IPKKND FF: KHUSHI by Jalebi Jane Thread 2: EPISODE 052-082 - Page 37

KHUSHI by Jalebi Jane (EPISODE 078)

ARNAV CAUGHT HER CHIN between his thumb and finger and forced her to meet his eyes. "You know what I want. Don't you?"

She made a small nod, lowering her eyes.

Again, he lifted her chin until she had to meet his eyes. "And?"

Khushi thought for a moment. How to reply? There was always that fear within her that she would appear too keen. But he had assured her that he welcomed the fullness of her appetite---so---

"Well, I was raised to believe," she began in a half-teasing tone, "that if one contracted a debt, one should pay it---at first opportunity."

"I admire the way you were raised," he replied, the smirk barely contained on his lips, threatening to break into a wide smile. "But, Khushi," he said, in a low private voice, his hands now cradling her face and bringing it close to his, the movements and steps of the dance forgotten, "only if you are ready. I won't find any pleasure in an activity that makes you uncomfortable."

"DOES DANCING MAKE YOU uncomfortable, Anjali," Yash asked. She had once again declined his invitation to dance. "Or is it my company which makes you uncomfortable?" His direct and plain speaking---which last night she had declared attractive---disturbed her immeasurably tonight.

She hid behind her insecurity. "I have a bad leg. Don't pretend you haven't noticed it."

"I have no need to pretend. I am ready to admit openly that I watch you closely. I know every aspect of your physicality," he replied, turning her statement to his advantage. "But this is a slow dance. The steps will be to your pace. Unless, of course, you are refusing because you find me a poor dancer, and fear that my heels will bite your ankles to shreds."

His relentless charm could no longer be resisted. Anjali allowed a smile, and said, "Don't fish. You know very well what a fine dancer you are. I owe you thanks for making this party such a success; I saw how you made a point of drawing everyone onto the dance floor."

All the handsome men this evening were clearly in an exploitative frame of mind, Sisters. Khushi had already found that. And Anjali was soon to discover it.

Yash immediately said, "Then you are in my debt. And I choose a dance as my reward." He extended his debonair hand, once again. She took it this time. And in any case---she was comfortable with a slow waltz and she had things to say to him.

KHUSHI'S HUSBAND---no less debonair than other gentlemen when he chose to be---waited for her answer. He read something in her eyes, but he wanted her to put it to voice.

"I am ready," she said, softly.

"Curious too?" he asked, nudging her to be more open. Arnav loved the delicious melange of contradictions that made up his wife. Bold and demure. Uneasy and brave. Perhaps he ought not to delight so much in the fact that she still struggled to reconcile her sexual curiosity with her deeply ingrained values. Yet---this very tension in her made her perennially exciting. There were nights when he would have to dismantle her brick by brick like a walled fortress---and other nights when her unquenchable demands made him wish he had the energy of a man a decade younger.

"Yes," she allowed, biting her full bottom lip, entirely unaware what she did to his sensory hold. "I have been curious about---that."

"I sensed you were," he said.

"You did? How?" she asked, slightly aghast with more colour rising to her face.

Arnav released her one hand, and twirled her, an action to remind both her and himself that they were on a dance floor and not in their bedroom. When she returned to him, he pulled her even closer, uniting their bodies and their eyes. "It's obvious that you derive satisfaction from touching me." Her gaze now fluttered to the floor. "You enjoy the control it gives you over my body; you feel my response, you govern the pace, you can make me wait, you can make me beg---which I have---it's the next logical step forward for you to wonder what havoc you can cause with this." He ran his thumb across her lips. Her mouth parted for him, instinctively.

ANJALI'S MOUTH BECKONED YASH. Had he been a believer in the occult, he would conclude that Anjali had practiced some dark arts upon him; ever since their first kiss, he yearned again and again to taste her. This morning was a case in point. She had entered his office and he had held no other rational thought other than how to go about nibbling on that gorgeous bottom lip. And if there remained still any doubt, there was the call-out from garden---the decision he made there---that was conclusive evidence to support that he was truly under her spell. There was only one verdict: He was a victim of sorcery.

But that was no excuse.

He could not be forgiven that easily---because the kiss was not where his thoughts ended. The legacy of each kiss was that she left him aching for the most penetrating, most demanding, most indecent carnal joining of their bodies. That was the complete truth.

He would tell her that now, and tell her what he had wanted to say in the garden. He had all her scented softness in his arms. There was even music to shroud their conversation from The Listening Lucknowites. There would be no better moment. He leaned back slightly so his eyes met hers. "I don't know what alchemy is at play here, Anjali, but you have bewitched a confirmed bachelor to risk his heart at matrimony. I accept your proposal."

