Therein, a new SS was born. (What to do, Jealousy is over, but Vidhya needs to play!) Here is the original Sonnet 43 from Sonnets from the Portugese:
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
We'll start backwards and work our way to the top this time around. First chapter:
and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
Chapter 1:
"You should wear a sweater! It's cold Khushi,"
"What are you talking about? It hasn't been cold here in, well, as long as I've been here." She replied.
"Then why are you shivering?" He shot her an exasperated look, "And your finger tips are blue!" He draped a shawl across her shoulders, shaking his head in annoyance. She let him, because he liked doing it. They'd been having the same conversation for years, and they both knew it was a pretty worthless argument, but they still did it. For kicks. It kept the spark alive, so to speak. Not that Arnav and Khushi needed the spark to be kept alive. They had always had enough spark to power up a small town.
She smiled at him. Her smooth, beautiful, unlined, luminous face lit up with joy. He smiled back at her. "What?" he asked, the twinkle in his eye as bright as the day he'd truly married her.
"Nothing. Just, you know, I love you!" she said laughing gaily.
"Aww! Me too honey," he draped an arm around her shoulder. They sat on the bench looking at the beautiful scene in front of them. A lush green meadow lay ahead of them. In the centre of it was a beautiful pond, its water so crystal clear they could see to its rock-lined bottom. A lone white goat grazed on the grass.
"Its so nice to have Laxmi with us, isn't it?" she asked.
"Yeah. I wouldn't have known what to do without her!" said Arnav drily.
"Dear me, I feel it coming," said, clutching her tummy suddenly. He looked at her, and smiled, leaning back a little. A few seconds later she let loose a large burp. They both laughed at how loud she'd been. Arnav always teased her that her burps sounded like a cow mooing.
"Who was it?" he asked.
"Marina," she said.
"That child remembers you almost every other day!" he said fondly.
"She is our youngest daughter's youngest daughter. We spoilt her quite a bit," said Khushi, remembered sewing tiny little doll's dresses to match Marina's own, and even covering up undone homework to protect her from her mother's wrath.
"It's because she's pregnant. She's just hormonal. It'll pass," said Khushi.
"Is she?" asked Arnav, eyes lighting up.
Khushi nodded. "It's a boy. She doesn't know yet, of course. Its barely a month."
"That makes it our..what is it'7th great grand-child?" asked Arnav frowning.
"Hmm. Let me think, yes, 7 is right!" said Khushi, doing the arithmetic in her head.
They were just making sure they had all the birthdays straight, so they didn't forget to go, when a voice called.
"OK lovebirds. Lunch time, let's go." Said a high, shrill male voice.
"What's for lunch?" asked Arnav.
"Same as every day. Daal chawal. They made karela today and a raita," said the little man in front of him.
"The only thing I dislike about this place is the food. It is so bland. And they never serve dessert. I miss dessert," said Arnav feelingly.
"You miss dessert? I'm the one with the jalebi fetish, and you miss dessert? Think of me!" sighed Khushi. Then she opened her eyes wide. "Actually, the only thing I dislike about this place is the clothes. Why do they make us wear white all the time? I feel like an Ad for Tide or Surf!" she complained. "Besides, it makes Arnav look like Jeetendra, down to the shiny white shoes," she whined.
"I don't mind you in white. You look hot in white!" Arnav grinned toothily.
"You think I look hot in a sack of potatoes!" she said huffily, secretly pleased.
"OhmiGod!" said Arnav suddenly. "I feel one coming," he said worriedly. Khushi and the little man whipped out handkerchiefs and covered their noses. They also moved a little away from him. A loud cracking noise emanated from Arnav, followed by a smell that could only be described as well, "Cabbage in Sauerkraut form".
"Yours are always so smelly!" complained the little man. "I feel like I have to disinfect after you've farted. Nobody else I know has gaseous emissions like yours!"
"I'm sorry Beckwith!" said Khushi reassuringly. "You know how he was back then!"
Beckwith merely nodded. He didn't look happy.
"Who was it?" asked Khushi. "Aman again?" she smiled.
"Aman's wife," sighed Arnav.
"It's been 21 years since he worked for me. You'd think they'd have let it go by now," he complained.
"Let go of 45 years of daily harassment for sparing him the last 20 years of his life? I think not," a dimple peeked out in Khushi's cheek as she spoke.
"How old is he anyway?" she asked.
"Well, he was 2 years younger than I when he joined. I guess, around 23. And it's been what, 6 Earth years, now? So, I'd say he's about 89," said Arnav. "I think his wife resents me more. Her farts are always smellier than his!" he said.
"Yes, well you know. The female of the species likes to protect her man," said Khushi, shrugging.
"Well, what I dislike about heaven is the silly burps and farts!" said Beckwith. "You burp when someone down there remembers you in a good way, and you fart when someone curses you. Makes it a damn noisy place to live in. Not at all what I imagined when I was back on Earth. Plus, smelly too. Though, I have to say, you Arnav Singh Raizada produce the smelliest farts ever. Sometimes I wonder how you even gained entry into heaven. I think they mistook you for someone else. You should be in, you know, 'hell'" he whispered the word, as if afraid to be caught.
