KHUSHI by Jalebi Jane (EPISODE 035)
HER HUSBAND SLEPT. And like any woman besotted, Mrs Raizada took pleasure in watching him. His impossibly long eyelashes she had admired on previous occasions. His mouth she had inwardly praised long before she had ever kissed him. This evening's focus were the contours of his jawline. How articulate was his jawline? She could know his mood, read his anger from the set of his jaw alone. And so on and so on continued Khushi's loving regard---no different from any woman whose heart no longer belonged to herself. However, Khushi was Khushi. And her thoughts moved on to other topics rapidly. There was the matter of his lovemaking. She didn't need to consult with the Sisterhood to confirm that she was incredibly lucky to have such an imaginative lover. Something told her that this against-the-wall business was not happening in every bedroom in Delhi.
With a secret smile, she tucked clasped hands under her pillow and rolled to her side, reflecting on events of the day. Her mind returned to Mr Chopra---and his hefty file. It was surreal to hear oneself discussed in that cold manner. Nothing he said was false, but as he was indifferent to the full sentiment of the matter, nothing he said was entirely accurate either. Would Mr Chopra---who had nothing to motivate him except a large fee---even recognize condemning evidence against Shyam? After all, he would be looking for something glaring and may miss the subtle.
Khushi rolled over, now onto her back, and looked at the twinkling stars she had hung next to the bed. Only those who had lost at the hands of Shyam would see the subtle things. An idea rose in her mind, and once it lodged itself, she was helpless to forget it. She had to speak to Arnavji.
Now!
She spoke his name softly in his ear without result. She spoke it again, not so softly this time. He shifted, and turned away from the disturbance. Khushi had no choice; she poked him firmly in the kidneys.
He sat up, startled. "What's wrong!" burst from him.
She was on her side, balanced on an elbow. She shook her head and shrugged at the same time, as though to say, "there is something but..."
He fell back on the bed, rubbing his eyes with soft fists. And then lifted himself onto his elbow so they mirrored each other.
"Khushi, there are many imaginative ways to wake me up for more play," he said, reaching for her. "But shock treatment is the least productive. In fact, it's counter-productive."
At his words, Khushi realized what he was implying. She shook her head, vigorously, "nahin. That was not my---mera matlab---I had an idea and wanted to share it with you."
"Idea?" he repeated. He looked as though he might have groaned inwardly.
"I was thinking of the detective, Mr Chopra," she began to elaborate.
He reached for his phone, glanced at the time and turned back to her. "You're overtired. It was a difficult day. Don't think about it. Go to sleep now."
"No, listen to me," she protested, as he tried to draw her down to rest her head on his chest. "I can help the detective! When Shyam is out of the house tomorrow, I'll search his room for something incriminating."
There was a brief gap of quiet stillness---perhaps the same sort of stillness experienced before the guillotine fell---and had it been full daylight and not past midnight, Khushi would have realized with one look in Arnav's eyes that what was to follow would not be good.
Therefore, she was entirely unprepared to hear her husband say, "under no circumstances are you to involve yourself in this matter. Are we clear?"
"Why not? What harm---!"
"Harm?" He not only sat up, but came to his feet and was leaning over her.
"I just think---" she tried again.
"---I will manage Shyam. My way. I want you clear of him. I don't even like him under the same roof as you, but if he goes, Di goes and then I can't protect her. So for now, he remains here---but you will keep away from him and his room. You are not to be involved."
Khushi was piqued by Arnav's attitude. After all, she was one of Shyam's victims: had she no right to be involved?
She voiced her objections and Arnav replied, "it is because you were his victim that I want you to have nothing to do with the matter. Let me now take care of you."
She expressed her resignation by rolling to her side with her back to him. He slipped into bed. She heard him exhale, then felt his arms draw her into the curve of his warm body. Her head resting on his shoulder, his arm hooked around her waist, they slept.
WE MUST BE CLEAR ON THIS, SISTERS: Khushi had not the least intention of defying Arnav. Though she often bristled against her husband's dictatorial stance, she was not inclined to willfully go against him, and in this matter she accepted his word as sacrosanct. Nevertheless when on the very next morning, Devi Maiyya presented her with an opportunity too ripe to pass up---she didn't give a second thought to Arnav's instructions.