Granted, he had not expected her to leap for joy. She had a subdued temperament---but nor did he expect to see tears. Her eyes were awash with tears. She blinked them back, and then lowered her head.

"Are those tears of joy?" he asked, finally, when she said nothing for minutes.

She shook her head. "Tears of shame."

"Shame?" he repeated.

"I cannot marry you."

One doesn't realize what one wants until one has lost it. This was Yash Malhotra's night of that cruel reckoning. He had not wanted marriage, he had simply wanted her warmth, her friendship, and whatever sexual gifts she felt comfortable bestowing. But her words last night---speaking of wife, speaking of ally, speaking of emotional comforts---he had fallen for those promises. He wanted that. And no less.

"You are retracting?" he asked, unnecessarily.

"I'm sorry."

"Is this a f**king game, Miss Raizada?" he asked, immediately wishing his words had gone unsaid. What was the point of establishing intent when the crime was a fait accompli?

"I truly---" she began.

He stopped her words with a look in his eyes. "---This discussion is over. The song is almost over."

LIKE ALL SONGS, THIS SONG DID END. The musicians began to pack up their instruments to signal the end of their contribution to the party. Many guests had already left and others were only delayed because they were searching for their purses, their spouses and their children. There were mini-vans gathered on the driveway waiting to return guests without vehicles to their homes---an example of Anjali's fine eye for detail. As guests streamed out, they thanked her for a night to remember---words that evoked a hollow smile in her.

It was difficult to say who suffered more in that final half hour. Anjali?

Or Yash?

Since Yash had brought the Guptas, it was expected that he would convey them home. And that was his honourable intention; however, the Guptas were expected as family to remain until the very end. Therefore, he too had to remain until the bitter end. And it is a testament to both their powers of self-possession that they did endure it without any of their compatriots the wiser.

But amazing as grace is, it was in limited supply after midnight and two matters of significance occurred. One was this: Arnav Singh Raizada approached Yash Malhotra while the families were busy with the endless leave-taking ritual. He asked if he could have a word. Yash, though now weary of dialogue with Raizadas, stepped to the side where privacy could be assured.

"Can we meet tomorrow morning for coffee?" Arnav asked.

"Sure. Text me. We'll arrange a mutually convenient time," Yash replied.

"I will," Arnav replied, and then added what was clearly essential. "I ask that nobody else is informed of our plan to meet."

Yash nodded to signal agreement. If he suspected that the man wanted to speak about what he had witnessed between his sister and himself, he didn't let on. What did it matter? And, in any case, it was also feasible that Mr Raizada did wish to discuss his sister---but specifically the letter to the court regarding her state. Equally plausible was that he had some questions relating to Khushi's pregnancy health.

The second incident was one more provocative and somewhat perplexing. Yash went to Anjali's bedroom to get Little Khushi who had wilted an hour ago, and was tucked inside Anjali's bed. Anjali followed him and suggested he leave her there for the night. He said---not unkindly---that it was more convenient to take her home now. He lifted her in his arms, and Anjali quickly grabbed a shawl and securely draped it around the child, to make her more comfortable for the road and protect her from the night air.

Yash thanked her, and moved to the door to leave.

Anjali was right behind him.

At the door, he stopped and turned around---the child still in his arms---and he bent to place a kiss on Anjali's lips. It was his kiss. He initiated it; he ended it. It was not a kiss that spoke of goodbye. In fact, it was the first time he had kissed her as though they were established lovers. Their previous kisses had been more about exploration---this kiss said, I-now-claim-this.

ON THIS NIGHT, UNLIKE OTHER NIGHTS, Khushi Singh Raizada could not claim to be ignorant of what her husband specifically desired from her. She couldn't just tease him, torment him, taunt him and just wait to see how he meted out his punishment. On this night, there was an agenda---and it thrilled her blood.

She preceded him to the bedroom, and had barely removed her jewellery before he joined her. Did the night air sizzle with promise? Or was that simply her imagining? She met his eyes in the mirror, and he held them as he removed his jacket and kicked off his shoes. She longed for him to speak. Say something! She willed it with her mind. But he did not speak.

It was when he removed his belt that the fullness of what she had committed to descended on her. If panic and desire can co-exist, they were to be found in Khushi in that moment. He came to her. And stood behind her, as she plucked out the million hairpins that had been stuck in her hair to keep the weighty mass up all night. The final pin removed, her hair tumbled over her shoulder and down her back. She reached for her brush, but he used his fingers to comb it out. His arm coiled around her waist and he brought her to her feet.

