122 days. 4 months. That was the duration that Kunj and Twinkle had agreed to stay in Amritsar, not a day longer nor a day shorter.
Oh, and how these 122 days were hell and holy water.
It was during this period that Kunj realized that every little thing had a price tag. The following events the account log of the purchase and the price.
The price of proclamation:
It was a rainy night, Kunj had just returned from office. He ran a hand through the wet hair plastered on his forehead. The other hand violently tugging on the red and blue tie around his neck. "Twinkle! He yelled as he ascended the stairs to their room. "Twinkle! he yelled again upon receiving no reply. Well it wasn't unusual for his wife to ignore him, she did have a habit of going into the famous Music on, World off' modes.
"Huh, So rahi hogi Maharani. Instead comes the cold retort from his mother. Kunj had learned to ignore her vitriol words aimed towards his wife because any defensive comments made on his part would only result in more bitter bashes on his mother's part. Ignorance is bliss.
And Ignorance was bliss. Point in case, Twinkle sitting in front of a larger than life canvas, dressed in jean shorts and a tank. Hair in bun, and those red headphones on. Kunj's lips curved in a smile upon laying his eyes on the beauty in front of him. She blissfully remained oblivious to his presence and that set a plan in motion in his mind.
Kunj lightly shut the door to their bedroom, the lock clicking in place with a soft echo. He tip-toed his way towards her and grabbed one of the many paint brushes on the table behind her. The bristles of the brush glistened with red paint oddly matching the fire suddenly ignited in his veins. He licks his dry lips before placing the cold tip of the brush against Twinkle's swan like neck.
Twinkle sucks in a breath of surprise. She should have screamed. She should have been startled as a hand wound itself around her neck. But she didn't, couldn't. How could she when the scent that enveloped her was so familiar. How could she have mistaken those calloused fingers? "Kunj. she merely whispered, her eyes slipping close as his lips falls on the other side of her neck. His breath tickling her clavicle and his five o'clock shadow tainting the skin in the same hue as the paint running on the other side of her neck.
His fingers find purchase on the smooth skin of her stomach while the other hand continues to paint her arm in slow strokes. Twinkle felt an unfamiliar heat pool in the pit of her stomach that deliciously contradicted the chill that ran down her spine. She turns her face towards him, her eyes heavy as was her voice. "Yeh hum- kya-?
All semblance of coherence leaves her as his lips leave her jugular and instead fall on her lips. He tastes of cinnamon. Spicy and yet with that unmistakable sweet after taste. She barely registers the sound of the paint brush falling from her and his fingers as his tongue swipes her bottom lip. She also doesn't quite know when her fingers caress his face before her nails rake the base of his neck.
A hungry growl leaves his mouth and Twinkle finds the heat coiling in her stomach at the sound. His arms wrap themselves around her back and he, without warming lifts her up from her seat and into his strong arms. Twinkle reciprocates the effort by wrapping her own legs around his waist. An uncharacteristic and erotic moan leaves her lips at the sudden friction created by his hardening member against her core.
They had never gone his far. Never before crossed beyond the limit of make outs. And yet each step, each movement, each breath was in beautiful synchrony, almost like a practiced choreography. Kunj pushed his hands up her tank top, pinching open the clasps of her pink bra with nimble fingers while Twinkle ground her hips against his length.
They fall on the bed with a light thud and a tangle of limbs and tongue. There were no hesitations from either sides. Oh! They wanted this, for a very long time if they ever admitted it. Clothes came loose, skin was raked red, breaths were heavy and labored. But everything was perfect.
They hadn't said that 3 worded, 8 lettered sentence yet. But Lord was witness it was marked on their bodies, bold and in red hickeys.
And that's how they drifted off to sleep, covered in sweat and silk sheets.
Price of proclamation: A missed family dinner.
Price of a home:
Kunj had let Twinkle know time and again of how much he missed home, how much he missed Tuscany. And though Twinkle never worded the words she missed home too. Yes, she was the girl of thinking that home can be your lovers embrace too, but this time home was her lover's arm around her, in their villa in Tuscany.
