He took a sip of the coffee he was drinking, scanning the gardens of the property. They were still in impeccable condition, despite his father's recent injuries. He was surprised, especially considering that the mali wasn't known for being particularly consistent in his work.
A flash of memories hit him, making him smile slightly as he recalled fond moments he had spent on this property.
"Papa, look, I'm planting a rose bush!"
"Aisa nahi, beta, you have to dig the hole deeper. Otherwise the plant won't be able to take root, and then it'll just fall over and die. You want your plants to live, don't you?"
Gardening was the one thing he missed in England, where he lived in a small apartment. He had had a few potted plants, but it was nothing like this. Nor did he have any roses, which were his favorite plant to cultivate.
As a young child, Arnav and Ashok had spent hours out on the garden, weeding the patches closest to the house carefully. While the mali had largely taken care of their sprawling yard, Ashok was particularly fond of the many flowerbeds he had close to the house.
Ashok had given Arnav a small patch of his own, where Arnav had planted the rose bush gifted to him on his 7th birthday. It was almost like a child, and Arnav remembered asking his father again and again to take care of it while he was in England.
When he had left, he had planned to come back, at least for a short while.
But now... he simply couldn't fathom the idea of staying in India, even for a short while. It just wasn't his style anymore, roses gardens or not.
He tossed the cup off to the side, frustrated.
While Khushi and Anjali had been gone for their class, Arnav had attempted to convince his parents to move their family to England.
The medical care would be better for his father, and they would all be together again.
But his father had steadfastly refused, throwing the questions on him instead. He had asked about the war, and pointed out that it simply didn't make sense to move out of India to England when there was so much turmoil in Europe.
Arnav had gotten defensive, arguing that the Americans were there now, and the war would finish soon. Besides, India too would be in a war if the rebels continued the way they were going.
Ashok had fallen silent, only saying that he would consider it carefully. Arnav had known he wouldn't get any farther, and had stormed off to his room.
He didn't quite understand why his father wouldn't move to England. He ran a pro-British newspaper, and had always been supportive of the government.
What was holding him back?
He leaned against the railing of the terrace, his eyes falling on the rose bushes. They were exceptionally well taken care of, he mused, noting that there weren't any weeds around it. The blossoms were just beginning to take shape, and even from his vantage point, he could see that the plant was thriving.
He lifted his eyes out further, only to catch a glimpse of a slim, sari clad figure walking towards the house.
Standing next to her, was a man wearing a crisp white bandhgala, his tall form dwarfing her smaller frame. They seemed to be deep in conversation, and he watched as Khushi laughed at something the other man said.
His eyes narrowed as the man turned towards her, taking her hands in his and pulling her close to him. He could see her protesting weakly, glancing around uncomfortably to see if anyone was looking.
Was she actually in class, or was she lying so she could spend time with this... guy?
Arnav felt a piercing stab of discomfort in his stomach, his fingers tightening around the railing as the man murmured something to her.
He squinted to try and catch her expression, noting that it looked slightly pained.
But before he could attempt to decipher it, she smiled brightly, saying something softly to the man. He watched as a brilliant smile broke out over the man's face, and he walked her to the edge of the gardens, their arms brushing as they walked.
Arnav felt an unfamiliar feeling course through him as Khushi blushed, giving the man a small wave as he walked away.
He couldn't believe she had the carelessness to publicly associate herself with random men, with no care as to who could see them. Didn't she have any respect for his family's name, if not for her own?
On top of that, she was lying to his parents that she was in some sort of "class", while she was really shamelessly spending time with men.
Storming down to the secluded back door, Arnav waited for her, his entire figure stiff with anger.
He leaned against a wall in the shadows, ignoring the confused look of a servant who was in the midst of sweeping the area.
The netted screen door creaked open, and Khushi stepped in, greeting the servant politely. She was about to leave when he stopped her, his voice cold and hard.
"Wait."
She froze, her hand tightening around the patchwork bag hanging by her side. The servant paused, looking at the two of them with marked curiosity. Upon receiving a pointed look from Arnav, she quickly left the area, throwing a glance behind her at Arnav and Khushi.
"Where were you, Khushi?"
"I don't have to report my whereabouts to you, Arnavji."