Still silence.

Arnav's hand then ceased to untangle her hair, and came up to clasp her neck, tilting her head back. His lips left a trail from her jaw, down her neck, and then past her collarbone. Khushi's eyes fluttered shut at his touch, but when he stilled, her eyes parted out of curiosity and met his in the mirror's reflection.

His grip on her neck, tightened, and her head rolled towards him. He asked, "How does it feel to have me entirely in your power, Khushi?"

Powerful? She?!

She read his eyes and saw that he told no lie. She saw his deep longing and something else---an impatient yearning. That power that she lacked a moment ago, now flooded her limbs. She felt her own potency. A woman, no doubt---but not soft and pliant, rather someone who had the power to give and hold back. She twisted in his arms and with her hands on his chest, she made him walk backwards until he reached the edge of the bed. He sat, his eyes never leaving hers. She removed her saree, not slowly, nor seductively, but with intention. There was no need to seduce him. He was not going anywhere.

Arnav pulled her towards him, but she resisted.

"Kiss me," he requested, as he unbuttoned and removed his shirt.

She shook her head, and kneeled on the floor between his legs. "I have a request," she said.

He tossed his shirt carelessly to the floor where it met her saree. "Ask," he said.

"Until I ask for guidance, I don't want you to guide me," she said. "I want to---"

"You want to?"

"I want to do what I have imagined I would do if I had you here like this."

He took in a breath that sounded a bit like a gulp. He reached to remove his trousers, but she stopped him.

She smiled and said, "I'll do that, Mr Raizada."

Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she unclasped his trousers, and pulled them off. Her eyes told her that he was beyond ready for anything she decided to supply. His underpants followed the same path. Khushi placed her hands on his abdomen, and caressed the taut muscles that stretched across in bands. He sighed, and dragged his fingers through her hair. She met his eyes, and touched him.

A MORE EXPERIENCED WOMAN would have handled him perhaps more gently to begin with, but Khushi was a bit intoxicated by her new-found power and Arnav was instructed to say nothing. He took her gentle abuse. And it was not an intolerable punishment---especially when her mouth joined the play of her hands. He sighed and fell back onto his elbows, his fingers twisted into her hair, pushing back the free locks that interfered.

Khushi had clearly forgotten what he had told her several weeks ago---that the head was the most sensitive---because she grazed it with her teeth. A groan of painful pleasure emitted from him.

His groan startled her and she stopped.

He touched her cheek, and told her, "Please don't stop."

She looked at him cheekily and grasped the shaft, then lowered her mouth fully onto him once more. Her tongue found work to do. Her eyes maintained contact, and she teased him with her eyes, showing him her tongue, hurting him when she chose, soothing him immediately after. Arnav soon came to the realization that Khushi had found her new talent, and that he was a dead man.

By Jalebi Jane

KHUSHI by Jalebi Jane (EPISODE 079)

EVEN PLEASURE, YOU KNOW, IS FATIGUING.*

"Bhai, you look absolutely drained," Akaash commented, when Arnav finally came down to join his wife and the tribe for breakfast the next morning.

"Drained is an accurate description," he replied, and then with a wicked gleam he sought out his wife's eyes.

She stubbornly refused to meet his gaze, but the soft flush on her cheeks told him she had not missed his emphasis.

Khushi fetched the coffee pot from the hutch, and came to Arnav's side. He looked up at her as she poured, and still she would not look at him. She has every reason to feel bashful, he decided.

Saucy Madam!

Mami was saying, "Khushi Bitya looks tired, also. And, no wonder, every time I turned around she was on the dance floor."

"Khushi never knows when to stop," Arnav said, hiding his smirk behind the coffee mug.

His wife made a sound like a choked laugh, and to disguise it, she quickly spoke, "Uhm---Di, the party was incredible. All the arrangements. Exceptional. Thank you, again and again, for the most memorable birthday ever."

Everyone echoed Khushi's words highlighting the various great and small details.

Mami stated, with social pride, "The Kapoors' parties are nothing to our Anjali Bitya's parties."

Payal agreed. "The guests thought a party planner from Delhi had been especially flown in---until I told them it was our very own Di."

Arnav noticed that his sister smiled through the compliments but there was something missing---there was a blankness in her eyes. His lovely sister's usually animated eyes were now lifeless. His thoughts returned to the conversation he had witnessed yesterday between her and Yash. What was going on between them? His entire being refused to accept that a romance had flared up between the two. Anjali would not be so imprudent. Especially at this time in her life. Yet, every thing he felt in their presence last night suggested strong interest.

