IPKKND FF: KHUSHI by Jalebi Jane Thread 2: EPISODE 052-082 - Page 25

Originally posted by: JalebiJane

My perspective is the opposite, Sister. Anjali IS putting others first.

She believes that her kind family may deprive themselves of pleasures (parties/excursions) so that she may not be exposed to the harsh scrutiny of the public. Anjali wants to ensure that her personal tragedy does not diminish normal life for her loved ones. Such as a grand party to celebrate the two Khushis' birthday.

Originally posted by: gurukhush

Hi Jalebi Jane,

I am forced by your indelible writing, (indelible as it stays with me- I excitedly wait like a young child, for your next episode to show in this space; mind you I approach late-middle/old age) to comment for the first time. I am an ardent but silent follower, otherwise.

This episode is a magical piece of prose you have written, along the way to a great story. And I specifically allude to the interaction between A and K, on the roof. Beatuful words of a total, shameless confession of love from the hubby of few words. Thank you for such a beautiful piece of art.

KHUSHI by Jalebi Jane (EPISODE 069)

PRUDENCE WILL ALWAYS HAVE ITS PLACE but in matters of the heart something valuable can be lost when one vacillates too long. This was Anjali Raizada's feeling: for the first time in her life, she sensed that she may risk more being cautious than if she decided to be reckless. This straight-forward man, Yash Malhotra, had stated in clear language that he wanted her. She also wanted him. That much was clear. But, thereafter it became muddy. On what terms would they be together? On what understanding would they proceed? He stood in front of her now, and though both the Khushis were present, her entire self was aware of him and him alone.

He asked his daughter, "Have you thanked everyone properly? Have you said your goodbyes?"

Little Khushi replied, "But, Daddy, I'm coming back." It was stated in that impatient tone that children used when they felt their parent was highly confused.

Yash looked at Anjali, and she quickly explained, "I told Khushi she is welcome to come back at any time, whether to spend the day or stay overnight. At your discretion, of course---"

Yash did not comment on Anjali's words, but instructed Little Khushi, "You're supposed to thank people after every visit. Go on." He nudged her towards Anjali.

It cannot be understated: Anjali felt her heart shatter when Little Khushi came to her with all the reluctance of a child not wishing to depart. She picked the girl up, kissed and embraced her, and managed by some unknown strength to keep tears at bay.

"See you soon, darling," came out in a soft strained voice.

"You promised you would dress me for the party!" Little Khushi reminded her.

"And, I will!" Anjali re-promised.

"And lipgloss---?" A further promise was extracted.

"And lipgloss!" Anjali was prepared to give the girl anything.

When Little Khushi went to kiss Khushi, Khushi laughed. "I'm coming with you in the car. So you can kiss me later. Come," Khushi said, taking the girl's hand. She led her towards the door, glanced back at Yash and said, "We'll wait at the car."

Anjali silently thanked Khushi for her perceptiveness. She couldn't let Yash leave without speaking to him. She may now not have opportunity to speak to him until the party. And even so, they may not have the chance to speak privately, being limited by their families' presence. And, after that, she would return to Delhi and he would remain in Lucknow. She had to speak now. This was the moment.

But, he spoke first---and with his words aborted her speech forever.

He said, "I know I said I would pick her up at two, but as I was coming here for Khush, I thought---and, in any case---you must have enough on your hands preparing for the arrival of your family tomorrow." He didn't allow her to respond. If he had, she would have said that she wanted to go with him and Little Khushi.

Wherever they were going, she wanted to go with them. That is what she would have said had he allowed it.

But he continued to speak. She heard him say that this morning he had enrolled his daughter at a neighbourhood creche. "It will be good for her to be with other children," he said. "My mother tells me that I treat her like a short adult not a proper child," he added with a humourless laugh. Had Anjali known Yash better, she would have known that there was a reason behind his excessive speech.

But, a woman---especially one with recent incisions---will see what she mostly fears. Anjali saw a man desperately and expediently removing himself (and his daughter) from her vicinity. She clutched the back of the armchair for support, and now wished he would be gone. Anjali realized that she wanted that Yash that was brazen, forward and impudent; not this impostor who was cold politeness and correct speech.

There was some grace though. And it was this: she had not exposed herself. She had been ready to risk everything, but he had not renewed his offer. Or more accurately, he had---by behaving in such a changed manner---retracted it. It was understood: Dr Yash Malhotra had given the matter further thought and decided she was too damaged, too complicated, too fragile to enjoy a dalliance with. He said he ought to go. He thanked her for her kindness to Little Khushi.

