai!" (Anjali was born in the middle of the day, and Khushi was born in the dead of the night. Oh God! I was dying! I had lost so much blood. The midwife was even saying that we should go to the hospital, and everyone know they cut open women's bellies to remove their babies and the mothers are left to die!)

"Par uski zaroorat nahin padi thi?" Khushi asked innocently. (But that was not needed?)

"Na..." (No...)

"Kyun ki Anjali ne aapko bacha liya, na?" (Because Anjali had saved you, right?)

Rama glared at her daughter in silence while Anjali's hand tightened around Khushi's. In her mind, Anjali recalled the story she had heard so many times from Madhu Ma. One morning, a jeep of policemen had arrived and told them the bodies of the two men had been found. The two wives, who had been heavily pregnant of slightly more than eight months, went into labour due to the shock.

Anjali's birth had been difficult but quicker. She had been born the next day, when Garima had lost hope of living, at midday sharp. Rama's suffering was not near to end. She lost double the amount of blood Garima had. She had stronger contractions. After the birthing, Garima had fainted exhaustion but as soon as she had recovered, she had asked about Rama and her baby. The midwife had sadly shook her head, explaining that it did not want to come to the world. Perhaps it knew already, that its father was dead...

Garima had left her bed with her newborn daughter and crossed the broad hallway to Rama's birthing chamber, though the midwife had warned her not to as she would lose more blood. She lay Anjali on Rama's huge belly, face down even as the baby screamed and cried. Soon, Rama's pain would increase and a few more minutes later, at midnight sharp, she gave life to another girl.

"Sabko kahani sunaaiye, Ma!" Khushi urged with her childish impatience. (Tell the story to everyone, Ma!)

Manorama huffed and lifted her chin, refusing to look at her daughter, with her false pride, but then she did narrate her 'misfortunes', as she called it. She and Sunita looked at Khushi mockingly and were about to change the subject.

"Issi liye, Bua," Khushi suddenly said beaming. "Issi liye, hum kehte hain ki Anjali humaari judua behen hai. Kyunki Anjali hi hai jisne humein duniya mein bulaaya tha." (That's why, aunt. That's why I say Anjali is my twin. Because she is the one who called me to this world.)

"Psst! Khushi!"

Khushi stared straight ahead even as she knew Anjali was calling her. She had noticed Mother Angela glaring at them, so she preferred not to react.

"Khushi!" Anjali suddenly yanked at her braid hard and she stifled a sharp gasp.

"Ki?" Khushi whispered back, without taking her eyes off Mother Baptista who was directing the assembly. (What?)

"Aaj hum classes bunk karenge," Anjali announced. (We're bunking classes today.)

"Tumi ki paagol hoye gaacho?" Khushi said loudly, the shock making her forget to be quieter. Fortunately, being seventeen year olds, they had to align themselves at the far back, in the last row and because of that Mother Angela had not heard Khushi's outburst. (Have you gone mad?)

"Na," came the firm reply. "Hum bunk karenge aur voh nayi picture dekhne jaayenge." (No. We'll bunk and go watch that new film.)

"Anjali tumhein yaad hai na, pichhli baar kya hua tha? Badi Ma ka gussa bhool gayi kya?" (Anjali do you remember what had happened last time? Have you forgotten Badi Ma's anger?)

"Khushi!" Anjali hissed back. "Tab hum chhote the. Humein pata nahin tha ke kya karna hai. Magar aaj ke liye, humne saari planning kardi hai! Tum chinta mat karo." (Then we were little. We didn't know what to do. But I planned everything for today. Don't worry.)

"Badi Ma-"

"Kaapurush hoyeo na! Agar tum humaari behen ho, to tum aaj humaare saath chalogi! Varna hum akele chale jaayenge!" (Don't be a coward! If you are my sister, you will come with me! Else I'll go alone!)

***

They had been able to slip away when the bell had rung for lunch. Anjali led her to the market place.

"Hum aise school uniform mein jaa nahin sakte. Kuchh kapde khareedne parenge." (We can't go like this in uniforms. We'll have to buy some clothes.)

"Ab paise kahaan se-?" (Now where will money-?)

Khushi fell silent for a moment when Anjali had brandished some fifty rupee notes from her bag with an intelligent smile.

"Anjali? Yeh paise-?" (...This money?)

"Humaare janam din pe mile the, yaad hai? Iss saal humne koyi keetab nahin khareedi." (I had gotten them for our birthday, remember? I didn't buy any books this year.)

***

"He Devi Maiyya!" Khushi exclaimed giggling as Anjali emerged from the cubicle of the public toilets. She looked so beautiful.

"Tumi shotti khub bhaalo laagcho!" (You look really good!)

Anjali laughed. "Tumio kono kom na!" (You are no less!)

Khushi smoothed the kurta with the back of her hand and admired how the skinny jeans stretched around her calves. She did feel beautiful. She preferred this to the baggy, dull-coloured salwaars the mothers imposed on them. The large pants would hang lifelessly around her, the kurta would be oversized, making her feeling as if she were drowning. It was very rare that they would be allowed to wear pretty sarees; just if an important pooja was being held in the house and many people would be coming. Otherwise, they would be given the old frayed ones that Garima and Manorama used to wear before they were widowed. But the girls always kept themselves from saying it out loud.

"And now, the final touch!" Anjali announced, giggling as she removed some make up from her bag. Khushi's eyes broadened. Where had she gotten that from? She didn't ask though. They laughed together at their own inexperience.

When they were done, the girls looked at each other in the mirror. Both were surprised. They looked years older than their actual age. Anjali smiled and, hugging Khushi from behind, she rested her chin on her sister's shoulder.

"Ey, Khush! Lagta hai log picture dekhne ki jagah tumhein dekhenge!" (I think people will be busier looking at you than the film!)

Khushi blushed and slapped Anjali's hand.

***

"Excuse me? Yahaan koyi baitha hai?" (...Is there anyone sitting here?)

