IPKKND FF: KHUSHI by Jalebi Jane Thread 2: EPISODE 052-082 - Page 18

KHUSHI by Jalebi Jane (EPISODE 060)

PERFECTION SHOULD NOT HAVE COME SO SOON.* Because it left Khushi with every reason to doubt it. At breakfast she had committed to be a better wife; and by bedtime, he had announced he would be a better husband.

"What happened in Goa?" she asked with a trepidation she didn't herself understand.

Arnav looked into her eyes, and then averted his gaze. "Why are you asking about Goa? I'm talking about changing our entire life."

Khushi heard something of impatience in his tone. "Your decision to focus your efforts on expansion, to work less, to enjoy more, these are all reasons for rejoicing. Yet---"

"---Yet?" he asked. "I thought this decision would please you."

At this point, Arnav turned away from her and climbed out of bed. She immediately followed him to the window, where he stood looking out.

Clasping her arms around his waist, she forced him to look at her. "I am pleased when you are pleased. It's that simple. If you had announced you wanted to work twice as hard, I would support your endeavours. If you had said you wanted to tend to your plants all day, I would have also been happy."

He disentangled her from his arms, and moved away again. Had he not done so, Khushi would have had no reason to honour the creeping fingers of suspicion which had begun to torment her. Her knees demanded a chair, and so she sat down. He had again presented his back to her, but the tension in his body was palpable.

"Arnav?" Her tone was such that it asked him to turn around immediately.

He did. His eyes found hers.

"Whatever you are keeping from me cannot be worse than what I'm capable of imagining," she said, trying desperately to keep the gravity from her voice.

Her husband swallowed deeply, but said nothing.

"Have you discovered you have an incurable disease?" she asked.

"What?"

She shrugged. "Something is wrong and since you won't tell me, I will have to guess. You spoke of enjoying your success as though time is limited."

"I'm not dying, Khushi," he said with a sigh.

"Am I dying?" she asked. Very sincerely.

"No! Nobody's dying."

"Have you killed someone?"

"Khushi!"

"Do you want to kill someone?" she continued, gaining speed through her mental list.

"Yes," he sighed. "You first and myself immediately after." He moved to leave the room.

"Wait!" she stopped him. Her voice was remarkably steady considering what she was about to discover. "Before you run away, tell me what happened between you and that woman."

She rose to her feet as the words left her mouth. News of illness was best received sitting down; news of betrayal was best received standing up. This was another universal truth.

JUST AS A MAN CAN DO WRONG without scheming to do wrong, he can make his wife unhappy when he has been on the cusp of making her incandescently happy. The Arnav Singh Raizada of the past would have bristled at Khushi's before you run away; but this Arnav Singh Raizada was subdued by her you and that woman. He turned around to face his wife.

"Angelica," Khushi whispered. "That is her name, isn't it?"

He nodded. "Sit down," he said, extending his hand towards her, knowing she would not take it. But he was mistaken. It was not the first---and nor would it be the last time he was mistaken about Mrs Raizada.

Khushi accepted his hand, and allowed him to lead her to the edge of the bed. She sat. He kept to his feet.

He began to speak, but a stray thought interfered. He gave voice to it. "Why do you ask about her? You sense something is wrong, but what made you focus on her?"

"Will you just answer my question!" Her eyes blazed at him.

He fired back, "---Don't use that tone." His own tone was also strong, but he was ready to defend his position. "I am your husband. While I remain your husband, you will remember to speak to me with respect."

"And I'm your wife," she snapped back. Thus they established their roles. She continued, "I have had a weight pressing on my heart since I saw that photo this morning." Her fist pressed against her heart. "I was angry with myself for being insecure. Now I want to know whom I should really be angry with," she finished. She dropped her gaze to the floor and her arms wrapped around her waist.

He saw that her bosom heaved as she fought control for her breath. Her fear he understood---but for the sake of their future he had to modulate her now. It would help her keep perspective, should it become necessary in the coming days. He said, "Be angry with me. But not for what you are imagining." He began: "Yesterday evening---"

No, he had to go farther back.

Her eyes were now watching him, hope mingled with distress. "Angelica and I were in the same year at business school. That's how I know her. We've kept in touch---."

"---Were you lovers?" she interrupted.

