ARSHI OS: Mahi Mahi PM's later

It was late afternoon and the dwindling rays of the Lucknow sun stretched across the horizon, bathing its surroundings in a warm glow. The terrace of the Raizada haveli looked out over the acres of farmland; an amalgamation of vibrant yellow canola and lush green rice fields. A lone labourer stood bent over in the shallow waters, hacking away at the thin stems with his sickle. Wrapping his head with a damp cotton cloth in a turban like arrangement, he protected himself from the sun's damaging rays. Years of such work, however, had blackened his already naturally dark colouring; the skin now a tough leather casing.

Another young villager walked through the field, brandishing a stick through the tall growth of canola, clearing a path for himself and his companion; guy maata. A docile creature, the cow obediently followed, disturbing the silence with an occasional deep-bellied moo. Swaying her neck from side to side, the tinkle of her cowbell echoed out into the otherwise empty afternoon.

With her eyes closed, Khushi focused on this sound. The dull chime of the bell provided a uniform cadence for the sweet soprano of Anjali's voice and the resonant bass of her guru. Accompanied by the tanpura the duo practiced a series of vocal exercises. The lessons varied and sometimes Khushi would also sit in on the sessions, playing the sitar. Today though, she simply sat with her back nestled between Devyani's knees, content on listening.

The brutal summer had drawn every last bit of moisture from the earth, leaving behind clay like red substance. The winds, however had shifted some of that dry earth; tiny particles suspended in the atmosphere. Inhaling deeply, Khushi took in the scent and intuitively knew that Lord Indra was on his way. A gentle breeze fluttered her dupatta, molding it against her form. Unconsciously, Khushi circled her arms around her knees and drew them closer to her chest.

Smiling gently, her head was tugged back as Devyani pulled the comb through her long tresses. Old weathered hands, danced their way across her scalp applying varying pressure.

"Mmm" she hummed aloud in satisfaction. "Naniji hum apni poori zindagi aap hi se apne baal banwathe rahenge. Muft me aap humare sar joh dabadethi hai."

Devyani smiled and began to fashion the long lengths of hair into a plait. "Woh toh tabhi hi hoga jab aap yahan humre pass rehengi na?"

Khushi quickly turned her head around… "Areh, hum kahan jah rahen hai?"

Naniji slapped her head affectionately… "Dhat pagli! Apne sasural jana hai ke nahi?"

The fifth member of the evening soiree stiffened at his Nani's forthright declaration. It wasn't a discernable reaction except to one who was paying close attention; something Khushi had been doing the whole afternoon. Arnav sat on the ledge, his back propped up against the far wall and his leg crossed at the ankles. There was a fractional movement of his head; stormy grey-brown eyes keeping her in his periphery.

The angle at which he was sitting made it difficult for her to see his expression; the rays filtering directly into her eyes from behind him. Intuitively though, she knew he was annoyed.

"Ha naniji, woh toh hai." Khushi's tone lightly teased as she kept her eyes firmly set on her target. "Lekin jise bhi hum shaadi karenge nah, hum yehi chahenge ke unko kitabe bilkul bhi pasand nah ho. Biwi ke liye toh phursaat honi chaiye…hai na?"

Devyani's eyes flickered up to her grandson, who had been reading with intense concentration the entire afternoon. She laughed and pulled Khushi's cheek.

"Badmash…"

Using Khushi's shoulders as support, she slowly shifted her weight forward, her knees creaking loudly, finally standing up erect. "Hum chalte hain, khana bhi banana hai." Quietly she whispered to Khushi "Zyaada tang mat kar na."

She opened her mouth in mock protest and then grinned as she watched Naniji's retreating figure. Making her way over to the ledge she stood a little distance away from Arnav enjoying the view. The warmth of Anjali's voice and the tickling of the gentle wind enveloped her in a familiar warmth. Arnav watched the few stray stands dance across her face as she listened to the melodic musings of his sister and the harmony of the natural wildlife.

A short while later the raga came to an end as did Anjali's riyaaz. Accompanying her guru outside she left Khushi and Arnav alone on the terrace. It had been a terribly hot day and so the Raizada's had immersed the very ripe mango's from the latest harvest into a large steel drum filled with ice water. Catching sight of the ripe yellow fruit, Khushi was unable to resist and lightly jogged her way over; payals tinkling in her wake.