Khushi looked up irritatedly. She couldn't see the man's face clearly because the hall was shrouded in darkness. The lights had just gone out and the film was about to start. She squinted to see around. The hall was completely and the only available seat was next to her. She sighed and removed her bag from there.

The man sat beside her. She glanced at him. He seemed to be about her age too. Around nineteen she would say. He wore an impeccably white shirt and navy blue jeans. His hair was slightly tousled and he was clean shaved. She was still observing him when she noticed his lips twitching. Her eyes rose to find his gaze on her. His hazel eyes gleamed while he gave her a smile which made her heart thrum in her chest. Khushi couldn't understand the what or the why but she could not bring herself to break the contact.

They stayed like this throughout the film. It was one by Salman Khan, her favourite actor and yet, she was not watching it. Instead her eyes were riveted to those of an unknown man. She could not budge the least inch. Her breaths were shallow. Her heart was beating like mad. She felt heady. She had gone deaf to the whole world.

Was that called love? Did these feelings mean she was falling for someone? Especially for someone she did not know at all? Was love at first sight possible?

***

"Khushi! Khushi! Kya kar rahi ho? Chalo! Der ho jaayegi! Khushi!" (...What are you doing?Let's go! We'll be late!...)

Anjali's strident voice shattered the charm. Khushi tore her gaze away from the stranger's who also looked up at Anjali who stood above them.

"Khushi! Chalo! Paramji humaara intezaar kar rahe honge!" (Khushi! Come on! Paramji must be waiting for us!)

Khushi stared at her sister blankly so that Anjali had to grab her hand and pull her up.

"Aap hatiye!" she scolded the stranger viciously. (Move!)

His gaze lingered on Khushi and he did not once look at Anjali.

"Khushi," he whispered. Her eyes widened at the mention of her name.

"Just get lost, dammit!" Anjali hurled carelessly at him, pushing past him. "Are you sick in the head or what?"

He didn't seem to hear. Anjali pulled her sister along. Khushi craned to look and her handsome stranger one last time before she lost him in the crowd which was slowly leaving the cinema hall...

***

"What were you thinking, Khush?" Anjali raged as she shoved her sister inside the public toilets.

"I don't know..." Khushi said, her eyes distant. "He just came and sat beside me and..."

"Girls?" came a voice from one of the cubicles. The two girls gasped in horror recognising the voice of Sunita Bua.

"Margaye!" whispered Anjali. (We're dead!)

Khushi and Anjali walked hand in hand towards Garima's room where they had been summoned. Anjali's idea had flopped since they had been caught by Sunita in the public toilets just as they were going to change and return to school. The woman had gripped their arms all the way long and taken them back home to the mothers.

They had been so shocked they had not been able to speak. Garima was still at the library, so, they girls had been ordered away each in her own room. Now as they walked to Garima's room, Anjali felt Khushi's fear as if it were tangible. She regretted having had that idea.

The mothers were in three different corners of the room. Garima sat in her armchair, lost in her thoughts, her nose flared as though she was breathing fire. Madhu was weeping silently on the bed, while Manorama paced about with anger. She erupted her inner volcano as soon as the girls had crossed the threshold.

"Oeije ora, oekhane aache! Oder digge dekho kemon haath e haath diyye cholne! Tomi ki bhapsho ora ato kichu kore lajja paache? Ek dom na! In dono ko koyi farak nahin padta ke ek hi din mein aapki saari mehnaton pe paani phenka, Garima Di! Ab saare Kolkata ko pata chalega ke Gupta khaandaan ki betiyan kya kar rahin thi! Huh! Paraaye mard ke saath philam dekhte vakt sharam nahin aayi? Apni maaon ke baare main nahin socha?" (There they are! Just look at them how they walk hand in hand! Do you think they are ashamed of their behaviour? Not at all! They don't care that they have foiled all your efforts, Garima Di! Now the whole Kolkata will know what the daughters of the Gupta family have done! Huh! Weren't you ashamed to watch a movie with a stranger? Didn't you even think about your mothers?)

"Bas karo, Rama!" Madhu interrupted. "Anjali Bitiya ne keh diya hai ke voh aadmi sanjog se vahaan baithne-" (Stop it, Rama! Anjali had told us that man just happened to sit there-)

"Madhu Di! Aap to chup hi rahiye! Aee sob tomar jonne! In ladkiyon ko sar ke bitha ke rakkha hai aapne aur upar se, din-raat inka sar prem kahaaniyon se bharti aayin hain aap!" (Madhu Di! You better remain silent! This is all because of you! You pamper and spoil them all the time, and on top of that, you keep filling their minds with love stories!)

Garima lifted her hand and Rama fell silent. Anjali's hold on Khushi tightened as she knew what was coming. Now it was time for her mother's anger. Garima was always calm, and she kept her anger well underneath the covers but the things she said always made you feel deeply guilty. The mother looked at her two daughters in the eye before she spoke.

"Khushi and Anjali, I had a lot of hopes from you. I had not expected you to let us down like this. You both deserve a punishment, so you will get it. From now on, you will receive no pocket money until you reach university, as you have proved yourselves not worth of our trust.You will give me the clothes you have bought today and I will get rid of them. Also, I will speak to Mother Baptista. From now onwards, you will not leave your classes without a teacher and you will spend your lunchtime in the Sisters' office. Now, go to your rooms."

They nodded. The punishment was fair. As Garima had said, they deserved it, but they were thankful she had not made a ruckus out of it like Khushi's mother had. The girls sighed and turned to the doors already, relieved that the night was over.

"Darao!" Rama shrieked disbelief etched on her face. She turned towards Garima. "Di? Aapko bas itna hi kehna hai?" (Wait! Di? This is all what you have to say?)

Garima stared at her. "Aaj ke liye bas itna hi kaafi hai, Rama." (This is enough for today, Rama.)