And when Twinkle didn't know what more she could do then install a little fire place in their room, Kunj started dropping hint of their intention to return to Tuscany to his parents.
Needless to say, the conservation didn't end well. His father to some extent handled the news with grace, understanding, if not the couple's wish for privacy, then at least the profit that their company would make if a family member led the international headquarters. Usha, didn't.
Usha was vehement in her feeling to be agreed upon. And when Kunj countered her illogical reasons with his own very sound ones, she resorted to what she does best and aimed her bile words on Twinkle.
"Jaroor iss manhoos aurat ne hi tujhe bhehlaya hoga. Kyu Twinkle main sahi keh rahi hoon na? Tu ne Kunj ko Italy lautne ko majboor kiya hoga. Aakhir tumahre iraada toh pehle din se yehi than a, ke is parivaar ko alag karo? Kyu?
"Maa. Kunj speaks. His voice is low.
Maa doesn't heed the warning in his tone. "Aakhir aa hi gayi na tum apni asliyat pe? Usha scoffs. "Main jaanti hoon, tum Italy kyun jaana chahti ho! Taaki jab Kunj daftar chale jaaye toh tum aurou ke saath rangraliya-"
"MAA! The word echoes heavily through the house followed by the sound of a fist being banged on the polished oak wood table. "Aap aisa soch bhi kaise sakti ho? CHEE!
He grabs Twinkle's hand and yanks her away from the dining table, not giving his gob smacked mother, another look and drags them to their bedroom. The door shuts with an insulting echo.
Kunj paces the length of their room angrily, roughly running his hand through his hair, almost yanking at them at the roots. And when that doesn't work, he takes to tossing pieces of decorative home ornaments to the floor, causing them to shatter. The delicate bottles of perfume sitting on the vanity table weren't spared either until the fragrances from all the perfumes mixed in a nauseating way.
It was only when Twinkle made herself the obstacle between him and the soon to be shattered mirror, did Kunj huff out his anger to an end. His eyes instead took up the look of resignation and disappointment. "Maa aisa soch bhi kaise sakti hai Twinkle?! He is astounded. But mostly he is ashamed. "Maa khud ek aurat hote hua aisa kaisa soch sakti hai?
Twinkle wishes she had an answer, but really, what is one supposed to say in such situations anyway? What was she supposed to say against her mother-in-law, against his mother? And if not against Usha, then what was she supposed to say in her defense? There were no words that seemed right to her in that moment. So, she just shrugs, gives him a sloppy Lope-sided grin and threads her fingers through his messy hair.
Then in a moment of unexpected initiation, she closes the small distance between them and rubs her nose against his in Bambi kisses. "Tum gusse mein bahut cute dikhte ho. She whispers breathily. Well, that did earn her a smile from him.
~~~
Kunj from that night onward gave his mother a cold shoulder to put things mildly. What did one expect anyway? Usha had baselessly accused her daughter-in-law of infidelity just because Twinkle hadn't been the bride she wanted for her son. But Kunj never suspected the depth of the animosity that ran through his mother's heart. And it was then, in the quiet, dark hour of that eventful dinner two days ago, that he realized his mother would never whole-heartedly accept Twinkle.
It was also during those dark hours that Kunj knew that Tuscany was best for them, for him. Amritsar would leave him hollow and bitter, just like it did to his own parents and hers too for that matter. Pride ruled over love in this town.
It was to some extend doing the same to him too. He guesses that was the only reason he hasn't spoken to his own mother in over three days. Because he wanted her to apologize to Twinkle.
However, Usha remained saddled on her high horse. And if nothing, she continued throwing lewd accusations wrapped in honey coated words still.
"I hate you Ma! He whispers, broken heartedly watching his mother call Twinkle Manhoos' for the umpteenth time.
Price of a home: A ruined relation.
Price of a happy ending:
Needless to say, nothing would ever be the same for Kunj and his relationship with his mother. If anything, these months had been an eye opener to him. He was no longer under the guise that his family was perfect. He was no longer looking life through rose tinted glasses. La vie en rose ended.
Life was red.
Red with anger. And Red with passion.
