IPKKND SS:A Girl Named Khushi(Chap. 11)Upd: 12/25 - Page 40

Oh shit he's kidnapped Khushi!!

i had been ignoring my Inbox for a while, so i didn't read this story till today...and it is amazing.

hey caught up with this ss...its an awesome one..
such a diff storry...little khushi ajd Arnav...
loved all the 5 parts...
So many reports proved tat she is nt his daughter...but he still believes...
Amrita's pov was also perfect...
Dunno wer is he taking her nw...
waiting to read more...
pls pm me if u can

That explanation for gold bengal was beautiful...cant read about arnav's pain...but its been written amazingly well..thanks for the PM

From a mother's point of view well done!!!

I loved this chapter! As in LOVED it!

PART 6

Anjali Raizada received the frantic phone call first. It was Simran's nanny, from the playground, who told her in rapid, breathless detail what had happened. She heard from the woman how Arnav Sir and little Khushi's mother had apparently had a verbal showdown of some sort. As soon as the mother left for her job, the nanny had watched as Arnav sir had gone to Khushi, taken her from the swings, and driven off with her next to him in his SUV. The nanny was panicking. While the other parents and guardians at the playground had no idea that they were witnesses to what was basically now a kidnapping, the nanny was not about to stay there any longer. This would become a police case, the nanny said hysterically, and, even while Anjali outwardly calmed the nanny down, and told her to immediately bring Simran home, Anjali privately agreed with the woman.


Anjali ran to her room, frantically calling Aman, to give him an update on what had happened. Aman had sounded odd and stilted as he quietly heard about his Boss's actions. He told her that he was going to be coming right over to Raizada House and that she should wait for him, but Anjali could not wait for Aman and his secretive plans, and hung up. She rang Payal and Aakash, asking them to find Arnav, call him, go out searching, do something, anything--but get him home with little Khushi.


She then grabbed some picturesfrom a secret file in her bedroom. These she had held onto, safeguarded from Arnav's crazed, grief stricken clean-sweep of all of Khushi's memories from Raizada House eight years ago. Pictures of a different time, images of an unfinished wedding, a smiling family. Pictures that she sometimes brought outand stroked as she mourned the loss of her family's innocence, and mourned the loss of the girl immortalized in the faded snapshots. She would need these now, if she was to put them before Amrita, to explain what Chote had done, and why.

Chote.

Anjali's heart thudded, pain beating a tempo through her body. Loss, grief, a sense of uncontrollable longing, had driven Arnav past sense, and into some kind of madness. It was the worst kind of longing-a yearning for love, family, redemption, a second chance. All the yearnings that had solidified into ice within him from the second he had lost his Khushi. All the emotions that a child had inexplicably reawakened---all feelings had finally crested like a wave within his soul, and spilled over into his reality.

It had finally happened, he had finally done something that even he could not walk away from. Something, the outcome from which was now going to be in the hands of the gods.


But there was one thing that a sister who mourned the final loss of her brother's control could do. Anjali swiftly headed out to the playground, where she carefully selected the exact seat where she had seen Arnav sitting every day. Now, holding her shawl closely about her, she waited. She waited for the mother of the child who was not there, so she could tell her about the father who had lost his own child, years ago. She would tell this stranger their family's dirty little tale, a story besmirched with blood and grief and loss, and she would beg Amrita for forgiveness for Arnav's crime. She would promise Amrita the return of her daughter, and throw herself at the woman's feet. She would tell Amrita Singh the story that no one had spoken out loud in eight years.

She would tell her about a girl named Khushi.

*******************************************************************


First there was ice-cream. Because Uncle-ji reassured her that he could definitely afford it, little Khushi displayed what was for her unusual greed, and had two scoops of pistachio and vanilla instead of the usual one. She offered to share her extravagant treat with Uncle-ji, who told her that he could not eat her sundae, because he would die from eating sugar. "Anything with sugar?" Khushi asked, shocked at the very idea of such a cruel disease... "Chocolate bhi?"

"Chocolate bhi!" came the smiling answer.

This horrid revelation made Khushi push away her own brimming bowl, causing ready tears to sparkle as she thought of how MANY things Uncle-ji could never eat--halwa, and prasad, and kheer and kulfi, ice-cream, and chocolates, and sweets, and gum and laddoo, and sugary drinks, and, of course, the worst deprivation of all, so bad it had to be listed twice--chocolates.