Her lips drew together in a thin line. "Humaare liye nahin. Anjali ka humaari Khushi pe bohot bura assar pad raha hai, magar isse to hum kuchh keh nahin sakte kyunki yeh aapki beti hai. Lekin aap sabke saamne, aaj hum apna faisla suna dete hain! Jaise Khushi college se graduate ho jaaye, hum uske liye ladka dhoonlenge aur uski shaadi karva denge!" (Not for me. Anjali has a very bad influence on my Khushi, but I cannot say anything to her because she's your daughter. But in front of all of you, I take a decision today! As soon as Khushi graduates from college, I'll find a boy for her and marry her off!)

***

"No! I don't agree with you! How could you say this, Khushi? How could you accept it?"

"She's my mother, Anju," Khushi replied, slumped on a chair, her head resting on the window sill, allowing the wind to play with her long hair.

Anjali kneeled in front of her sister, her hands on her thighs. "Par, Khush? Tumhaare armaanon ka kya? Aur vaise bhi, you'll be just eighteen! That's too young to be married! Fight her, Khushi! Nijer sopno ke purro koro!" (But Khush? What about your dreams? Anyways, [...] Fulfil your dreams!)

Khushi smiled and squeezed Anjali's hands. "Mono aache jokhon aamra baccha chilam? To hum drawings banaate the, ke hum apne aane vaale kal mein kya baneinge?" (You remember when we were kids? And we used to draw what we want to be in the future?)

Anjali closed her eyes in defeat. Of course she remembered. She would always be changing professions; doctor, lawyer, astronaut, explorer, princess, archaeologist. But Khushi? She would always similar. She would draw herself, in a red saree, with her husband and lots of kids with them. Anjali shook her head.

"Na, Khushi! Tumhaare kuchh to sapne honge! Isske alaava?" (No Khushi! You must have your dreams! Other than this?)

Khushi wiped her tears and stared at the wall behind, getting that blank look. For a moment, Anjali remembered the man from the cinema, because of whom they had fallen in this deep trouble. Fear gripped her. What if Khushi said she wanted to marry him? They knew nothing of him. She didn't want to be racist, but she knew the mothers. They would insist marrying their daughters in high-caste hindu families to maintain the respect the Gupta family had gained throughout generations.

"Hum fashion designer banna chaahate hain," Khushi's whisper startled her. her sister went on and on about her aspirations, and Anjali listened, her smile growing. (I want to become a fashion designer.)

"Dekha? Tumhaare sapne hain, Khushi!" (See? You do have dreams, Khushi!)

Khushi's smile drooped and the sadness returned to her eyes. "Magar kartavya bhi hai na?" (But I do have duties too, right?)

She turned her gaze back to outside the window and closed her eyes, feeling Anjali get up and walk away. Behind her closed lids, in the darkness she saw the warm hazel eyes smiled at her. She smiled at him too and he stretched out his hand to her. She walked towards him reaching for the hand, but the closer she got, the farer he seemed.

Her eyes snapped open and she hugged herself tight as she went to bed. All night long, she kept dreaming of the hazel eyed stranger.

What could this mean?

Was he the one who would save her from her distress.

***

"Titaliya! Paheliya! Tumi aascho ki na?" (...Are you coming or not?)

They rushed down as Madhu Ma called them, nearly tripping on their baggy, old fashioned salwaar suits. Madhu Ma was taking them to the market to show them how to choose fruits and vegetables. Anjali hated it, walking in the Kolkata's heavily crowded market, while Khushi kept on laughing at the horrible faces her sister was making at the odours and dirt and throngs of people.

Suddenly, her laughter froze in her throat.

"Ki?" she heard Anjali's voice, but it sounded too far away. Her hands clutched the cloth of her dupatta desperately. Hazel eyes were observing her from the other row. He wore a crisp mint green shirt and black jeans, as well as a gentle smirk for her. She couldn't look away. One look at her sister, Anjali felt something bad would happen. When she followed Khushi's gaze and recognised the man, she panicked inwardly. (What?)

Any moment now, Madhu Ma would turn away from the vendor and see Khushi. Anjali hastily stood in front of her sister, shielding her from the mother and blabbered about whatever came to her mind, even if it was gibberish. Madhu gestured they to walk on.

"Khush! Chalo!" (...Come on!)

Khushi at long last managed to look away from her handsome stranger. She lowered her eyes and followed Madhu, but still felt his eyes on her. When she looked up, he was still smiling, following them, walking at the same pace with her. Khushi smiled and blushed while Anjali rolled her eyes. They were going to get into trouble.

"Stop it, Khushi!" she whipered when Madhu had stopped again. Khushi looked at her in surprise.

"Stop what?"

"Looking at that man like that! You don't even know him!"

Khushi looked a bit hurt by what her sister had said. "Of course I know him." She glanced at him again but he was no longer looking at her. Her stranger had bent on one of the stalls and from what it seemed he was writing something.

"Really? Tum uska naam jaanti ho?" Anjali stood akimbo before her and she seemed quite angry. (...Do you even know his name?)

Khushi realised the answer was no. She knew nothing about him, and yet, it felt like she had always known him. "I love him Anju."

"How can you love someone you don't even know?"

Khushi crossed her arms on the stomach and turned away from Anjali. But he was gone...

Her eyes searched him as they walked through the crowds. Moments ago, he had been there. Where was he now? She tightened her grip on Anjali's hand. Was her sister right? Was she just being over reactive on an infatuation?

Then, she saw him. Her stranger, walking towards her, directly towards her, through the crowd. Her heart thudded loudly, so loudly that she no longer heard the shouts of the vendors and noise of the crowd. Just her pounding heart and the blood racing in her eardrums. She glanced at Madhu Ma who walked ahead, looking at the fruits on sale.

What if she saw him?

His eyes were fixed on her as he neared. He gave her a dazzling smile and her hand clutched Anjali's tighter. He came closer, closer and closer, until they were side by side. By then, Khushi was already feeling dizzy. Her stranger pressed a paper in her hand and walked on.