And to add to his chagrin, he couldn't resort to that favourite position of brothers---that his sister had been imposed upon by that man. No, not because he thought the Doctor was saintly, but because he sensed consensual history in their exchange. As though their conversation had begun days ago, and he had merely stepped into the middle of it. Moreover, no man---no matter how confident---tries it on in front of his target's brother unless he has been shown a green light. This was what challenged Arnav's thinking. Yash Malhotra had behaved as though his advances were welcome. Even appropriate. It was this suggestion of appropriateness and Anjali's fierce words to Arnav that had forced him to couch his invitation to the Doctor with courtesy; he had asked that they meet for coffee, when he would have much preferred to call him out for a duel at dawn.

Arnav picked up his phone to fix the time of the appointment when he felt Khushi's touch on his arm. He looked up and she indicated with her eyes that the plate she had prepared for him was untouched.

He gave her a short nod and said he would only be a minute and left the room.

YET ANOTHER UNIVERSAL TRUTH: Those who eavesdrop hear nothing good. Khushi collided with that proverb when she followed Arnav out of the breakfast room.

He was finishing his call, "I'll be there at eleven, Dr Malhotra."

Khushi's throat caught, and her hand instinctively clutched her tummy. She must have made some sound, as Arnav turned---his eyes registering her wide eyes---and he dashed to her side.

"Something's wrong with our baby?!" she managed to ask. Her knees couldn't hold her and she grasped the pillar for support.

He caught her by the elbows. "What?" Such was the panic in his tone that it confirmed for her that the news must be bad.

"What's wrong with our---"

"Khushi!"

"Yash. What did Yash say? Tell me!" she demanded.

He now understood.

He closed his eyes for a full moment and drew in a ragged breath. He then pinned her against the pillar with his hands on her shoulders. "Nothing is wrong with our baby." His hands moved to her cup her face. "I swear, Khushi, one of these days, you are going to kill me."

The humour in his eyes showed her that she had misunderstood his conversation.

Relief washed over her. She managed a smile---but immediately thought to ask, "Why are you meeting Yash?"

Was it the brief delay in formulating his reply? Or was it that his eyes left hers to focus on the nearby plant? One of those---both of those---or something else entirely---told her that her husband was about to lie. He began to speak but she stopped him with her next words, and a wagging finger. "Nothing is more infuriating to a woman than a man who lies to her. That is why I left my first husband."

Arnav smiled and hung his head in mock-shame. "And that is probably why you castrated your second husband."

"Exactly," she replied, entirely without humour.

He revealed, "I am meeting your Yash to discuss our Di."

Khushi's ill-timed gasp sunk her.

It immediately told him that she knew something. Arnav's brows came together, and his hands tilted her head up. "What is my wife hiding from me?" he questioned, bringing his face very near hers.

Being of pragmatic mind (and aware that everyone was in the other room), Khushi touched her lips to his, taking his lower lip into her mouth. She harnessed all her womanly powers and drew his body into hers, by hooking her fingers into his belt loops, allowing softness to meet hardness. Her tongue entered an erotic dance with his tongue, sucking, pulling, chasing. He met her kiss with equal zeal, and in time, he broke it, and said, "Khushi, a kiss---even such a kiss as yours---will not make me forget my question."

Humbled, Khushi took a breath and formulated her reply carefully. It was a reply that would assure her some time to think and plan. "Arnavji, I do have something to share with you. But if I don't eat right now, I think---I think I may faint."

Arnav had grounds to express dubiety on her fainting claim---especially since she had just been seducing him a minute ago---but to her relief, he accepted it. It was a hollow victory, nevertheless. She knew she had earned respite, not full deliverance.

"Come," he said, as he gripped her arm and led her back to the breakfast room. Seating her next to him, he signalled the servant for fresh plates and then he served her aloo with hot puris. He asked, "Where are your iron supplements?"

She mutely indicated them next to her tea cup.

"Good girl," he said.

IT WAS NO FAULT of the iron supplements that breakfast sat like a lead weight in her stomach. Khushi knew that her dreaded appointment with her husband could not be avoided at any cost. To her shame she had learnt that she could not even bribe him with sexual favours; he claimed those routinely with no expense to himself. But she had to speak to Anjali before Arnav had his way with her. It was essential that she and Anjali exchange notes. She rose from the table.

