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Hola denizens of FF forum.
First things first, the following junk balderdash is written in pure jest.
Born out of unconditional support of friends, shree10, prpk525, amus5 and tomriddle.
After a lot of contemplation over which forum to post it on, since this has stuff both from IPKKND and Rangrasiya I reckoned the FF forum to be the best place.
Fandom wars are strictly encouraged (well we all love some drama) but don't let mods know about it okay?
Note: It isn't proof read, I have exams so you might find some awful spelling mistakes.
Also it's high time that I shut up!
Warning: Very very mature content ahead, strictly 81+
Part One:
Arshi
He had deduced long ago that his wife's brain was a systemic disarray of logical hazards, her thought process an exponential function in variable x where x could assume any value between a display of rare maturity to spasmodic buffoonery and her entire being, a compulsive presense in his life!
He remembered his statement from long ago, which still made his fangirls go rushing, flushing and blushing, "Thodi Pagal hai, but cute hai." He now wanted to alter that, "Poori Pagal hai, but bahut cute hai." He often told her that she was one of her kind with an unmasked pride! Khushi Kumari Gupta Singh Raizada, she never failed to surprise him. And he never failed to surprise her!
One of the Prakash brother's took his blazer and laptop bag as he entered the living room of his mansion where plonked on a couch, his sister was shedding bucket full of tears and aunt giving her non-stop commentary over some random daily soap on the channel Star Poop or Pee TV or Loony Entertainment Television. He grimaced remembering that fateful incident which had resulted in him learning the names of channels running in the name of Indian Entertainment. "f**k" he swore.
Some three months ago, just after Khushi had won the Mrs. India pageant, she had been approached by the production house which had once produced a show called, "Geet Kabse Ghar Aayi" on Star Bund with the script of another unnamed bromance drama to be aired on the channel Wife Not Ok.
Khushi had jumped in excitement while he had slumped in dejection. He couldn't believe it, a bromance drama! He had tried so hard to dissuade her, offered that she could instead model for AR's bridal collection, hell, model for anything she liked, maybe take up ads, he knew many ad gurus in Mumbai, he would get her to endorse a soft drink brand if she liked but Khushi could not be convinced. Neither could he be, the very thought of seeing his wife in some other man's arms even if it was only for the camera was downright revolting.
The production house had approached him, set up a meeting explaining him how in these dramas there was no actual kissing-vissing, only almost kisses, almost suhaag raats (which too were at times done using dummies) and most of the time the romantic mood was set only by the background music but Arnav just couldn't let this happen. The Green monster poked his head everywhere, he was mad, and Aman's life became hell as a result of it.
Later that week he had to leave for London to address an emergency,
when he came back, his wife was no where to be found. His sister had informed him through a sheen of un-shed tears, holding a pooja thali in hand that she had left for Mumbai with their photographer Jeff, as soon as the words had escaped her mouth her pooja thali got filled with her freely flowing tears.
Arnav was desperate the first day, he contemplated a hundred times whether to leave for Mumbai, booked and cancelled twenty flight tickets, thought of borrowing the helicopter from Deccan again (which he would flaunt hiding the D) but he did not. Why should he be so adversely affected, after all she had a right to further her career and he couldn't hinder that.
The next day he was haggard, he downed thirty mugs of black coffee, imagined all the almost kiss scenarios with random men and his wife, the most recurrent male face being that of a man clad in an army like uniform, with a thick moustache driving a jeep. He paled, forgot to take his medicines and fainted. Anjali shed another bucket of tears over his face bringing him back to conscious. Lavanya who had come from London with him to pay the family a visit, fed him jalebis made by Khushi.
The following day Arnav had cancelled all his appointments, sitting in his green recliner he kept on staring at Khushi's photograph in his hands wistfully while Arav played a DVD of classic soccer matches on the large LED TV in his room. But all Arnav could remember was Khushi watching "Raashi Phal (horoscope)".