Startled, she turned back to look for him, but she had already lost him to the crowds...

***

She ran to her room as soon as she got back home. She closed the door and sat by the window before opening the piece of paper he had smuggled to her. Khushi broke into a smile. She read it all over again, at least a hundred times, her heart leaping.

***

"Anji!"

The girl looked up at her sister with a frown.

"Ki Khushi? You know I don't like to be disturbed when I'm reading!"

Khushi closed the door behind her and sat beside Anjali on the bed. Anjali noticed the radiance on her face.

"Kya hua, Khush?" (What happened, Khush?)

Her sister giggled and bit her lip shyly. "I know his name!" she whispered.

Anjali's smile evaporated. She was still thinking of that man? If she wasn't wrong, she had seen him slip Khushi a chit of paper in the market. She felt apprehensive about Khushi's feelings for him. They knew nothing of that man. He was just someone they had crossed coincidentially and, in her opinion, he had pushed them into a deep mess.

It was because of him they had been caught that day, she thought. And it was because of him Khushi would not go to university with her next year. She wondered how the girl could fall for him. Life was certainly not a fairy tale.

Did Khushi expect him to sweep her away from all misery and shower her with happiness? She didn't even know what conditions the guy lived in. He could make promises, but would he be able to keep them? And supposed he did, would Rama Ma agree? She was one really choosy person.

Anjali shook her head and brushed the bad thoughts away. Maybe she was just being pessimistic and, somewhere, selfish. She loved Khushi more than anything else and she wouldn't bear to be separated from her.

"He wrote that in the letter he gave you?"

Khushi nodded with a smile, handing the paper to her sister. Anjali looked at it. There were just two words written on it.

His name.

Barun Ghosh.

Anjali's head snapped up at Khushi, who was beaming. The paper slipped from between her fingers and floated to the ground, her eyes wide in disbelief and shock.

"Khushi!"

She had jumped from the bed to retrieve her first love letter and she stood above Anjali, her eyes accusing.

Anjali held her hand. "Khushi... Achha hoga agar tum iss aadmi ke baare mein sochna band karo... kahin aage jaake tumhein chot na pohunche..." (It would be better if you stopped thinking about this man... In the future, you might get hurt...)

"Kyun?" Khushi asked, slightly pained by her confidante's displeasure. "Tumhein aisa kyun lagta hai ke baad mein humein chot pohunchegi?" (What? Why do you think so?)

She stared at Anjali who was avoiding her eyes to look at her toes.

"Khushi..." she started, going red in the face. "Khushi, don't take it wrong, but... uska naam... Ghosh... Khushi, he's... he's low caste Khushi. Humein aur tumhein shaayad koyi farak nahin padta, magar Rama Ma? You know her, na ?" (... You and I can ignore this, but Rama Ma?...)

Khushi had teared up but she stood against Anjali firmly.

"Aisa kuchh nahin hoga! Jab hum unse phir milenge, hum unse kahenge ki humaari maa humaari shaadi karvaana chaahati hain. Barunji humaara haath maang lenge. Voh bhi humse pyaar karte hain. Aur rahi jaat ki baat, to voh sab puraane zamaane mein chalte the, ab yeh sab nahin maana jaata hai!" (No such thing will happen! When I meet him next, I'll talk to him. Barunji will ask for my hand. He loves me too. And about the caste, it's no longer important nowadays!)

She turned on her feet and ran off to her room, crying softly. Anjali knew she had hurt Khushi but she could not add to her false hopes. Manorama would never agree that her daughter married in a low caste family, however rich those people might be, and she was sure that in this matter, Garima and Madhumati would both side the mother.

People, the world and Kolkata had certainly moved ahead in time, but not the mothers and their ideals. They would make sure to raise Anjali and Khushi as they had themselves been raised, to enlighten their family's name.

And Anjali knew right away, that even if this was simply an innocent love, her sister would have her heart mercilessly broken...

***

It was finally the day of their graduation. They would go to the convent school for the ceremony then come home when the preparations for the night's banquet in honour of the girls were on since days ago. Everyone was excited in the Gupta house.

Apart from the one lone girl, dangerously close to her first heart break. Khushi sat silently on the rooftop, hugging her knees to her chest. She was not crying, though she wanted to. Strangely, the tears were not very willing to surface. With this day would begin a life she at the same time wanted and dreaded.

Wanted because she had always dreamt of a happy family, a loving husband, beautiful children. Dreaded because she somewhere knew she didn't know who she would marry.

Barun Barun Barun

She prayed to her Devi Maiyya every day for the person she loved. But uncertainty grew in her, budding gradually, like an incurable cancer, eating up her trust in love. What she had imagined in the beginning, she realised now, was just a dream, a fantasy, a fairy tale, which would never happen. Anjali was right. The mothers, all of them, not just her own only, would opposed to this alliance only because of his surname, his caste.

But why did that have to interfere with her happiness? Was family honour greater than her joy? But then, she should know better. The mothers would always act for her own good, wouldn't they? But she and Barun could give it a try. She would try to talk to him today. Every day, he waited for her at the same place, on the roadside, so that he could get a glimpse of her whenever she passed in her car. That did show his love for her right?

Khushi tilted her head back in the first rays of the day. It was five in the morning already as she heard her neighbour gargle loudly in his yard. He was very punctual. Just as she was about to gather herself to go get ready, she heard the soft tinkling of Anjali's payals. She looked up at the girls to walked on the terrace, her arms stretched out.

Anjali twirled around, her laughter ringing, scattering like pearls. Khushi was happy for Anjali. This day signified her freedom. Now she would go to university become a writer like her favourite authors as she dreamt. But her heart was also breaking because this meant their separation.

Silently, she crept back to her room without letting her sister see her. Why stain Anjali's bliss with her gloominess?

"Paramji! Zara gaari rukiye!" (Paramji! Stop the car!)

