He had first seen her on the day of Akash and Payal's engagement ceremony. He had never taken much notice of her before he saw her playing a makeshift game of cricket outside their mansion with a group of three young boys who had seemingly gotten bored with grown-up talk and snuck outside to play. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright with laughter and free abandon. His moment of enthrallment did not last long, however, as Khushi's Bua caught wind of her little escapade and came to drag her back inside, chastising her for messing up her hair. To Arnav, she looked all the more attractive with those unruly strands of hair breaking free from her plait.
A few days later, his Nani had come up to him to tell him that the two families were considering getting Arnav and Khushi married to each other.
Truth be told, he did not have much choice in the matter, since refusing to marry Khushi might have strained relations between the two families. But even though he had been dodging the marriage question for years, simply because he had never felt so inclined, somehow, the idea of Khushi as his life partner brought a tiny, involuntary smile to his face.
However, he insisted on meeting her a few times before, just to know what she wanted. He knew that girls in traditional families often had less of a say in such matters, and it had not escaped his attention that her family, especially her Bua, could be quite overbearing.
That was when she surprised him again, at their first meeting, with the very first question that she chose to ask him, point blank, without so much as a how-do-you-do: "Are you being forced into this marriage?"
She had then proceeded to voice out her primary concern with marrying him - and no, to his further surprise, it was not the fact that he was an unromantic boring businessman.
"You cannot marry me," she had said, in a small voice, shuffling uncomfortably in her seat.
"Why?" Arnav asked, "Khushi... is there somebody that you like? Because if there is, please tell me. I promise you I'll help you. You don't have to worry about anything, trust me."
"No, no... It's not that... It's just... I don't think you'd like me very much."
"Why not?"
"Seriously, yaar... I mean, Arnavji, I... I'm not like Payal," she finally confessed.
"Why should you be like her?" Arnav asked, genuinely confused at this point.
"Because... Seriously? I mean, I can't cook or clean or do anything of those girly things. I'd be like the worst wife ever. I would drive your whole family nuts within a week!"
Arnav almost laughed out loud, before he realised, much to his amusement, that she was not joking and seemed truthfully worried for the sanity of his family members.
And thereafter, on every other day of their marriage, she gave him new reasons to marvel at her refreshingly different ways. She sang and danced as she went about her day, making up ridiculously funny lyrics to suit her mood; she talked to birds and plants, chatted away to random people she met as though she had known them all her life; she almost cried tears of joy when eating her favourite delicacies; she watched the same movies again and again with equal interest and fascination; she sighed when watching slapstick comedies, laughed during horror movies...
With the arrival of Anaita, despite the hurt that he had subjected her to, she took to the little girl in a way that he could never have expected, without even the slightest hint of resentment or self-righteousness.
And even though she was refusing to even talk to him, she stood up for him, trying to convince the other family members to let him attend Payal's godh bharai. He had felt his eyes prickle with emotion as he overheard Khushi's conversation with Akash on the rooftop.
How could she have known that he was upset at being excluded from the ceremony when he had not spoken a single word about it, neither to her nor to anybody else? And why did she care enough to try to convince Akash? More importantly, how could a person like Khushi even exist?
Akash's dismissive response to Khushi's request could be understood at some level. He was religiously avoiding Anaita because he did not want to be reminded of what he had done. He felt tormented by guilt but did not have the courage to do anything about it, which only made things worse. For the same reason, he was probably avoiding Arnav too, as he deeply resented the fact that Arnav was the one who had brought Anaita home. If anything, the reaction of the other family members towards Arnav only accentuated his guilt. And to add to it all, he lived in constant fear that Payal would somehow find out. His fear was irrational, of course, because Arnav had given him his word, and nobody else knew the truth, but the fear persisted nevertheless.
Arnav might have felt sorry for Akash, if it had not been for the pain that Anaita had undergone at such a young age for no fault of her own, and the hurt that had been inflicted upon Khushi by his own actions in trying to cover up and make up for Akash's transgressions.
Arnav was still contemplating a way out of the nightmarishly complicated situation, when he heard Akash shout at Khushi, and every potential shred of pity or brotherly love flew straight out of the window. For the first time in his life, Arnav raised his hand on his brother whom he had always shielded from all possible harm. For the first time in his life, he felt sheer murderous rage towards the person, for whose happiness he could have sacrificed anything. He literally saw red, because in that moment, nobody mattered, other than Khushi.