^^^
Khushi was welcomed by an eerie silence when she entered the mansion, she wondered if Arnavji would be mad at her. She saw NK sitting in the couch alone reading some angrezi upanyas called Twilight.
"Nanheji" she called.
"Khushiji?" he gasped, and ran towards her, "Woh Nannav... Nannav"
"Kya hua unhe, aap kuch batyenge bhi?"
"Nannav phir se madhosh ho gaya"
She did not wait to tell him the difference between "madhosh" and "behosh", being quite sure it must be the latter, she left her suitcase there and ran towards their room clutching only one bag to her side.
There she found him, just three days without her, lying in his king size bed in a half sitting position, looking deathly sick. "Arnavji, kya hua aapko?" she asked.
"Just go away." he growled, without looking at her.
It had taken an hour of persuasion, after which her forever grumpy Laad Governor relented and agreed to listen to her tale of why she went to Mumbai, he did not forget to act pricey and flare his nostrils every now and then.
And then, Khushi Kumari Gupta Singh Raizada opened the bag she had been dearly clutching to reveal to the family her purpose of visit.
Large posters were unloaded each showcasing her clad in a loud chamkili sari akin to what Manorma usually sported, heavy jewelry, a fist full of vermilion in her parting and a large matching bindi, along with grotesque make up. Manorma squealed, Lavanya grimaced, Anjali shed another bucket full, NK well, who cared what he did, while Arnav stood dumbstruck before it hit him.
She wasn't doing the bromance drama, she had signed for kitchen politics, he sighed in relief, at least he won't have to worry about almost kissing now.
He studied the posters, in one she had a belan in her hand, in another she was pulling the pig tails of two little girls, in yet another she was handing tiffin boxes to school children, in another to office goers and then it dawned upon him, just above every poster was written in clear letters, "Various Works Of KKGSR Dabba Service".
****
Arnav got to the stairs remembering that day, she was indeed crazy, why she had to give him a heart attack like that, she could have easily told him, but then she was Khushi and when did she do things the normal way. He was pleasantly surprised today not to find her in the living room watching daily soaps, he checked his watch it was 10:30, he had informed her earlier about the small dinner party after the conference, maybe she had already slept he mused.
When he entered their room, the sight in front of him had him dazed, spell struck and thoroughly turned on. She sat in front of the mirror, her back facing him, brushing her long hair, ditching the clumsy salwar kameez she usually wore as a night suit and replacing it with the maroon coloured vaguely sensual nighty he had bought her a month ago. He entered the room casually shutting the door behind him with his heels and leaned against the door frame, hands folded across his chest, smirking.
She turned instantaneously, "Arnavji." she said smiling brightly but then for some reason her smile faltered, "are you... are you tired?"
He cocked his brow, gazing at her intently, "Why do you ask?" he said slyly.
"Woh... hum..." she fumbled.
"Maybe I was, but not anymore." he replied huskily standing to his full length and swiftly locking the door behind. "You didn't answer my question though." Oh how much he loved to see her flustered.
"Which question?" she asked feigning innocence.
"Really Mrs. Raizada, you want me to repeat?" he whispered taking a step towards her. She backed a little as a habit and hit stool and fell on it.
"Careful Khushi." he cautioned and reached her in a second, and pulled her up gently, "So what are your plans for tonight baby?" he whispered close to her ear, still holding her arm in one hand and flicked her nose with the other.
"Well, Mr. Raizada, I though..."
"You thought..."
"I... if we could..."
He circled his arms around her waist drawing her still closer, "if we could what Khushi?" Khushi could very well identify the teasing tone of her husband, She felt her cheeks getting warm as he drew gentle circles along her waist.
"If we could make..."
"Make what?" he breathed in her ear, making her all fuzzy.
"Make..." her voice barely came out.
"Hmm, I am listening. C'mon say it." he wondered how easily gibberish frizzled out of her delicious mouth but she would go all tongue tied when it came to this...
She shut her eyes tight feeling his hands moving upwards in a sweet torture. "If we could make jalebis tonight." she said out loud with a gush of breath.