As did he.

"I'll just freshen up and meet you in the Bookroom," she said, before he would accuse her of trying to evade their discussion.

He shook his head, "Aman's in the Bookroom working." He then tilted his head and said with a smile on his lips, "I'll meet you in Di's room. That is where you were heading, weren't you?"

Oh, f**k! Khushi said to herself.

It was her turn to grip her husband's arm. She led him up the stairs to their bedroom. Got him behind closed doors. Latched the door against interruption. Made him sit on the armchair.

He leaned back, steepled his fingers and waited. The crease in his forehead told her she was on treacherous soil. In hindsight, Khushi would realize that she began poorly. "Don't be angry"---was not her finest opening.

Arnav did not move, but his eyes went from mild irritation to full-blown ire. "Khushi---" he warned.

She decided to soothe him with submission. She fell to her knees in front of him, placed her hands on his thighs, and said, "I'm prepared to tell you everything, but be aware that you are asking me to break my word to Di."

He shrugged, "Nothing is more important than full disclosure between us. You taught me that. Now prove it, dammit."

He was not wrong; nor was he right. But she was in a tight place. She made her decision. "I believe that Anjali has fallen in love with Yash."

Arnav took a visible breath, and shot to his feet. "Continue."

"That is the essence."

"She told you this?" he demanded, as he trod up and down the length of the carpet at the foot of their bed.

"Not in so many words." More vagueness on Khushi's part.

"What precisely did she say?"

Khushi swallowed and said the difficult words, "Di told me that she has asked Yash to marry her."

Ballistic was not a word that Khushi used often. In fact, she had never used it. But it was appropriate here.

"What the f**k?!"

She also came to her feet now and went to him. Softening her voice, she said, "Arnav, I think they have found a home in each other---"

"A home in each other?" he looked at her with incredulity.

"Yes. I sensed it when I saw them kiss. They have a passionate connection---"

Clearly, Khushi should not have said that.

Arnav leaned his head back and looked at the ceiling. His hands were on his hips, and he drew deep breaths. "How long has this been going on?" he asked.

"I don't know," she replied. "Honestly," she insisted when he looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "You won't like this, but it is my belief that he has refused her."

"He refused my sister?" Arnav growled.

Khushi nodded. "While you and I were dancing, they were also dancing. She seemed happy at first. Then he said something, and I thought she looked---I thought Di seemed heartbroken. The expression on her face. You saw her this morning. She is clearly not herself."

*From Jane Austen's -Emma-

By Jalebi Jane

KHUSHI by Jalebi Jane (EPISODE 080)

THAT KHUSHI RAIZADA LOVED HER HUSBAND, with the complete sumptuousness that can belong only to a female heart, must never be doubted; she loved the nuances of his mind, she loved the taste of his mouth, she loved the shape of his fingers---she loved even the way his feet landed on the ground when he walked. To hear his footfall on the marble floors leading to their bedroom made her heart expand with ridiculous anticipation. She lost her heart to him again and again, day after day.

This must never be doubted.

Then. Then there were other occasions when she wanted to tie him to a chair and beat him over the head with a club until he put aside his mulish stubbornness. This mid-morning fell into the latter category.

"I was bound to silence by the loyalty I owe Di. She feared your response---I too feared it!---and from what I see before me, we were both right," Khushi explained.

Arnav shook his head, his voice brooking no argument. "That won't do, Khushi." He walked towards her and she fell into the old pattern of stepping back for each step he took forward. "What kind of wife makes a promise to keep something from her husband?" he asked.

Khushi gasped at the severity of his words.

It both shamed and angered her. She was now against the wall, and he was close enough so she could feel his breath on her face. He caught her face in his hands, and added softly, "I told you before---what we share is a rare thing." His thumb stroked her cheeks, bringing her face even closer. "I never dared hope---or dream that I could have the kind of life I now share with you. I want the confidence of knowing---that at any hour, of any day---that in you, I have a complete ally. Can you give me that, Khushi?" Arnav dropped his hands from her face, not waiting for a reply. "I'll be back in a couple of hours." He seized a linen summer jacket from a hanger and left. But he didn't forget to stop, turn and look at her once more from the doorway. In their entire history, Arnav had never left her without a second glance.

When he was gone, Khushi sat down on the edge of the bed, the duvet fisted in her hands.