He saw the fear on Akash's face as the latter begged for forgiveness. Akash must have somehow understood how close Arnav was to divulging the entire truth to Khushi. In truth, it took a gigantic effort on Arnav's part to hold himself back, and not give her the answers she sought. But if he let go of the values handed down by his father to him, and broke the promise and trust that someone as vulnerable as Akash had placed in him, he would not have been able to live with himself.
Still, was it better to hold on to his principles and face the hurt and disappointment in Khushi's eyes, knowing that he had failed in his duty towards her as a husband and friend? The question tortured him repeatedly, as did Khushi's statement that he did not have to tell her anything because they did not share a normal husband and wife relationship anyway.
The feeling of resignation, and diminished self-worth, that appeared Khushi's eyes in that moment, was what haunted him the most as he walked step after step on the red hot coal. His steps were slow and deliberate and forceful, and yet the burning sensation in the soles of his feet failed to match up to the pain he felt inside, for failing to show Khushi just how much she meant to him. No punishment, whether self-inflicted or inflicted by others, would ever suffice.
Later, once he had hobbled his way out of the dargah and been driven home, he considered stopping at Akash's room and asking to be liberated of the promise that shackled him. But he stopped himself, as he knew that this would only subject Akash to even more mental stress. Akash had always been a weak person, emotionally and physically, but Payal was his responsibility now, and he needed to be strong for her at least. No matter how much Arnav disapproved of Akash's actions, and in spite of all the anger and resentment he felt, at the end of the day, Arnav would never be able to stop feeling protective towards his little brother.
Khushi was already sleeping when he entered their bedroom. He quietly put on socks so that she wouldn't inadvertently see the scars on the soles of his feet and slipped under the covers.
When he woke up the next morning, he was curled up in a ball on the floor, and Khushi was peering down at him, visibly concerned, "What happened? Why are you on the floor?"
"Oh, I must have rolled over in my sleep," he replied, feigning nonchalance and trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his feet. It seemed to have gotten worse during the night. He had no recollection whatsoever of how he had ended up on the floor.
"You have fever," she remarked, alarmed, after holding the back of her hand against his forehead.
"Well, that's lucky," he said, smiling so as not to worry her, "Isn't that what we're telling the others when they ask why I'm not at the godh bharai? Don't worry, I'll be fine. You go ahead and get ready. The panditji will be arriving soon."
"I'm not leaving you alone," Khushi said flatly.
"Khushi, seriously, go. It's your sister's godh bharai. I'll take some medicines and sleep. What are you going to do?"
"I'll stare at you while you sleep, like that creepy stalker in that vampire movie."
Arnav could not help but chuckle. Trust Khushi to come up with such quips!
It took an eternity to convince Khushi that he would be okay, and it was only once he had seen her finally leave the room, that he allowed his heavy eyelids to finally close, and sleep took over his senses.
He was woken up by the faint sound of whispering voices in the room. He tried to open his eyes, but the medicine's soporific effects had not worn off yet. He could just about discern one of the voices as being Khushi's and another as being her Bua's.
"I hope you have not told Arnav," Bua could be heard saying.
"Told him what?" Khushi asked.
"That you want a divorce! Payaliya is going through enough as it is. Did you see how weak she was looking? If anything -"
"Don't worry, Buaji, I won't do anything that could affect Jiji negatively.'
"Good girl. You are very lucky to be married into such a good family. Don't do anything stupid in anger."
"Yes, Buaji" Khushi said, sounding weary and exasperated, "Can we go outside now? Arnavji is sleeping."
Arnav felt a sense of fear spread within him like ice, paralysing him, numbing him, sucking the very air out of his lungs.
Khushi wanted a divorce, and it was only for Payal's sake that she had stayed back.
Her words that they did not share a conventional husband and wife relationship gained an additional layer of meaning now. He had given her every reason to leave, and no reason to stay back. She, the free-spirited, delightfully eccentric girl, had been caged within the bounds of convention and tradition and duty, with a man like him, who, in return for her abundant kindness, had given her nothing but hurt and confusion.
...
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