I was tired and I had to write something. It's like my fingers were itchy because I hadn't written anything in so long. I just needed to blow some steam off. I don't particularly like it, so don't judge me for this one. Or if you do, be kind. Or if you must be unkind, do it in your head. In other words..if you think it sucks...humor me!
Oh..and..yes. The characters Arnav and Khushi don't belong to me. I do hold creative license over this piece of writing though. I'd much rather you didn't copy and paste it to another website. (Besides, it's not even that good, honestly!). If after all that, you still must plagiarize...well..OK. You seem slightly desperate for a sub-standard piece of work. Do what you must. Just remember. I have friends. It won't be pretty.
OS: The Pajama Game
Khushi emerged from the bathroom after changing for the night. She tossed her hair behind her and walked to the bed. Arnav stared at her wide-eyed as she began to nonchalantly braid her hair loosely for the night. She pretended not to notice the foam around his mouth as he strived to speak coherently.
"What the HELL are you wearing?" he asked angrily, walking up to the bed.
"I thought it was obvious. I call them Pajamas, you call them Tracks, Bubbly calls them PJs, which are all she can crack, honestly." She said, looking into his eyes fearlessly. She'd pretty much had it with him, and was going to give as good as she got, she'd decided.
"WHOSE Pajamas are you wearing and why?" he thundered.
"You're the one who threw all my clothes out in anger, Swami!" she said, emphasizing the Swami viciously. "At least when I changed your wardrobe out, I bought you new clothes. You just threw all my clothes away. I didn't have anything to wear for the night Oh-lord-and-master!"
"You didn't walk around naked all day. You borrowed your sister's clothes. Why couldn't you borrow her nightclothes as well? And whose Pajamas are you wearing anyway?" he asked, half-ashamed, half-angry, but 100% determined to not admit that he was ashamed.
"Jiji only has silky, sexy nightgowns. Like a normal newly-wed. I wasn't about to wear them in front of you. These belong to Nanheji!" said Khushi sternly. She fingered the black cotton pajamas with red hearts plastered all over, and smiled lightly, thinking how typical it was of Nanheji to own exactly this pair of Jammies.
Arnav frowned heavily. NK's pajamas! She was wearing NK's Pajamas! What The! Those silly red hearts! And it was too loose for her of course. The sleeves ran well over her wrists. She folded up the bottoms several times. The top button hung fairly low on her chest, and her mangalsutra nested in the crook where the shirt buttoned together. Her hair hung about her face, half-braided, half loose. She looked ridiculously young to be married. And yet, there she was. His wife. In another man's Jammies and looking hot with it. Arnav pulled her up so she stood in front of him.
"Go and change now. I don't want you in NK's clothes Khushi," he said in a low tone.
"Change into what Swami?" she asked defiantly. "You threw my clothes away in a fit of anger this morning. Jiji's dress that I wore today is in the wash, it's late at night and everyone's asleep. I'm not going to wake someone up just because YOU don't like MY nightclothes. You shouldn't have thrown my clothes away. Tough luck, Swami!" said Khushi angrily.
Arnav walked to his wardrobe and pulled the door open. He rummaged around and found what he was looking for. An old pair of well-worn sweats and a white T shirt. He held them out to her. "Go and change. Wear these," he commanded.
"They're Pajamas too Swami. Or hadn't you noticed with that gigantic ego blinding your eyesight?" asked Khushi, her tone dripping sarcasm.
"Firstly, stop calling me Swami. Secondly, I know damn well what they are. I don't want you wearing any other ma..well. I don't want you wearing those ridiculous black Pajamas with those silly hearts on them. You look silly. You will wear THESE clothes. NOW!" he said, thrusting the clothes into her arms.
"What if I say No? What will you do?" she asked impetuously. She knew it was a mistake, the moment she said it. He stepped so close to her, his nose was barely an inch from hers. "Go and change before I change your clothes for you," he said quietly, but deadly serious. She scarpered to the bathroom, clothes in hand.
When she emerged 5 minutes later, the black Jammies were gone. Instead she wore his grey sweats and a Tee so old, it was worn almost threadbare. It was one of those Tees he loved because he'd had it forever. It had the AR logo on one side. His clothes were too big for her too, but not as oversized as NK's had been. She looked good in his clothes, he thought, smiling slightly. He liked. He liked a lot. He could get used to his wife wearing his Tees, he thought.
Khushi scowled at him and walked to the bed. She began braiding her hair again.
"My Pajamas look much better on you!" he said triumphantly.
"Huh?" she looked up blankly.
"You look much better in my sweats than in NK's loud PJs," said Arnav.
"Who cares? They're nightwear. I don't care what I look like when I sleep," she said nonchalantly, her hands moving less deftly over her hair than a minute ago. "Wait a minute..wait a minute. You don't have some silly idea like that Roja movie do you?" she asked. "You didn't think I would emerge from the bathroom blushing in your shirt did you?" she asked.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, bending down and pretending to read his book. He had thought exactly that, of course. He had imagined her red-faced and shy in his shirt, and had cursed himself for providing her with the bottoms while she'd been in the bathroom changing.
"Ha Ha! You did think that. Ohmigod Swami! You are really Mahaan. Where are your feet my lord? Let me kiss them!" she said, laughing.