At the door, he stopped, turned and met her eyes. She saw something of the man she recognized, as he said, "Anjali, I find myself wishing that you were less virtuous or I more unscrupulous." He then left.

ARNAV SINGH RAIZADA WAS A MAN IN LOVE, and therefore to be pitied. He had absolutely no idea what he was doing. Laugh if you will, Sisters, but he actually believed that what a man needed from his woman was essentially what a woman needed from her man. But who could blame him for living under this illusion? He had never believed in love; hence, he had never prepared for that arena. When he visualized a man-in-love, he saw a caricature of a weak, insipid, mindless fool governed by a shrewish woman. He was not that; Khushi was not that. (Though sometimes she did exhibit shrewish tendencies.)

So, in essence, Arnav was on an unscripted journey and Khushi was his unwitting passenger.

"Where the hell are you?" he barked into the phone. It was his third such charming voice mail for his wife within a ten minute period. He then turned to the stunned nurse and said, "Page Mrs Raizada again. And this time page Dr Yash Malhotra, as well!"

"But, Sir, Dr Malhotra has left the hospital---"

What! Had she not asked him to pick her up at the hospital? How could she leave?!

He was already dialling Yash's phone. It connected instantly.

"Yash Malhotra."

"Arnav Singh Raizada. Tell Khushi to pick up her phone."

Yash---who for reasons of his own---was in an equally delightful frame of mind. "Tell her yourself!" Yash snarled back.

"Give her the phone," came Arnav's curt instruction, barely holding in check his rage. He was not accustomed to having his own anger thrown back at him.

"She's not with me."

"What do you mean? Where is she?"

"The three of us left her at the hospital half an hour ago. She said she was expecting you," Yash elaborated.

"I've been here for as long and there is no sign of her. She's not answering her phone," Arnav continued, clenching and unclenching his fist. He was no longer angry. He was now anxious.

"Have you had her paged?"

"Of course!"

"Let me speak to the nurse's station," Yash said.

Arnav handed the phone to the frightened woman in uniform. She spoke on the phone but her eyes remained on Arnav as though he was a wounded cheetah roaming the hospital wards. She returned the phone to him, and without a word she ran to the lavatories.

Arnav brought the phone to his ear, and said, "She's checking the ladies washroom." By way of half-apology, he added, "I didn't think of that."

Arnav did not hear Yash's response because what he saw next made him drop the phone. The nurse, now as white as her uniform, bolted out of the washroom, brushed past him, and paged the following: Emergency unit to nurses station ground floor stat. I repeat, Emergency unit to...

By Jalebi Jane

KHUSHI by Jalebi Jane (EPISODE 070)

**my favourite episode**

ARNAV SINGH RAIZADA had spent most of his adult life viewing matrimony with a caustic eye; it had been his entrenched belief that it was impossible for two people to sustain the devotion required to maintain a lifetime of mutual care and fulfillment. What he came to realize in that one afternoon at Lucknow City Hospital was that he had been wrong---so very wrong. The greatest challenge in married life was not maintaining devotion, but maintaining separation. When the team lifted Khushi's limp body onto the gurney and wheeled her down the hall, it was his lifeless body that they carried too.

He gave them one of his famous withering glares as they tried to keep him out from the room. But he didn't get in their way; he pressed himself flat against the wall, as they attempted to revive her.

Wake up! Wake up, dammit! Khushi, I command you to wake up now!

And she did.

She came too.

For once, his wife did as he told her without drama and debate. And when she took in a deep breath into her lungs, he too began to breathe. It was clear to him now that the greatest mistake in his life was dropping his guard and falling in love with this woman. This woman who took him to the heights of ecstasy and the pit of despair, every single day---sometimes twice or thrice a day. But it was done. It was complete. His heart and his mind and his body were irrevocably bound to her. To live a day without her was to dwell in a dark abyss. He gave up. He reconciled himself to seven long lifetimes with this certifiably crazy woman who had made him crazy in love.

Arnav propped her up against a pillow. "Khushi?" he asked, sweeping her hair away from her face, tucking the tormenting locks ungently behind her ears. His eyes examined her. He couldn't touch her enough. He took her hands, but was forced to release one hand as the nurse attached a glucose IV. He winced as it pricked her.

