Yeah...this may not exactly strike as romantic :s There are a few milestones I felt needed to be crossed and character and plot development, so I decided to do it in one go. Nevertheless, I wouldn't say this chapter was unpleasant. Coz I had a huge grin on my face when typing the end:p
Enjoy:)
Chapter Twenty-One
He had to admit, although grudgingly, that Khushi was very close to being a force he could not reckon with.
Of course, he could not have expected her to simply take his word for it when he declared the guestroom bathroom out of order. So he was not altogether surprised when she had stared at him for one long moment before extricating herself from his grip so dexterously that he was not altogether sure it had happened until he heard the door bang shut. She had gone to check for herself whether what he was saying had been true.
Arnav had followed her, and was there, in the corridor, when she had re-emerged holding a broken handle- the solitary, pathetic remnant of Arnav's escapade in the early hours of the morning. He had to fight to seize hold of each of his muscles to keep from betraying any signs of guilt- or more appropriately- of mirth, as he leaned against the same stone pillar he had cornered her against some time yesterday, when her blue-clad, heavenly appearance had caused practically all his self control to clatter about hopelessly, trying to settle back into place. It was not made any easier when she raised her disbelieving gaze from the handle to his face, tints of suspicion and doubt flitting across her visage like wisps of cloud across a hot summer sky.
But he gave nothing away. And she, defeated, had had to march past him as fast her legs would carry her before breaking into a half-run by the time she reached the end of the passage. By the time he had returned to his bedroom, the bathroom door had been shut and bolted, and he could hear the gush of streaming water inside.
He heaved a sigh of relief.
While he paced up and down the room, the drum-set in his chest thumping away a hectic beat, he could feel steam rising from his skin as every pulse in his body overheated. Every fibre had been drawn out so tight with anticipation he was sure if she did not come out soon, something in him was liable to snap. In fact, he pondered, uneasy from the sultry heat his own emotions were stewing him in, something in him was liable to snap even when he saw her. With her dark silk curls tinged even darker, her milk white skin paled even whiter, her eyes, those magnificent eyes which were sometimes melting chocolate and sometimes tempestuous thunder, gleaming out like lanterns to a lost traveller. He had seen her like that already, yesterday morning, as she sat absently drying her hair in the guestroom, and something in him had clenched painfully at the sight- an amalgamation of insults directed inwards and yearning for the sight in front of, having allowed himself to miss such an awe-inspiring experience every morning.
There were so many different shades to Khushi that he was discovering slowly, and he wanted to, needed to, discern each and every one of them. To know them by heart.
So wrapped up was he in his own thoughts that is took the steam streaming out through the tiny gap of the bathroom door as it opened to signal an end to his expectant sojourn away from Khushi. He was heralded suddenly by the warm, fresh breath of citrus which cascaded out as the door swung open somewhat wider, and his lungs swelled to impossible proportions, drinking it all in. But it was the sudden uproar that the drumbeats within him started to pump out, thumping rebelliously against his chest wall, that signalled what he had been waiting for.
A figure in bright yellow emerged through the dancing steam, and although sweat had begun to bead its way down his back under the combined assault of the heat of his own overworked wits and the heat gurgling out of the bathroom door, Arnav suddenly forgot everything.
He should have learnt by now not to dwell too much on imagination. Because imagination had a record for falling abysmally short of reality. A small part of him mused gravely whether it could be injurious to health if she came in front of him looking like that every day. The drums were, after all, very close to bursting out of his chest to perform for her in person.
Even from where she stood, some four feet away from him, he could smell the balmy perfume of jasmine billowing off of her, pulling him towards her. He could feel his limbs lift themselves, weighing a ton all of a sudden, as the space between them disappeared breathtakingly fast. She stood rooted to the spot, just inside the bathroom door, her lovely long hair wrapped in a towel slung over one shoulder, a few locks escaping and stroking her skin. He felt envy unfurl its scaled wing, riled with jealousy.