"No! Never!" he corrected immediately. "Last night, after I texted you, I went out for dinner with her and her father while our teams finalized the documents. We signed the deal. We met the Press. I went for a walk." Arnav had been pacing, but at this point he met her eyes, and repeated. "I went for a walk on the beach. I missed you. Terribly. The decision I shared earlier was made last night on the beach. I returned to my villa. I made arrangements to fly to Lucknow this afternoon. To surprise you. And share my decision."

He saw that Khushi's face softened and her eyes filled with tears. "I went to bed. Sometime around three, I awoke. I heard shouting. I heard my name. Repeatedly. It was Angelica. She was in the pool. She was drunk. She was loud." Khushi's hand came up to cover her mouth, and her eyes widened. "I went to get her. She was drawing attention. I took her back to her room. I stayed with her until her assistant arrived. I then left and returned to my villa and went back to sleep."

If his words sounded practiced, Sisters, it was because they were. He had chosen his words for accuracy and brevity.

Khushi came to her feet, but he shook his head. "Stay seated, Khushi---I'm not done. It gets worse." She sat down again. He could hear his wife's thoughts: How can it possibly get worse?

"This afternoon, before I left Goa, Angelica called to tell me that her assistant had spotted a photographer outside her room last night."

"What does that mean?"

He shrugged. "It means that someone may have a photo of me carrying her to her room. Or leaving her room."

"It would look bad? Incriminating?"

"It could," he said "We were wet. I was shirtless. She was in her underwear." He sounded more composed than he felt.

Khushi lifted her eyes to his. As she held his gaze, a single tear drop slid down her cheek. She brushed it away with her fingertips.

THE FIRST EFFECTS WERE OVER. The blinding pain had numbed to a dull ache. She swallowed against the distaste that had formed in her throat. Now all that remained was to breathe and to endure. And, with each breath, it became easier.

Arnav stood. She remained seated on the edge of the bed. She believed what he told her. Implicitly. A small voice asked: did her love blind her to truth? But her heart would not allow that small speck of suspicion. She could not speak on what that woman's motives had been, but she knew in the marrow of her bones that Arnav had not been unfaithful, not in his mind and not with his body. She just knew it. She would have to spend days to convince herself he had been false, and take only a moment to know he was true. And if her folly was to be blind in love, then better that then endless insecurity. She was done with that.

"Do you trust her?" she asked him.

He frowned. "Angelica? In what sense?"

"Is she capable of creating a scene to seduce you, or at least put you in a compromising situation?"

"What would she gain from that?"

"You. Is she sitting somewhere hoping that I'm packing my bags at this very moment?" she asked. Khushi watched him closely and saw that he had given this some thought. And come to a conclusion.

"Morally she is capable of what you say. And worse," his voice was condemning. "But she is pragmatic. She would not risk the deal."

"What happens next?"

He replied, "Wait and watch. If there is a photo, it will appear soon. The news of the deal is fresh and the media would exploit the ripeness of the moment."

She climbed towards the centre of the bed and slipped under the duvet. When he didn't move, she looked at him expectantly.

"Are you going to ask me, Khushi?"

She knew what he was asking, but she deflected his question as non-essential. "Yes. Are you coming to bed, Mr Raizada?

He latched the door, flicked off the room lights and came to bed. He peeled off his clothes and then began to pull off hers. Tossing them carelessly to the floor.

*From Jane Austen's -Emma-

By Jalebi Jane

KHUSHI by Jalebi Jane (EPISODE 061)

SEIZED BY FOLLY AND MADNESS was not a turn of phrase that had ever been applied to Anjali Raizada. As she helped Little Khushi dress that morning, her thoughts kept returning to the girl's father. Oh! Let it just be said: Her thoughts kept returning to The Kiss. She bit her upper lip with a mixture of shame and slyness. Of course, she had kissed Shyam; Shyam had kissed her---and she had enjoyed it, as a prelude to further intimacy. But this kiss---Dr Yash Malhotra's kiss---had been radically comprehensive. An erotic education.

Was the real tragedy of her life that she had reached this age and condition in life and never experienced such a kiss?

"Let's call Daddy," Little Khushi announced with a prescience which startled Anjali.

"In Hindi, darling," Anjali urged, threading a chubby arm through a sleeve.