Anjali watched her sister's dig into the passenger seat frantically as she leaned ahead to plea to the driver. They were soon reaching the spot where Barun waited for Khushi every morning to see her. Paramji knew about him. They had not told him anything but he was not blind. He had seen and realised what was going on but for some reason, he had not said anything about it to the mothers. In the rearview mirror, Anjali saw uncertainty dawn on the old man's wrinkled face. Would he stop?

Khushi's breaths quickened as Barun came in view. The car had even gone a few metres ahead when Paramji finally stopped the car.

"Jaldi kijye, Bitiya." (Be quick, child.)

The man was scared out of his wits, certainly thinking of the consequences that would fall upon him if the mothers learnt of this but Khushi broke into a smile, and opening the door, she scrambled out of the car to run towards the man who did the same. As Anjali watched, the girl and the boy stood breathless a short distance from each other. She could hardly recognise her sister. Love made Khushi seem so grown up.

Their mouths opened, then closed, without a word being said. A short laughter escaped from each. Barun hesitatingly closed a hand around Khushi's.

"Aaj h-h-humaara school mein a-a-aakhri din h-h-hai..." Khushi finally managed to whisper to him. (It's my last day at school...)

He smiled gently at her. "Khushi..." he spoke her name with a slightly trembling voice. "Jaanta hoon." (I know.)

She bit her lower lip and closed her eyes for a moment, summoning all the courage she could. "Humaari maa humaari shaadi karvaana chaahati hain." (My mother wants me to get married.)

There was a flash of worry but he blinked it away and nodded reassuringly at her.

***

"Ussne kya kaha tumse?" Anjali asked as she unpinned her pallu from her shoulder, once they were alone in her room. The party their mothers had thrown in their honour had been, from her point of view, lame. (What did he tell you?)

The guests they had received were only old relatives who congratulated them with smacking kisses on the cheeks which revolted her and also with those long-phrased blessings about having hundreds of sons. She had made a great effort to neither wipe the drool from the smooches on her cheeks nor to roll her eyes at the blessings. Who the hell wanted so many kids?

And on top of that, they had not even gotten new sarees as they had hoped. Well, the clothes were new to them but they had already been worn once or twice by Garima and Rama. Not that she was complaining, but she had hoped for something better than old-fashion banarasi sarees which smelt stale and made them look like old hags.

Khushi smiled at her reflection in the mirror, not caring the least about her appearance. It was not something she needed anyways, Khushi was the epitome of pure natural beauty. She pulled her long tresses out of the bun Madhu had curled it into.

"Voh humaare liye rishta bhejenge... unhon ne vaada kiya humse," Khushi smiled dreamily, her fingers running down her waves, untangling them. (He will ask for my hand... he promised to.)

Anjali frowned. She couldn't explain why but she felt something very bad was going to happen, not just to Khushi, but to her too. A strange kind of fear welled up in her and she remained silent. They were both going to have their hearts broken, she felt it deep in her heart.

She wanted to ask Khushi what she thought the mothers would say of Barun Ghosh, but she didn't, not wanting to hurt her sister. However, would letting her dream of something impossible be right? Anjali hardly had the time to think about this when someone pounded heavily on the door. Khushi scurried hastily to open it. She found Momta Maasi, one of the maids of the haveli, panting anxiously on the threshold.

"Kya hua Maasi?" Khushi asked with mirrored worry, causing Anjali to pause and stare at them in the mirror, as she had her back to them, the gold haar gifted by her mother in her hands. (What happened Maasi?)

"Garimaji ki haalat bohot kharab hai, Bitiya! Aap dono ko abhi bulaaya gaya hai!"(Garimaji is not fine at all! You two have been called!)

Anjali's lips parted and the necklace slipped from her fingers and crashed on the floor, breaking in two. Her mouth went dry. Her fears were coming true.

The winds were changing...

***

Only silence greeted the doctor when he emerged from Garima's room. Anjali sat, still as a stone on the floor, with Khushi kneeled by her side, rubbing her between the shoulders to comfort her. Manorama was pacing impatiently in the corridor while Madhumati prayed fervently for her sister-in-law. They had explained the girls how Garima had suddenly fainted as the three of them had been talking.

"Kuchh kaha nahin jaa sakta," the doctor concluded. "Inhein haspataal hi le jaana padega." (I can't say anything. We should take her to the hospital.)

Madhu clapped a hand on her forehead, her anxiety rising. "Ab itni raat ko?" (So late at night?)

But they managed to take Garima there, despite her weakness, with Paramji and the doctor's help. The four other ladies of the house waited till the morning while a team of doctors examined Anjali's mother thoroughly. Finally, Dr Bagchi came up to them and sighed before telling them...

***

Anjali hiccupped, her hand clasped on her mouth, trying to stop the sobs before she went in to see her mother. She had broken down in the end, when the Dr Bagchi had gathered her courage and told them her mother was seriously ill. Garima still could be saved but she was turning down any kind of treatment because they all cost too much and her priority was her daughter.

Garima had promised her husband, Shashi, to give their child a good life, whether it be a boy or girl, if anything happened to him when he had gone on his adventure with Rama's husband. She had been keeping that promise very well all these years and it was not a threat to her life that would stop her from that. Anjali pushed the door, hoping she could really be as calm as she seemed.

"Maa..."

Garima motioned her to come nearer. The girl hesitatingly sat on the chair at her mother's bedside.

"Maa..."

"Humein maaf karna, Bitiya," the older woman whispered. "Humne aaj aapki zindagi ka bohot bada faisla liya hai..." (Forgive me, daughter. Today, I have taken an important decision of your life...)

***

Khushi did see her sister's troubled expression when the latter stumbled out of Garima's ward. Instead of following the two mothers inside, she went to Anjali who had fallen on the bench lining the corridor wall of the hospital, her eyes void.

"Kya hua, Anju?" (What happened Anju?)