His hands stilled for a moment. Next he turned her to face him, smirking playfully, "Where sweetheart?" he purred.
She bit her lip averting his gaze in response, her nose turning a beautiful shade of pink. He leaned in to kiss the side of her nose, she drew a sharp breath in response, next he kissed the corner of her lips, the contact made her open her eyes and look in his which darkened with every passing second. "I'll join you in five minutes." he said, lightly blowing the strands of hair fallen over her forehead, "to make jalebis of course." and winked. She blushed profusely watching him move towards the bathroom.
The heat emanating from their bodies was enough to fry scores of Jalebis. Khushi shuddered in pleasure as his hot tongue swept out stroking her skin where a tiny mole near her ear had always caught his fancy. She shivered just like the first time he had done that, he brought his mouth over her ear gently nuzzling at it, "Khushi..." he whispered.
She was rendered incapable of thinking, let alone speak, "Hmm."
"I..." he teased her earlobe. She knew what was coming. And it never failed to bring her to the heights of ecstasy, when he said those three magical words. No matter how many times he said those to her, but it brought the same feeling of fulfillment, of completion and pure unadulterated joy as the very first confession. She remembered that phone call about two years ago, he could hear her crying, her covering the mouthpiece with her dopatta notwithstanding. He had then, to her utmost bewilderment and fascination told her what he felt about her, three words said in pain and passion.
But it hadn't been enough, he never said those to her when they were face to face, why the hell? Till that precious night it transpired, he had been fiery, his sullen temper always made him spill the beans, he had charged at her in an attempt to dismiss, he argued that she never tried to understand him and ended up saying the three on her face in a way that was unique to him, he made the three words to four, typical ASR, how would he not drop a 'damn it' after every sentence he ever said?
Khushi waited in maddening anticipation, he dropped a few more kisses along her jaw and then came back to her ear...
"Kahiye na Arnavji..." she could wait no longer.
He complied and whispered in the huskiest possible voice, one that could reduce any female on earth to a molten puddle of desire...
"Andhera Kayam Rahe... damn it."
She gave him her million dollar dazzling smile, that made him lose all semblance of the little control he had been practicing to no avail.
"Hum bhi aapse..." rest of the words never came out as he claimed her lips in a smoldering kiss. His fingers deftly working in getting her out of the flimsy fabric.
Thirty minutes later, they lay drowsy and spent after a mind blowing session. She studied his face, his eyes were closed, he had a sweet satisfied smile on his lips, she wondered if she could ask him what she had on her mind. Her Laad Governor hardly ever refused her anything when he was in a good mood and he seemed in one right now.
"Arnavji..."
"Hmm."
"Are you asleep."
"hmm, not really."
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Will you do it for me?"
He opened one eye lazily, she looked at him expectantly, "Absolutely."
"Really?"
"Will you say it now."
"Will you grow a Moonch?"
"What the." Arnav winced and let out a string of choice expletives. Apart from being confused, she really admired his choice in cuss words, her vocabulary was growing strong, thanks urban dictionary. Arnav on the other hand wanted to run and skinny dip into his pool (only that there would be too many mosquitoes) to let out his frustration. Hell, it must be that stupid show that she was hooked on to, every night on Killers Channel at 9:30 PM IST.
It killed him somewhere just how his wife drooled over the hero who had as Khushi would describe, "Jhabrili Moonchen". Man what would he give to tear that moustache away from his face! She would gush the entire day over Major saab, such was his ordeal that he heard his wife utter "Major Saab" more than Laad Governor. It pinched his heart, what not he had done to rescue himself from this madness. He has tried reasoning, given her all the logical arguements regarding how the show was unbelievable bullshit, how there was no organization called BSD, how the army Uniforms were all wrong, how mother of a Shaheed could not just barge and slap an officer, how army men sported crew-cut, how the lavish tufts sported by the damned major were a breach of army's decorum, how the trigger happy major should have been court martialled by now. But would she give a damn, hell no. She'd be still fawning all over him.