Half a foot from her and Arnav's feet ground to a halt, a result of the nearly superhuman effort that went into subduing the intoxicating thrill which pulsated in his blood, in every beat of every particle of his body. She was breathing heavily, her creamy white skin beaming from within, coloured faintly by a shade of pink that tweaked incessantly at his heartstrings. Her eyes were hooded, lowered to the ground.
Arnav knew that he had to back off now. Any more, and he was sure he would cave in, inebriation would possess his senses, and he would no longer be able to fend off the overwhelming urges running rampant in his veins. And that would render all his resolutions to work on his marriage gradually useless. In the fashion of the true masochist, he took a step backwards and heard an alien voice murmur, hoarse and unsteady, 'You look beautiful.'
Followed by a tumult of lime and jasmine flooding past him like a gust of hot air on a hopelessly hot day, as the sun herself rode her chariot of flames behind the clouds at furious speed.
That had been in the morning.
Now, as Arnav sat surrounded by a mixture of disappointment and impatience behind the steering wheel, he was compelled to rethink whether Khushi's little escape from his room had been the result of his own will, or because of her uncanny ability to flee from him. For if he had expected that his wildcat of a wife would simply take his victory lying down, although of course she could never be sure whether that had been planned, coincidence or not even something labelled victory, he was woefully mistaken.
He found his eyes straying to the rearview mirror again, cursing himself mentally for letting himself fall into the same situation once again. By the time he had come out to the car this morning, having briefly stopped to instruct the driver that he would be driving to work himself today, he had been met with the unpleasantly unwelcome sight of his sister seated comfortably strapped to the front passenger seat, while Khushi and Payal were seated at the back. Akash had already left; he would pick up the ladies from the hospital on his way back from work for lunchtime. It was evident, from Di's overexcited exclamations once he settled into the driver's seat himself, fighting not to look like he wanted to rip off the steering wheel he held in a vice-like grip, that Khushi, in her so-called excitement to get to the hospital, had shepherded the three of them out and practically lifted them into the car before jumping in herself, all while he had his back turned.
It took him sometime to realise that his anger was meaningless, and more or less baseless, and some more time to calm down enough to think clearly.
***
'Oh!' Anjali exclaimed, lightly touching her fingers to her forehead, before turning to her brother with large, apologetic eyes, 'Chote, I think I left my medical file back at home...the doctor can't do his checkup without referring to them-'
'It's ok, Anjaliji,' Khushi, who had been chattering away in undertones with Payal about how long it would take for Bauji to come back home, interrupted, 'I have them here.' She patted the file that sat on her lap, smiling at Anjali as she turned to look at her, her whole face aglow with relief.
'Oh, thank you Khushi!' she gushed, 'Honestly, these days I don't know what I would do without you! I can't believe I've become so forgetful...and wait a minute! Haven't I told you to call me Di?' She put on a mock-reproachful face, and Payal started to laugh. Anjali couldn't help it and joined in, which gave Khushi a welcome escape as Anjali turned back in her seat to face the road.
Khushi's eyes wandered out of her window. The trees, the pavements, the cars, the people whizzed past in a blur as she rested her head back, her hand limp on the file. These past few days, ever since Shyam had disclosed to her his intentions of leaving Anjali, ever since she had discovered that Anjali was pregnant with that back-stabber's baby, she had watched over Anjali with the tireless fierceness of a mother hen. It was not all that long ago when Payal had not been there as a solitary reminder of home in the huge, hallowed chambers of the Raizada house, when every minute of every day Khushi lived a hunted life, persecuted for a heinous deed she had never committed. In those empty, pointless, drowning days, Khushi had found one purpose to cling to, to keep her afloat: and that was Anjali. She could not, would not, under any circumstance allow a sweet, loving, caring woman like Anjali, who gave her heart and soul to all those she loved, to be betrayed in the same way she had been betrayed, to be punished the same way she was being punished.