Arnav watched as she dipped her arm into the icy depths and fished out the coldest mango. As she drew her milky arm back out, he paid particular attention to the dewdrops clinging to her skin and red glass bangles. Shaking off the excess water he relished the sweet chime of her bangles. That sound was the first memory he had of her. Before he had seen three-year-old Khushi, he had heard her.

Memories of childhood anecdotes flashed before him. Arnav holding Khushi's hand and taking her to the first day of school. Arnav pushing Khushi on the swings. Her childlike giggles echoing out in the playground. Endless piggyback rides. Arnav protecting Khushi from the unwanted advances of the local village ruffian. Khushi bandaging his scrapes afterward. Sharing their first chaste kiss on the cheek, under the shade of the large tree in the school compound.

They had so much history. Surely him being away for three years couldn't have changed that. But something had changed. The equation between them had become uneasy ever since he had returned three days ago. Apart from a few stolen glances they hadn't spoken a word. His Khushi, who couldn't shut up for two seconds hadn't spoken a word to him.

"Mmm" she voiced her satisfaction aloud. Snapping back into the present, he saw the her sucking the cold pulp from the top. It's juices dribbling down her chin and onto her hand, leaving a sticky trail behind. She giggled as she tried to wipe the sweet nectar off her skin unsuccessfully, enjoying the sinful process.

Slamming his book shut he walked over to her and demanded to know…

"Kya kehri thi tum?"

Looking up from her mango, she blinked her doe eyes innocently…"Kya kehre the hum?"

"Zyaada smart bane ki koshish mat karo." His finger pointed at her nose. Khushi smiled to herself as she watched his famous temper begin to flare.

"Koshish kyun kare jum hum hai hi…smart." The last word said with a thick Indian accent.

Arnav scoffed… "Oh please…tumhari toh akal pata nahi kab ki ghass charne gayi hai."

If Arnav had a temper, then young Khushi was no less. In a fit or rage she squeezed all the remaining pulp, smearing it onto his crisp white linen shirt. Poking her tongue out at him, she turned to walk toward the stairs. Covering the distance between them in a few easy strides he scooped her up in his arms and deposited her in the steel drum along with mangoes.

Not quite small enough to fit into the drum her knees hung over its edge, swinging her lower legs as she clutched on to the collar of his shirt with both hands.

The shock of the icy water resulted in her squealing in a high pitch…

"Pagal ho gaya ho! Yeh kya kiya?"

Still bobbing up and down in the drum along with the mangoes, with Arnav's face mere inches away from her he snapped…

"Aam ka ras kyun pehka?"

"Tum ne kyun kaha keh mera dimaag nahi hai?" she fired back.

"Tum ne kyun kaha keh tum kisi aur se shaadi karogi?"

Suddenly Khushi's anger dissipated, despite being soaked in icy cold water. Smiling coyly she said…

"Hume aisa pati chaiye jise kitabe nahi pasand ho"

"Kyun? Tumhe kitabe pasand nahi?"

"Nahi!"

"Nahi? Toh kya pasand hai!" he said shouting.

"Bata de?" she teased

"Han!" he shouted

"Bata de?" in a sing-song voice

"Han…" he growled, the answer rumbling in his chest.

Pulling him close to her, she whispered against his lips… "Second. Lieutenant. Arnav Singh Raizada."

Letting go of his collar, she sank back into the drum, with a dreamy expression. A feeling of warmth washed over him as he held her gaze captive. She was his. She always would be.

He became aware of the white material that was now almost transparent as it clung to every contour of her body, inviting him to feast his eyes on the sight. Sensing the shift of his attention, Khushi's breathing became labored, her bosom heaving against the already revealing fabric. Smirking, he cupped her face and torturously inched his way toward her lips. As she came closer, she kept leaning back, shying away from his advance.

Finally when he was only a cm away from her lips, she shoved his chest with all the force she could muster and screamed….

"Naniji!"

Flat on his bottom, Arnav laughed as she ran, sopping wet to the safety of his grandmother, leaving a wet trail behind her.

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Ok, so this is an OS that spawned from severe writers block. I had planned it as a three shot. But be warned if I continue it will be desperately sad. I guess I'm in that kind of a mood.

This scene was inspired from the movie Border. I cannot claim artistic integrity.

Let me know what you guys thought. Thank you for all the wishes for my Nani.

It's also on my Skyfall blog. Heart's A Mess and Your Love Means Everything will remain independant blogs but OS's will go on the Skyfall blog!