Uncle-ji's eyes also got all red and teary from Khushi's distress, and it was quite some time before Khushi would open her mouth to accept the spoonfuls of ice-cream he tried to feed to her. But once the idea of sugar free sweets and sweeteners had been carefully explained to a confused, teary little girl, Khushi was quite all right again. She then chattered to Uncle-ji, her old cheerful self restored, and happily ate the entire sundae without crying anymore for Uncle-ji's loss, as Uncle-ji lovingly fed her the rejected ice-cream.


Then, Uncle-ji had to go to the Doctor's office, probably because of the sugar disease that Uncle-ji had to fight so bravely. There, to show Uncle-ji how to be brave in spite of terrible diseases, the young nurse asked Khushi to let her put a spoon thing into Khushi's mouth, since Uncle-ji was scared of the spoon thing. To demonstrate how easy and painless it was, Khushi did this, twice, and then Uncle-ji did it too, looking unusually tense and white faced. The Doctor mentioned that the results would be available in three days, and that caused Uncle-ji's hands to sweat as he clutched Khushi's little palm. This time, there were chocolates at the Doctor's office, but Uncle-ji would not eat them and Khushi finished the entire box. Another box was pressed into her hands by the nurse, who---like everyone who came into contact with Khushi--- had fallen for her within minutes of administering the DNA test.


Then, Uncle-ji took Khushi to a beautiful garden, located outside a place he called his farmhouse. The garden was scented with a huge bank of red roses, scarlet blooms gleaming like spilled blood against glossy emerald leaves. Khushi ran here and there, as Uncle-ji sat underneath the spread branches of a banyan tree, watching her play. Now and then she would bring a treasure, or a small bird, or a pretty rock for him to see and admire, and he would smile at the excited little girl, gently stroking the gleaming raven head, listening to the non-stop chatter.


It was Paradise here. There were small rabbits to chase through the thick grass, a street dog that had made this garden its home to play with, squirrels to tempt down with leftover chocolates. As the evening rays of the sun gilded her with a shimmering halo, Khushi played and laughed and sang under his mother's tree as Arnav watched her, putting each moment away in his mind like the stolen treasure it was.

Flitting like a butterfly from one fragrant bower and bush to the next, Khushi kept returning to the roses, a mass of them that seemed to weave their intoxicating scent about her body, drawing her closer to them. Uncle-ji asked her to pick as many roses as she wanted, to strip the whole bank, as he had planted them all for someone just like her. Khushi, dazzled by such opulence, thought of the empty vases at home that only got one or two such expensive roses placed into them during festivals and birthdays. She loved roses, with a passion that could not be explained, but she knew, instinctively that these roses were something important, something more precious than just cut flowers in a vase.


So, with Uncle-ji watching her silently, she picked one perfect bloom, just one, a velvety scented blossom with perfect petals, the heart a deep maroon. No more, she said to Uncle-ji--the plants would die, if she stripped the plants of the roses, the plants would miss their flowers, and whither away.


Uncle-ji nodded, his voice too choked with pain and grief to speak. It was dusk, and the day would have to end. The day he had stolen, to spend it with the daughter who he had also stolen. It would have to end.

***********************************************************************

He carefully strapped Khushi into his car, as she nuzzled the rose blossom, and smiled sleepily up at him. Turning away from that elfin little face that hurt him each time he looked at it, Arnav switched his cell phone back on.


There were 32 missed calls, text messages and voice mails from Anjali, from Payal, from Aakash. But it was the one from Aman that Arnav responded to, the one that spurred him to race to the driver's side, and strap in to his car seat at the speed of light. The pain from his pounding heartbeats caused him to shudder. It was over, then. Over, now that Aman had closed the final loop and sent him the last, damning message that said-- "Sir, you need to come home to Raizada House. I am waiting for you here, with Dr Bose. Come home, sir, she wants to talk to you, and you need to hear what she has to say. Its over, sir. Come home. "

*******************************************************************
PART 7 https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/fan-fictions/3208061/ipkknd-ss-a-girl-named-khushi-chap-11-upd-12-25?pn=74

Oh God!

omg! HOPE kHUSHI IS ALIVE...

Loved the update!

Very much intrigued ny the past!
And i just adore Khushi! <3

Cliffhanger! :( What is over!? :S