She had learnt from Yash that Mrs Malhotra despaired of the child's language skills. A natural consequence of having lived all her little life in America. In fact, Little Khushi spoke more Spanish than Hindi (thanks to her American nanny) and when told to repeat something in Hindi, she usually came up with a triumvirate of the three languages.

Little Khushi repeated her request and then---and only then!---Anjali dialled her phone. She heard it connect and pressed it immediately to the child's ear. As she led her out to the breakfast table set up by the pool, she listened to one end of the conversation, inferring from it what the father was saying. There was a lot of repetition, making it clear that like herself earlier, the father kept encouraging her to speak in Hindi. Anjali smiled, amused by the imperfect grammar and enunciation---which from a child's mouth was rather sweet. (It would be less endearing when she got older, recollecting NK's butchering of the language.)

She plopped Little Khushi into a chair, and heard her describe the party dress in minute detail to her father; the degree of detail that no man would endure, unless he was the devoted father of an almost-five year old. A cunning aspect of Anjali wondered if he, like herself, was connecting the dots from the party dress to the kiss. Of course not, she dismissed. She had learnt more than pleasure from the kiss last night---she had learnt that Dr Malhotra was experienced, bold and confident; not the sort of man who would be reliving a simple kiss.

And what of her? She had decided even before she went to bed last night that she would not punish herself for her one unguarded moment. She knew what that was about: her body had responded to a man's touch as if to remind her heart that she was still a whole woman. A woman capable of arousing some curiosity in a man. That was all.

"Di," her brother greeted her, dropping down into an empty chair opposite them.

She lifted her eyes to greet him, but was instantly aware of the tension in Arnav's eyes. "What's wrong?" she asked.

He didn't reply, but told the servant who was filling his glass with juice that he wanted someone sent into town for all the newspapers. He specified the business papers, national papers and the editions from the Capital.

"Nothing," he said. "I see your nurse is with you," he added, indicating Little Khushi with his eyes.

Anjali placed a finger across her lips and indicated in eye-speak that Yash was on the phone and would hear. Her brother gave a shrug to say, So?'

"How was Goa?' she asked, peeling a tangerine and arranging sections on Little Khushi's plate. "Next time you must take Bhabhi with you. She seemed disappointed---"

"---Disappointed?"

"Yes. Yesterday morning. She has never been to the ocean, did you know that?"

Her brother's eyes touched on her and said, "No, I didn't know that." His gaze moved beyond her and rested on the still water of the pool. Something felt wrong. Had they fought already? Within ten hours! Honestly, those two!

Little Khushi handed her the phone and said, "Daddy wants you."

All interest in the never-ending feud between Mr and Mrs Raizada dissipated at the child's words. She panicked slightly. Foolishly, she had thought she would never see nor speak to Dr Yash Malhotra ever again. Foolish indeed when his daughter was a guest at Sheesh Mahal. Compose yourself! He is just a man, not Ravana.

"Good morning, Dr Malhotra," she said. It was best to remain formal from here on.

"Good morning."

"About last night---er, I mean, tonight. Tonight. What time will you be picking up Khushi?"

She saw that Little Khushi and Arnav were both listening attentively to her conversation.

Yash asked, after a significant pause, "I hope she hasn't been difficult."

"No! Not at all. The opposite. I just thought the one-night clause was non-negotiable."

"Everything is negotiable, Miss Raizada."

Was he flirting with her? How dare he!

"Khushi may stay as long as you are comfortable." She knew her tone was a bit strong. So she softened it. More for Arnav's benefit than Yash's. "But I know you miss her, so please come and see her this evening." In a burst of generosity, she added, "Please join us for dinner. My brother is here."

The brother gave a look which did not resemble joy.

"So we'll be well-chaperoned," the other man said.

"What?" The audacity! Does he think he has made a conquest?

"Will six be too early?"

"Six is fine."

"Until then---"

"Listen. Would you bring some more clothes for Khushi? And her elephant stuffie. She was asking for it."

"I will. Thank you for taking such good care of her."

"It's nothing."

"Wrong. To care for a child is everything."

TO REMOVE TRUST when the first difficulty arose was not the way of it, Khushi Singh Raizada reminded herself as her fingers scissored the pleats of the saree her husband had left on their bed. What was her love worth if she withdrew it when it became inconvenient? That such thoughts did rise in Khushi did her credit---for to consciously trust, to deliberately stand up for her husband was the woman she wanted to be. It was not mindless faith, but an awakened decision to support him until he told her or it was proven otherwise.