The nurse from the nurse's station---the one whom he had terrified!---returned his phone to him and said, "Dr Malhotra is on his way back to the hospital. He will be with you shortly."

Another nurse came to take blood. "Is that necessary?" Arnav demanded.

"The doctor on duty has requisitioned tests, Sir," she explained.

"No. We'll wait for Dr Malhotra," he said with finality. "For god's sake---let her recover!---she was lifeless ten minutes ago---" he was taking off on what promised to be a beautiful tirade, when he felt Khushi's cool hand on his face. With a small nod she conveyed that she was fine and that he had to calm down.

KHUSHI RESTED HER CHIN on her husband's shoulder, and said softly, "I long for a cup of tea."

That was all that was required. He shot up and wordlessly left the room. What he didn't see was that the moment he left, she presented her wrist to the nurse to take blood. "Hurry. Before he returns," she instructed.

The nurse worked quickly. When the nurse was leaving, Khushi requested, with an eye on the door, "Please---please, can you also test for pregnancy?"

"That's routinely done for married women," the nurse assured.

Arnav returned, followed by a ward boy bearing a tray with a cup of tea and a mug of coffee.

Mr and Mrs Raizada sat in silence and sipped their beverages. Khushi's eyes drank in the sight of her beautiful uneasy anxious husband. How blessed she was to love a man who returned her love. And how naive she had been to think that it was the most natural thing in the world to expect love to be reciprocated. Matrimony had always been part of her fantasy future; yet, she had believed that a lifetime of joy was readily available to any good girl who chose a nice boy. This is the more essential talk that girls on the eve of their wedding ought to receive. They should be told that happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance.* They could do everything right, but happiness may still elude them. Or they could do everything wrong---as she and Arnav had---yet love would pour from the sky and drench them to their bones.

He reached for her empty cup, and when she did not release it, his questioning eyes met hers. Though they were alone, she whispered in his ear, "I love you, Arnav."

"Khushi," was his reply.

At least he didn't say, 'I know.' That was his usual reply. She smiled and nuzzled his ear with her nose, and he drew her into his warmth, and placed multiple soft kisses all over her face.

YASH MALHOTRA ENTERED THE ROOM only to realize that the Raizadas were sharing a private moment. He began to turn away when Khushi stopped him.

"Yash?"

He turned back and approached. Arnav came to his feet and the two exchanged cool nods. Arnav said, "Can you sort out her release? I'm taking Khushi to a hospital in Delhi where we can get to the bottom of this."

"I assure you, Mr Raizada---" Yash's voice belied his irritation, "---this is as fine a facility as any I have worked at. Allow us to do what we can before you whisk her away for a second opinion. There is no need for alarm---"

"---No need for alarm?!" Arnav returned, his tone thick with incredulity. "Khushi faints with alarming frequency. Why does a healthy woman faint so often? That is my question, Doctor."

"It's a fair question," Yash held up his hand and replied. "But I have no reason to believe it's congenital. In Khushi's case, I believe it's situational. She has a tendency to overdo things. She feels things more deeply than she expresses." He focused his attention on Khushi, and asked, "Have you been under any particular stress?

Khushi reached for Arnav's hand and replied, "No."

Yash had been a physician long enough to know when a patient was lying. But he chose to ignore that for now. He continued, "When did you last eat?"

Arnav replied for her, "Breakfast."

Yash asked, "Did you feel faint when you woke up this morning?"

"Actually, yes. But I attributed it to hunger. Although when I sat down to breakfast my appetite was lost," she informed him.

"Where are you in your monthly cycle," he asked.

Khushi lowered her eyes and said softly, "A bit late."

Yash saw Arnav's eyes go to his wife, but she kept her gaze lowered.

"How late?" Yash asked.

"Four days."

A nurse interrupted to inform him that Mrs Raizada's test results were waiting on his desk. "Excuse me," he said, and went down the long corridor to enter his office.

Arnav Singh Raizada was right behind him. "What is it?" Arnav asked, not waiting for an invitation to enter.

If Yash had ever doubted whether Mr Raizada was the right life partner for Khushi, today had convinced him that this man opposite him would turn the world upside down for Khushi's slightest need.

Yash indicated the seat opposite. "Give me a moment," he said as his eyes noted all the familiar markers on the test report.

Arnav sat with all the impatience of a man who wanted to be elsewhere but knew he had best remain where he was.

When Yash looked up, Arnav repeated, "What is it?"