Anjali sniffed and looked at Khushi, holding back her tears. "Hum hamesha shikaayat karte the ke tumhaari maa tumhaari shaadi karvaake humein alag kardegi... Hum tumhaari kimat ko koste rehte the na? Ab dekho... Humaare saath bhi vahi hoga..." (I always complained that your mother would separate us by marrying you off... I cursed your fate, didn't I? Now look... It's happening to me...)

Khushi frowned. "Matlab?" (What do you mean?)

"Humaari maa humaari shaadi karvaana chaahati hai, Khush..." (She wants me to get married too, Khush...)

***

Anjali narrated the whole story to Khushi.

Garima had asked for forgiveness first, confusing Anjali. She had told her of her father's promise and she heartily wanted her daughter to study further, as much as she would want to, and take up a profession of her choice. So, her daughter would be an independent woman, perfectly able to choose her life partner and the direction her life should take.

But what had happened the night of Anjali and Khushi's graduation would change everything forever. Garima had been diagnosed with colon cancer.

She had little time to live as she was refusing treatment because it was too costly and to her, it was worthless. She believed it was time for her to join her husband, but before she needed to get her daughter settled. So, she had decided she would not send Anjali to university. Instead she would follow Rama's steps and find a nice match for her, get her married before she died.

But she had made a promise to Anjali. She would find a boy for her, who was modern in thoughts but traditional in mannerism, a boy who would let her pursue her studies as much and as long as she wanted. But would that promise be enough? And would there be someone like that?

Anjali had begged her mother to get herself treated. She would be saved if she got treated by the best doctors. There was no need for all of this. But Garima was too adamant.

Her decision was taken...

Anjali could hate the idea of being married so young, and without completing her education, but she had to admit one thing. This was so much fun! Even more than school.

Each mother had taken up a duty. Madhu taught them about the household chores. She showed them how to cook various dishes, how to care for the household, how to stitch and so much more. Khushi was always the better one at these things. Garima had, on the other hand, taken the responsibility of talking to the girls. Each night, she would call them to her room and talk to them about how a daughter-in-law, how a wife was expected to behave, she explained to them how life changed after marriage and that they had to curb and adapt to their in-laws' and husband's wishes. She told them how they should deal with problems they could encounter after marriage.

But the favourite class of the girls was Rama's. Khushi's mother would be in charge of the girls' physique. She would decide what and when they should eat to remain slim and beautiful. She taught them how to wear a saree the proper way. She made them practice yoga every morning and every evening, she indulged them with her beauty astute which immensely amused Anjali. The best part of Rama's tuitions were the Kamasutra lessons where she spoke to them about intimacy. Both girls could never stop giggling all throughout, and that made the mother very angry.

***

The mothers were chatting with great mirth when the girls were coming downstairs one morning. Madhu stood to welcome them. She held Khushi's shoulders and made her sit beside her mother. Anjali and Khushi eyed her suspiciously. What was going on? The three mothers seems ecstatic that day.

"Arrey, Khushi! Meri pyaari bacchi!" Rama exclaimed, making the girls' eyes pop out in surprise. Why was she being so sweet that day? (Khushi! My sweet child!)

"Kya hua?" Anjali butted in daringly. (What happened?)

Garima smiled indulgently at Khushi, then at her own daughter. "Khushi ke liye rishta aaya hai. Ladka parso usse dekhne aayega." (A proposal has come for Khushi. The boy will come to see her day after tomorrow.)

The sisters looked at each other, their hearts thudding. Was Garima talking about Barun Ghosh? They stared at each other and Khushi gulped. Anjali finally dared to ask the question that she could read in her twin's worried eyes.

"Usska naam kya hai, Ma?" (What's his name, Ma?)

***

Anjali closed the door and locked it as soon as she entered Khushi's room and hastily sat beside her sister. Tears were running down the girl's cheeks silently. Anjali held her hand tight in hers and stifled a sob of her own.

"Khushi?" she mouthed painfully.

It was strange how their bond was strong. So strong, that they could feel each other's emotions very well in their hearts and at that moment, Khushi's pain was heart wrenching.

"Tumi bolle pore ki aami Ma songe kotha bolte jaabo?" (If you say, I go and talk to Ma?)

Khushi made no reply. She just sighed and turned her head away without taking her hand out of Anjali's grasp.

"Khush? Hum abhi jaake Ma se-" Anjali got from the bed and started walking to the door but her cousin had grabbed her wrist. (...I'll just go...)

"Kya faayda?" Khushi hissed ferociously. "Kya faayda kissi ko bhi yeh baat bataane se?" (Of what use? Of what use will it be to tell to anyone?)

Anjali stared back at her in shocked silence. Khushi almost frightened her with her bloodshot eyes and fearful expression. Her heart broke. Where was her sweet sister gone? Who was this angry girl? Certainly not the Khushi she knew, because her Khushi would never have such rage in her. Her Khushi was always the one who would drink any poison with a smile.

"Khushi?"

Khushi closed her eyes with a deep breath. "Tumi theek chile. Barunji aur humaare rishte ko koyi nahin maanega. Ek hum the, jo apne sapno ki duniya mein uljhe rahe... Lekin hum yeh kaise bhool gaye ki sapne kabhi sach hote nahin?"(You were right. No one will accept My and Barunji's relationship. It was just me who kept dreaming... But how could I forget dreams never come true?)

"Nahin Khushi! Aisa mat kaho, hum Ma se baat karenge. Voh samjhengi, aur tumhaari madad bhi karengi!" (No Khushi! Don't speak like this, I'll talk to Ma. She'll understand and she'll help you too!)

But Khushi shook her head painfully. "Badi Ma ya koyi bhi nahin samjhega, Anju! Tumi ki bolbe? Ke hum Barunji se pyaar karte hain? Aur unka savaalon ka kya javaab denge hum? Hum unse kaise mile? Hum unhein kaise jaante hain? Kuchh nahin ho sakta!" (No one will understand, not even Badi Ma, Anju! What will you say? That I love Barunji? And how will you answer to her questions? How did we meet? Nothing can be done!)