Had Arnav been daft to rescue a half-naked woman from a resort pool at three in the morning? No doubt! Would she have done the same? Absolutely! Now the consequences would have to be borne. She dusted some peach blush on her cheeks to compensate for a sleepless night, and descended the stairs to join the brother and sister for breakfast.

"Good morning, Di" she greeted, her smile genuine. She gave Little Khushi a noisy kiss, and at the same time stole a piece of fruit off her plate. The girl giggled, and waved a scolding finger at her. Coming around the table, she rested her hands briefly on Arnav's shoulders as she took a seat next to his. He looked tired. She brushed away that wayward lock of hair that always fell across his forehead. Arnav instructed the servant to serve Khushi's hot breakfast from the kitchen.

"Beautiful saree, Bhabhi," Anjali complimented.

Khushi winked at Anjali. "It's from an obscure little fashion house that you won't have heard of. AR something or the other."

Her husband's hand came to rest on the nape of her neck and corrected her, "it's actually not. I got it in Goa."

Khushi thanked him with her smile. "I like it."

"I have a new dress!" Little Khushi pointed out to everyone at the table.

Anjali agreed, "a very pretty new dress. Which reminds me, Bhabhi---have you given thought to what you are wearing on Saturday? Khushi will be in blue. Why don't you also wear blue? Chotte, will you call the office and order something?" Styling arrangements for Khushi were being made at a dizzying speed between brother and sister.

"No, don't." Khushi halted them. "I've brought something with me from home. It's not blue, nor is it grand, but I'll wear it."

Anjali protested, expressing that it was her first Lucknow party as a married woman. Her old friends from the neighbourhood would be here. They would be disappointed if Khushi was not every bit the new bride. "We'll decorate the tents with blue and green ribbons," Anjali finished, directing this last bit to Little Khushi. The girl clapped her hands.

Before Anjali summoned workmen to paint the Sheesh Mahal blue, Khushi thought it best to thwart her. She had decided this in the shower this morning: until they were out from under this cloud, there would be nothing to draw attention to the Raizadas.

"Di, can we reduce the scale of the party?" she asked. She was conscious that her husband had turned to look at her. He had guessed the reason behind her request. She indicated Little Khushi. "Let's have all the neighbourhood children come in the afternoon, and we'll throw them a proper party. And in the evening, we'll have a quiet dinner with the family and the Malhotras. I really would prefer that."

"Bilkul nahi!" Anjali announced. "I know why you are doing this---and I won't allow it." Both Khushi and Arnav turned immediately to look at Anjali with widened eyes. "What?" Anjali asked, taken aback by their matching reactions.

Khushi and Arnav exchanged meaningful looks. Arnav asked, "What do you mean, Di?"

"You think I'll feel awkward with people asking questions and speculating about me." Anjali lifted her chin and continued, "Please believe me when I say that I am not the least concerned. I aspire to be like you, Chotte---" she added, looking across the table, eyes filled with great warmth for her brother. "I am resolved to live my life without reference to what the world will say. Judgement from senseless wagging tongues. Ha! I almost welcome it." She smiled saucily at the two opposite her and said, "I look forward to being thought notorious."

"Notorious," Little Khushi repeated, and asked if that was Hindi.

Anjali shook her head and laughed, "that's English and that is what I am. Notorious."

Little Khushi repeated the word several times. Not an easy word for a child to enunciate.

Khushi looked at Arnav, who wore a small smile. He said, "my Di? Notorious? This should be interesting."

Khushi took a sip of tea hiding a secret smile. Mr Raizada may not find it so interesting when he discovers whom his sister intended to practice her new skills upon. But Khushi was proud of Anjali. Placing her hand on Arnav's thigh, she said, "I applaud you, Di, but that was not my reason. I do really prefer an intimate family party."

Arnav entwined his fingers through hers and brought her hand to rest on the tabletop in full view. "You enjoy parties, Khushi---and you know that nothing satisfies Di more than planning an outrageously lavish event."

"But---" she indicated more with her eyes.

He repeated Anjali's words. "Senseless wagging tongues." He then rose to his feet, dropped a kiss on the top of her head, and said, "Your birthday. Your decision."

"Stop!" Little Khushi demanded, catching his attention as he came around the table.

