Arnav-Khushi FF: ASR Decrypted - Part 5 on pg9 - Page 2

Damn Interesting Part ; D 😳

That was so awesome...

P.S. loved the banner...

Interesting concept...And ur writing is powerful too...Loved it and im sure ur readers will love ur writing style...
Cont soon with part 2..

Wow! I really liked it!

The way you portrayed each character, keeping their main traits while also altering them as needed.

Shyam...hmmm...is he really as good as they make him sound? I think not! Arnav Singh Raizada never does anything without a reason ;) Am I right or am I right?

Anyways I love Shashi babua in this story!! Lol

And awh. Khushi lost her parents in this one too?! But writers gotta do what a writers gotta do.

Khushi is still the same bubbly, optimistic, hard-headed, determined girl but shes more mature and not as innocent maybe...

Arnav is still the controlling, short-tempered, egoistic, except his a blood crazed murderer this time! But his ego will never leave will it?

Anyways continue soon! And I'll let you know that I won't be able to read every update as it comes because college is starting and I'll be busy. But I'll try! But please continue PMing me.

Originally posted by: -Tintin.

Damn Interesting Part ; D 😳

Edited by errrm - 11 years ago

 

On the other side of the one-way glass, Khushi stood silently, watching Arnav Singh Raizada... preparing herself for the encounter, steeling herself, as Shashi Sir had advised. The subject had been handcuffed to the chair in the interrogation room, and was looking down at his knees, his facial expression unreadable, not blank - just unreadable.

 

Then he jerked his head towards the one-way glass, with a suddenness that jolted her, and looked right into her eyes. Khushi stepped back and asked, in a whisper, if Arnav could see them.

 

The warden laughed, "No madamji, he cannot see or hear us."

 

But Arnav was still staring straight at her, knowingly.

 

Mind-games, Khushi reassured herself, and calmly walked to the door and pushed it open.

 

For a moment, Arnav was convinced that there had been a mistake. She must have walked into the wrong room. How could a girl as petite and delicate-looking as her have possibly found her way to a prison such as the one he was in? She was quite the opposite of the balding old fart he had been expecting. She was distinctly attractive, with her sharp, pixie-like features chiselled into an unblemished porcelain face, and her understated cloudy blue chiffon saree. Surely she was not the one. But the astuteness in the look she gave him put him back in his place. It was obvious that she knew what she was doing. Arnav was quick to iron out all expression from his face.

 

This probably called, however, for a change of tactics. Not that she was one to be underestimated. Nobody, nothing could be underestimated. There was far too much at stake. But he had to use this, her, as best he could. 

The first move meant everything. She was waiting for his, obviously, as she sat before him, with a mild, patient smile that meant nothing at all.

 

She smelt nice. Some kind of perfume - jasmine-like, powdery. He inhaled deeply so he could take her fragrance back to the repellent pit where he was confined. But he realised that it felt too alien, too strange to him now. His world had changed, he had changed. He had internalised the cell he had been thrown into - it was the only thing that was real. Her fragrance made him gag.

 

"So, you're the shrink." he said finally, leaning back on the chair. Not quite defiant, but not complacent or compliant either.

 

"Khushi," she answered, in a tone just as insignificantly pleasant as her smile.  

 

This added nothing at all to the profiling that he himself was trying to carry out, of her. Except, perhaps, the realisation that the dodging was not going to work. He had been marked, shoved into the spotlight, and she was quite content with observing him and throwing the ball back into his court every time. Arnav felt a sudden flash of irritation; he was used to being in control. 

And then, a brainwave: he would give her exactly what she wanted... An opportunity to spew out her rehearsed psychobabble at him.

 

"Why are you here?" he asked, in a heavy, wearied voice, projecting the perfect picture of the helpless, tortured soul.

 

"We believe you may like to talk to someone. That you may need to." Textbook answer. He noted the use of "we," a confirmation of her untrustworthiness if there ever was one.

 

"Why?"

 

"You have hardly spoken to anyone since you were arrested. Other than your confession, that is."

 

"So your idea was that, of all people, I should speak to you?" A snort of ever-so-slight derision.

 

"Why not?" she shrugged.