THAT ARNAV SINGH RAIZADA LOVED HIS WIFE thoroughly was an immutable fact. She was his heart. Until she had trampled her way into his life, he had not known he had a heart. He had heard of the sentimental beating heart that poets and other idiots spoke of, but not until Khushi had he come to appreciate the deep wisdom of that organ. With Khushi, he began to know what life was meant to be. Her eyes told him where to focus. Her mouth told him what was worth tasting. She was his world; and it was this comprehensiveness that made him ask more from her than a man had a right to ask of anyone. Yet, he did it again and again. That he claimed her entire body was forgivable amongst lovers. That he wanted to occupy her entire mind was imposing, but allowable. But now he wanted her entire soul too. And he made no apology for it.

He entered Anjali's bedroom after pausing a brief second after knocking. She was standing by the window, in a posture that told him that she had been there for many minutes, looking with unseeing eyes at the cooling water pools which terraced past her bedroom. She was the Anjali that he knew so well: standing with perfect posture in an elegantly draped saree; her long, glossy hair smoothly in place; her features perfected with just the right touch of makeup. Uncommon elegance, Yash Malhotra had styled her. He was absolutely correct. She was an exceptional woman---and his brotherly eyes had been too busy detecting the perils of her perfection to notice that she was truly perfect.

In a disturbing way, she was even more admirable now. Loss had proffered upon her a maturity that would not be seen as regrettable in time. Gone was the romantic; here was cool judgment and strong understanding. One might even say that what Shyam had done may have been the making of Anjali.

"Di?" he interrupted her. He realized he startled her. "I knocked," he explained. Arnav's eyes fell on her hand which clutched a purple stuffed elephant. The elephant that bore a distinct resemblance to the giant purple cake which the caterers had rolled out yesterday evening. The cake that had caused Yash's daughter to shriek with surprised happiness, clap her hands with glee and leap into Anjali's arms to kiss her again-and-again.

Anjali's eyes followed where his rested and she placed the elephant on the table next to her. "She forgot it here last night. I hope she slept well. She reaches for it at night," she expanded.

Could a purple elephant be responsible for changing his entire track?

It could.

It did.

He asked the question he was never going to ask: "Are you sure?" He knew that she had understood his meaning, because her eyes shone with instant tears.

Anjali nodded her head, and said, "I am."

Arnav sighed. His rigorous mind projected ahead and painted her future. And he sighed again.

She added, "I know that history has shown my judgment in men to be unsound, but I have fallen in love with Yash Malhotra." Brother and sister couldn't meet eyes when she said this. She picked up the elephant and sat down with it in her lap. "I'm sorry, Chotte. I know this must be painful for you to hear."

"You have known him for less than a fortnight," he stated. "And during a time when you life has been---"

"---How long did it take you to fall in love with Khushi?" his sister interrupted. And, added, "Not how long did you spend denying it---but how long before you knew that she was inside you?

Arnav immediately surrendered that line of questioning.

He felt it was right to take her hand. She seemed so forlorn. When he did, she squeezed it briefly and let it go. He did not know what it was for a woman to feel her love unrequited, but he knew now what it was to love deeply. And he saw that she was being brave.

"We should leave Lucknow," he said, knowing that his solution was feeble.

"How will that help?" she rightly asked, with a soft smile. She continued, "I am happier here than I can be anywhere else."

Arnav felt he had to ask the painful question. If he was to meet with Yash, he had to know everything. "Were you prepared to marry him?"

"Yes," she said. Anjali drew in a shaky breath, and gave a humourless laugh. "I had it all established in my heart and my mind how it would be. I was looking forward to it. For my child," she touched her belly, "for his child, for his comfort and especially for mine. I know you will not wish to hear this, Chotte, but I am a woman like every woman."

This was enough. She was right, again---he could not hear more.

He turned to leave and said over his shoulder, "I'm going out, Di---please---please don't be sad."

YASH MALHOTRA HAD BEEN A LOVER but had never loved. As a young man he had felt that spark, that fever, that state which confused libido with love---but as a mature man, he had come to realize that he had never felt absolute love. He had become a father before he realized what it meant to truly love. Therefore, he harboured doubts as to what Anjali incited in him. He desired her body, he wanted her presence, he could even see himself sharing his entire life with her and settling into a deep abiding affectionate marriage. But it was not love.

To love meant to find someone essential. He enjoyed Anjali---but she was not necessary to his existence. When she left Lucknow, he would miss knowing that a twenty minute drive could bring her to his sight---but he would endure the loss. Yet there was one thing that pulled his mind back to her, again and again. It was this promise she had alluded to. A wife is first an ally. Her words had at the same time aroused and deadened him.

Yash wanted a life with the woman who believed such a magnificent thing.