"What is it, Nurse Malhotra?" He looked at the girl, dubiously.

She pointed to the top of her head. Anjali and Khushi laughed. Arnav obliged Little Khushi and kissed her head. And then he pointed to his own head. Little Khushi kissed his head, and then giggled shyly.

"Two girls named Khushi. You could do worse, Chotte," his sister teased.

He walked away smiling. Khushi sighed, recalling what he had said last night in the mirror room.

"Party on?" Anjali asked Khushi, joining her hands to beg. Little Khushi mimicked her.

"Party on!" Khushi said.

KHUSHI WENT TO FIND ARNAV. He had set up a makeshift office in the TV lounge. She noticed the mountain of open newspapers on the coffee table, and the TV muted to the business network. He was seated at a small desk, working on his laptop, with the bluetooth attached to his ear. When he saw her enter, he said, "I'll call you back, Aman."

He swivelled around in the chair, spread his legs, so she entered the space between, and sat on his thigh.

"Anything?" She indicated the newspapers.

He shook his head. "Are you off to the house?" When she indicated that she was, he said, "I'll take you."

"No, the driver's waiting. And I'll feel better knowing you are here monitoring things."

He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. "I hate that I've caused you to worry."

"I hope you don't mind, but I hate you." She condemned him with a smile.

"How inconvenient for you. Because I love you."

By Jalebi Jane

KHUSHI by Jalebi Jane (EPISODE 062)

THE TRAGEDY OF ARNAV SINGH RAIZADA'S LIFE was that he won every game he played. Had he tasted defeat more often, he would have better understood what risks he took. Especially when he risked the happiness of a woman so aptly named Khushi. Even before he left Goa airport, Arnav had set into motion the resolution of the Angelica Incident in such a manner that would bring the least distress to his wife. Had Khushi not perceived a problem last night, the incident would have been buried without confiding in her.

Yes, I agree, Arnav's monocratic approach to matrimony was unsound, but who would explain this to a man for whom love and shield were interchangeable verbs?

By midday, Arnav's prime agent, the indomitable Mr Chopra, had tracked down the photographer in question and with enough money and menacing diffused the situation to Arnav's satisfaction. Mr Chopra was now en route to Lucknow to deliver the evidence and documents. This was unfolding exactly as Arnav had anticipated.

However, there was a twist in this kahaani.

It was this: Khushi had unknowingly shown Arnav something that he would have otherwise missed. Something to his business advantage. However, in order to leverage it, Arnav risked revealing something he had kept from Khushi. It was insignificant to him, but knowing it would be significant to her was the reason he had not spoken of it last night.

But this round was won, and he wanted to celebrate his sweet victory with his sweet one. So he went to pick her up from the Guptas' home soon after lunch.

"Buaji, may I take Khushi," he asked the woman who had once threatened him, but now adored him. Few women could say no to their son-in-law, but for the Gupta ladies it was nigh impossible. He had become the son they never had. Even Khushi did not know the full extent of how much Arnav did for her family, because his many timely gifts were presented in such a way that the bestower remained invisible and the recipient's dignity was maintained.

Arnav immediately saw that his sudden arrival distressed Khushi. Understandably. She assumed that the damning photos had appeared in the press; that there was a crisis and that is why he had come to fetch her without warning. She went to him instantly and asked with her eyes.

He shook his head, and said, "It's been handled. There is no longer anything to worry about."

She sighed with heavy relief, and relaxed against him. "I thought perhaps something had come up," she said.

"Something has," he replied, discreetly-but-strongly pressing himself against her hip.

She made a sound that resembled a half-gulp-half-choke. This was an unfair position to put a woman in, especially with her family only a few feet away. She walked away, her skin aglow, tossing him a stern look of reproach over her shoulder.

"Take her, take her," Buaji said, happy to toss her niece into the lion's den. "The servants you sent are doing all the work; there is nothing for her to do but get in the way here. Take her home and make her useful there."

ARNAV DID PRECISELY AS BUAJI ADVISED. He took her home; he made full use of her. From the car, he whisked her directly upstairs to their bedroom.

Khushi protested, "Di?"

"Di has taken Nurse to the cinema for a matinee. We are alone." He had removed her first objection.

"The servants?"

"Would you like me to dismiss the lot?" he asked as he pulled her up the staircase.