"Welcome to the joys of fatherhood, Mr Raizada."

*Adapted from Jane Austen's -Pride and Prejudice-

By Jalebi Jane

KHUSHI by Jalebi Jane (EPISODE 071)

"IS IT POSSIBLE?" the man in the chair opposite Dr Yash Malhotra asked, his words almost too faint to be heard.

Yash nodded, indicating the test results, "There is no ambiguity here, Mr Raizada. I can understand your surprise, but contraceptive failures are more common than---"

"---No!" Arnav shot out of his seat, and took a few steps towards the door but then returned back to the desk. "That's not what I mean." He ran a rough trembling hand through his hair, his eyes wide with disbelief. He looked Yash dead in the eye, leaned his hands on the desktop and asked again, "Is it possible? Is it possible that so much happiness could belong to one man? I have Khushi. And now---now, I am to have this!---I am to have this as well?! What the f**k is going on?"

It was the most sincere demonstration of rejoicing that Yash had witnessed to date. To call it male bonding would be overdoing it, but Yash felt something akin to warmth for this poor man struggling to take in his embarrassment of riches. Yash smiled, leaned back in his chair and said in his most solemn doctorly tone, "Yes. I'm afraid so. You better become accustomed to this much happiness."

There were few moments in a physician's career---especially one who practiced primarily in emergency surgical care---to deliver good news. Yash knew that he would never forget this day when he had the privilege of informing Arnav Singh Raizada that he was to be a father. It occurred to Yash that Arnav might orchestrate happiness for those he loved, but he had not as yet learnt to expect it for himself. It made him happy for that whole family. Yash knew enough of Anjali Raizada to know that this would make her exuberantly happy. Niece or nephew---that child would be welcomed by a beautiful, gentle, attentive Bua.

"Is that why she fainted?" Arnav was now asking, having recovered from his initial shock.

"Perhaps. Again, it may be a confluence of factors. For now, we should address her low red blood cell count," Yash elaborated, tapping the report with the tip of his pen. He dashed off a prescription, and handed it to Arnav. "I want to see her on iron supplements immediately. That prescription is doubled as your sister would benefit from the same. An iron-rich diet for both."

Arnav asked, "What else can we do?"

Yash said, "It may sound trite, but a happy woman makes for a happy pregnancy. Again, same advice for your sister."

Yash was not unaware that he was referencing Anjali more than was required. After all, he was not Anjali's physician. But he solaced himself by arguing that as Arnav was responsible for both women, Yash was simply helping him meet his duty to both. Yeah, tell yourself that if you want, his inner voice taunted him.

Arnav pocketed the prescription and said, "Will you discharge her now?"

Yash nodded and picked up the phone to inform the nurse-in-charge.

"Dr Malhotra?" Arnav said, just as he stepped out of the door. "Let's keep this news between us."

"For how long? I'm bound to inform my patients---"

"---I'll let you know." Arnav gave a quick nod and left before Yash could protest.

IN A MIXTURE OF ENGLISH, HINDI AND SPANISH, Little Khushi had informed her grandmother, Mrs Malhotra, that Big Khushi had taken ill and was at the hospital. The girl had come to this accurate conclusion because of what she had heard. Small ears are nothing more than small sponges. After dropping Bawji at the house, her own father was taking her to visit the creche which she would be soon attending daily. They were en route when she had heard her father take Arnav's frantic call. Yash had been forced to turn back, leave his daughter with his mother and immediately return to the hospital. Not one to keep such tasty news to herself, Mrs Malhotra had scurried over---with Little Khushi in tow as corroborating witness---to see Buaji and Garima. Whether Mrs Malhotra went to share her gripping news or to receive further juicy details was difficult to assess, Sisters.

So, while Khushi was waiting for her husband to return to the room, she picked up her phone to discover that there were three messages from Arnav and half a dozen from Buaji. Making the correct assumptions, Khushi dialled her family home to put everyone at ease.

"Ji ha, Buaji---we'll come," she was saying when Arnav returned. "Yes, I'll tell Di. No, you don't have to call her. I'll inform her. Theek hai. I'm putting the phone down."

She ended the call, removed the blanket and slipped off the bed. Arnav came to assist her. Straightening her saree, she asked, "Am I fine?"

Arnav scolded, "No. You're severely anemic."

Khushi dismissed his words, "Oh, I've been told that by doctors since I was twelve."

"Then isn't it high time you pay attention?" he admonished.