Anger for their hypocritical world, for his bitter mother. Red for the silent bystanders, and for the ones with the black words.
And Lord, did he lash out. Red with anger, nerves prominent on his forehead. Chest puffed in heavy breaths. And all those black words stunned to silence and those with mum feelings uttering polite apologies. He had to put them in their rightful places, how would he serve justice to Twinkle if he hadn't? How would he look himself in the eyes, if he hadn't? He can't be hypocritical. It costed Twinkle her life enough times.
It surprised Usha to see her once pliant son now be the exact opposite. Of course she attributed this unwanted change in character on Twinkle. "Haan, Haan ban jaa joru ka gulaam. Twinkle toh yehi chahti hogi na?" She scoffs. "Taaki who apni mann maaniyan karti rehe aur tu usse bachate rahe."
It was the last straw.
All conversations from Kunj ceased from that day onwards. Usha delusionally pretended that this was a scheme thought of by Twinkle too to create a rift between a mother and her son.
It was also that day that Kunj, for the lack of better word, snapped. It was almost as if he gave up on redeeming his family, this town.
Red wasn't all that bad though. Because Red, Kunj associated with his and Twinkle's mingled breathes as their bodies were coated in sweat, shivering from post coital bliss. Red was the color of the marks his teeth left on her white skin. Red was the color of her lipstick stain on his chest. Red was Twinkle and Kunj and no one else.
"Ah!" Twinkle hissed as Kunj bit the shelf of her breast particularly hard. "Dheere se please." She winced. He was being uncharacteristically brutal with her today. His nails left bright red ribbons down her skin towards her core before he inserted a finger in her passage without warning. She hissed his name in surprise but didn't complain. That is until he inserted a second finger in. It hurt.
They hadn't fore played enough for her to be ready and his rough pumping fingers slightly burned. "Kunj. Rukko!"
But her groans fell on deaf ears. And when he didn't let up she gave into the feeling until she was a quivering mess. It was then that Kunj came down from his high, once the fog of pent up steam was lifted from his mind, he made sure to erase the marks of his ministrations with pecks of tenderness. This time they both climaxed together.
"Woh kya tha? She huffed immediately after he crashed down on her bosom.
"The first was what Amritsar will turn me into, aur the second was why I crave Tuscany. He pecked her nose before boring his eyes into hers. "Twinkle, please. His eyes always spoke more than his tongue ever did. "Main yaha aur nahi reh sakta. Hum yaha aur nahi reh sakte.
Twinkle knew what he was doing. He was injecting her with his poison. He had filled himself with the idea that this place was toxic. That it would ruin them. It was their damnation. He was trying to fill her mind with the same idea. Poison camouflaged in the throes of passion.
Lying there, looking into the depths of his brown orbs, Twinkle gave into his poison. He lifted the veil from her eyes that family could be redeemed. But this wasn't the poison. Poison was the thought that they should stop trying to redeem them. Because what Kunj was suggesting was to uproot relations. He was in vague words suggesting what his eyes clearly betrayed. To cut all ties, because these knots will never be undone.'
And so, Twinkle swallowed his venom with a kiss.
~~~
"Vorrei che questo libro non finisca mai. Twinkle sighs resting her chin on rim of the bath tub. Kunj was sitting on the chair next to the bathtub reading The Zahir' to her.
Kunj looks up from the book, a lazy smile adoring his lips. "Lo so. He replies, as he always does whenever Twinkle mumbles something as she just did in Italian. Lo so, it means I know.' And those were about all the Italin Kunj knew with the exception of polite greeting, names of choice food items and I love you'.
"Hai un odore come un ratto Twinkle would say. "Lo so he would reply. (You smell like a rat)(I know)
"A volte si comporta come un bambino. She would say and "Lo so he would reply. (You act like a baby sometimes.) (I know.)
The story behind Lo so' was that Twinkle one fine passionate night whispered "Ti amo, Kunj to which he replied smugly "Lo so. Twinkle didn't bother smacking him on the head or huffing out in annoyance. Rather she played the situation to her advantage and cursed him out but in whispered words, making him believe that she was talking dirty' in Italian. So, Twinkle has had ample opportunity to call her hubby dearest Monkey butt' and even had the utmost pleasure of having him agree to it.