Anjali gulped as she realised Khushi was right. They would have no answers to the mothers' questions and even if they did tell the truth, they would certainly fall into deeper problems than they already were in. She bit hard on her lip and hugged her sister, who sobbed softly on her shoulder, now back to her old, quieter self.

"Aaye koshto ta tumi ki kore nebe, Khush?" (How will you bear this pain, Khush?)

The girl sniffled but didn't reply. She had none to give...

***

The Gupta House was full of commotion that morning, two days later. Khushi's suitor was supposed to come see her and the whole household was brimming with glee. Especially Manorama; she was the most elated as the boy was very wealthy and reputed.

But for Khushi herself, there was no joy, even as Anjali helped her into her new saree Garima had bought her for the occasion. It was of a dark bottle green colour all over, with a thick gold zari border. Though it was very simple, it flattered her skin colour and beauty well. Anjali sadly turned her sister around to have a good look at her.

"He Devi Maiyya!" she whispered an exclamation.

Khushi looked crushingly beautiful and the sadness on her face only added to it, if ever this were possible. She seemed like a princess in distress. But here, she had not fallen for the prince, Anjali reminded herself regretfully, she had fallen for someone lower than her. Khushi's eyes remained downcast and sad. She didn't even look at herself in the mirror, but she didn't shed a single tear either.

When Anjali guided her downstairs at Madhu Ma's beckoning, the suitor was not there yet. But his grandmother was. Garima, who had talked to the lady had told them whatever she knew of the boy. He was an orphan; his mother had died when he was still quite young and his father only recently, leaving him the proprietor of their industries. His grandmother, who had lived for the past twenty years in an ashram had returned to stay with him after her son's death, and she was the one who had pushed the boy into thinking about marriage.

From what Garima had gathered, Khushi's suitor was very hard-working and he could be a workaholic, but he was very good at heart. Yet, Anjali knew that this description would bring no solace to her sister because at that time, Khushi had only one name etched on her mind and heart. Barun Ghosh. And erasing it would be the most difficult task.

They entered the living room and the four elderly women stood to greet them immediately. Khushi dutifully bent to touch the grandmother's feet, but Anjali started feeling doubtful about the woman. She seemed to be full of arrogance. Anjali wondered how Khushi's suitor would be if his Dadi was like this.

"Khushi," the woman stated without smiling. "Boshe jao." (Sit down.)

She made her sit right near her. Garima, knowing her daughter very well, took the precaution of making her take her place next to her. The grandmother started asking Khushi a few questions, to which the girl answered, her eyes still looking down. Her sister stared at her all along, her heart breaking. Anjali wished she could be closer to Khushi, hug her and comfort her, especially when Subhadra Devi's questions became ironical. If her mother hadn't been holding her hand, she would have snapped at the old woman for her sister.

Had it been in her hands, she would have refused to this alliance already, after seeing the grandmother's behaviour. She seemed to be quite patronising and no doubt, she had a firm control over the household. Could Khushi ever be happy in such a place? And what if her husband was the same? Hadn't Khushi's happiness been trampled upon enough?

A while later, Anjali was startled out of her thoughts by the door bell ringing. Shortly afterwards, a young man came in and everyone in the room stilled and, maybe, for the first time that day, Khushi lifted her deep brown eyes to look at him. He strode in to stop near Subhadra, standing tall and proud, the only male in the room. A fine stubble dusted his cheeks and chin while a strange gleam shone in his mahogany eyes, which enchanted whoever looked into them. Though he evoked a lot of respect and attention, there was an aura about him which said he was kind deep inside.

His grandmother broke into a smile, surprising Anjali and Khushi the most as she stood to introduce him to the other ladies.

"Yeh hai mera pota, Arnav." (This is my grandson, Arnav.)

After some minutes of observation, Anjali realised that Arnav Singh Raizada was completely smitten with her sister from the moment he had seen her. He had taken his seat exactly opposite her after his Dadi had introduced him and he had greeted every one. He had not taken his eyes off her once, even when the mothers spoke to him. He seemed quite nice, unlike his very authoritative grandmother, and Anjali could actually feel herself liking him. But still, he was not the one Khushi loved, was she?

At times, Khushi had looked up, maybe when she had felt his intense gaze on her, but then, she looked back down at her fidgety hands. Anjali bit her lip as she watched the pair. She wanted her sister to be happy, but she couldn't hope for this proposal to be rejected. The boy appeared to be nice. Who knew? He could perhaps keep her far more happy than Barun Ghosh could. But no one could know that. So, she silently folded her hands together and prayed that everything happened for the best.

"Humein ladki pasand hai!" Dadi declared. "Tumi ki bhaabo, Garimaji?" (We like the girl! What do you think, Garimaji?)

The mothers all smiled. "Humein bhi ladka pasand hai! Bas ek baar yeh dono baat karlein aur ek doosre ko thoda jaan lein?" Garima suggested. (We like the boy too! Just let the two of them speak and know each other?)

Subhadra glanced at her grandson, then nodded. Rama instantly patted her daughter's arm. "Bitiya, honewaale damadji ko bageeche mein le jaao!" (Take our future sin-in-law in the garden!)

Khushi's eyes rose in panic to clash with Anjali's. They held a silent plea which her cousin understood immediately. She did not want to be alone with her suitor. Anjali nudged her mother.

***

Arnav walked ahead with Khushi while Anjali followed, keeping some distance. He glanced at his silent lady furtively, from time to time, not really knowing how to start a proper conversation. Damn! He was as bad at this as he was good at striking a deal. Why? He didn't know.

When he had been studying at Harvard, he was easy with people. Not much later, after his father had died, he had had to take over the whole empire and that was the end of it. Since then, he had not been out with a girl once and even at work, everything was strictly professional, even though most of his female workers and models did practically throw themselves at him.