She noticed he had a small smile on his lips. "Why are you smiling?" she asked suspiciously. "I worry when you are happy. Our history shows that when you are happy, I usually suffer."

"True," he admitted. "You are going to suffer an iron-rich diet for the foreseeable future."

The idea of food reminded her how famished she was. "I'm starved," she told her husband. "Will you please feed me something? If you remember, you promised to take me to lunch."

"Come," he took her hand and led her out.

In the parking lot, they met Yash. He kissed her cheek and said, "Khush, I know these are wasted words, but take good care of yourself. Or, at least, allow your husband to take care of you."

"I will," she smiled. "Thank you for everything. See you this evening."

"This evening?" Yash turned back with a questioning look.

"Yes, Buaji and Amma are welcoming themselves back into the neighbourhood by throwing a dinner party this evening. We'll be there. So will you. You'll be informed when you get home," she added with a laugh.

"No doubt," he replied, and climbed into his car. Khushi could not read her friend's expression. She had sensed in the car this morning that the conversation between him and Anjali had left him in a vexatious mood. She wondered how Anjali had fared.

Arnav was helping her into the passenger seat. He was saying, "Khushi, we're not attending this party. Do I have to remind you that you lost consciousness for twenty minutes this morning?"

"We must go," she explained, as he buckled her in. "If I hadn't agreed, my family would have thought I was truly ill. Mrs Malhotra gave them the impression that I was on death's doorstep."

Her husband caught her face in his hands and said, "On one condition, then. After lunch, I'm taking you home to bed where you will spend no less than four hours."

"Yes, please," she said saucily.

"That's not what I meant, shameless hussy!" he laughed, shut the door and slipped into the driver's seat.

"I'll find someone else if you are no longer able to service my demands," she continued teasing him, sliding her hand possessively on his thigh.

"Oh, really?" he lifted an eyebrow.

Khushi replied with a smile, "consider yourself warned."

THE GUPTAS' IMPROMPTU DINNER PARTY brought joy to many quarters---but nobody was happier than Anjali Raizada. Her Bhabhi had told her that Little Khushi would be there; therefore, implying that Little Khushi's father would also be present. She felt that this was an opportunity to remedy the conversation from this morning. His final words had suggested---nay, implied strongly!---that he held back because of some concept of propriety. She had to tell him that she was a woman beyond that limited view.

But, how? How does one tell a man that she wants to be in his life on terms that may condemn her to the world, but liberate her to herself?

What gave her courage was a text she received from the gentleman in question just as she, Arnav and Khushi were piling into the car.

It read: Guptas' party? Attending?

She replied: Yes.

He: Would you prefer my absence?

She: I have no preference.

He: Ouch!

She: Rejection hurts.

He: I didn't reject you.

She: Oh?

He: I saved you.

She: From?

He: I'll see you tonight.

By Jalebi Jane

KHUSHI by Jalebi Jane (EPISODE 072)

EVERY WOMAN OUGHT TO---if she possibly can---cultivate in herself a disposition similar to that of Khushi Kumari Gupta Singh Raizada. Khushi was able to feel disappointment without drowning in it. Yes, for about forty minutes this morning, after the nurse had drawn a vial of blood from her arm, she had basked in the glorious notion that she was carrying Arnav's child. Between sips of hot tea, she had warmly indulged in what he would say, what he would do, how he would react when she told him. However, after learning that anemia was her body's sole gift, she had allowed a few soft tears when she lay down for a nap that afternoon, and then closed those hopes for another month---or two---or however long it took. All in all, no more than an hour of time had been expended on that business.

Now, if only her husband would bed her! He had kept himself away from her for---she counted on her finger tips---close to thirty hours. Beyond belief! To what should she account this serious negligence? Was this about that Angelica creature?

"What are you tallying up?" Her husband's sharp eyes had caught her.

She couldn't disclose the truth with her sister-in-law seated behind them, so she allowed herself a fib. "The number of presents I expect from you on my birthday tomorrow."

"You don't need presents; you have everything. You have me," he remarked. But he said it in a manner that was self-deprecating, unlike his usual arrogance. Showing that he was aware that no woman would term him a gift. His unexpected humour made the ladies laugh heartily. He joined them. Khushi thought she had never seen Arnav so at ease. There was something about him this evening---something that contained a mixture of excitement with contentment.