"Have you had lunch?" She pursued an alternate line of questioning.

"Yes," he replied, entering the bedroom. He closed and latched the door. Then turned to face her. "Welcome to our new lifestyle, Khushi," he announced, and then added with a rakish leer, "get accustomed to being perpetually sore."

His wife gasped, but he saw that she was not unaffected by his words. She placed her purse on the chair and met his eyes, where he saw a brazen fire igniting. Taking slow steps backwards towards the bed, she replied in a teasing way, "you don't think you are overestimating yourself?"

Arnav's aggressive male mind delighted in her taunt. His body was already responding to the challenge. He took a step forward for each step she took back, never taking his eyes off her. "Tum seh nahi paogi, Khushi, if I went at you as often and as hard as I want to." His tone was deadly serious.

Her breath hitched. Then her gaze lowered to where his hands unbuttoned his shirt.

He had not yet touched her, but continued to infiltrate her body with his words. "I know something about you. I know you enjoy some pain with your pleasure. Do you deny it?" he continued. Here she looked away completely, her bosom rising tremulously with each breath. A lock of hair fell across her cheek and he gently tucked it behind her ear. "What do you need this afternoon, Khushi?" He leaned into her ear, and asked, "Gentle?" Her eyes lifted to meet his, her teeth biting into her lower lip. "Or---?"

Arnav read her reply. It seemed that Mr and Mrs Raizada did agree on one thing. They both knew that deep experience was never tranquil.

"CHOTTE HAVE YOU SEEN BHABHI? Is she back?" Anjali asked her brother as he entered the great hall.

"I have seen her. She's having a shower. She'll be down shortly," he said. He sat down on the sofa. "Your Guest is late," he stated.

"My Guest?" she protested, and would have gone on, but realized it was best to be silent on this matter. "Why are you sitting down? You do know that you have a visitor?"

Arnav looked up. "Who?"

"A Mr Chopra. Who is he?"

Without replying her question, he asked one in return. "Where is he?"

"TV lounge."

Arnav marched out of the room.

Anjali turned away from the door to check her reflection in the large mirror. Very few people realize how long it takes to dress when one wishes to convey that one hasn't taken pains with one's appearance.

"Immaculate. As always." The voice was Yash Malhotra's. Their eyes met in the mirror.

She turned around. "You're late," she stated, without realizing that she was echoing her brother. Once she realized it, she was sure she coloured. Compose yourself!

"I've kept you waiting. I'm sorry," he said, silkily. He stepped farther into the room.

She remained where she was. "No. Not at all. I wasn't waiting. I was just---" Anjali indicated the empty room with her hand. "Bhabhi is getting ready. Chotte has a visitor. Little Khushi is in the kitchen."

"You've put my daughter to work as a scullery maid?" he laughed. "That explains why she prefers it here with you. At home, we attempt to entertain and amuse her; here she has to do hard labour to earn her bread."

She couldn't help laughing at his amusing remarks. "She is making---well, she has a surprise for you. I won't spoil it. She won't be long."

"I hope she is. I wanted to find you alone." Anjali wasn't aware that she took a step backwards as he stepped forward. "Do we discuss the kiss, Anjali---or do we pretend it didn't happen?"

By Jalebi Jane

KHUSHI by Jalebi Jane (EPISODE 063)

IF A WOMAN IS ATTRACTED TO A MAN and does not endeavour to conceal it, he will definitely discover her partiality and ultimately use it to his advantage. Knowing this, Anjali Raizada had decided to make concealment her plan of action; proving yet again that all genetic gifts of imagination had been inherited by her brother. The Woman of Notoriety had fled; The Mistress of Concealment had returned.

She began, "Dr Malhotra, I owe you an apology---"

"---Yes, you owe me an apology. For being so formal. I thought we had progressed to first names?"

Determined to adhere to her prepared speech, she ignored his interruption, and soldiered on. "I apologize for my actions yesterday. My moods are unstable lately causing me to behave in unpredictable ways. I assure you it will not---that is, it will never happen again." Anjali came to the end of her fine monologue, pursed her lips and prepared herself for his response.

She saw in his eyes a twinkle of amusement rather than the called-for seriousness. "Just so I am clear---are you apologizing for responding to my kiss?" he asked, with a small smile hovering on his lips.