Unable to take it, he had pulled out the TV wires. But she had figured that out in two days, next he asked the set top box company to cancel the channel's subscription, when they had said it was impossible he had thrown a gargantuan sum of money at them making them finally unsubscribing Killers. But Khushi had resorted to YouTube. He had then removed the Broadcom chip from the motherboard of her laptop, so that she could not access internet, she had borrowed Anjali's laptop. He then hid away his sister's lappy in the Mandir, she had taken his iphone and watched the show using 3G. He was exasperated, tired, fed up. And now her repugnant "Moonch" fetish.
He had given so many arguments against it, told her he would look horrible sporting one, and she reminded him of his photograph where the 'Kanyas' had drawn a "jhabrili moonch", the memory was repulsive!
He then reasoned how uncomfortable it would be to eat with a moustache, he felt bile rise in his throat at his own logic wondering about food articles sticking in hair. What an unhygienic menace! He contemplated to fire all men with a moustache in his office.
As opposed to the reaction he had aspired to get from his wife, her eyes immediately brightened up, "Not a problem Arnavji, I'll lick away that food from your Moonch."
For the first time in his life Arnav Singh Raizada wanted to grow a moustache right at that moment. Hygiene be damned!
Khushi had immediately brought her hand to her lips, how could she say such a shameless thing? She thought, her cheeks burning red. Arnav smirked, "Why do I need a moustache baby, you could always lick it from my lips?" She had punched his shoulder in response, "Aapko sharam nahin aati?"
"Nope."
And the present predicament, what reason could he give her now to not grow one? Rising like phoenix from the ashes of his Shaatir Dimaag, a brilliant idea struck him - one thing that could dissuade her forever from the subject, she'd never raise it again in her life, he knew it. So he began, "Well sweetheart I would, but there is a problem."
"What?"
"Ten years down the line, when my hair starts greying, you know it's natural, along with the hair on my head, I'll have to die my moustache as well. Think about it Khushi, more hair color, more money spent, more..." he didn't have to say more. Her eyes widened, the spirit of the frugal and prudent middle class girl Khushi Kumari Gupta from Lucknow rose from it's deep slumber."
"Humne toh yeh socha hi nahi tha Arnavji."
"See, perks of being Mrs, Raizada." he declared triumphantly.
She touched her long hair, "I should get my hair cut short Arnavji." she mumbled.
Arnav was dumbstruck.
It took an hour of convincing, cajoling, hell he loved her long hair and finally she understood. He sighed in relief, now she wouldn't trouble him about the moonch anymore.
After a few minutes of blissful silence spent in each other's arms,
"Arnavji..."
"Hmm."
"Are you asleep."
He opened one eye, bored, "Just say it damnit." he snapped.
"Take me to Chandangarh, please."
He let out another string of choice expletives, this time Khushi had to close her ears, the words were really very bad. Devi Maiyya would punish her for even hearing them.
"Do you realize, Khushi Kumari Gupta Singh Raizada, it's all imaginary, there is no place like Chandangarh damnit." he hissed.
"No Arnavji, there is, I checked it on Google." she asserted.
"Really?" he said irritated, "even I did Khushi and there is none."
She shot up and sat facing him. The duvet covering her bosom slipped, his eyes followed it leisurely sparking with mischief and something else. Khushi saw it, and pulled it up, no way she could indulge him, he didn't believe her?
He rolled his eyes. "What friggin site was it?"
"It was a site you wouldn't have taken the pains to check Mr. Raizada. Chandangarh exists, so does BSD." she growled.
"What's the friggin name damnit?"
"India Forums." she declared.
"f**k."
*****
Sneak peak from the next -
Rudra Pratap Ranawat let out a gutteral growl of disappointment. He already hated this man, Arnav Singh Raizada, BSD was definitely not providing him any security on his honeymoon! Better still, he might just shoot this ASR dead. He thought.
--------------------------------------------------------
So how was it?
NEXT
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