"Here comes your Nurse," Arnav remarked to his sister, as he deftly parked the car along the fence that bordered the newly rejuvenated garden of Gupta House.

Through the car window, Khushi saw the little girl come bounding down the path, open the garden gate and leap at Anjali who was barely out of the car. That Anjali wasn't knocked down by the human gale was a miracle.

"Careful, Khushi!" warned a voice from the dark. It was Yash, watching the entire reunion from the top of the stairs leading to the house.

Anjali was pulled along by Little Khushi, who was chattering about the overflowing gol gappe stall set up in the courtyard. Khushi watched them disappear up the path. Her lungs sighed as she observed the sheer perfection of Yash waiting to receive Anjali and Little Khushi. Here was completion.

"Why the sigh?" Arnav asked.

She smiled and said, "Kuch nahi." He gave her a skeptical look. "Nothing," she repeated. "I'm just feeling a bit moody."

He unlocked their seat belts, pressed her firmly against the back of her seat and caressed her breasts. His fingers dipped into her blouse, and found her. She sighed with pleasure at his touch, and shifted against him.

"Moody? I call this horny," he pronounced.

"Whose fault is that?" she accused.

"Entirely mine," he confessed.

He took her mouth, gently---his lips pressing against her. He mumbled something incoherent, and then parted her mouth with his tongue, deepening the kiss. Khushi rested back and allowed her husband to devour her, as his thumb played with her nipple. She felt his hand cup and draw her breast out, so it was bare to his eyes and touch. He left her mouth and suckled her, doing that thing he did with his tongue that made her inner body ache with longing. Someone somewhere moaned. She knew they were fast approaching that place from which they would not have the sense to withdraw. More of this and he would have her in the back seat of the car. More of this and she would enter the party with a disgracefully rumpled saree.

"Arnav," she whispered, giving him a push. "You can't---"

"---I assure you I can," he replied, guiding her hand to his body to prove he could. Made aware of his response, her mind left the domain of a firm not-now-not-here to a devilish why-not. But her mind yanked her back to sense. There were two dozen people gathered a few feet away. From her childhood home! She pulled her hand back.

But her husband was a business man, skilled at measuring need and timing action. He saw that one moment of weakness in her eye, and he went in for the kill. He made a suggestion. "Take me to your old bedroom. It's upstairs, isn't it?" Then, wooing her as though she was someone else's wife, he said, "Nothing will happen."

It was her turn to give him a skeptical eye.

"You have my word," he promised. "Just a small taste of you, Khushi," he begged. "No one will notice we're missing. You heard the Nurse. They're all eating gol gappes in the courtyard. Let me have my gol gappe upstairs."

THOUGH WE HAVE ACCEPTED, SISTERS, that Arnav Singh Raizada is a complete rogue, he was on this occasion a man of his word. Yes, he got her upstairs, had his small taste, satisfied the woman under his care, and extracted a promise from her that she would take care of him when they got home. As they walked back down the stairs to join the party, he whispered into Khushi's ear, "I have your scent on my face. It will drive me to distraction all evening."

She looked at him aghast. "Didn't you wash?"

He shook his head, and lifted his brow suggestively. "Every time our eyes meet this evening, you will know what I'm looking forward to." His hand cupped her buttock and he warned her, "don't make me wait past ten o'clock or there will be repercussions." He gave her a discreet spank to indicate the nature of those repercussions.

Khushi titillated by his intimate revelation, slipped out of his grip and taunted him, "I'm glad you insisted we go upstairs first. Now, I'm in no hurry to go home." She walked away to greet her family, tossing him a wicked smile over her shoulder.

THE GOL GAPPE STAND WAS A TRIUMPH. What better way to satisfy the nibble-y appetites of guests before dinner was served? And it promoted social exchange. Little groups of people gathered had plenty of chit-chat energy between puris. Anjali congratulated Buaji on her thinking as she helped herself to another small puri. In fact, she almost wished she had thought of the same for the birthday party. It was too late now, but she made a mental note for next year. Plus a jalebi stall. That would make her Bhabhi happy.

Little Khushi danced up to Anjali and opened her mouth wide. Words were not required: this was the universal language for pop another gol gappe in my mouth, please.' Anjali prepared one for the girl making sure to dip the puri into the bowl containing the mild pani. No sooner was she gone, the other Khushi came to receive one from Anjali's hands. She then helped Khushi build a plate of mild ones for Arnav.

"Where is Chotte?" Anjali asked.