Well, when he put it like that---Anjali felt more foolish than ever. Her statement had seemed so clear when she had rehearsed her words earlier. She tried again. "I'm saying that it would not have happened if I was more myself."

"Then, Anjali," he said, his voice impacting her as though he had touched her, "I hope you are never yourself. Or---"

"Or?" she repeated cautiously, as he came nearer.

"Or---is it possible that until last night you never knew yourself?"

There was no longer any amusement in his eyes. He was dead serious and she---well, Sisters, she was seriously dead. It is impossible to articulate what sensations flooded Anjali's being. Imagine something between agitation and annihilation. Rules of conversation demanded that it was her turn to speak. But she could only look into his eyes. His gaze never wavered.

It was at this interesting moment that his daughter tore into the room.

"Daddy!" she shrieked. She leaped at him like a fearless acrobat, knowing her safety net would be there.

"Hey, Little Monkey!" he greeted her, as he swung her up in his arms.

Anjali had never been more grateful for interruption. She stepped away to allow the father-daughter reunion. Little Khushi was filling him in on everything she had done and everywhere she had been since their breakfast conversation. He listened attentively, but at intervals Anjali felt Yash's eyes return to her. As though to say, we are not yet done.'

MR CHOPRA, I AM NOT INTERESTED IN PEOPLE, I am only interested in motive," said Arnav to the man standing opposite him. "What did the photographer indicate about Angelica's motive?"

"He felt it was vengeance, Mr Raizada. Vengeance." Mr Chopra revealed all this with the dramatic delivery of Shakespearean actor.

Arnav's hands came to rest strongly on the table.

Vengeance?

Vengeance implied injury. How had Arnav injured Angelica? Hadn't his timely actions prevented Angel Refrigeration from being dismantled into subsidiaries and sold to multiple parties? She bloody well should be grateful to him! Unless--- Unless, it was personal. Had he injured her female pride when he rebuffed her sexual invitation? But that seemed unlikely. He knew Angelica. He knew she was chiefly driven by money. She would not remedy a personal hurt by damaging her own pocket. He mentally shook his head. The lacuna was glaring. He was missing something essential.

Just as he had missed the obvious until Khushi had asked him, is she capable of creating a scene to put you in a compromising situation?' Until then it had not occurred to him that Angelica may have staged the pool incident. But Khushi's question had caused him to contact Mr Chopra this morning to instruct him to not only buy the photographs but ascertain whether Angelica had hired the photographer. Mr Chopra had established that she had---and also told him to frame the shots in such a way that the two would appear like lovers. Arnav suspected that the photographer had been hired to capture him and Angelica in bed, but because he had rejected her overture, she had been forced to create the pool incident.

"There is something else," Mr Chopra said.

Arnav twisted to face him. "What?"

"The target had no intention of going to the media with the photographs."

So Angelica wanted the photographs to discredit him personally---but not publicly. They would have been leverage. But to what end? The germane question still remained: why would she do this to the man who kept her family business from dismantling? Arnav didn't accept what Khushi believed---that Angelica wanted him. There had never been a hint of that between them all these years. In fact, when he said no, thank you.' She had said, fair enough' and gone away.

"Forget it!" he said, mostly to himself. Mr Chopra's investigation had confirmed that Angelica had played a trick. Arnav didn't need to know the reasons and intricacies of that woman's mind to now benefit from her grave error. He had decided he would confront Angelica, threaten to walk away from the deal unless she sold the entire company to him. That, after all, had been his initial plan---to buy out the company. But Angelica's father, for sentimental reasons, had insisted the company remain intact, so Arnav had agreed to enter as a minority owner injecting much-needed cash. Through a twist of fate, he would now end up buying the entire company anyway. The father would be saddened but that was not Arnav's concern.

However, there did remain one significant concern. The photographer had already supplied Angelica with a set of photos. There was a chance that when Arnav presented his ultimatum, Angelica may react badly. She may release the photos to the media. She may make false allegations. He would then have to prepare Khushi. Show her the disturbing photographs. Tell her about Angelica's failed overture. He knew Khushi would brave the media storm by his side. But he also knew that her valiant heart would suffer silently. He couldn't allow that. Perhaps it was best to walk away and let Angel Refrigeration be dismantled and sold.

He announced to Mr Chopra, "We're done."

Mr Chopra shut his briefcase with finality. Arnav asked, "Are you returning to Delhi tonight?"