She fought Anjali's battles, having been unable to fight her own. She sought grim satisfaction for preserving her happiness, trying to fill the void left by her own. Anjali did not deserve such a fate, no more than she had. She reminded Khushi of herself at times, loving without condition, without prerequisite, finding a reason to be happy in the happiness of others, no matter how dire the situation. And she had become Anjali's personal bodyguard almost; she followed her around wherever she went, whether it was to the hospital or the mandir, took personal charge of all her medication, keeping them with her rather than having to foray into enemy territory when Shyam was about, making sure she took all her meals on time. She kept her eyes peeled, watching with dauntless perseverance, waiting to thwart any attempt by Shyam to hurt Anjali in any way.
Even last night, haunted by the gnawing gap left the crossroads where her heart and mind had taken different paths, pressed down on all sides by darkness she thought she had gotten used to but had not, expecting the darkened ceiling above her to fade and reveal the skies beyond, Khushi had turned to Anjali to seek reprieve. To distract herself before she found herself staring at a dead-end.
She had remembered the conversation they had had before turning in for the night.
'I hope you don't mind, Khushi, sleeping in here tonight?' Anjali asked cheekily, a naughty glint in her eyes as she grinned widely, 'After all, it's still not been very long since you got married to Chote-'
'No, no, no', Khushi had disclaimed quickly, not sure whether she was blanching or blushing at those words, 'It's not a problem, Anjaliji. I'll stay here as long as need be.'
Anjali smiled sweetly at her as she began to pull up the duvet, while Khushi continued, 'In fact, you know, since it's already time for your monthly check-up...why don't you come along with Jiji and me to the hospital tomorrow? That way you can meet with Bauji and we can talk to the doctor too.'
Anjali looked up at Khushi fondly. She raised one hand to cup Khushi's face, shining with sincerity and concern. It reminded Khushi, chokingly, of the way Amma would hold her. Her Amma, ever with her, her anklets lending music to her life.
'You worry about me too much Khushi'.
Khushi had huffed in pretend exasperation and adopting a look that would have given any wise old lady in any corner of the world a run for their money, said sagely, 'Of course I worry about you, bitiya. You spend so much time worrying about everyone else that you forget to worry about yourself!'
Laughing heartily, Anjali patted Khushi affectionately, just like Jiji would, before lowering herself onto her pillow.
'Ah, well, I hope you don't have to worry yourself about me too much...at least, you won't after he comes back'.
Khushi did not need to ask to know who 'he' was. She tried to keep her expression from transforming immediately to look as though somebody had squeezed a lemon in her mouth.
'When is he coming back?'
'I don't know. He hasn't called me yet.'
Khushi's surprise was great enough to eradicate her revulsion momentarily. 'He hasn't called yet? It's been two days though'.
'Hmm', Anjali mumbled sleepily, as she snuggled deeper under the covers, 'he often has to leave like that for important work...'
'Where did he go?'
'Mmm, I don't know...to see his old clients probably...out of town...maybe Mumbai...'
'Haven't you called him?'
'No, no', Anjali's voice was muffled as she slipped further into sleep, 'he doesn't like to be disturbed when he's working'.
Khushi felt the same mystification she had felt last night return to her now, as the car sped past road after road. Was this the same woman who had dissolved to tears when her husband had not made it for Teej? When he had left their marriage anniversary celebrations? The same woman who could never say enough about what a wonderful husband she had been blessed with? The same woman whose nervous breakdown as her mangalsutra tore had made Khushi severely rethink her decision to disclose one of the darkest secrets stringing together their lives? A decision which had in fact been the catalyst in precipitating both their downfalls?
What had changed?
She felt a vein throb away at her temple, and pressed her fingers against the side of her head to smooth away the lines of worry. Yes, she was worried. This was not the type of reaction a woman would have if her husband, whom she loved dearly, had not spoken to her for, had not seen her, for two whole days. Not knowing where he was, what he was doing...and not even sparing it a thought. If her husband had gone off like that somewhere, she would have been worried out of her mind, frantic in fear.