He stepped forward, grabbing her upper arm and forcing her to face him. She determinedly met his gaze, her hazel eyes clashing with his. She twisted in his grip, struggling to free herself.
"Let me go!"
"Why did you lie to my parents about where you were?"
Her eyes shot up to him, and he could see the tinge of disbelief and fear.
"Let me go, Arnavji."
Her voice was deadly quiet, and he loosened his grip on her arm, allowing her to shake free.
"You should have at least thought of my family's reputation before associating yourself with random men in public."
His voice was harsh, simmering with anger. Her eyes hadn't left his, and he could see the flash of hurt in them.
He had insulted her dignity, and he could see the weight of his accusation in her eyes.
He forced himself to push away the stab of guilt, instead choosing to focus on his anger.
"You shouldn't make assumptions without knowing the full story."
"I know enough."
"Did you ever consider that maybe I was simply walking back from class with him?"
"And the holding of the hands, the giggling? Was that only discussing coursework too?"
She stiffened, as he stepped forward, pushing her towards the shadowed wall.
"You don't know the whole story, Arnavji."
"Why were you with him, acting like a lovestruck fool? My parents trust you, Khushi."
"I'm telling you that you don't know everything! Your father knows exactly where I was. I'm not lying to them."
"Do they also know about him?"
"Why do you care?"
He stumbled back, the weight of her question hitting him hard.
Why did he care?
He barely knew her.
He struggled to find words, hating the way her jaw was clenched tightly, the disdain in her eyes reserved for him. She had backed him into a corner, and she was enjoying it.
"Because you're deceiving my parents."
She laughed, a hollow sound without any mirth.
"For five years, they've asked you to come back, and you've put it off every time. For five years, you sent one telegram a week with a single sentence. And now you care about their honor?"
He felt the rage pounding in his head at her words, the thinly veiled disgust incensing him.
How dare she question his commitment, his love for his family?
"And who are you to judge? You know nothing about us. You're just an outsider."
She stepped forward, refusing to back down. Her eyes were shuttered, the emotions tightly leashed.
"An outsider? I've been more a part of this family than you have for the last five years. You're so caught up in your own dreams that you've failed to pay heed to those of your family."
"Shut up, Khushi! You know nothing about me! Just shut up!"
"Make me!"
She challenged him, clearly believing that he wouldn't take it up.
She didn't know that Arnav Singh Raizada never backed down from a challenge.
He wrapped an arm around her waist, harshly tugging him into her. Before she could react, his lips slammed down on hers, taking her lips in a searing kiss.
He nearly groaned at the feeling of her body pressed against his, desire taking over the craving to prove her wrong. He didn't think about why he had responded to her in this way, why he had let her goad him into this.
Her eyes flew open, her arms resting limply at her waist as his lips coaxed hers insistently. He backed her up against the wall, brushing his tongue against her lower lip as she shuddered in his embrace. His hands reached up to her carefully tied bun, tugging it loose as the waves of ebony fell around his fingers.
He brushed his fingers through her hair, the thick, silky strands soft against his rough hand. He tugged lightly on her hair, tilting her head back and deepening the kiss. He took advantage of the shocked gasp, thrusting his tongue into her mouth.
Without warning, her small hands reached up and shoved at his chest hard, causing him to stumble back in surprise. Her hands were clenched in fists, her entire body shaking with mortification and anger, breathing heavily. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes slightly glassy as she hiccuped, holding back a sob.
He shouldn't have done this.
"Khushi..."
"Don't!"
She whirled on her heel, grabbing her bag as she fled the room, leaving him standing there in the secluded back entrance.
What had he done?
*********
"Anjali! May I speak with you?"
Anjali turned around to find Aman behind her, his eyes bright with excitement. Her heart pounded in her chest at the love for her in his eyes, a brilliant smile on his face.
She never would have expected to fall in love. She had always thought that her parents would arrange her marriage, and that love was best left to the novels. Sense and Sensibility was a nice idea, but she didn't hold out hope that it would happen in real life.
Unlike Khushi, who strongly believed that love could happen if you just looked for it. She would often roll her eyes at Khushi's unshakable faith in romance, her belief in the potent attraction between two people.
That is, until she had experienced it for herself.