His Dadi's recent arrival had caused a tumult in the lifestyle he had ended up adopting. Instead of working, eating and sleeping routine he had - in which, of course, working held the priority - he now had to go see several girls who could possibly marry him. He had rejected zillions of girls already because Arnav Singh Raizada did not want to get married right now, but this girl had caught his eye.

Khushi.

She was beautiful, simple, down to earth. She was different. She was not pretentious like the other girls he had met before. She was not trying to trap him for his wealth. But the thing he could not really understand was the reason behind her silence. There was something sad about her, but instead of affecting her good looks, it just made her seem more beautiful. He wished he knew what was troubling her. He wished her could erase it away. He wished he could make her smile.

Because she definitely looked like she'd appear even more devastatingly beautiful with a smile adorning her face...

***

"Tumi ki boshe?" (Will you sit?)

His eyes widened in amazement. "Kya kaha tumne?" (What did you say?)

She blushed adorably. "Aap baithenge?" (Will you sit?)

"Oh! Yeah."

Arnav smiled and nodded as he sat down on the wooden bench before them. Khushi sat beside him nervously.

"Sorry," he tried, making her look up briskly. "Mujhe Bengali nahin aati." (... I don't understand bengali.)

A tiny smile tugged at her lips, going almost unnoticed had he not been looking at her so closely. And he noticed he had been right. She really looked more than beautiful. As he looked about, his eyes fell on the cousin, who was staring at them with a calculative expression. He smiled at her reassuringly and she walked away, to go sit on another bench, but without leaving them from her eyesight.

"Aapko kuchh poochhna tha?" Khushi asked. Her gaze had dropped back to the ground. (You had to ask something?)

"Ahm..." there had to be something. He wanted to talk to her, but about what? "You... you..." he ended up chuckling loudly. "I don't know! Mujhse yeh sab nahin hota!" (... I can't do this!)

Her wide eyes looked at him again, though not directly in his eyes. "Kya nahin hota?" she asked, full of innocence. Her eyes were dangerous, he noted. Dark and hypnotising. If he was not careful, he'd lose himself so deep inside, he would never find a way out. Then, he nearly punched himself. Was Arnav Singh Raizada really going kind of... poetic? (What?)

"Making conversations," he explained. "If it's business, it's easy. Lekin aise... anjaan ladkiyon se milna, aur ajeeb ajeeb savaal karna... it's not my thing..."(...But like this... meeting girls you don't know, and asking strange questions...)

***

Khushi watched him as he talked, pausing very often as he made the effort to speak hindi as much as possible so that she had not problem understanding. He also did his best so that she was comfortable. She glanced secretively at her sister once. Anjali had been smiling and when their eyes met, she gave her a thumbs up sign.

Arnav Singh Raizada had managed to please everyone. Madhu Ma, Garima Ma and Rama Ma. Even Anjali. She smiled to herself in nostalgia. If only things could have been different. If only it could have been Barun...

But it was not Barun, and she had better realise that soon. She knew her relationship with Barun Ghosh, whatever its nature, was impossible. She could not think of him anymore, she was getting married. She had to forget him...

***

Anjali somehow felt happy for Khushi. Arnav, however his Dadi appeared to be, was a nice guy and she was now sure he would definitely keep her sister happy. She could not hear their conversation well from where she was, but from what she had understood, he was being very gentle with her. And even if - she was sure - he was quite uncomfortable with hindi, having spent years in America, he was attempting to converse in hindi with her sister.

She laughed to herself. The stupid man. Had marriages been like jobs where a person's curriculum vitae and biodata were required, he would have known that Khushi had topped in almost every subject, including English - language and literature - where she had come up first in the whole district.

She saw Khushi smile at one or two things he said and it was done for her. She officially liked Arnav and she would already whole heartedly accept him as her jeeju!

***

"Taile? Tumi ki bolcho?" Anjali asked eagerly. (So? What do you say?)

Khushi stared out of the window blankly. Arnav and his Dadi were still downstairs, waiting for her answer. So were the mothers. Everyone had high hopes pinned on her. Did she, Khushi Kumaari Gupta, have a choice?

***

"Subhadraji aekhoni call korechelo," Rama's voice travelled around the whole household. "Sagaai agle hafte hi hogi!" (Subhadraji just called! The engagement is next week!)

Laughter erupted among the mothers as they rejoiced downstairs. Khushi rested her head against the head board, locked in her room so that even Anjali couldn't come in. Was this really her fate?

***

The next day was another flurry of activity in the Gupta Haveli. This time the proposal had come for Anjali. The boy lived in America. Like Arnav, he had studied there but he had decided not to return home. So, it was clear, after some time of marriage, she would follow her husband to California if they got married. Yet, Garima seemed perfectly agreeable to this.

Anjali spent the whole day sulking. "Humein nahin jaana America! Humein aap sab ko, Khushi ko chhod ke kahin nahin jaana!" she would scream at anyone who would dare to come within three metres of her proximity. Her mother ordered everyone to leave her alone for some time and went to see her as she lay on her bed, her face buried in her pillow. (I don't want to go to America! I don't want to leave you guys and Khushi!)

"Bitiya," she murmured softly while her hand caressed her daughter's long tresses. Anjali turned her head slightly but still refused to look at her mother. "Yaad hai, Bitiya? Humne kuchh hi saptah pehle aapse vaada kiya tha ke aapki padhaayi poori hokar rahegi?" (Remember? I had promised you that I would find you some one who will let you study?)

The girl sat up and looked at Garima pleadingly. "Hum-" (I-)

"Aap humein chhod kar nahin jaana chahti? Hum jaante hain. Lekin beta, hum to aapke Baba ke paas jaa rahe hain. Aur Khushi ki bhi shaadi hone waali hain. Hum-" (You don't want to leave us, right? But I'm dying. And Khushi's getting married too. I-)

Before she could complete her sentence, her daughter had thrown her arms around her and Garima never got the opportunity to explain to Anjali that she could not die in peace letting her daughter unmarried and alone...