It took some time for that thought to sink through to her conscious mind, and she blushed so hard she had to turn around further so Payal couldn't see her.
***
Arnav seized his chance when Anjali's phone started to ring, and she started to speak to Nani. His hand slowly reached out, held the rearview mirror, and adjusted it carefully so that he could see his elusive little Khushi.
She sat staring out of the window, clearly deeply in thought. Her eyes had a faraway look in them. But for once, that look did not terrify him as it had done on the days past. Then it had been a silent warning that Khushi was slipping away from his clutches. Now, with the quiet assurance of the cord that bound the two of them together for life, it was not blind fear that captured Arnav, but curiosity. What was she thinking about so deeply?
His mind wandered down other alleys as he repeatedly glanced at the reflection. She had tied her hair up today. The observation made him smile. It was quite clear why she would tie her hair up- after all, he had spared no opportunity to stress to her how much he liked it when it was down. And of course Khushi was Khushi, and no day could be complete without her showing some sign of defiance. Almost as though she was trying to convince him (and herself) that what he thought and what he liked was of no consequence to her. He might have believed that yesterday, but for some strange reason, did not believe it now. And in fact, as much as he loved it when she did wear her hair down, he did not mind that much today. Because she was wearing it in a low ponytail, the rich, burnished brown locks swept over one shoulder, while a dark fringe had been combed to a side against her forehead.
That hairstyle, and of course the sunny yellow she was dressed in, took him straight back to the day of the haldi. When she had erupted into laughter at seeing his face smeared with turmeric. Her shock when he had wiped it off with her dupatta as though he had every right in the world to. Her small, appreciative, apologetic smile when she understood why he had screamed himself hoarse at her, yanked her hair out of its ponytail, outraged that any old fool, be it his cousin or anyone else, could dare lay eyes on his Khushi in that underhand way. Her spontaneous kiss on his cheek...
The car screeched to a stop mere moments before it rammed into the vehicle in front of him, and a rather dazed Arnav blinked profusely to come to grips with the present again. Honestly, he needed to stop driving himself if he kept thinking about Khushi all the time like that; he would definitely end up getting into an accident at this rate.
But what could he do? The memory of her soft, warm lips pressing against his cheek, branding him, was so fresh it caused the same tornado of emotion, exhilaration, ecstasy, to rage through him as the real thing had, setting his entire being on fire.
The first time she'd kissed him...the only time she'd kissed him.
***
'Aren't you going to stay, Chote?' Di inquired, wide-eyed. Not disappointed that he was going, but rather surprised that her clinging, possessive, over-protective brother was not insisting on accompanying her into the doctor's office. Or, more likely, barging in there and demanding that she get the best possible treatment that was humanly possible.
Arnav shrugged apologetically, and said, 'No, Di, I can't...it's Monday, I've got a whole line up of meetings to get through...'
Di continued to look somewhat wonder-struck, and Arnav found himself frowning, a little annoyed. 'Come on, Di- you don't have to look so shell-shocked!'
She recovered, and as he continued to sign away at the paperwork in front of him at the receptionist's desk, began her characteristic ribbing. In a voice overflowing with sorrow, she said resignedly, 'Well, I can't really expect you to run circles around me anymore- after all, now that you're married why would you look twice at your older sister? I guess I have to live with that...'
'Oh, come on, Di', Arnav rolled his eyes at his Di's martyr impression, which was sufficiently marred by the huge grin on her face, 'You know you'll always be one of the most important people in my life.' He placed a hand on her shoulder as he steered her towards Bauji's wardroom, hoping the unmistakeable emphasis he had placed on the word 'one' had not gone unheeded by the person he had wanted to stress that to.
Di smirked. Obviously, she had noticed it, and she knew whose benefit he had said it for too, judging by the way she glanced over her shoulder to look at Khushi, who made sure to keep a step behind the two siblings the whole way.
