KHUSHI by Jalebi Jane (EPISODE 022)
KHUSHI, IF YOU WANT TO SAY SOMETHING---then say that you love me.
Arnav Singh Raizada had done what no accomplished businessman would ever do: In an unguarded moment, he had exposed a high degree of interest in the transaction, which would inevitably result in his adversary taking undue advantage. And, of course, this aforementioned adversary---Khushi Kumari Gupta Singh Raizada---did not waste a moment to take advantage: She threw herself at him, almost toppling him to the ground.
Random strangers witnessed a madwoman pouncing on a surprised defenceless man in the parking lot. She was spouting nonsense. "Say it? Have I not said it in every possible way? Can you not see what is obvious? Are you blind? Do you need it in braille?!"
One witness, only a few feet away, noted that the madwoman appeared to be choking the man with her tight clasp around his neck. He thought it his duty as a citizen to intervene; to help this poor man who was being publicly assaulted. This was the problem with our nation, he said to himself---we watch and do nothing as innocent citizens are attacked. Inflamed by his patriotic fervour, he stepped in to offer support, when the very man he was trying to assist turned on him.
"This is a private matter between my wife and I. Don't interfere!"
ARNAV UNLACED KHUSHI'S ARMS from around his neck, shot a dark glare at curious spectators, and led Khushi away by the hand towards the cafe entrance.
She loved him!
He glanced at his Khushi. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. But when she lifted her eyes to his, the tears began to flow. It was that smiling-crying thing again.
"No tears, Khushi. No tears," he warned, dabbing ineffectually at her wet cheeks. She shook her head, agreeing to stop, but the tears continued to flow. She was using a corner of her dupatta to wipe her eyes. He searched his pockets for a handkerchief, but couldn't find one.
Khushi indicated the cafe restroom, and said, "I'll only be a moment. Aap jaaye. I'll find you."
Arnav chose a table, placed their order and then returned to the entrance to wait for Khushi. He was not prepared to have her out of his sight for a minute.
She loved him!
After all he had done to her---her heart had somehow remained open to him. She was absolutely right---he must be blind. But not so blind that he didn't spot Khushi when she emerged from the restroom. He lifted his hand to get her attention. She came to him. She had scrubbed her face clean. Her hair was pulled to the side. In that moment, she appeared to him so young and so innocent. He didn't deserve her. That was starkly clear. He led her to the table and instead of seating her opposite him, he guided her into the seat next to him. The memory of her words made him grin.
"Kya?" she asked with curiosity.
He explained, "you asked if I wanted it in braille."
She covered her face with her hands, embarrassed, "I'm pagal. I should be locked up."
He nodded solemnly. "Khushi, must you always make a scene?"
Uncovering her face, she gaped at him. "It was you---" she began to say, but he placed his finger on her lips to quiet her, before the discussion of who had made the scene became yet another scene. The waiter arrived at the opportune moment with their order.
"Chole bhature!" Khushi exclaimed with delight.
"It's our speciality, Madam. And, of course, samosas," the waiter said, indicating the plate of samosas.
Arnav watched Khushi prepare a plate for him. Her words echoed in his head.
Have I not said it in every possible way?
She had. In small and large ways. When she made certain he didn't consume sugar. When she hid from his family the number of times he hurt her. When---especially when---she accepted equal blame for their hasty wedding when he alone was responsible.
When she placed the plate in front of him, he said, "we'll share a plate. I enjoy being fed by my wife."
Khushi silently indicated all the people in the cafe. He shrugged to convey that it did not matter. She complied, and delicately tore off a piece of bhatura, scooped up some chole with it, and popped it into his waiting mouth. As he chewed, she accused, "you want me to feed you so your hands remain clean."
He replied, "of course. Wasn't it you who sang, kante se yeh hai khaate paraathein?"
Khushi smiled and prepared another mouthful for him, but he directed it to her mouth.
"Aathon pahar dil pe hai taalein'---is that right?" he asked, his tone more serious now.
She lifted her eyes to his and then looked away. But Arnav was in a selfish mood. On this night of disclosure, he wanted Khushi to disclose everything. He wanted to know everything this beautiful pagal woman felt about him.
