Though Khushi never accepted Arnav's apology, the two pesky
words had still managed to work wonders for him. In the three days between
Anjali's mehendi raat and the night before her wedding, Khushi had approached
him with a building confidence, asking for help with fallen drapery and spilled
food, smiling at his pathetic attempts of cracking stupid jokes. He could tell that
the amicability was difficult for her, but as time passed she fell more at ease
around him. The laughs seemed less forced, her footsteps less hesitant. And as
for Arnav, he could not have felt more grateful, that if not forgiveness, she
had at least given him a few more memories with which he could live the rest of
his life.
"You really do love her, don't you?"
Tarang interrupted Arnav's thoughts
with the wave of a large hand in his motionless face. They had been sitting at
the bar in awkward silence, after politely discussing the tumultuous state of American politics for as long as etiquette would demand. It was only when Tarang had asked Arnav
about his travel plans back to India that he'd noticed the man had become transfixed
and gone silent.
But you could always trust a psychiatrist, to bring premature ends to dangerously treading daydreams. Especially when the said day dreams
involved the said psychiatrist's wife.
Arnav sighed, annoyed at having been slapped so harshly by
reality, but offered him defeated smile nonetheless. "I do, and I guess it's my
bad luck. We both know that she loves you."
Unsure of how to respond to a man so blatantly confessing love
for his wife, Tarang traced Arnav's gaze back to Khushi, who was hanging red roses
from a beautifully adorned wedding mandap. He smiled at the sight of her-- gym shorts hanging low on her waist and an oversized Nike t-shirt tied at her
hip. Her hair was piled into a careless mess upon her head and her face was completely
scrubbed clean. To Tarang, she looked beautiful.
"I'm happy she has you, Kher", Arnav confessed grudgingly,
as he turned back to face the bar. "I can't imagine what would've happened to
her if she didn't have you."
"It kills me to say it, but I'm pretty sure she would
have died."
He recounted the story of how he had first seen Khushi on an
abandoned sidewalk, fainting from sheer shock and exhaustion; how it had taken months
before she she would stop flinching at another man's touch; how Arnav's
newspaper clippings would frighten her to the point that she would convulse in
tremors.
Tarang saw brown eyes flicker dead as his detailing of harsh
memories registered; whiskey being carelessly poured down Arnav's throat as he recounted
their narrow escape to New York.
"We got married shortly after that, and Kina--"
"DADDY!"
The object of Tarang's musings came bounding towards him, cutting
their painful conversation short. Her hair was braided into two bouncing
pigtails, which looked surprisingly neat for Ms. Kinara, but could not hide the
tell-tale streaks of mud on her once pristinely white Converse.
"Daddy, Mama's asking if you've seen her pretty blue sneakers
cause her feets are getting boo boos." The ends of her lips fell in concern at
the thought of her pained mother, and despite how frigid Arnav had felt upon hearing
about Khushi's past troubles, a warmth touched his heart.
"Kinu, they're in her gym bag. See, under that table over
there?" Her father pointed to a large Adidas bag lying against the back wall. "Can
you be Mama's best little assistant and get them for her?"
At the thought of helping her mother, Kinara instantly
brightened and ran off to where the bag was placed.
"She's a wonderful kid," Arnav offered, chuckling as Kinara
emptied the bag's contents and found the sneakers in infectious excitement. She
skipped towards her mother, unsuccessfully hiding the sneakers behind her back
as she did so. Tarang joined in Arnav's laughter when Khushi thanked her
daughter profusely for the help, spinning her around as she did so. They were
precious.
"You know she's concerned for you?" Tarang turned to him, beckoning
the bartender for another drink.
"Who?"
"Kinara."
Thoroughly amused by Arnav's bewildered expression, Tarang tried
very hard to conceal his laughter. "She asked me the other day, why Arnav Uncle
spends all his time having dawai."
"Dawai?" he probed, further puzzled. Had Kinara seen
him with his diabetes medication?
Tarang motioned towards the rows of alcohol behind them, chuckling
as Arnav caught on and roared in peals of laughter.
"Dawai catered only to adults is something Khushi
came up with, actually. The excuse worked like magic on the girls. They know that
as people grow older, their medications stop tasting like bubblegum and
cherries."
"Absolute genius," Arnav chortled, wiping away the tears
from his eyes.
Perhaps it was because he had complimented his daughter,
perhaps it was because they had shared a drink and some laughter, perhaps it
was because he had finally noticed the thin limbs and dark eyes - but for the first time, Tarang Lal Kher looked
at Arnav Singh Raizada not with anger... but with pity. The man was shattered and
broken, but could not have what would make him whole.
"Arnav..." he drawled, surprising himself at the strange need he
felt to comfort the man.
"I hope you know that in a different reality, where you'd have
the sense to accept logic, Kinara could have been yours. Khushi could have been
yours. In fact, in a weird, perverse sort of way... I should be thanking you. I
have the entire world because you were too stupid to take it for yourself."
For the shortest moment, Arnav's eyes softened at the
thought. But he masked his vulnerability by sneering and looking away, tracing
the rim of his glass. There was nothing to gain by dwelling on those painful what-if's
and if-only's.
"Thank you, Kher. You're... you're a good man. I'm sorry I've
been such an insufferable ass."
"Forgiven" Tarang countered, waving his hand at the bygones.
"After all, if Khushi's forgiven you, then I definitely have no qualms in doing
so."
Arnav's finger froze mid-circle.
"Khushi did what?" he asked, knowing what he'd heard had
been too good to be true.
"Decided to forgive you. Thinks it's time we all move on. Didn't
she say anything to you?"
Bewildered, Arnav shook his head, watching numbly as Tarang
chuckled in disbelief and took another swig of his drink. "Of course she didn't.
Khushi Kumari Gupta and that unfathomable ego of hers"
"She forgave me? After everything I've done? How did I... How
did I ever even think that I deserved her?" Arnav whispered ashamedly,
more to himself than his companion.
"That makes the two of us, buddy. That makes the two of us. In
fact, let's have a toast--" Tarang raised his glass and motioned for a slightly stupefied
Arnav follow suit. "To Khushi Kumari Gupta, a woman too good to be true."
"To Khushi," Arnav quietly repeated. He brought the glass to
his lips and tilted back his head, biting back tears as the whiskey fanned burning
flames of guilt.
*****************
A pair of grey beady eyes watched a conversation transpire
between the two handsome men, glancing away only to take notes on a grimy
napkin or to toss peanuts into his mouth as he listened.
The fools, he chided.
Too caught up, too self-involved and too immersed in their
own miserable lives to realize what was happening around them. He had been
following this pathetic psychiatrist, Tarang Lal Kher, and his sl*t wife for
two and a half years now. After having finally tracked them down in Manhattan,
he had been directed to settle down in the city and keep the couple in his
constant line of vision. Someday, they would let a detail slip... something, anything, that
could be used to their advantage. And it seemed as though the efforts had finally paid
off.
His phone rang as the men toasted their drinks, and he
hastily moved to a more removed corner of the bar.
"Boss. I have something for you."
______________________
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE: P A W N
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