Twinkle gathers a handful of bubbles in the palm of her hands and blows him in Kunj's direction. "Kunj she stretches out his name into 3 syllables. "Aaj ke liye itna kaafi hai.
"Kyu? He raises his lips in a rictus. "Koi aur irada hai, kya?
"Chee! Tum aur tumhare innuendos. Come join me na!
"Oho! Ab yeh dekho. Madam khud ab permission de rehi hai aur phir kehti hai ki innuendos mat maro. Double standards!
"Oho ho! Mister Innuendo. Main woh wala join me nahi bol rahi hoon. Main acha, saaf sutra wala join me bol rahi hoon. She scrunches her nose, as he blows a bubble towards her face.
"Acha ji? Aur kaisa hota hai, yeh acha, saaf, sutra join me? He inquires already taking off his shirt.
"Saaf sutra wala join me ka matlab, pants off but underwear on, lets soak in the tub and just talk'. Samjhe mister sopra coniglietto emozionato? (Over excited bunny)
"Sopra coni-kya? he asks getting into the tub. "Jaane do, I don't even want to know He settles himself opposite to her, so that they could converse easily and face to face. He starts caressing her calves, "You wanted to talk, so talk Mrs. Twinkle Kunj Sarna.
Kunj hoped Twinkle realized how difficult talking was when she ran her toes up his leg like that. The fact that the bubbles obstructed his view of her pristine body made anything all the more erotic.
She hovered her body over his in slow measured moves, her lips tickling the cartilage of his ear, "Let's move to Tuscany.
He kissed her hard on that! She agreed. Finally agreed to his pleads and his threats and his begs.
"But ek shart pe she stops him from going further. This was her hell fire burning him and this was her holy water reviving him back to life. This was her poison and he wanted to drink every drop of it. "You wont stop talking to your family.
He opens his mouth to protest, but she firmly places her palm against is lips. "Main unse dhur rahoongi, par tummhe yeh karni ki koi zaroorat nahi hai.
Kunj sighs, accepting defeat. If only his mother knew what a gem of a person Twinkle truly was...
If only his mother accepted her. But right here, right now he accepted her condition. It truly wasn't even a good one if he thought about it. But he agreed nonetheless.
Price of a home: A simple stupid condition.
Price of pride:
Usha realized it too late. Her pride was her folly.
Usha realized this the morning she noticed 2 large suitcases, in addition to 3 duffel bags by the foot of the staircase. She knew that the red one belonged to Kunj. Was he leaving for some business trip, she thought initially, only you disregard it. A business trip couldn't possibly require him to carry so much luggage. Plus, her Kunj would never carry a pink pull luggage.
She stood rooted by the stairs wondering, when came the voice of her son "Hum Amritsar chod rahe hai Ma.
Shell shocked, she was unable to comprehend his words for a good minute. "K-kya?
"Hum Tuscany laut rahe hai. He repeats, calm and patient. Kunj reached the foot of the stairs, facing his mother. His face was impassive. Neither happiness nor guilt marred his features. He was however surprised when Usha didn't immediately raise her voice to yell or taunt at Twinkle.
"Par kyu? She asked baffled.
"Aapki wajah se. Came an answer that she never expected. "Sab aapki wajah se. Sirf aapki wajah se.
And then clear as day, Usha saw it. Her loss. There was no point fighting it, no more reason denying it. Kunj was right. This was her fault. Her pride and stubbornness drove her son away. It never was Twinkle. "Sab meri wajah se. She slowly repeated the word to herself.
"I am sorry Ma. Kunj grimaced, unsure of how to part. How to bid goodbye? He settled for touching her feet. She still was his mother. And with that he walked out. Twinkle was waiting for him in the car.
Usha promptly dropped herself down on the last step of the stairs, her head bowed down in shame and disbelief, her face hidden in the palm of her hands. It never was Twinkle. That girl was never the cause that drove away her son. She herself was to blame. Why couldn't she just accept Twinkle? WHY?
