"What is the point of going to an Indian fashion house if its designs don't exhibit any Indian culture?"
William Kadlec shuffled through the designs restlessly, unimpressed by the boring neutral tones and straight lines. This was nothing but a less exciting collection of CottonMill or Prada's last season designs. AR, once a serious force to be reckoned with, had ceased to bring anything fresh to the table. It was a pity.
"Have you lost your inspiration?" Kadlec gently probed, passing the sketches back to Arnav. "I just can't forget the work AR presented six years ago at Lacome's Fashion Week. Looking at what you've shown me today, I wouldn't be surprised if you've all but forgotten that colorful and intricate hand work you'd presented. What's happened to your company's non-negotiable standards, Mr. Raizada? Where's the originality?"
Arnav sighed as he tucked his designs back into the folder, too embarrassed to meet his client's disappointed eyes. A deal with William Kadlec would have been an enormous asset to his company, but he couldn't help it if his designs fell flat. Hell, he hadn't felt inspired to sketch in the last six years. If happiness was missing, then so was the color; so was the originality and sheer life.
"Will, I assure you, Western designs will be more popular in the market. Indian attire always --"
"Listen," Kadlec interrupted, prematurely. "I respect you, Arnav. I really and truly do. That's why I agreed to meet with you today despite AR's recent not-so-great performance. But this... it just won't do. I'm sorry."
"Will, just take a moment and --"
"Mr. Raizada. Please."
Arnav sighed but unwillingly relented, thanking Kadlec for his time and for considering AR to host his company's semi-annual fashion show. His heart plummeted as he watched Aman escort a multi-million dollar deal out of the room. This was the first time in his thirteen years of business that his designs had been flatly rejected. The company, built brick by brick with his endless work and sweat, was hurting.
It was hurting bad.
Had he been so blind as to not take notice? Or had he purposely turned a blind eye?
Suddenly feeling very cold, Arnav reached into his pocket to pull a cigarette, and followed Kadlec out of the congested bar. He needed the warmth to fill his lungs. It was artificial and it was temporary, but it did the job.
*****************************************
It was a chilly Sunday night, Arnav mused, despite the pleasant climate that was custom to America in mid-July. Respectively, Manhattan's streets were empty for a typical weekend night, with couples rushing into nearby bars and cafes to find warmth from the unexpectedly dropping temperature.
Arnav took a long drag of hot smoke into his lungs, sighing as the nicotine put his frenzied nerves to rest. Cigarettes had become a bad habit since he'd married Khushi, and one he hadn't tried very hard to quit or remedy. Feeling slightly inebriated, he walked towards the end of the rather noisy bar, hoping a quick stroll might distract him from Kadlec and the doomed deal. There were just a handful of days before Arnav would leave Manhattan, and he did not want to spend them worrying about a failing business.
He had two weeks. Two weeks to win Khushi back.
Solving the company's issues would just have to wait till they returned to India.
Turning around the corner, he dropped his worn cigarette into a nearby ashtray, reaching into his back pocket for another. Placing the new cigarette between his teeth, he watched his lighter spark and spit fire, moving in closer to light the second smoke.
It was then, illuminated by the flame, that Arnav noticed them; two bodies that could easily be mistaken as one.
"Shit", he quietly swore, turning to look the other way.
Against the other side of the brick wall was the silhouette of a couple, so tightly coiled in each other's arms it was impossible to tell where one body ended and another began. Understandably, they were sharing a private moment, one in which his presence was neither welcome nor appropriate. The woman's hair, long and dark, fell like a thick curtain around them, allowing privacy from potential bystanders... like himself. Suddenly feeling very uncomfortable, he muttered a quick apology and walked back towards the entrance of the bar, tossing the untouched cigarette alongside the first.
But then she shifted.
And instantly he stopped.
Because Arnav could recognize that sound anywhere. After all, he had hidden that very payal in his cupboard for months on end, much before he had realized the extent to which he loved her. Prior to returning the anklet back to Khushi, he'd spent lonely nights simply touching it, reveling in the soft chimes that were an epitome of the woman it belonged to --- bright, joyful and lively.
And sure enough, when Arnav turned around, he recognized the long legs and small waist; the delicate hands and fair skin. It was her.
The woman against the wall was Khushi, clad in a blood red sari, longingly sighing within the embrace of another man. A black mist settled upon his vision and refused to shift, for the world surrounding him was lost and refusing to come back in focus. His spirit was ruined, his mind was destroyed.The only thing in Arnav's possession was his body and this abuse of it, if continued, would surely kill him.
Did he want that? He wasn't sure.
Battered and weak, Arnav's conscious escaped to a similar night many years ago, a night when he had cupped her blushing face and leaned in for a kiss. Suddenly, he could smell the hints of jasmine in her long hair, gently swaying against the curves of her waist. He could see her quivering lips and count the lashes that brushed her cheeks, her downcast eyes shyly watching their reflection in the still water of the poolside. If he just leaned in a little bit closer, he could part her lips with his own, and taste the forbidden sweetness that was happiness.
But why wouldn't he do it? Why couldn't he place his mouth against hers? What was holding him back from something they both wanted so desperately?
It was then, at that very moment, that reality slapped him firmly... forcing a blinded man to register what played before him.
Because Arnav Singh Raizada had not leaned in further to kiss her that night
He had abandoned her outside, held a different woman's hand and shattered a hopeful heart.
"Don't even think for a second that you've trapped a rich man."
"I'm ready to marry Lavanya."
"I wasn't pining with your payal against my chest"
"What happened between us doesn't mean a thing to me"
Perhaps that was why Khushi Kumari Gupta was now in the arms of another man... someone who had married her and vowed to support her unconditionally. Tarang Kher had done everything he had been too afraid to... and perhaps much more.
No, Arnav! We loved each other. We still love each other. We always will.
His knuckles whitened as his hand clenched into a fist, blood pounding painfully against his throbbing head. Would it be wrong to simply kill her so-called husband? Who had stolen the moments that should have been theirs? Revenge was a strangely beautiful thing after all-- it took a firm grip at the darkest place just behind the heart.
Arnav's mind pleaded and begged for him to go and pull them apart, to guard Khushi from a man who was manipulating and using her. It was what made sense. It was logical and calculated. The practical solution.
But for the first time... his heart convinced him to walk away. It was typical of a heart, to be foolish and irrational... but he stepped back regardless. Why and what for, Arnav did not know.
But something told him that he did not belong there.
__________________________________________
CHAPTER FIFTY: F R E E D O M
HEY! HEY YOU! SEE THAT LITTLE ORANGE BUTTON THAT SAYS "LIKE"?
Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi 2
Anupamaa
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