She had always known Aman as the boy next door, the one that stole her toys when they were younger, but always gave them back when she burst into tears. They had lost touch after they had grown up, only seeing each other occasionally at parties.
She had started to notice that he was attractive, of course.
One would have to be blind not to.
He was the Headboy at his school, the captain of the cricket team and the boy everyone loved. He was respectful, gracious, and had stellar grades. And he was attractive, in the quiet, nerdy way that she found incredibly endearing.
She hadn't ever expected him to notice her, not with all the female attention showered upon him. The girls in her school fawned over him, giggling whenever he was around, attending resistance meetings just to be around him.
But he had noticed her, his penetrating gaze always lingering on her for an extra second.
When he had pulled her aside a year ago to talk to her, the last thing she had expected was for him to make small talk until everyone had left.
He had asked her permission to court her, the smile gracing his face when she nervously nodded making her giddy.
They had never officially told anyone, although Khushi knew vaguely what was going on, since Anjali would always stay a little longer after the meetings ended.
A lot longer, sometimes.
Anjali blushed at the thought, leading Aman to snap his fingers in front of her face.
"Anju, are you even paying attention to what I'm saying?"
She flushed deeply, embarrassed that he had caught her daydreaming. He only smiled, winking at her.
"You were thinking of me, weren't you?"
"Oh, be quiet. What were you saying?"
The smile on Aman's face faded, a serious expression replacing it. She looked at him worriedly, wondering what was wrong.
Was he ending this? Did he not like her anymore? But it had been going so-
He took her hands in his, taking a deep, nervous breath.
"Anju, would it be okay if I asked your parents for your hand in marriage?"
Her mouth fell open, her eyes widening in shock. She hadn't expected that, not at all. He immediately grew worried, his brow crinkling as he tried to backtrack.
"I mean, not if you're not comfortable, I totally understand and I know you wanted to finish your studies, but I thought that since you're almost done, we could-"
"Yes."
He stopped immediately, his face reflecting disbelief. She smiled brightly at him, lacing her fingers through his.
"Y-yes?"
"Yes, buddhu. Of course I want to marry you."
The whoop of joy as he spun her around was enough to show her how thrilled he was. He placed a lingering kiss on her lips, his face alight with happiness.
"I'll be over with my parents then."
She watched him leave, unable to hold the grin back.
*********
Khushi ran through the house, completely overwhelmed by what had just transpired. She could still feel the imprint of his lips on hers, the way his tongue had entwined with hers, the gentle, patient insistence despite the rough start.
She dropped her bag carelessly at the foot of the bed, slipping inside the bathroom to wash her face.
She washed it over and over, trying to erase his kiss, the memory of the passion...
And the hatred.
She couldn't let herself forget that he was trying to win a challenge, that this kiss had been a product of their bitter insults, their desire to one-up each other without care as to who they were taking down in the process.
Why did his presence infuriate her so much?
She was usually a levelheaded person, someone who thought things through. She hated herself for being temporarily paralyzed by him, for not pushing him back sooner.
She should have screamed.
But she hadn't.
He had kissed her without her permission, and she... had let him. She had enjoyed it, even, her eyes fluttering shut against her will, her senses clouded as his hands had swept across the bare skin on her back, his lips warm and insistent.
She shivered, goosebumps trailing up her skin at the memory.
She looked up at herself in the mirror, the droplets dripping down her flushed face, damp tendrils of hair curling, softening her features.
Her hair was left loose around her, tumbling down her back in thick waves. She could feel his fingers pulling, running through her hair as he let her bun loose.
Determinedly, she pulled up her hair, tying it into a severe bun at the nape of her neck. She roughly brushed back the strands that threatened to come loose, grabbing a bobby pin and shoving it in, forcing them to stay in place.
No.
She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her as he had left her.
"Khushi?"
She turned to see Anjali in the doorway, her face almost... glowing. The smile on her face faded as she saw Khushi's expression, immediately replaced by worry.
"Khushi, did NK... did he say something? You look... upset."
She stilled, momentarily wishing that she could narrate the entire episode to Anjali.
But Arnav was her brother, and she couldn't drive that wedge between them.
She shook her head, smiling tightly at Anjali.
"I'm just tired, Anju. It's nothing to worry about."