Khushi indicated the far wall of the courtyard. Her brother was standing next to Yash Malhotra. The two stood side by side as though they had been in conversation, but they were not speaking now. Both men had their eyes trained in their direction. Anjali felt a surge of electricity enter her body. There was no mistaking that look in Yash's eyes. His eyes traced her form, lingering at all the correct points of interest along the journey. His naked message made her look away. She noticed that Khushi's cheeks were also flushed. No doubt her brother was taking liberties.

"Di, I'll just take these to Arnavji," Khushi excused herself.

When Khushi went to Arnav, Yash came to her. She stilled her inner trembling by reminding her body that though she was called Miss Raizada, she was not virginal. She had lived as a married woman, and known a man as a husband---for pity's sake, she was soon to be a mother. And though she avoided thinking of any aspect of her life with Shyam, she had not reached that level of delusion to convince herself that the child she carried was immaculately conceived. This was really the heart of what she had to convey to Dr Yash Malhotra. She was a grown woman; no young innocent. She would set and breach the boundaries of propriety as she saw fit---without reference to senseless wagging tongues!

"Senseless wagging tongues?" he repeated with a chuckle.

She wasn't aware that those last words had spilled from her lips. Or did he have Khushi's talent for mind-reading. "Gol gappe?" she offered. It was a clumsy change of topic brought on by his proximity. Like most of us, Sisters, she was only brave when the object of her admiration was at a distance.

He declined. She insisted. "Have one? Or---" she teased him, "---or will you feel obliged to have five?"

He leaned into her ear and said, "I would be happy to have you feed me gol gappes in any multiples of five, but what I most want right now is to speak with you privately. I'll wait for you in the back garden." He turned to leave and added, "don't be long and don't disappoint."

YASH MALHOTRA WAS NOT A MAN who prepared speeches; he had never had reason in his life to weigh his words. He either revealed the full truth or he kept the entire truth to himself. This was the extent of his political savvy.

She was immediately in front of him, and said, "If time was on our side, I would tell you that I am not accustomed to being spoken to that way. Don't do it again." She didn't wag a finger at him but she may as well have.

"What are you on about?" he asked.

She did a poor imitation of his gruff voice, "Don't be long and don't disappoint?"

He brushed her words aside. She was right. Time was not on their side. Two dozen tattlers from the most gossipy neighbourhood in Lucknow---his own esteemed mother included---were gathered not far away. It would be social suicide for Anjali Raizada to be caught in a darkened garden with him. Of course, his reputation would not be affected. Firstly, he was a man. This gender was forgiven everything. That was their cultural reality. Secondly, he had a child but had not produced evidence of a wife, living or dead. His reputation could not sink farther.

He indicated they sit on the large swing. She sat and waited, her hands folded modestly in her lap. A section of his mind noted how this quality about her excited him. She was fiery one moment and demure the next.

"As an aside, I want it said that you look amazing. In fact, I would have no objection if you decided to abolish sleeves from your saree blouses forever." Anjali gave a small smile. He continued, "Forgive me if I speak plainly. I don't know any other way. When I try the other way, I speak nonsense---as you had ample proof this morning."

Anjali met his eyes and said, "I prefer plain speech." She then dropped her gaze to add, "I find that quality in you---very attractive."

"Good," he felt somehow relieved though nothing had yet been established except his preference in saree blouses. "So, without prelude, I would like to state---state what I have already indicated in many ways---that I am drawn to you. Wait! That's not quite it."

Yash could not sit any longer, so he stood up---which gave a slight motion to the swing. He stepped away and then turned to face her, his hands on his hips. Her eyes were on him, but her face was expressionless. However he had to finish. Her response would not change what he felt, so it could not change what he must say. "I'm actually besotted with you, Anjali. When I have time and space for personal thought, you are what occupies my mind. What I did this morning---a mistake I'll never make again---is to decide what to do about us without speaking to you openly." He held up his hand and said, "and before you say there is no us---"

She interrupted him, "---there is an us. Yash."

He replied, "I'm glad we agree. I believe what I said last night. I am the man for you. That's not vanity. It's a belief that we can enhance life for each other in whatever way you feel comfortable. You will decide what those boundaries are and I will abide by them."

He had finished and there was nothing left for him to say. He anticipated she would require some time, a few days to think matters through.

Anjali lifted herself off the swing, stilling it with her hand. She took a step towards him.

"Will you marry me, Yash?"

By Jalebi Jane