"Is that right, Khushi?" he pressed, placing her hand on his heart. "You were listening to my heart earlier. What did it reveal?" he asked.
She placed a large chunk of samosa in his mouth---ostensibly to stop him from speaking further---and said, "what your heart says to me is between itself and I."
THE TROUBLE WITH HER HUSBAND'S HEART was that though it beat in sync with hers, it was as mute as its maalik. But Khushi was, as a rule, sanguine---and the one thing this evening had taught her had overwhelmed her heart. She had learnt that Arnav Singh Raizada desired her love. It was not the same as loving her, but it was for now enough. She had seen something in his eyes when he had asked her to say she loved him---she had seen a man who longed for unconditional unwavering unending love. She wanted to be that love---with all her heart, she wanted to be his everything.
Khushi's blissful state did not mean that she had forgotten about this evening's unpleasant intrusion of Shyam. Now was not the opportune time, but within a few days she would set Arnav down and tell him about Shyam's duplicity. She knew now that it was necessary---nay, imperative!---that she fully disclose that unpleasant history. Otherwise, Shyam would destroy it with his lurking and his insinuations.
"Khushi?" she heard Arnav call her from the bedroom. He sounded alarmed.
She popped her head through the parted doors. "Ji?"
"What are you doing by the pool?!" His tone was harsh.
"Stargazing," she replied, gesturing towards the bright moon and night sky.
He strode out, brushing past her, catching her shoulder that she almost fell back against the door. He didn't appear to notice. He was peering into the shadows by the pool. His posture, tense. She saw his right fist was clenched. She knew what that intimated: he was angry. With trepidation, she went to him, she reached out with both her hands and circled his fist. At that first touch, he flinched. She heard him draw a deep breath---and then after an extended moment, he turned to face her.
His brows were knit together into a deep frown and his jaw was rigid. And though his eyes met hers, Khushi sensed he was looking through her. Khushi's heart was beating out of her chest.
She was stunned by this abrupt change in mood. What was the matter? What happened in those ten minutes between their returning from the cafe---quite happy!---and when he went to the bathroom while she stepped out by the pool? She closed the gap between them and placed her hands on his chest. His heart was drumming wildly.
"Arnavji?"
Then, in an unanticipated move, her husband drew her to him and slanted his mouth across hers. Her head fell back from the surprise and the momentum. His lips urged her mouth open, invading her, deepening the kiss. She crumbled under the force of it. It woke the fire in her womb; a strange dark arousal of desire and fear. But the impact was such that she feared she would lose her breath. She tilted her head, finally breaking the kiss so that she could draw in some air. His mouth left hers and marked a path down her neck with tiny bites, as his hand climbed to cup her breast.
He was not gentle.
"Khushi, this is about you," he said, his other hand pressing her hips to him so she had no doubt as to his state.
Her breath hitched at the bluntness his words, the heat of her body spreading down her inner thighs. He pulled her back into their bedroom, stopping only to secure the doors and draw the curtains. Without a word of preparation, he caught the hem of her kurta and lifted it off in one swift pull. Her churidar immediately followed. His rough eagerness was intoxicating---but I would be reckless if I didn't tell you, Sisters, that our almost-virginal heroine was not a little afraid. He unclipped her bra and pulled her panties off---she had never seen this fierce light in his eyes. Fortunately, she had never seen this light in anybody's eyes.
Khushi felt her body flush as his eyes wandered over her. It took all her strength to not reach for the blanket. Arnav removed his clothing, but his eyes never left her. She saw the evidence of his desire and her bashfulness made her quickly avert her eyes.
"Look at me, Khushi," he demanded.
Khushi could not---but she knew in her intuitive female heart that he needed this from her. There was something about his demand that told her this was not about pleasure alone. Her eyes glid down his body, her breath catching at the sight of his male strength and vigour.
Arnav asked, "touch me?" He did ask this time; it was not a demand.
She did---tentatively. He sighed against her lips, sweeping her hair aside. Then he kissed her. Gently. Almost tenderly now. He guided her, encouraged her and just as she began to show some independent skill---he stopped her and drew her to the bed.
"Ready?" he whispered.
"Beyond ready," she replied in English, drawing him into her heart.
Jalebi Jane
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