 

"You don't trust me, but I should trust you? You handcuff me, bring me to an interrogation room, have guards observe me from the other side of that one-way glass. And I should open myself to you. Pray, tell me why?"

 

"Because it's the best you can have, given your situation," she answered, without even flinching at his sudden agitation.

 

"I don't need a shrink," he said through gritted teeth.

 

"Be that as it may, here I am. Give this a try, Mr Raizada. It won't hurt. You never know, it may even help." Her tone had softened to a caring whisper.

 

Arnav stared at her, momentarily taken aback. She was deviating from the script. The suffocated air that had been forcing itself through his nostrils, seemed to have suddenly acquired some kind of miraculous buoyancy. Her warm liquid brown eyes were emitting what seemed like actual compassion. As if he was something other than the savage animal others were so repelled by.

 

There was something about Arnav, Khushi had decided. There was something about the pain he was trying to mask. Something that made her want to reach out to him. The eyes beneath his knitted brows could well have been those of a killer, but she was able to sense the vulnerability that lay in their depths.

 

She composed herself, remembering Shashi Sir's words. She had to maintain her distance, and yet, somehow, get him to open up to her.   

 

"What do you want to know?" he asked after a heavy pause.

 

"Well, let's start from the very beginning, shall we? Tell me about your childhood."

 

If the question had not been so excruciatingly personal, and Arnav's mind had not been so rigorously trained to curb any physical expressions of his inner emotions, he might have sniggered. So she was a typical shrink after all, just as boringly conventional as he needed her to be. She was playing right into his hands.

 

"I can't," he said, a catch in his throat, "I mean, I don't want to."

 

"Why?" she probed gently.

 

He frowned, as though irritated by her impudence.

 

"Okay," she conceded, "tell me something about yourself, anything that you feel like sharing."

 

His annoyance fizzled out somewhat but he said nothing. His plan, of course, was to invent an elaborate, moving story, but he knew it would not be plausible if it were not couched in deliberate hesitation and a healthy amount of cynicism.

 

"Were you close to your sister - the one who killed herself?" she threw at him without warning then, a slightly provocative smile playing on her lips. It may have been cruel, but it needed to be done.

 

This time, he did not have to pretend. The throbbing agony that he felt was unbearably real, so much so that it could neither be hidden nor expressed. He tried to get up from the chair he was shackled to, but it was fixed to the ground. His hands were shaking, aching to grab hold of her, or at least, to plummet at the table with his fist and turn it to dust. His powerlessness erupted from his mouth in a feral roar, as he glared at her, embers burning through his dark pupils.

 

Within seconds, the guards had rushed into the room. They need not have bothered. He was still chained like an animal. And that bitch was still looking at him with that condescending curiosity, even as she was being led out of the room by the warden.  She would never, ever be able to understand!

 

But Khushi had understood one thing at least. The sister, Shyamji's wife, would have held at least part of the secret to Arnav's obscurity. And finally, she had met the unguarded, unmasked Arnav Singh Raizada. Not the one who was weighing his words, testing her, perhaps even trying to mislead her, but the real person, beneath all that he feigned to be. 

 

Once outside, she strictly instructed the warden to tend to Arnav. She had noticed the striking red ribbon of blood piercing through the man's wrists when he was trying to break free from the handcuffs, and she knew how heartless prison guards could be sometimes.

Edited by errrm - 11 years ago

Wow looove it
Awesomee beautiful

WOOOW, Story ; D 😳

This is definately something new! And I'm loving it<3

The characters so different yet the same.

ASR is still the doting brother for his beloved sister, but how far can he go for her happiness? Can he do something that would lead her to take her own life? Well we'll find out soon won't we? ;D

And Khushi, still so delicate and serene but this time she had a focus...that may become unfocused in the process of seeing the truth clearly?!

They both intrigue the other yet their positions hold them back...but will her job and the common sense be enough to hold her back? Will his secrets be enough to hold him back? I think not.

When chained down like an animal how can you act any less? My heart truly felt for Arnav and the way he was treated. I can see so did Khushi.

All in all I loved it. I truly didn't know what to expect after te first part but this was outstanding. Can't wait to read more and learn more! :)

Thanks for the PM. Update soon.