Something distracted his thoughts, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Arnav Singh Raizada enter the cafe. Yash stood to both greet him and show him where he waited. Arnav approached the table. They shook hands with silent cordiality and took their seats. The server was upon them and the business of ordering cappuccinos was dispensed with.

"I imagine you know why I wanted to meet," the man opposite him stated.

Yash replied, "Anjali."

Even if he had a talent for evasion, Yash saw no point in it. His position was clear. And though he could be condemned by the brother for impure thoughts, Yash knew his actions were within propriety.

"My sister is in love with you. Let's not waste time---tell me what it will take for you to marry her," Arnav stated.

By Jalebi Jane

KHUSHI by Jalebi Jane (EPISODE 081)

"MY SISTER IS IN LOVE WITH YOU. Let's not waste time---tell me what it will take for you to marry her," Arnav said. The pragmatic lawlessness with which Arnav Singh Raizada had lived his adult life had so shaped his methodology that he didn't quite grasp how offensive and absurd his words were to those who had not walked in his shoes. Arnav registered that Yash Malhotra appeared stunned, so he added, "My words appear to have silenced you."

Yash shook his head with disbelief. "I congratulate you, Mr. Raizada. Not many people surprise me, but you are quite something else."

"I sense you don't mean it as a compliment," Arnav replied drily.

"Does Anjali know that you have come to sell her?" Yash asked, hotly.

Arnav's steely voice replied. "I'm not selling her; I'm buying you---there's a marked difference."

"Is this how you procured her first husband? You made him an offer he couldn't resist?"

Since this was their first crossing of swords, Yash was not aware that the more he insulted Arnav, the more he allayed Arnav's concerns. Had Yash fawned and flattered, Arnav would never agree to an alliance---for it would prove that the man was another Shyam in sheep's clothing. Arnav's position was this: if his sister wanted to marry the man, she could---but not before he had a chance to expose his real intent.

What this conversation would establish was to what degree Yash's motives towards Anjali were mercenary. Had the Doctor turned down Anjali's proposal because he was genuinely uninterested in her or because he was playing the long game? Shyam Jha's legacy was this: Arnav would never underestimate what a man would be willing to do to acquire wealth. Therefore it was necessary to cover all the bases.

Arnav leaned across the table and said, "Dr Malhotra, you can derogate my methods---I don't give a f**k what you think of me!---but you have somehow convinced my sister that you represent her future happiness. And I take her happiness very seriously."

Yash waited to reply as the server chose that moment to arrive with the two steaming cups. The server soon left. "Just so we are clear---you are offering a pecuniary reward if I marry your sister?" Yash asked, lifting the cup to his mouth.

Arnav ignored his cappuccino, pushing the cup aside. He removed a pen from his jacket pocket and wrote down a significant figure on a serviette. He pushed it towards Yash.

Yash's eyes dropped to read it, but he continued to sip his coffee without expression.

"I will transfer that sum to your personal account if you marry Di. At the same time, you will sign a prenuptial agreement forgoing claim on her personal wealth. You will enjoy our lifestyle, but this marriage will not make you rich beyond that sum."

Yash snorted, narrowing his eyes, "You are incredibly good at this. The way you couch this stomach-turning scheme in palatable language. You must have had a lot of practice." He allowed that insult to sink in and then made his point. "But you forget one thing: Buying a husband does not ensure that that husband will make Anjali happy."

Arnav tilted his head and said, "if you make her unhappy, I'll destroy you. I know where your fault lines are buried. But I don't think I'll have to roll up my sleeves. Di is already like a mother to your daughter---I think you will make her happy if only to safeguard your daughter's happiness."

"So now a five year-old has entered your plan as a pawn," Yash said, his tone showing that his disgust had just escalated.

Arnav decided the meeting had come to its natural conclusion. He rose from the table and placed some money down for his untouched coffee. He indicated the serviette, and said, "To make things interesting, I'm prepared to offer you three times that sum if you agree to never speak to my sister again. That can be done as soon as this afternoon." He turned to leave, but was stopped by Yash's words.

"Or to make things yet more interesting, Mr Raizada---I could marry Anjali without a prenuptial agreement. I would have the woman and her wealth. That can be done as soon as this afternoon."

Arnav did not feel it necessary to turn around to reply. He looked over his shoulder, casting the doctor with a cool smile and said, "She will never marry without my consent."

"Is that a challenge?"

"It's a fact," Arnav replied and left the cafe, satisfied that he had buried the various land mines where they could do their fullest damage.