Anjali had asked Khushi to accompany her to a doctor's appointment. A routine scan. While en route, Anjali's telephone rang. It was Shyam. It seems that Anjali and Shyam's telephones had accidentally been exchanged at the breakfast table and the phone Anjali had in her possession now was actually Shyam's device. And he had hers. He advised---no, he insisted!---she turn the phone off so those trying to reach him would not disturb her. Anjali, rightly asked, that wouldn't it be better if she answered the phone and redirected callers to her number, in case the calls were urgent. No! Shyam said it was not necessary.
This piqued Khushi's curiosity. After all, a man in Shyam's profession could potentially receive many calls of an urgent nature---someone tossed in jail, someone sentenced to hang!---why would he not want his wife to answer his calls?
Did he have something to hide? Of course.
But Anjali was an obedient wife (so unlike Khushi!) and she switched off the phone and left it in the car when they went inside the medical clinic. Khushi did what anyone would do under the circumstances: when Anjali was called inside by the nurse, Khushi dashed out to the car, switched on the phone, and scrolled through Shyam's text messages and contact directory. She made quick notes of names, numbers and messages that evoked suspicion. It was by no means a thorough or scientific process; she went by instinct alone. When done, she ran back inside the clinic so when Anjali came out of the doctor's office, Khushi was sitting in the same chair as she had left her in, holding the same out-dated magazine. Still reading the same page, actually.
Anjali failed to notice the smile of triumph on her Bhabhi's lips.
IN THE LATE AFTERNOON, all the Raizada House ladies decided to go to the temple. Anjali informed them that there was a special pooja for wives to vouchsafe marital joy. And as Khushi was feeling especially happy after her morning's investigative work, she dressed with care in a new saree sent by Arnav, and chose some frilly bits from her new lingerie stash. Thoughts of Arnav kept her preoccupied during the pooja. Her instincts warned her that Arnav would not be pleased. Yet her instincts also comforted her that it would have been negligent to let such an opportunity pass. How to convince her husband of the same reasoning? This would require all her womanly skills and persuasive charms---and even these were often insufficient when handling a man like Arnav Singh Raizada. Let me just say, Sisters, that marital joy was not the only thing Khushi prayed for at the temple.
The ladies were late in returning, and when they entered Raizada House, Jaiprakash informed them that all the gentlemen were home. Khushi went upstairs immediately.
She found Arnav seated on the recliner reviewing a file and sipping coffee, having already changed into his home casuals. He looked up and gave her a lengthy appreciative perusal as she entered. Khushi saw his eyebrow lift with interest when she turned to close and then latch the door.
SHE CAME TO KNEEL AT HIS FEET between his legs and resting her palms on his thighs. She tilted her face up to silently demand his kiss. He fulfilled the demand, and Khushi soon found herself drawn onto his lap, his hand caressing her open back. His mouth explored hers leisurely, but when she realized that his fingers were undoing her saree blouse, she immediately broke the kiss.
"I'm expected in the kitchen," she explained, as she wriggled out of his lap, and made repairs to her dishevelled state.
Arnav watched her as she repleated her saree.
"Are you familiar with the term quickie'?" he asked with a smirk.
Their eyes met in the reflection in the long mirror, and Khushi replied, "just because I don't often speak English doesn't mean I don't understand it. I know what you are suggesting and the answer is 'no'."
"I'm beginning to suspect that you like saying 'no' so that I will overpower you. It excites you. Am I wrong?" His last words were sexually menacing and he came to his feet and approached her. She backed away. "Why else would you latch the door, Khushi? Any man would read that as a blatant invitation," he said, inching closer.
"I wanted to show you something. Something private," she explained, taking another step back.
"Show me, wife," he urged, his voice heavy with desire, his eyes touching her body sending wildfire rapidly through her pelvis.
She brushed past him, and slid open his side of the wardrobe. And from the hidden spot (which he had shown her) she extracted the key to the lock box. She unlocked the box, reached inside and removed the notes she had made this morning.
Agent Khushi extended the sheaf of papers to him and stated, "I made some notes from information found on Shyam's telephone."
By Jalebi Jane
Edited by JalebiJane - 7 years ago