"No," he replied. "I have some leads to follow here in Lucknow on that other matter." He was referring to the Yash Malhotra investigation.

"I want a briefing on that before the end of the week," Arnav said. Mr Chopra nodded. Arnav added, "Let the house staff show you to the kitchen and guest quarters. Stay the night. Make yourself comfortable."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Mr Chopra? Aap? Namasteji."

Arnav heard Khushi's voice. He turned around to find her at the entrance to the lounge greeting the detective. He quickly put the documents and photographs out of sight while the two exchanged cordial pleasantries. When Mr Chopra left, she entered the room.

"Is he still gathering evidence for Shyam's trial?" she asked.

Arnav did not reply. Instead he leaned on the edge of the desk, his arms crossing his chest, and gave her a slow sweeping survey. "I wonder if Dr Malhotra will appreciate how many hours of personal grooming the Raizada women have undergone this evening to receive him as a dinner guest. I thought Di had gone a bit overboard---but, now I see you have surpassed her."

She ignored his criticism and posed provocatively for him. "I have not yet seen Di, but I know I look spectacular."

"Yes, spectacularly bigheaded," he smirked.

She continued, nose tilted to ceiling for effect, "Perhaps you might have seen my picture in a big-name fashion house calendar last year. I wore a red saree. I looked incredibly hot!" The two last words were spoken in English.

"I saw the photo. It was quite---forgettable," Arnav replied, taking his conceited wife in his arms.

NURSE MALHOTRA POINTED OUT to everyone that there were five people around the dining table, five plates, five chairs---and reminded them that she would soon be five years old. Not that there was any danger of anyone having forgotten about her birthday.

"Yash, you've passed your obsession with the law of fives to your daughter!" Khushi exclaimed. Anjali asked what she meant, and Khushi explained how for Yash everything meaningful in the universe could be grouped in fives, including thought.

"Interesting," Arnav said, in a tone that suggested it was anything but.

Khushi placed her hand on his thigh and squeezed harder than was considered a loving gesture. Arnav removed her hand, and brought it to his mouth for a kiss.

"Give us an example," Anjali asked Yash.

"The human tongue can identify five tastes," Yash said.

"Five fingers, Daddy!" Little Khushi added, waving her hand.

"That's right," he said to her. "Now I want to see you eat five spoonfuls of rice." As he fed his daughter, he gave numerous other examples from science and mathematics.

"But how does knowing this impact your life?" asked the Businessman.

"It gives a chaotic universe some order," Yash replied. "I'm sure the pattern of five can also be seen in your work." Yash thought for a moment and pointed out, "there are five letters in Angel. They operate five subsidiaries. Their share price went up fifty points---"

"You follow business news?" Arnav asked, his voice revealing his surprise.

"I'm interested in many things," Yash replied.

Khushi noted that Anjali meet Yash's eyes as he said this.

"Daddy, more rice," Little Khushi requested.

"In Hindi, darling."

"In Hindi, love."

Both Yash and Anjali corrected Little Khushi simultaneously. Khushi saw their eyes meet, this time both appeared a bit taken aback.

Arnav looked at Khushi as if to say, what-the!

Khushi could only smile inwardly at the inevitability. In order to distract her husband from what was beginning to cause a frown to appear on his brow, she said, "The newspaper article mentioned that Angel Refrigeration has been operating for fifty years in the same family. Is that true?"

"Yes, the father won't allow it to be broken up and sold to various competitors. Which is why he asked me to invest," her husband explained, his eyes on the couple opposite them.

"Although, I suspect the daughter would prefer it be sold to one or several rich buyers," Khushi said, casually.

Suddenly she felt all of Arnav's attention on her. "What?" he asked.

Khushi wondered at his strong reaction. She clarified, "Maybe she is the sort that wants her inheritance money now, rather than struggle year after year with uncertainty."

Arnav had now twisted in his seat and reached for her shoulders. "Khushi---! Do you know what you are saying?"

"What's wrong with what I'm saying?" Khushi asked. Expanding, "I'm saying that she may resent your helping hand and would prefer you go away so she can sell the company outright. Even though that would be against her father's wishes."

"You are brilliant!" He picked her off the chair and planted her with a kiss. Yash and Anjali could only look on in bewilderment. Little Khushi clapped with joy.

By Jalebi Jane