Was it because Twinkle was loud? Was it because she was lively and bold? Was it because she was modern? Usha thought. No! She couldn't accept Twinkle because she was everything that Usha couldn't be. She was strong and yet soft, modern and yet cultured, Bold yet in line. She was as fluid as water, adapting to whatever form that life encompassed her in. And this was why Usha was bitter.
Usha was bought up with strong traditional values, she spoke Sanskrit, knew how to work the needle, cooked well and yet she couldn't manage to maintain a happy household. She was the epitome of the perfect wife, the perfect bahu' and yet she always fell short.
Then there came Twinkle. Modern, loud and bold. She did not even know how to cook a decent meal, for crying out loud! But she still won the hearts of the Sarna clan. She proved to be a better wife, a better daughter in law in 6 months, something Usha couldn't achieve in 30 years! It was humiliating!
And maybe that was motive enough. The humiliation, the embarrassment was enough for Usha to throw back dirt on the girl. If Usha couldn't be an ideal daughter in-law then she would make sure Twinkle wouldn't be one either.
And now looking back at it all. It hadn't worked well. It wasn't worth it. She had lost her son.
Cost of pride: An estranged son.
Price of happiness:
It was a long time coming. Happiness didn't come as soon as their flight landed in Rome. It didn't come as their train arrived at Tuscany. Happiness didn't come the day after they settled. Nor a month after that. Silence came accompanied by guilt. And guilt came carrying in temptation.
Temptation to call Usha, to apologize, to shift back to Amritsar. But both Kunj and Twinkle knew that this was good for them. Their family would be sorry now, but they would never change. Eventually their guilt vanishes and they would go back to their venomous ways. Tuscany was their life now. A happy one at that even though happiness seemed like a dream on the distant horizon.
But it creeped in through the windows with golden sunlight in the mornings as Kunj watched his wife slumber beside him, her mouth slightly ajar. Happiness creeped in when she shifted to milder anti-depressants. It came when she baked pizzas with pineapple and when she painted the ocean on his back.
Happiness crawled as they made love to each other, in the living room in front of the fireplace, as they kissed each other senseless in the kitchen, as they made out in the bathroom. Happiness crawled when she told him "You make me happy.
Happiness came a year later as they inaugurated her tiny paint studio. Happiness came as he set up his independent firm. Happiness came as he finally was fluent in Italian.
"I love you Kunj. Beyhad aur beyintehaa. Twinkle mumbled. They were laying under the stars on the terrace. A rooftop picnic, because why not?
"Achanak itna pyaar aa raha apne pati par? Aapka iraada kya hai, Mrs. Sarna?
"Seedhe seedhe I love you too' nahi bol sakte na. Saara mood kharaab diya. She huffed and pulled herself out of his warm embrace.
"Arey Twinkle- Sunn.
"Sadoo Sarna! Tum na romance k eek-dum bekaar ho. Bilkul faltu!
"Sunn toh.
"Nahi. Tum sunno Sadoo Sarna, kal tum mujhe date kar le jaa rahe ho. Aur agar kal tumne mere saath theek se romance nahi kiya, ek dum Shahrukh Khan jaise na toh tum couch par so rahe ho!
Well to say the least, Kunj did romance his woman right the following day. And the proof was the pink bundle that he was handed in the white antiseptic smelling corridors of the hospital. Rhyah Sarna.
Kunj swore, if all the storms in their soul led to this, he would happily do it all over again.
Price of happiness: Storms in their souls.
This wasn't an end. It wasn't a new beginning either.
This was simply life.
Kunj still called his family. But he kept Twinkle away from them. He dutifully informed them about Rhyah, even promised to bring her to Amritsar but made them promise to be on their best behavior towards both his wife and daughter.
Twinkle was happy with whatever made her husband happy. If that meant staying away from their so-called family, she would happily do it. Plus, now she had her own little family. She, Kunj and their little Rhyah. They were all they needed.
This was life. All the storms led to this and it was all worth it.
"I love you Twinkle. Kunj whispered in reverence as she fed their daughter.
"And I love you, Mr. Sarna.
Price of happiness: The storm in their souls.
THE END.
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