'It's good, though,' Di said suddenly, 'you should let me go about these things on my own more often. I'm glad that you're not obsessing and going over-board about this; normally any word about doctor or hospital or check up gets you so high-strung I'm scared of telling you sometimes. It's good that you're learning that just because I have a doctor's appointment doesn't mean there's anything wrong with me.'
Arnav sighed as they reached the ward-room door. He turned to face his older sister, smiling her sweet, dimpled smile. Something in him knotted uncomfortably; a sinking feeling set in inside his stomach, and the familiar pails of ice threatened to tip over into the bottomless pit. Softly, raising both his hands to rest them on his sister's shoulders, he assured her, 'Di, I will always worry about you. I can't afford anything to happen to you. The reason why I kept hounding around behind you was because up until now I couldn't trust anyone else to look after you.'
On cue, the oxygen around him disappeared and Arnav, short of breath, managed to glance at the slight, yellow-and-pink figure standing a little behind Payal. Tension condensed in the air. Now or never. She had to know this.
'But now Khushi's with you, and I trust her more than myself to make sure that nothing can happen to you.'
***
Some ten minutes later, Arnav said his goodbyes to his family: Bauji smiled up at him affectionately from his bed, Buaji patted his shoulder, Amma blessed him, while Payal and Anjali both smiled up at him from where they had been sitting beside the bed. Arnav's heart began to swell to impossible proportions, while he felt the strangest of sensations, like a huge sneeze was rising inside him but was poised just inside his windpipe, making his eyes water, making it difficult to inhale.
He realised that he was fighting back tears. It surprised him faintly that he could be moved to tears in matters that didn't have to do with Khushi or Di. But then again...this did, in a way, have to do with Khushi. After all, it was because of her that he could know address someone as Amma, someone as Bauji, filling in that gap in his family tree that had gawked open mockingly at him thirteen years ago. It was because of her that this group of people, whom he had indirectly hurt many, many times, be it when he was responsible for Payal's broken wedding all those months ago in Lucknow or the torment he had put Khushi through when she worked for him those first weeks in Delhi, had welcomed him, ushered him, made a place for him, amongst themselves. They had accepted him as their own, without any condition, without any demand for anything in return. They loved him for no reason that he could fathom. And he loved them back- he was happy to see them so happy, he wanted to be a part of that happiness. And was.
Humanity's cruel, selfish mask had been chucked aside and a new world stood before him with arms wide open, beckoning him into its welcoming embrace.
Something shook through him so thoroughly it was miraculous those tears did not escape his eyes. Every passing second he was becoming more and more indebted to Khushi- a simple eighteen year old girl who had waltzed into his life and reopened doors he had thought were bolted forever. Who had flooded his dismal nights with stars of blazing fire to light up his existence. Who had toppled over the walls of his hate once and for all and dispelled the illusion that he was alone, when he was in fact surrounded by people waiting to envelope him in their love.
Gratitude welled up in him, and he wondered how he could ever make it up to Khushi. Well, he had his whole life with her up ahead- he'd get there.
Turning to her, he closed the few feet of space between them to where she stood at the foot of the hospital bed. What he did next probably surprised him as much as it shocked everyone else.
He leant forward, whispered 'Bye' in her ear and pecked her on the cheek. Soundly.
Before turning on his heel and marching out of the wardroom.
But not before he heard Buaji's voice shoot up several octaves.
'Hai re Nandkishore! Sanka Devi! Looks like your sanak has rubbed off on your husband too!'
Please leave your likes and comments:) It's only from your feedback that I can gauge how a chapter went down and whether I was going in the right direction or not, so please, any response is invaluable:)
This chapter is kinda special to me, because it marks Arnav dealing with the physical attraction to Khushi following the emotional attraction, Khushi realising something abnormal about Anjali's marriage, Arnav letting Khushi know pointblack exactly how much he trusts her, and also Arnav understanding that love is all about giving, and you'd receive in turn:) I really hope all that came out clearly...
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