"Shut up Khushi!" said Arnav, discomfited by her correct guess.
"Let me get this straight. You force me to marry you, make me sleep outside the room by the pool like I'm your Cow, manhandle me, abuse me, and I don't know what else, and expect that I would blush when I wore your shirt? You're so funny. You should do stand-up. Like Russell Peters. You'd be a big hit. You have the potential, Swami! And the chutzpah!" she said, rubbing it in for good measure.
"You threw my clothes away first!" he said furiously.
"I bought you new clothes too, Praan Naath!" she replied.
"Stop calling me those names. And you didn't buy me clothes. You bought me ugly, Fashion street level tacky, Hawiian print shirts. I couldn't wear those to the toilet, forget to a business meeting!" he fumed.
"At least I replaced the clothes I threw away. You simply flung mine out without thinking. Typical Laad Governor style high-handedness!"
"I'll buy you new clothes tomorrow, if you'd only shut up tonight," he said angrily.
"Fine. I don't want to talk to you either."
"Fine with me!"
"OK. Fine. Good night Swami!"
"Don't call me Swami, Khushi."
"Or else what?"
"Shut up and go to sleep," he said, flipping the light switch.
She flung herself on the bed, pulled the covers and shut her eyes. No sleep came. She tossed and turned until the bed sheet was in a mess. She threw the covers off when she realized she was too hot. 'What to do, what to do?,' she pondered for a few minutes. She stood and made her way to the bathroom slowly, tiptoeing so she wouldn't wake him, fast asleep on the recliner. Once in the bathroom she looked at herself in the full-length mirror. The Tee hit almost down to her knees. It was a really warm night. She was used to her thin cotton salwars for sleeping. His sweats were too hot. She pulled them off. She still looked very decent, she mused. Covered almost to the knees. She opened the bathroom door carefully and made to step out quietly when the light switch was flipped on.
A pair of dancing black eyes stared at her discomfiture. She stared right back at him, dismayed. She'd been caught doing the very same thing she's accused him of wanting. Damn!
"It was hot. Your Sweats were too warm," she said huffily, walking past him to the bed.
"Did I say anything?" he asked amused.
"No. But you were thinking it."
"That I did exactly what you wanted me to. Walk out of the bathroom in your shirt, blushing."
"Am I what?"
"Go to hell Arnav!"
"What happened to Swami? Show some respect for your lord-and-master!"
"Tsk tsk. Such language. And you are blushing. Your cheeks are red, your neck is red. Why are you blushing Khushi?"
"I'm not blushing. I have prickly heat. I got it from wearing your clothes. They're all prickly. Just like you!" she flung at him, tucking herself under the covers again.
"Khushi. You're making worse jokes than Bubbly. Now, when your sense of humor goes for a toss, I know you're flustered," said Arnav.
"Be quiet," she said burying her face into the pillow, so her voice sounded muffled.
"It's like when you kissed my cheek in front of Di and Nani. How you blushed that day! You're blushing like that now. Only 10 times redder. Why is that, I wonder?" he asked teasingly.
A pillow was flung at him. He caught it and put it aside laughingly. "Oh come on Khushi. Admit it. You're blushing. Just say it, and you can go to sleep. I won't bug you anymore," said Arnav.
"I'll say it if you'll tell me why you didn't want me to wear Nanheji's Pajamas," she said, sitting up in bed.
"I didn't want you to wear NK's Pajamas, because no Man likes his wife in another man's clothes. His clothes, yes. Another man's..No!" said Arnav feelingly. "And NK is a fool!" he added for good measure.
"So, you like me in your clothes then?" asked Khushi, eyes twinkling.
"Na-uh. Your turn. Admit you're blushing," said Arnav firmly.
"Yes. I'm blushing. I'm in my husband's shirt. Nothing but my husband's shirt. Of course I'm blushing, you fool," said Khushi.
"Nothing but my shirt? You mean you're comman.." he hadn't finished the sentence when she interrupted.
"Get your mind out of the gutter. I am wearing underwear!" she said.
"OK," he swallowed. That was a reassuring thought, he said to himself.
"So, you like me in your shirt then?" she asked lightly.
"You look sexy as hell and you know it. Now shut up and go to sleep," said Arnav.
"No goodnight kiss, Swami?" she asked laughingly.
"Don't push your luck," said Arnav plaintively.
"I thought I was pushing your buttons," she giggled.
"It won't end with a kiss," he warned.
"I didn't say I wanted it to end at all," she said.
"Even I don't have that much staying power Khushi. I'm Arnav Singh Raizada not a Nuclear Reactor. It will have to end at some point," he climbed on to the bed.
"We'll still be married tomorrow," she warned.
"Last I heard, sex doesn't undo a marriage," he said.
"I meant our problems will still be there in the morning," she sighed.
"Sex solves most problems. If people had more sex, the world would be a more peaceful place," said Arnav, snuggling under the sheets with his wife.
"That's rubbish!" said Khushi.
"Stop talking," said Arnav.
"Make me!" she said.
OK..tell me what you think. Pretty awful, no? It's OK. I know. I just needed to write something!
Here is the scene from the movie Roja that I was referring to:
PS: For an index of my other works, click HERE.
Topic started by madmaxine
Last replied by PoochiePie