IN COMPLIANCE WITH NANI'S WISH that the entire family sit down together after lunch, Arnav was prevented from having private access to Khushi. Khushi was conscious that her husband wanted her alone. She also knew the reason why: He either wanted to scold her further or bridge the distance between them with touch.

There was no question of an apology from him.

Yet, she was resolute in the knowledge that he did owe her an apology. He had characterized her as a bad wife. That was no light matter. This he would have to retract, she had decided.

There were only a few hours before the rest of the family left for the airport for their flight to Delhi, so the conversation in the lounge centred upon when they would all be together again. Arnav said that as long as the trial continued, Anjali would be more comfortable in Lucknow---and he and Khushi would remain with her.

Arnav and Akaash moved to a corner of the room to discuss ARGroup matters. Khushi was once again congratulating Payal on the pregnancy without disclosing her own happiness, when Mami interrupted them to brief Khushi on their favourite tv-serial. Khushi had missed several episodes. Mami informed her that the hero had been kidnapped.

Khushi gasped!

Arnav's eyes immediately fell on her. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice showing concern.

Payal giggled and explained, "Khushi's lover is in grave danger."

He frowned.

Mami named the serial by way of explanation.

Arnav made a derisive sound and returned to his conversation with Akaash, leaving the three ladies to lament what their tragic heroine would do next.

Nani, Mama and Anjali were speaking about their old Lucknow memories when Anjali's phone made a series of beeps alerting her of text messages. She picked up her phone to glance at them, but as her eyes read the first message, she came to her feet. In an obviously distracted state, she excused herself with an indistinct mumble. Arnav met Khushi's eyes; she read his request, gave him a brief nod, and followed Anjali to her room.

UPON REACHING THE PRIVACY of her bedroom, Anjali read Yash's messages again. And yet again. The words were quite benign. All they required was a reply---and the reply could be nothing more complicated than a straight-forward yes-of-course.

But such is, Sisters, the fate of a woman in love: she will read and reread every word sent from the man she desires. Reading into each clause more meaning than is sensible. Looking for intonation where there is none. Seeking answers to questions unasked.

"Di?" Khushi asked kindly, waiting for entry at the door of her bedroom suite.

Anjali called her in with a wave of her hand. She handed Khushi the phone to economically convey the necessary.

Khushi read.

At airport. Mum enroute to Bhopal. Mum's sis taken ill. Hospital ER short-staffed. Must work night shift. Will you take K? Guptas offered. But K wants you.

Khushi looked up and met her eyes. "Call him," she urged.

Anjali replied, "Since he texted, I'll reply by text."

She sent the message: Of course. Bring K anytime. Elephant is already here.

Khushi smiled wistfully as she read the message over her sister-in-law's shoulder.

"Sent," Anjali stated tossing the phone on her bed, her movement proof of her self-disgust.

"Oh, Di," Khushi sighed, catching Anjali's hands in hers. "You are clearly not happy."

"I've only myself to blame. I've made such as mess, Bhabhi---of everything!" she shook her head. "Yesterday, Yash said he wanted us to marry and I told him I no longer could."

"Oh no!" Khushi clutched her heart. "Kyun?"

"Why? If I tell you, you will laugh." Here Anjali did laugh, but entirely without humour. She met her bhabhi's concerned countenance and explained, "I'm afraid to marry a man I love so deeply."

Khushi was nodding agreement. "Di, you had your heart broken---nay, destroyed!---by a man you loved. It is only natural that you should now be reluctant."

Anjali stood and said, "And on top of it all---even if I found the courage to marry him, nobody would accept my claim that I can love a man I hardly know. But I do so love him. That is the worse part. Shyam exploited me and I'm left appearing as though I have no judgment." She twisted around and came back to Khushi who was also on her feet now. "Chotte made that perfectly clear this morning."

"Arnavji?" Khushi asked.

Anjali nodded. "I told him that I was in love with Yash, and he looked at me as though I didn't know my own heart." She sat on the bed and reached for the discarded phone to see if there was an acknowledgement from Yash. There was not. Though there was no reason to expect one. Yet, in her present state of mind, even that felt like an injury.

Khushi sat again next to her and said, "Di, I don't doubt that you love Yash. We are women. We love in an instant. And we spend our lives making that love solid. Your only decision is whether you will follow your heart. The heart has already decided where it wants to go."

A sound or a movement alerted them that they were not alone. The two ladies looked up and Arnav Singh Raizada leaned against the door frame. It was uncertain how long he had been there.

By Jalebi Jane