She turned quickly, pushing past Anjali and walking down to the kitchen, where Sakshi Ma was already finishing up the food.
"Sakshi Ma, why are you making the food? Lalita is there, she would have made it."
She took the spoon from her hands, admonishing her gently. She could see the dark circles under Sakshi Ma's eyes, the lines on her forehead from stress.
"Bitiya, Arnav has come home for the first time in years. I thought I would make his favorite aloo methi."
Khushi tried to keep the disgust off of her face, instead focusing on carefully stirring the potato-fenugreek mixture in the pot. She inhaled deeply, savoring the smell of the dish. Sakshi Ma had cooked less in the past months, choosing to focus on the care of Ashok Papa instead, and Khushi had missed her delicious cooking.
"Ma, I'll finish making it."
"Arey, beta, lekin- (But-)"
"Lekin nothing. It's time for Papa's medicines. You've added everything, I'll be able to handle it."
She flashed her a smile, and Sakshi reluctantly left the kitchen, glancing back over her shoulder at Khushi as she walked out.
Khushi vaguely heard Anjali behind her, carrying plates out to the dining table. She could hear the soft murmur of conversation, noting the fact that his voice was conspicuously absent.
She carefully lifted the hot pan, taking it to the dining table and serving the family.
She felt Arnav's hand on her wrist, stopping her from putting any of the aloo onto his plate.
"I'll serve myself."
She didn't miss the underlying sharpness in his voice, and resisted the urge to toss the aloo methi into his face.
"This is India, Arnavji. Not your England."
She scooped it onto his plate before he could protest, dumping rice on it as well. Anjali watched silently from the other side as she served the dal, observing the barely concealed anger between the two people in front of her.
"I said I would serve myself, didn't I?"
"And I said I would serve you."
There was an awkward silence as the two of them engaged in a heated stare, the tension simmering.
"Khushi, Anju, why don't you sit down now?"
They tore furious gazes away from each other, failing to notice the meaningful glance exchanged between Sakshi and Ashok.
Ashok smiled tiredly at Khushi, slowly ripping a piece of roti off. His hands shook as he placed it in the dal, his face scrunched up in pain.
"How were your classes?"
There was a tense pause as Khushi and Arnav avoided each other's eyes, focusing pointedly on the food. Anjali glanced between the two of them, before turning towards her father, smiling.
"It went well, Papa. We... got a lot done."
"What did you do?"
Khushi and Anjali looked at each other, before Anjali heaved a nervous sigh.
"Papa, there's a... rally our friends are going to. We would like to attend."
Sakshi paused, her voice unnaturally harsh as she responded.
"Absolutely not. I will not have you both associating with the type of people that show up there."
"Ma, they are good-"
"I don't care! You will not go, and that is that."
"Sakshi, just hear them-"
"No means no, and that is final. I'm sorry, Ashokji, but this will not happen. I refuse to let them be endangered. Who will marry them if we allow them to roam free with random men? God knows who comes to those things."
"Khushi doesn't have any reservations about that, now does she?"
Khushi froze at the familiar, deep voice that responded, his voice simmering with resentment. She looked up at him, her mouth taut with anger.
"Arnavji, girls here are not like your angrezi ladki. We have self-respect and dignity. We would never dream of compromising our families for our own selfish purposes."
"That's a blanket statement, don't you think? Not every girl is like that."
He could tell that Khushi was trying to rein in her fury, and could hear her deep breaths and the soft whispers of her counting backwards from ten.
"I wasn't talking about that anyway. I simply meant that because you are a Gupta, the same rules and restrictions won't apply."
"She is held to the same standard as the rest of this family, Arnav. That will be enough from you."
Ashok's statement was sharp and final, and silence descended upon the table. Arnav and Khushi shot one last glare at each other, before busying themselves with their food.
This argument was far from being over.
*********
Note: And that's where I'll leave you for today! I hope you enjoyed it, and I'd love to know your thoughts on this.
DDC1 also wrote an OS for Jenny (IPK007)- if you get the chance, check it out here: https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/fan-fictions/4213674/arshi-os-baby-shower
As always, please PM me your email or follow @ipkchotidesi for update notifications.
Love always,
Choti.
Edited by chotidesi - 10 years ago
Indian Mythology
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