"Oh come on Beckwith! He's a good man. He was a little irascible on Earth, that's all. But he was a very good man. Good husband, good father. Good everything once he got his shit together," said Khushi.
"Got his shit together? What do you mean Khushi?" asked Beckwith interestedly.
"Well, you know. A long time ago when we were both really young and had just fallen in love, he was quite the dick. He sham-married me because he thought I was a gold-digger who wanted to wreck his sister's marriage. He was quite the brute. I hated him for a time," said Khushi.
"Sham-married you? How's that?" asked Beckwith, eyes growing round.
"Do you really want to know?" asked Khushi.
"Yeah, absolutely. My story is quite boring. You know it. I was a nerdy Astrophysicist who studied Black Holes and won a Nobel Prize on Earth. Now, in heaven, because of my background in proposing time travel on Earth (though I never proved it existed!) I'm the gofer. They thought I'd find it easier to adjust to being in multiple places simultaneously. Which, I have. Very well, indeed," Beckwith looked smug as he spoke.
"Yeah. You get to go fetch everyone to lunch by going to every corner of Heaven at the same time. What a thrilling job!" said Arnav crushingly.
"Be quiet Arnav. At least Beckwith has a job. You and I, we do nothing. We just laze around all day," said Khushi sternly. "And it's all your fault too. For being an Atheist on Earth." She said crossly.
"You should be thanking me! Because of me, we get to sit around doing nothing in the best place that ever existed. Instead, you're complaining. You haven't changed a bit since you were alive!" said Arnav. "beckwith, how come you were such a God-fearing Astrophycist?" asked Arnav curiously. "I thought scientists were mostly Godless hellions!"
"Born Greek Orthodox!" nodded Beckwith sagely as if that explained everything.
"HE's a strange one," said Beckwith nodding his head up. "HE'll put you to work if you believed in HIM down there. And HE'll let you sit round doing nothing if you didn't. How is that fair?"
"Well, it's HIS Ego. My Di, Anjali. She's 94 years old and still down there. You know why? She does 26 poojas a day for him. HE likes it. All the attention. Makes HIM feel important." Said Arnav.
"Arnav, you are incorrigible! Don't talk like that!" said Khushi.
"Beckwith, do you want to hear the story of our lives or not?" she asked quickly.
"Sure. After lunch, though." Said Beckwith.
"And Arnav, try not to fart during lunch. It puts everyone off the food. Please!" said Beckwith. Arnav nodded resignedly. He was always embarrassed by the profusion of farts he produced. No one ever commented that he produced quite a lot of burps as well. "There it is for you!" he said to Khushi wryly. "The evil that men do lives after them, the good is oft interred with their bones," he quipped invoking Marc Anthony.
"Not quite Arnav," said Khushi. "We weren't interred, we were cremated, remember?" she said, being thick on purpose.
"Shut up Khushi! If this were Earth I'd back you into a wall for saying that. Damn heaven for not having any walls. So much for freedom of expression!" he said frustratedly.
"One would've thought you had had enough of backing me into walls down there. You want to do it here too?" asked Khushi.
"I could never have enough of anything where you're concerned, my love. Not even backing you into walls so I could breathe fiery insults at you. Or, sometimes, just make you uncomfortable and feel your heart go dhak-dhak. Also, that close, I could see your pupils dilate. Gave me a high, it did!" he crowed triumphantly.
"God. Grow up Arnav. You've been dead for 6 Earth years. And you're still hung up on the juvenile things you did when you were young and stupid." She scolded.
"Young and stupid and in love, my love!" he smiled. "Let's go to lunch!" he gave her his arm. She took it.
Arnav nudged Khushi as they walked to the dining table. "I'm sorry I embarrass you with all my smelly farts," he said apologetically.
"I don't really care. Besides, Beckwith gave me a new perfume to spray on my hanky. When I hold that to my nose, I can barely smell it at all," she said laughingly.
Arnav smiled at her teasing. "Khushi, I'm also sorry I never believed in HIM down there. I didn't mean to make it so boring for you for all eternity."
"I'm not bored. When you're with me, I could never be bored. Besides, remember Milton? 'They also serve who only stand and wait.'" She said quietly.
Beckwith shook his head at them. They had won Heaven's "Most Romantic Couple" contest 2 years running now, beating out the long time winners "Shah Jahan and Mumtaz Mahal."
"You built a monument to her love. I built a trust to match her love," Arnav had said when Shah Jahan had expressed his displeasure at being thus beaten. "It's no contest, really!" he'd grinned while accepting the trophy from HIM.
Beckwith wondered what their story was. He really wanted to know.
Next chapter:
I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life.
Tell me what you think. I know its different. But I want to try different. And obviously, the rest will be about their life on Earth and events as they unfolded.
Cheers!
Vidhya
PS: I'll try not to write angst. I don't do angst well. My personality, like my secret nickname, is very effervescent! 😊
PPS: Belated Valentine's day greetings from a hardened cynic who thinks Valentine's Day is a Hallmark holiday but writes stories of love after death. I crack myself up sometimes. Must be Multiple personality disorder. 😆
PPPS: If you made it all the way down here, do check out my Index for my other works.
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